my name is OLIVE, but you can call me LIV if you’d like! I AM FIFTEEN (15) and my pronouns are SHE/THEY. please respect this, and please DO NOT INTERACT with me if you are under thirteen (-13).
on here, i primarily post my opinions and headcanons about HARRY POTTER. @hrts4mayward is my side blog where i mostly post about OUTERBANKS and THE SUMMER I TURNED PRETTY.
i do write, but usually not full series anymore, so if you’d like me to write a one shot about a ship or x reader, you can see my request rules below.
The train ride to Milan was mostly quiet. I fell asleep on Moony’s shoulder, and he fell asleep with his head on top of mine. We didn’t talk much while we were awake, we just enjoyed each other’s company. He watched me sketch.
I could feel his gaze on me. I couldn’t tell if it was judgemental or admiration. I knew what I hoped for. Lily would’ve been able to know, she has an eye for those things. But anyway, I wondered what Remus was thinking, I always did. His face was always full of thought, even when he was doing nothing.
“Do you ever stop sketching?” he asked, playfully, careful not to make me move too much.
“No. Art heals my soul, Moony.” I wasn’t kidding. I’m not.
“Fair point,” he said before opening a book, Sonnets to Orpheus. I noticed him take little notes on the margins. I wanted to know what he was writing and thinking, but I never asked. He was halfway through reading by the time our train ride was over.
Once we arrived in Milan, we had to head straight to our hotel to change before Remus’ party. There would be big editors and publishers there, we had to look presentable. I tied his tie for him after watching him struggle for an embarrassing amount of time. He buttoned my cuff links for me. This was an annual event, one that most of my parents’ summer guests had attended in their honor. That night was my first and last time there.
The party was hosted in a small but beautiful venue. There were golden wall accents, tall candles and chandeliers, and white-clothed tables throughout the ballroom. Soft, classical music played behind us -Moony thought it was a drag- while most everyone sat around the tables making small talk for most of the night. The event was from a movie.
Moony kept me attached to his hip throughout the event. He wasn’t afraid of what the people around us would say, I guess I wasn’t either. If I wasn’t next to him, his eyes were glued to me, watching me like I was a kid in a candy store. Like he was babysitting me. I didn’t mind. It made me feel like maybe everything was worth it. All the ignoring, bickering, hating. It all came together during this week.
He was a very perfect boy. He always looked nice with his dreadlocks, black and blonde. He always used big words, ones I didn’t understand. He would've given me the shirt off his back if he needed to. Not just me, either. Anyone he cared for. He probably did give a shirt to Victoria once, on one of the breezier mornings by the beach. Remus was selfless in a way I’d never seen before. At nineteen years old, he acted like a man. A real one. One that would buy someone flowers “just because.” A man that would put his coat over a puddle so his love could walk without dirtying their shoes. All of the hate I had started that summer with had turned into love. I loved him.
That party soon turned into a dinner with drinks and ice cream. They were all older, mostly gentlemen. There was a kind woman with her husband, Molly, and Arthur. Molly reminded us a lot of my own mother. They had four sons at home with her two younger brothers, she was worried sick. Remus, kindhearted Remus, comforted her and assured her they were just fine with their uncles. It was like they were lifelong friends, like he knew them personally.
We were wasted beyond measure. We stumbled back to our hotel room in the dark, laughing loud enough to wake neighborhoods.
“James, you’re really funny, y’know,” he told me. He had his cane but was still leaning against me. My arm wrapped around his waist.
“After all this time, you’re just now noticing? Of course, I’m funny, you twat!” I pretended to flick his head through my hazy vision, and he pretended he was hurt.
“Well, yeah. But you’re funnier when you’re like this.”
He kissed the side of my head, almost falling in the process, and we giggled more before walking into the hotel lobby. We fell asleep as soon as our heads hit the pillow.
I woke up with my face in Moony’s chest, his arms were wrapped around me, but he was awake.
“Hi,” I said. My mouth was dry, I was sore, and I had one of the worst headaches of my life. “Ow.”
“Hungover?” he asked. His voice was deep, raspy. It always was, but more so when he just woke up. I nodded. “Let’s go get some coffee.”
We stayed in our clothes from the night before, now wrinkly and aggregated, and walked down the street for coffee. It was nothing like the coffee from our village, but it would suffice for a hangover.
“Do we have plans today?” I said and he giggled at the way my eyes squinted at him but shook his head nonetheless.
“The only thing we really have to do before I go is go to that museum your mum was talking about,” he announced, a sense of unsureness in his voice. “We would go today but I’m not sure you’re in the proper state, mate.”
I slapped him lightly with the back of my hand, and he gave me an offended look in return.
“Well, what else could we do? We’ve got time.”
“Let’s take the canal tour. Should be fun. Only if you’re feeling better.” I agreed and put my arm around his shoulder for the rest of the walk.
My headache was gone by midday, so we changed into fresher clothes and took a taxi to the canal’s port.
Our tour guide told me things I already knew. About Leonardo Da Vinci and the structures surrounding the water. I’m doubtless that Remus already knew them too, as smart as he was, but he still gave his full attention to her. His hand was on my knee the entire time. His little touches meant a lot to me. I remember each and every one.
We danced a lot that night. Not as much drinking, given the effects it took on me the night before, but lots of dancing. We got a nice dinner, one my parents recommended and paid for. Remus heard David Bowie playing at a local bar, and by the law of attraction, went straight there. We were there for most of the night, even after the David Bowie songs were over.
“You’re very pretty,” he told me, half asleep. I smiled at him, and he smiled right back.
“Me?”
“No, the other pretty boy with his arm around me,” he responded, putting his head on my shoulder. He mumbled some more, but I never did catch what he was saying. I think he was singing Lady Stardust by Bowie. That was one of his favorites.
We got more ice cream and went to our room. He kept complimenting and kissing me. He kissed me all over, hungrily, and lovingly. He mumbled some of the sweetest things that I had ever heard against my skin.
-
The Pinacoteca was an extravagant museum. It felt like walking into history, like traveling back in time. It's the oldest museum in Milan, maybe the prettiest. The building, built on top of the remains of a 14th-century monastery, also housed an academy of fine arts, from which I graduated a few years later. We spent hours in there, examining every piece. Remus watched me take notes on everything. I couldn’t wait to show Marlene. He told me my handwriting was nice, then had me draw and write all over him.
That night, I wrote him a letter for when he left. He’d have my handwriting for as long as he wished.
And just like that, we had two days left. It wasn’t enough, but it would never be enough if I had had a say.
September was close, and I could almost smell it. I had never dreaded the autumn as much as I had those last two days. I missed my friends, but I missed Remus before he left.
“I adore you, y’know?” I asked him. We were laying in bed, Moony was fresh out of the shower. He stared at me, almost blankly at first. I was telling the truth. Everything about him amazed me and made me long for more. I always wanted more from him, I was a man starved.
Loving Remus was never difficult. Being in love with him was one of the easiest things I've ever had the pleasure of doing. I have never, will never, loved someone the way I love Remus. Loving him was like finding flowers blooming in the dead of winter. Having him felt like Christmas morning. What was hard was letting him love me. In some ways, I’m only half positive he ever did.
“I don’t know why, but my brain goes blank when I look at you. Not in a bad way- just,” he almost mumbled it, like he was nervous. He turned to his side, facing me, and kissed me. “I think I’m a little crazy.”
I liked hearing him talk. I wished he would talk my ear off, but he never did. He asked a lot of questions in the beginning, but once we knew each other he was a man of few words. His voice soothed me in ways I could never explain. Rich and smooth like honey, but the right words could’ve cut me open.
“It’s okay to be crazy,” I told him, mostly jokingly. He nudged me and chuckled before standing up to put on a sweater, the one I loved on him, and sweatpants. “You’re definitely crazy when you dress like that at this time of year.”
He laughed at me. That sweet, short laugh he always had. It was beautiful, and it almost distracted me that everything we had was soon to come to an end. He came back into bed just like he had before. We lay there, staring at each other for quite some time. I was lost in him, all of him. I was in awe.
We had a fancy dinner in honor of our final night. Not a celebration; a remembrance, memorial, recollection. It somehow, someway, simultaneously both solemn and joyful all at once. We laughed, and we talked. But we ate in silence, not looking at each other or touching each other, or eating each other’s food like we usually would. His slacks and dress shirt were still almost perfectly ironed by the time we left because of the minimal intimacy in the restaurant.
That night, a wash of homesickness came over me. I missed the village, my home in London, my parents, and Marlene. There was this insane sense of longing over me, even though we were leaving the following morning. I would see everything I missed again soon. I would see Sirius and Regulus and Peter and all the girls soon. Yes, I missed Remus even though he was right next to me. But for that night, and that night only, I wanted nothing more than the comfort of my friends and my own bed. Remus slept near me, hand over my chest, and I had a sudden guilt for wanting to be home.
Remus had given me so much- emotionally, materially- and yet I sat in bed wanting everything but. I wanted him to leave without me knowing, so I wouldn’t feel the hurt of his leaving. The ending. I wouldn’t have to endure the wrongdoing of knowing Remus had his own family, his own friends, he had to go home to. I wanted him to come home with me, to keep me from ever longing for home again. For him to become my home, never go to bristol for longer than a few days again.
But I knew better. I think we all did, since the beginning.
Remus, most of all, knew better- knew the best.
We had coffee and muffins the following morning. Remus bought a chocolate chip cookie, like Victoria liked, as a snack for this train rides back to Bristol. It had hit me that this would e my last time seeing Remus for a long time. It felt like a shot to the chest. I didn’t have much to say, all I had planned was to be saved for our goodbyes.
“You know I’ll visit in the spring,” he said, not even looking at me like he could read my mind. “I’ll write you every week. Hell, my train rides are over thirteen hours long, I’ll start writing you then. Send it off the second I get home.”
I wanted to be his home. I didn’t want him to leave. My heart felt empty just thinking of it, I’ll never forget that.
He had one hand hoisting himself up with his cane, his other holding his suitcase, and we walked into a souvenir shop. We looked like tourists, I suppose we were in a sense. Remus bought a cookbook for his mum and said it was a sort of gag gift. I bought presents for my friends; we got our photos taken. My eyes were shut, and when I insisted on buying new photos, he said No, you look cute this way.
Those little compliments he would give me melted what was left of my hollow heart, the shell of it. Even if I had known he would or had spoken to someone else that way, that little bit of sweetness Moony had towards me meant so much more than he could ever know. More than I could ever explain.
That was another thing about my moony. The way he affected me left an imprint on me. Like a sort of curse. I had never been able to describe that feeling, not then, not now, not even before him; not that there had been anyone like this before him. I’m sure that Peter could have explained such a wonderful, gut-wrenching, feeling to me, with the words of a wise old man, but I never knew how to give him an idea of what that truly felt like. I never had the right words.
We only had so much time before his train left. After our breakfast and stop at the gift shop, we only walked around Milan for a little while. He told me about his mum, explaining why he bought it for her.
“She wouldn’t understand the reference, I know that,” he told me, giggling a bit. I questioned him further, confused. “She seemed to spend my entire childhood cooking. Moreso after my diagnosis. I love her, a lot, y’know? But she was always stuck with herself. I sometimes think that maybe someone took her, and the real Hope Lupin was imprisoned somewhere.”
“Well, even if you got it to poke at her, I’m sure she’ll love it.” I didn’t know what to say. “What about your father? Did you get anything for him?”
“Gods, no,” he laughed. He thought something, whatever I had said was funny. I was only more confused. “He’s almost worse. Actually, I’m not sure which one is worse. My dad is hardly ever home, and when he is, he is locked away. I told my mum I fancied men when I was sixteen, and my dad still doesn’t know. At least not by my account. I probably won’t talk to either of them much once I’m done with college.”
“Oh.”
Part of me burst into flames, wanting to tell Mr. and Mrs. Lupin what they were missing out on. I’ve tried to excuse what he told me over and over again in my head, but never once have I thought of a good reason why. They were just unavailable to him. It made me appreciate that he had my parents and that my parents loved him so much. They always loved my “friends,” but I could tell they favored Remus.
They were right when they said I would love him. Oh, how they knew, so long before I had even seen his face.
I asked him what would happen when he went home. What his plans were. I’d run out of other questions to ask.
“I’ll be home for a week or so, then I’m off to college again.”
“And after college?”
“I’ll have my degree, and I’ll be moving away.”
I nodded, I could tell in his tone he didn’t want to speak more of it. Of how he was leaving his parents.
And just like that, I was saying goodbye. He waved at me through the window of his carriage, and was gone. I felt stuck. I stood right where I was like my feet had been superglued to the ground. It took everything in me not to cry like a child who had lost his balloon. Come back, I kept saying to myself.
Come back.
Come back.
Part of me was going with him.
Remus had made my heart hollow and then melted its shell. My blood was pumping with a heart that was not my own. It would never be mine again. My fingers were still entwined with his. His arm was still wrapped around my shoulder and he still leaned his head against them.
He seemed to have taken my voice box too, if only for a few minutes. Once my feet had come back to life, I walked to the pay phone and sat there for seemingly hours. I couldn’t find the voice, the courage, to call my mum and ask her to pick me up. I could get on the train, sit with hundreds of people I don’t know for hours, or I could pick up the damned phone.
“Mum?” I had found my voice eventually. It was broken, torn to pieces, because of the claws that belonged to my moony. “Can you come to get me?”
She didn’t ask me any questions. She knew things like that. I was in my mother’s car within the next hour. We didn’t talk, not a word. I just cried in her passenger seat, waiting for nothing more than to be home. I didn’t know which home I wanted, but I needed to be home.
When I was unpacking the next day, still puffy-eyed and red-cheeked, I found the brown sweater I had loved so much.
For all the days when you don’t see the signs.
moony
----
I do not give you or anyone permission to translate, transfer, or copy my work in any way. it is already posted to two other platforms. that is enough.
Welcome! This fic is told from James' older POV. Think of it as him reflecting on this story years later and sharing it with someone else.
In theory, it would be helpful to read CMBYN before reading this, but it's unnecessary. Having watched the film could also count, but several details in this fic aren't included in the movie.
The Potters take the place of Elio and his parents, Regulus as Oliver. Lily is Marzia, who can see where James' heart is at. Marlene is Chiara, who takes a liking in Remus and hence makes James jealous. OCs Matilda, Allah, and Victoria are all based on characters in the original novel, but 2/3 are not vital to the story.
IN THIS FIC, REMUS LUPIN IS BLACK AND DISABLED. JAMES POTTER IS HISPANIC. GET OVER IT.
I do not give you or anyone permission to translate, transfer, or copy my work in any way. it is already posted to two other platforms. that is enough.
I was taken aback. I couldn’t tell if he meant to be rude or not. I never could. I knew I had a tendency to be a know-it-all, especially when I was being pressed. I decided to assume he was being kind.
“I don’t know about anything that matters.”
“What matters, then?”
“You know.”
Remus didn’t know. Neither did I. I can’t say I ever will, maybe he figured it out on how own. Small things mattered too much back then, and now the big things don’t matter nearly enough.
-
From that day forward, things changed. I was much warmer to Remus, he seemed to care. I enjoyed my time with him much more than I had before, I wondered if maybe I pretended to hate him for so long because he was too interesting. Because he never spoke of himself. Because he aspired to do great things and had his life figured out at such a young age.
We did everything together. I stayed in town longer so that I could help him with his play, I read and edited his scenes as they were written. I bought him breakfast and watched him clean his cane. He let me help him retwist his dreadlocks, even though I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. I’m pretty sure he stayed up late that night and fixed my mistakes.
One day, Lily and Marlene came over with a few other kids our age for a game of volleyball. Remus sat out, needing his cane worse than usual, but he watched us all play. He cheered for Marlene, Lily, and me. We won with everything we had, and Matilda made everyone fresh lemonade around midday.
That evening, I saw Marlene and Remus by the pool late into the night. The moon was full above their heads and I could see that they were laughing up a storm. They both looked beautiful, illuminated by the moonlight.
“Hey, Moony,” I said to him the next morning. He laughed and was surprised. No one had called him that before. His eyes sparkled like stars when I explained that he almost looked like part of the moon that night.
On our walk to town, we talked about the volleyball games; the other kids who had played with us. Out of curiosity, I said to him, “Marlene’s very pretty, don’t you think?”
Remus nodded for a moment, “Yes, she is. She’s fun to talk to. What about Lily, hm?”
I started to laugh a little. “She’s pretty too. I love her paintings.”
“She’s just pretty?”
“Marlene is just fun to talk to?”
I didn’t like the feeling in my gut. Almost a form of jealousy. I’d always been a jealous person, but this was just Remus. A guest for the summer. I had nothing to be jealous of. I wasn’t even sure that Marlene had any romantic interest in men.
“Well, she's smart. She’s determined. She’s a lot like you. But you can’t tell me there isn’t something between you and Lily.”
“Lily is just a friend to me.”
“She looks hurt every time you dismiss her. You’re not just a friend to her.”
I dismissed him. Maybe what he said was true, but I didn’t believe it. I moved on, but that thought stayed in the back of my mind.
He tried to bicker with me further but was quickly shut down as we entered our favorite bakery.
“Good morning, boys,” the kinda lady said with a thick Scottish accent, “usually pastries today?”
“Can I just add a chocolate chip cookie?” Remus asked sweetly before we handed her the money. We always split the cost, unless my dad paid.
“Remus likes cookies?” I asked, somewhat rhetorically, while we waited for our order.
“I do, but the cookie is for Victoria,” he said, putting an extra few dollars into the baker’s tip jar. “I told her we come here most mornings, she said she loves the cookies here.”
I smiled. I really did love that Victoria had a friend. Marls and I let her tag around often, but all three of us knew it wasn’t the same. I loved Victoria and Marlene like they were my sisters.
We spent the rest of the day in the shed with Lily and Marlene. Like it was yesterday, I remember Marlene’s shaggy hair in a messy bun at the back of her head. She smiled so brightly when she saw that Remus had bought a cookie for her sister. Marlene always appreciated little things like that. We worked on our respective projects and laughed like old friends. The way it should’ve been.
We swam that night, and Marlene and Remus ran off to the beach while Lily and I stayed by the patio.
“They’re getting along nicely.”
My stomach turned. I’m glad I’m not the only one who saw that. The familiar jealously panged in my stomach.
“I suppose.” I deadpanned. I wasn’t sure where she was going with that.
“Are you jealous?” she asked. Her tone was similar to mine.
“Are you?”
Lily and I both started to laugh. “Yes, of course, I am.”
“Of Remus?”
She laughed again, “Gods, no. James, how could you be so oblivious? You’re nineteen and still haven’t grown out of your mindless, childish, brain.”
“Marlene, then?” I knew Marlene had a few girlfriends, but not Lily.
“Why do you think I spend so much time with you guys every summer?”
“Oh.”
We talked about it. I couldn’t help but what Remus had said just earlier that day. I didn’t say anything to her. I didn’t want her to think I believed him. I knew better. The girl I had been friends with every summer, and some Christmases, since I was eleven years old, was in love with my best friend. And I had no idea. I’ve always been clueless, even now.
“You should tell her,” I said. Lily’s eyes zeroed in on me like it was a definite no. “Marlene doesn’t talk about her feelings the way I do. The only way you’ll ever know if those feelings are reciprocated, is by being honest with her. If we don’t tell people how we feel, how will they know?”
“You should listen to your own advice, James.”
She stood up, and she left.
Two days later, I walked into the shed to find Marlene and Lily with paint all over themselves. Lily was kissing Marlene on the cheek, and Marl’s face was squished into it. They were happy. They both froze when they noticed me; then we all laughed. I was happy because Marlene was happy.
It was rare to see Marlene smile as much as she had during these few weeks. I like to think I made her happy, but with Victoria’s condition, it was hard for her to focus on those days. On what may have really mattered. Lily definitely helped with that.
“Did you listen to your advice?” Lily asked me after she washed up. Marlene gave us both a confused look, and I gave her one that told her, I’ll fill you in later. She understood as best friends do.
“I haven’t,” I said, and Lily just gave me a look. One that burned into my eyelids like a tattoo. It motivates me now.
However, I planned to just ignore her. I was still in a state of denial when it came to my feelings for Remus. Even though I soaked in his scent every time I could. I used his body wash when I showered, and smoked his cigarettes from the red box, instead of mine from the blue. I knew better than to lie than to deny it. I just have always hated rejection.
I wanted to ignore Lily, and I did at first. I made it three days, going without saying anything to Remus. We hardly talked at all. I don’t know why he seemed to avoid me. He woke up much earlier than me, and he did our routine alone. I was frustrated. I wanted him. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Our summer was coming close to an end. I was just glad my jealous churns were gone.
“I wish we had more time,” I told him one evening. He finally came around, because I bought him and victoria cookies and had Matilda make him his favorite peachy drink. We were smoking on our balcony, almost dead silent. He was going to Milan in a little more than a week and then taking a train back to bristol. He’d be in Milan, by himself, I’d assumed, for a week. He should’ve been in our villa. In my bed, with me. I wish that was how it had been all summer, maybe we would’ve had more time.
“More time for what?” he laughed, almost stumbling on his cane. “We’ve had an amazing summer, don’t you think?” I suppose he wasn’t wrong.
“I don’t know, moony. I just feel like everyone our age has their lives figured out.”
We both knew what I was really talking about. I know that now.
“Like who?” he scoffed.
“You do. You’ve told Marlene and me so many things you want to do with your life. My friends from home: Sirius, Regulus, and Peter. They all have something or someone. Pandora and Dorcas, they’ve got each other. They have their plans. And they’re the most eccentric, impulsive people I know. But I’m just here, falling for a boy I’m never going to see after next week.”
Remus walked away before I realized what I had said. When the statement registered, I felt like I lost my mind. I went back inside, too. And I waited.
I didn’t sleep that night. I heard him shuffle in the bathroom, his cane hitting the tile floor. When the sun began to rise, I heard him push something under my bathroom door. I waited until I heard the other door shut.
It was a small note,
Let’s talk. We have a lot to go over. Get the bikes!!!
Moony
I opened the door and found a smoothie on the bathroom counter. Just like the first week. Maybe I hadn’t ruined everything. Not right then anyway.
We rode our bikes into town, for the first time since his first week. He didn’t talk until we found the bakery.
“Let’s sit here for a bit,” he said. He sounded really mature and grown. I liked this Remus, but it also scared me.
“I’m sorry. About what I said. You know, it was really just- I wasn’t thinking right. I couldn’t sleep-“
“Aw, James couldn’t sleep because of me.”
“Stop, please,” I felt my cheeks warming up, like they always did, just from the way he spoke to me. “You want to talk. So I’m going to talk first. I get it, you don’t feel the same way. There wasn’t even a point in bringing me here, just to let me down easily. Bring me to our favorite spot so that you can reject me and make it so that I can never come to this bakery again. Hell, I’ll never be able to come here without thinking of you again, this village. Our villa. I can't go to my bedroom, the one you sleep in, without thinking of you. In just a few short weeks, my heart has become full of you. I’ve spent it all thinking I hated you, wasted all our time. I never hated you. I could never hate you. You’re too much for me to hate. Victoria loves you, Marlene loves you, Lily loves you. I think I love you too.”
“Can I kiss you?”
“What? Moony, that’s not-“
“Call me Moony again and I will kiss you.”
“Moony,” I was stammering. Blubbering. He clearly didn’t care.
He kissed me. The beach was behind us, we were sitting at our favorite place in town. Every star aligned, even if only for that moment. My heart had never, will never be that full. That warmth encapsulated me, I felt like the sun.
By the time we let go, we were both breathless. He put his hands on the back of my head, past my bandana, and mine were at the nape of his neck, tugging at his dreads. We went back for more, but before we touched again, the baker came and unlocked her door.
“Boys, please.”
“Sorry, Minnie,” Remus and I said, breathless and giggly.
“How have you not seen the signs?” he asked me that night.
“What signs?” I was frantic. We were laughing about how much time we’d wasted, how we’d make it up in the spring.
“God, you’re oblivious.”
“One of my many talents. Seriously, though, what signs?”
“The drinks. Asking you questions and walking with you even when I knew you were annoyed with me. I told you I loved talking to your best friend and then said you two were alike. Everything. I’ve wanted you since the day you showed me everything.”
“You knew I was annoyed? Why did you keep up then?”
“I knew you’d warm up eventually. That’s who you are.”
I guess I was predictable. Marlene told me that several times too. Predictable, oblivious, and too kind.
We’d sat on that patio for hours. It was the most fun I’d had with anyone that wasn’t Marlene or our group from home. We’d split his brand new pack of cigarettes, and there were only two left by morning.
He asked me about Lily and Marlene. He apologized to me for assuming Lily and I were something more, then laughed when I told him he was thinking of the wrong friend. We kissed that night. More times than I could count. He touched me more than he had any other time prior. Brisk, feathery touches, every chance he could get. I’m sure my parents noticed, the way my face got hot every time. I would’ve had a trail of his touches tattooed if I could.
“I love you too, I think,” Remus whispered in my ear. We were dancing in the kitchen with his favorite record playing before Matilda came to work for the day.
“That’s not fair, we only have two more days, moony.”
“Then we’ll be quiet. Know that it’s there, and it’s lingering.” He planted a kiss on the top of my head and we danced until the song was over.
When Matilda came home, we scurried away and two my (his) room. We giggled all the way up the stairs and shut the door as quietly as possible. When I turned around, my back was against the door. Remus came back up to me and kissed me again. It was sweet but determined. His hands were firm at my waist and mine were feeling under his big sweater. How he wore a sweater in the midst of August, I don’t know, but I loved the way he looked in it.
We kissed until the sun was rising and Matilda was knocking on his door.
“Remus, dear?” she asked, “Victoria is here.”
“Shit,” he said, jumping up to change into new clothes. Ones he wasn’t wearing the day before. He kissed me one more time, “I’ll be back. Let’s have a picnic this afternoon. Just us.”
I nodded and went up to the other room. He waved and walked out. I saw him and Victoria walk to the beach and sit there, watching the sunrise. His cane stayed in his lap every time he sat down, just like her bandanas always matched her outfits.
That afternoon, Remus found me wearing a muscle tee, one that showed the sides of my torso, with my khakis. I was in the kitchen, making sandwiches, even after matilda’s countless remarks against me cooking or using the kitchen when she wasn’t around.
We were supposed to have more time.
So we made the best of what we had.
Stolen glances, hidden kisses, getting ice cream hand-in-hand with the girls. We helped my mother in her garden together, smearing dirt on each other’s noses. Took photos with Marlene’s polaroid camera and my dad’s film.
The night before Remus was meant to leave for Milan, my mum and dad stopped me in the living room.
“Since we’re paying for a lot of Remus’ expenses next week,” my mum started, “We were thinking you could go with him. It would be nice for you to have some time alone with him.”
“What?” I asked, probably not as confident as I remember.
“He has a book party, and there’s a beautiful art museum out there we think you would love,” my dad said, “We’ll give you some money for food and the train ride back home. An extra week for you and your friend.”
Friend.
“Sure, okay. Have you talked to Moons about this?”
“It was his idea.”
I went upstairs and I packed. I’d never been to Milan, other than to pass through. I hoped we would have time for everything we wanted to do. It would be nice to roam around with Remus for a little while. Marlene came by and helped me pack. This was the first time we’d been alone since Lily’s great confession.
“You seem happy,” she said. Her blonde (and now also blue) bangs were overgrown and she blew them away from her eyes as she lit a cigarette.
“I am. I like him a lot, sucks it’ll be over so soon, though.” Maybe I always knew.
“You’ll keep in touch though, right?”
“Yeah,” I chuckled. “But it’ll never be the same. Even if we grow old together, it’ll never be like our first summer.”
“At least you’ll always have summer. Have you talked to our friends back home?”
I hadn’t. Not since June, before Remus arrived. They hadn’t called, they hardly ever do.
“I’ve written once or twice, but you know how Sirius and Regulus’ parents are. And Peter hardly responds. I haven’t reached out to anyone else. Have you?”
“No, not really. I called Dorcas the first week, but haven’t spoken to anyone else really. I hope they’re alright.”
“I’m sure they’re fine.”
The next morning, Victoria and Remus sat on the beach for one last time. She, Marlene, and Lily all rode with us to the train station to say their goodbyes.
And then we were off to Milan.
i do not give you or anyone else permission to translate, transfer, or copy my work in any way. this belongs to me (olive, maryslouisv). it is already posted to two other platforms, that is enough.
The more time I spent with Remus, the more confused I became. The few things he had revealed to me had not made any sense.
Remus had continued to pry me open the following morning, either ignoring or not seeing how he had annoyed me. Maybe the way I would lose myself when he spoke had been why he irked me, why he continued to speak. He asked about me often, but very rarely spoke of himself. When I would ask about him or retort with a simple what about you, he would say something snarky or ignore me entirely. Usually, I would not have minded speaking of myself, but I felt odd being expected to share so much of myself when I knew so little about him. For reasons I did not know, I was able to recite his words back to Marlene and Lily perfectly, mocking him and his toyish way of speaking.
Lily Evans was a beautiful girl with red hair, freckles all over, and adoring green eyes. She’d always been kind to me, despite my often absent mindedness towards her. She knew more than Marlene and I, but never more than Regulus. We met one of my first summers here; her being a girl from London who was visiting family. She comes every July, whether to see her family or to see Marlene and me, we never knew.
On his third day, he woke around five in the morning. The sun was barely peeking over the water. I had already been on the balcony, smoking my first cigarette of the day and reading yesterday’s paper. Remus’ hair was damp, and he still had a towel to dry off his face, but he joined me. Perfect, I thought, almost scoffing out loud.
“Can I borrow your lighter?” he asked me, pulling one of his cigarettes off our glass table. He leaned over, cig in his mouth, and I lit it for him, “I think I’m going to go for a swim. Fancy joining me?”
Smoking before a swim is slightly redundant. Counterproductive.
I was hesitant, but I agreed to go to the poolside with him. I brought my notebook and jotted down ideas for ceramics and clay statues to make. He was the quietest he’d been thus far, and I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it; having company without feeling obligated to listen or even speak. He was able to gather that I was focused and wasn’t listening to his thoughts; maybe he did speak and I did not catch it. We walked into town later, bought pastries for breakfast, and came back to the villa where I took a shower.
That afternoon, he was reading with his feet in the pool. Marlene and I were sitting at a picnic table under a shady tree-a place we called our spot- and we were sketching together. Lily had been painting in the shed. Marlene called him over to us two, maybe three times before he walked over. This is a nice spot, he said. I know, I responded. He sat with us, keeping a finger between the pages of his book. He was almost finished with it.
Marlene asked him questions that I could’ve answered; about his film and where he was from. He answered her much easier than he had me, but maybe that was because it was all small talk. They got along well, Marlene giggled with him and they shared their plans for the coming months.
Despite the amount Remus had confused and annoyed me, I had respected him. Given the experience I had with other people living in my house, he was kind to my parents, driven, and generally calm. He knew when he needed to show respect and when to help out, even on his cane-walking days.
After leaving the picnic table, he went back into town and didn’t come back until dinnertime.
“Where did you go?” I asked, half not expecting an answer.
“I needed to drop off some pages to the editor,” he said, picking at his food, “Then I decided to finish my book at the beach.” I nodded at him with a small smile, “Why? Did you miss me?”
He laughed until I looked at him, mouth flat. “No.” His eyes narrowed at me, jokingly, I think, and he continued eating his food. He was rather pretty with his blonde dreadlocks and dark skin.
We went swimming together the next morning. He woke up before I did and asked Matilda to make us peach smoothies. I woke up to the cup on the floor beside the bathroom door. I heard him leave the bathroom when I got up to get it, so I walked through and knocked.
“Yes?” he said, coming to the door.
“Thanks for the smoothie,” I said, smiling. “Do you want to go swimming?”
We swam for a few hours, and soon enough, Marlene and Lily joined us. Lily had only now met Remus face to face, despite having heard lots about him already. She and Marlene both liked him a lot, saying they liked his way of speaking. We all stayed in the ocean until Victoria came.
“Marlene?” she asked, still in the sand, “Mum needs your help.”
“Who’s this?” Remus asked, coming out of the water with Marlene and me, gleaming.
“My sister, Victoria,” Marlene responded, shifting her attention to the younger girl, “Victoria, this is Remus. Play nice.”
“No.” Remus and I both chuckled. His laugh was rather sweet compared to the edge in his voice. “Marlene, come on! You’re taking too long.”
Marlene did not hurry. Actually, I’m almost positive she slowed down just to piss off her sister. Remus, Lily, Victoria, and I all watched her take an agonizingly long time to grab her towel, water bottle, and spare clothes. Eventually, Marlene left and we all decided to walk back to the field and eat lunch.
Lily and Marlene both got along well with Remus. As his first week had drawn on, I did too. He talked his ear off some days, others he was quiet like a mouse. I both loved and hated that about him. Victoria also loved Remus, and they started to spend the mornings on the shore together. No one asked what they talked about or why a nineteen-year-old was spending his mornings with a ten-year-old; but Marlene was glad she had a friend, even if only for the summer.
After he came in from the beach, he and I would smoke a cigarette on the patio and then go outside and start the day. He still pestered me from time to time, but the days became more bearable as he became more comfortable in our condo. On his cane-heavy days, we would go to the backyard and pick peaches for Matilda, or sit around working on our projects. On easier days, we would go swimming or on a walk into town. By the end of the first week, Marlene had insisted we brought him to the shed. I was hesitant; none of our other summer guests had been so easily welcomed into the shed, only one other guest, Fabian Prewett, was allowed in at all. Remus appreciated it, but I think he could tell I didn’t love him being in there, so he almost only came in when he needed our attention.
“I think your ceramics are beautiful,” he said one day as I pulled them out of the kiln. This was the first time he made a clear-stated opinion about me. I turned and saw him admiring the fresh pottery, a small smile on his face. He reached out to touch them.
“Don’t do that,” I said, reaching out. His fingertips brushed the back of my hand and I pulled back. “They just came out of the kiln, you can touch them once they’ve cooled. Give them an hour or so.”
Remus nodded and pointed one out, “What’s this one?”
He was pointing to one of the favorites I had at the time, “That’s inspired by Athena.”
“Oh, I see. That makes sense,” he said, reaching back for it again, but going back only a centimeter before accidentally touching it. “Is that- an owl mask? I won’t lie to you, James, that’s what’s throwing me off.”
The way he said my name was nice.
“Usually, Athena has an owl somewhere on her arm or around her. The owl represents wisdom- which is common- but it also is considered her sacred animal. I think of the owl as a shield or protection. Not for war. From other people. Obviously, she's a goddess, so she wouldn’t need to hide her face in that sense, but I like to think her godly children might. Sometimes, plain old humans need to have a safety blanket just to feel alright.”
Remus understood. Maybe even too well. He asked me about a few other pieces as they came out of the furnace, and he complimented my handiwork once they were cool enough to the touch.
This time, I was okay to talk. My art was not something I disliked speaking about. Art, in general, really. He listened, he put in his two cents. And he was on with his day.
I don’t know what Remus did with his time when he left our property. Our city was small. We had a few important things; a store, bank, church, and of course the oceanfront. For anything entertaining, you would have to go to the town over or take a few trains to Milan. On the days he needed his cane, he still had some ability to ride bikes, but only to go into town. He used his cane more often than not.
One evening, Marlene welcomed him into the shed. She liked him a lot, I was even growing a liking for him. Maybe he was running out of questions, but this night he was fairly quiet. Maybe he was catching that I was not paying him any regard.
I believe I was paying him too much regard, truly. Maybe he realized that, too. He interested me, even when he gave me nothing but a blank canvas.
“Remus, can I ask you why you have a cane? You seem awfully young to-”
“Marlene, that’s not appropriate.”
Marlene was always blunt. Yes, I was wondering why as well, but I accepted this wasn’t my business.
“It’s nerve damage,” he said, not looking up from the journal he was writing in. His locs fell across his face just right. “I have a disorder called Multiple sclerosis.”
Marlene asked more questions. He seemed to be an open book for her. Why was I the one who was locked away? Turns out his disorder (MS) causes his immune system to decay a protective covering around his nerves. It caused balance issues, and his nerves couldn’t send proper responses to the brain. I asked him how he could ride our bikes just fine. He told me, I really shouldn’t, I was really good before I started having problems. It never went away.
Over the next few days, Victoria, Remus, and Marlene were getting along very well. I spent more time with Lily. She really was a kind girl, I noticed. But I also took note of the way her hands brisked my shoulders and the way she lingered on certain words. I was a kid, but not a child.
Moreover, the friendship Remus and the Mckinnons were forming was beautiful. There were a few days throughout the summer that I woke up to find Victoria and Remus on our beachfront alone in the haze. Lily asked Remus about her once, and all he did was change the topic. They had a bond, and we quickly learned to leave that with them.
On his eighth day, Remus and I went on our now routine walk to the bakery at daybreak. We came home, ate, and went swimming in the lap pool before Marlene and Lily invited themselves into the art shed. We shared headphones that day, and he shamed me for not having any David Bowie CDs, and then let me borrow his.
On the ninth, we were in town, waiting for the supermarket to open when he asked me,
“Why are we here? Right now?”
“Because whatever dictates our lives is telling us we belong here at this moment. The supernova of our lives, Remus.” I didn't think about it. His question caught me off guard, but I knew this was my answer. Something in me, then and now, tells me we belonged in that spot, at that moment.
I know that is not what he meant. I know that he meant why were we in that village as two teenagers, despite our yearning for something more.
“Is there anything you don’t know?”
---
i do not give you or anyone else permission to translate, transfer, or copy my work in any way. it is already posted to two other platforms, that is enough.
part one: somewhere in northern Italy, 1979
part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5
a/n: Welcome! This fic is told from James' older POV. Think of it as him reflecting on this story years later and sharing it with someone else.
In theory, it would be helpful to read CMBYN before reading this, but it's unnecessary. Having watched the film could also count, but several details in this fic aren't included in the movie.
The Potters take the place of Elio and his parents, Remus as Oliver. Lily is Marzia, a character who is interested in James but can see where his heart lies. Marlene is Chiara, who takes a liking in Remus and hence makes James jealous. OCs Matilda, Allah, and Victoria are all based on characters in the original novel, but 2/3 are not vital to the story.
you can read this on archive of your own here! and wattpad here!
Every summer, my father, Fleamont Potter, invites a young college student to stay in our Italian vacation home. Whoever comes around gets to see the sights of northern Italy, make a little money, and get great connections as a striving artist or writer; all free of charge. My mum and dad spend a few days every Christmas flipping through internship applicants, looking for someone with the determination and diligence for the help, my dad might need. They would sleep in the bedroom that was mine any other time of the year, and our rooms would be conjoined by a bathroom and a small balcony.
Last summer, it was a kind young man called Amos Diggory, who was working on a novel about the history of language and cultures. He was kind to me, my friends, and my family, but he was uptight. I didn’t mind seeing him day in and day out, but every other summer the visitors want to explore the rural area of Lombardy, whereas Amos stayed on the property for the entirety of his five-week stay.
This year, my parents have kept me in the dark about the new boy coming; all I knew was that he was taller than and older than me, which was a given at this point Mum kept saying, you’ll love him, I promise.
“Is that this summer’s guest?” Marlene said, pointing out of my open bedroom window, her cigarette going out with it, “He’s pretty.”
I walked over to the window, took the cigarette from her hand, and into my lips, “Oh, he is, isn’t he? Wait here, I have to greet him.” I went downstairs, acting as though I hadn’t seen him pull into our driveway, just getting to the doorway when my parents see me,
“James!” mum said, cheerfully waving me over, “He’s here!”
“Hi, James,” I said, walking over and reaching out my hand for a nice shake. He leans forward, reaching his right arm over his stomach to stop his bag from falling, his left hand firmly shaking mine.
“Remus. Remus Lupin,” he announced. Much to my surprise, he had a slight Welsh accent, and though his dialect was serious to my ears, he was smiling brightly and his eyes were turned into crescent moon shapes. “This is a lovely house, Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Thank you for welcoming me here,” he added, walking a short distance ahead of me, but still behind my parents.
“You can call us Effy and Monty, dear,” my mum said, turning her head around at him, “It’s not particularly professional, but everyone calls us that,” she added, wrapping an arm around my dad’s. Remus’ smile faltered, and his eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded nonetheless.
“James will walk you around the property,” my dad said, pulling out chairs at our patio table, “it’s not huge, but it’s nice to know your way around. Once that’s over, we can have dinner and discuss your plans for the next two months.”
“Then it sounds like a plan,” he said, calmly. “By any chance could I have a glass of water?” Mum had our maid, Matilda, fetch him a glass of water and a few slices of lemon. He thanked her, smiling from ear to ear again, and drank it back quickly. “Well, James, whenever you’re ready.”
This boy had a pretty face, and his unkempt hair somehow framed his face just right. The faint sunburn across his cheeks made him look as though he’d truly lived. His eyebrows, thick and full, fit around his eyes in the most perfect way possible. He seemed too young to be, but he walked with a cane. He slouched over slightly, depending on it to walk around some days. I noticed he didn’t use it every day or at all hours; only when he was most immobile. I wondered, even much later, what caused that. I never asked. But somehow, there was just something about him. Even now, years later, I can’t pinpoint what it was about Remus Lupin. All those years ago, I may have told you his smile seemed faulty, or his accent fake. But now, as someone wiser and conceivable, I could not tell you what it was about Remus that irked me.
Anyhow, I did as my dad had asked of me. We spent an easy forty-five minutes walking through his temporary home and its surrounding fields. He complimented my mother’s gardens, as well as our well-kept lawns. He was simply eighteen, but he had the eye of a critic, perhaps an older woman who had lived a million lives and had seen the world. He admired our lap pool, saying he would need to make an effort to wake before dawn or sleep long after we had so he could have it to himself. His shoes came off as we left the gate of our property, finding a sandy brown beach and beautiful blue waters.
“This place is beautiful,” he contributed, staring at the horizon as though the sun would be gone if he looked away, “You must love living here. I probably would if I could.”
“I don’t live here.” It may have sounded more bitter than I intended, looking at it in retrospect. “But yes, I believe it is a beautiful place. Maybe I’ll live here one day when my parents are gone and have left this place to me.”
“Maybe I’ll join you,” he said, now looking over at me, examining my face for seemingly the first time since he’d arrived. “We should head back. It’s almost four-thirty,” he continued, looking at his black leather watch and already making his way back to the grassy yard of our villa.
“What brings you here?” I’d asked, opening the gate for him. “What made my parents pick you?” Now, this had some purposeful bitterness to it. He had some unruly arrogance to him, full of responsibility that no person his age needed to have. At the time, I didn’t see what made him special enough to be in my house, my bedroom, for the next two months.
“I’m writing a screenplay,” he’d said, proudly. If he noticed my bitterness, he had not made a point to react to it or to show that he knew where my head was. I was rather surprised to hear that he was aspiring to be such a thing; I had expected him to express something more hipster, like poetry or paintings. He explained that this film would be about moving forward from the place you’re set in and molded to in childhood, something of a coming-of-age film that he’d hope to publish by the beginning of Autumn. Yet another surprise, this time one that somehow made sense after later thought, this film was going to be complicated. Maybe because I had no idea what he meant when it came to experience, but also because I didn’t expect him to either. When he was explaining where this script would go, plot-wise, he’d explained that, though the characters were fully fictional, they’d been somewhat based on him and his own experiences; a scared mother and a crazed father with close-minded views. He had this planned out, he had very little left to complete aside from initial publishing and the long wait of trying to get a filmmaker and crew on board with it.
“I’m hoping your dad can help me,” he’d murmured, sitting next to me on the patio and waiting for dinner to be served, “Obviously, he can to some extent. He wouldn’t have invited me here otherwise.”
I had to give him this; he knew what he wanted. In less than an hour of speaking to him, I’d learned about this project, which was meant to be his debut in Europe. He was barely an adult at this point, but he knew what he needed and he had an idea of how to get it. Then, nor for many years later, I hadn’t a clue what I wanted to do. I wanted to be on a track where I could be happy, healthy, and humble, just like my father was for many, many years. Though there had been something about him that had bothered me, there had also been something there that helped me respect him and see past his posh ways.
Matilda served dinner first, and my parents sat second. The sun still had stretched over the sky while we ate, while they laid the foundation for the coming weeks. Remus and I would spend a few hours a day helping my father with his current novel, acting as an assistant. Though, after many summers of having visitors like Remus, he knew there would be more easy days than busy ones. So, he made a point to say that if he had not needed much help, he expected us to spend that extra free time working on our projects. Have a goal. Weekly, maybe daily, if you’re eager, he’d said. As we were only nineteen, he understood that we wanted to spend our summertime exploring the area, going swimming, drinking, and partying with our friends. He made yet another point to be sure Remus did not overwork himself. He’d made sure that he devoted no more than a few hours to working, spending the rest as he pleased.
“You’re young, and you’re determined,” he’d said, drinking his wine, “You know what you want. Which is great, I can’t say I was as prepared as your age, but you have to relax and have fun. It’s summer! You have so much more time than you think.”
Remus nodded and laughed out words to show he agreed with him or at least understood what my father was telling him. “I would like to open a bank account. Is there a bank nearby?” he asked after a moment's silence, looking at the gingham tablecloth beneath his plate.
“Really?” my mother asked, smiling brightly again, “Sure there is, have Allah fetch you the bikes and James can take you,” she said, nodding her head towards me. Of course, I’d take him simply because my mother asked me to, but why me? I asked Allah, our groundskeeper, to get mine and our guest's bikes from the shed, and we were leaving in under five minutes.
“Later!” he’d yelled back at my parents and Allah, using one hand to wave back at them. Later. It was so imprecise compared to his previously posh attitude. It hadn’t bothered me right away, but after everything, I wondered why later was where his properness drew a line.
“Well, Potter,” he said, accent proper and posh as it was when he’d first been greeted, “What are you working on then?” I remember having hummed in response, a way to show I didn’t understand. “Your father said you’d be working on a project of your own, just as I am.”
“Oh, that,” I’d said, breaking on the bike and walking it to a stucco wall next to the bank, “Sculptures.”
Remus looked at me, clearly confused, as his bangs flew in front of his eyes because of how his face squished, “Just sculptures?”
This had bothered me much more than I’m sure he had intended. Several of my friends’ families or family friends’ had not supported what I or my friends were working on, project-wise. Sirius was focused on music, Lily was content with abstract painting. Marlene and my parents had supported us both, as well as our friends, as they were perfectly fine with Marlene being an illustrator or freelancing depending on my mood.
“Well, I drabble,” I mumbled, trying to hide my aggravation. “But as of late, I’m working on ceramic sculptures of the greeks.” Remus nodded, face solemn, maybe disappointed in me, not that he had the right to be.
I walked him into the bank, and his account was ready in minutes, but we still had just under an hour before the sun would have hit the water, where Remus was mesmerized barely an hour and a half prior. I showed him more in town, we stopped for magazines and ice cream, and sat at a small table adorned by a red umbrella.
He asked me where I spent the rest of the year. Here for some holidays, Scotland for school and most of the spring, I said, not looking up from the article I was reading. He told me he lived in a cottage in Bristol, but was of Welsh descent and lived there until he was ten; though I could’ve taken a hunch at the Welsh part. I didn’t pay him much mind as I studied figures and faces in the zines, hoping for inspiration for a project. He leaned over, pushing himself up at the knees and revealing a small amount of bronzed chest from underneath his white button-down. He told me he was ready to leave when I was; I paid for the mag and got back on my bike.
When we arrived back home, the sun had finally set, though the moon had not quite risen yet. We let ourselves inside the house, leaving our bikes against the wall where Allah could find them later. I had accidentally walked into my room, forgetting it was Remus’ for the remainder of the summer, and walked through the bathroom doors into my room. He tried to follow and ask me more questions about myself, but he had countless days left to learn as much or as little about me as we wanted, so I shut him out and went to sleep.
I woke in the middle of the night to find Remus outside, on our shared patio smoking a cigarette and staring at the water over the gate. I thought maybe I should sit with him, and use the excuse that a cigarette sounded good right then, but I couldn’t bear another second with his calloused hands and poor small talk. I went back to sleep.
I woke again just as the sun had finished rising, merely six a.m, to hear him walking downstairs. I decided, against my better judgment, not to go back to sleep; making this the earliest I’d woken up all summer, maybe even all year. I took a shower and changed into fresh clothes, resisting the urge to go into my room, from which I’d been evicted, and see the damage I knew Remus had made. It was nearly seven when I went downstairs to find my parents in the living room and Matilda making breakfast. They’d questioned me on why I was up so early, about why Remus had gone off to. I don’t know, I told them, I thought you would.
I ate my breakfast, no Remus to be found, and quickly deserted my plans to help my dad early in the day to meet Marlene in our shared studio.
Our families were friends, going back a long, long time. She and I became friends just as easily as her father and my mother had, as their parents before them. She lives in Scotland, not a long drive from me, and they have a generations-old brick home down the street for our summer home, so we spent the better part of our time together. She helped my father and me during the final week of June and Christmas holidays when it was just me there, no guests; but she enjoyed helping my mother with gardening and her manuscripts far more.
“So?” she asked, finding her pencils on our messy shelving unit, “How’s this year's guest?”
“He’s… something,” I said, filling a jar of water, “I’m not quite sure what to say about him yet.”
Marlene made a face at me, even raising her hand to imitate slapping me in the face, “I don’t believe you,” she said, walking over to her light desk and sitting down, “Every year, it takes a sum of twelve hours before you’ve formed your opinion on whoever is visiting. Remember, three summers ago? That girl, Blake? She had been so focused on a contemporary, that you swore she didn’t even know Monty’s name. It took, eight hours, was it? Eight hours and you decided that you didn’t like her, and it stayed that way. Last year, with Amos- that was the closest you’ve ever been to neutral about someone, and even then-”
“Okay, I get it, Marls,” I said, getting her to tie my apron for me, “he’s bothering me, but I can put my finger on why. He’s posh, Marlene! I want to empathize with him, he honestly had this truly heartbreaking story about his big project- there's just something about him.”
She was confused about why I had to ‘empathize’ with the eighteen-year-old boy who was sleeping in my bedroom, so I told her exactly what he’d told me about his film. She expressed similar thoughts to mine, in the aspect that she respected his point and that he knew what path he was on. We thought alike in that way.
It was just about lunchtime when Marlene and I left our shed, both covered in colors of brown, grey, and various vibrant colors. We both needed showers. We ate lunch with my family and Remus, where Marlene kept giving me anxious glances each time his dialect changed between me, her, and my parents. When talking to us, he would grimace and tilt his nose up at us; towards my parents, though, he had taken the more serious, mundane route and looked them in the eye and smiled.
The three of us spent the better part of the afternoon helping my father with various jobs around town, including pickups, deliveries, and going to Marlene’s just to check on her mother and father. They were doing just the same as any other day; not great. Marlene’s sister, Victoria, was only ten; but was seven when she was diagnosed with leukemia. Mr. and Mrs. McKinnon’s hearts ache for her, as she’s only getting worse. Marlene and I stayed with her for a few minutes, as my father would understand if we were merely five minutes late. Marlene kissed Victoria’s head goodbye, and her parents did the same to her and me, as though we would not be returning.
Remus didn’t take much time to figure out his way around our home, nor the most vital parts of town, so Marlene and I got to skive off just for a little while. Let Remus learn how to do these things on their own.
When Marlene and I went out separate ways, just before supper, Remus was back in the living room, writing again. He hadn’t said anything to me today, not that he needed to.
“What’s your screenplay called, Remus?” I asked, needing to put a name to it all.
does james belong with lily? yes. does james also belong with regulus? yes. does regulus also belong with barty? yes. does barty also belong with evan? yes. does sirius belong with remus? yes. does remus also belong with tonks? NO!!!!!
Mary and Marlene held hands for the first time in first year. They were eleven, holding hands so they didn't get lost in the crowded halls of the castle. It was mindless.
Then they kept holding hands.
While walking, under the table in the great hall, sitting in the common room. They found comfort in each other's hands.
Mary once told Remus, "it's like having a piece of the Earth in my hands."
A few months later, Mary took Marlene on their first real date. It was snowy outside and they had gloves on, but they still held hands all through Hogsmeade. Marlene thought Mary looked adorable with her ear muffs on.
Lots of couples love physical touch, but Mary and Marlene hold each other's hands at every open chance they could find. Its warm, and friendly, and it reminds them just how close their loves are.
“Is that my sweater?” Remus asks as Regulus sits next to him in the great hall. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised, everyone else already takes his sweaters. But Regulus, Regulus looks nice.
“It's mine now,” he says coolly as he reaches for a piece of toast.
“How did you even get that?” he asks, tucking a lose piece of hair behind regulus’ ear.
“I have my ways.”
“Like?”
“First of all, my older brother has been your roommate for five years.”
Remus nods. He knows that’s not how Regulus got the sweater, but he leaves it alone and keeps his fingers at the base of Regulus’ neck, tangled in his growing hair, for the remainder of breakfast.
hello hello! my name is OLIVE and this is my side blog! i am 14 and my pronouns are she/they! please respect this. and please DO NOT INTERACT with my page if you are under thirteen (-13) or over twenty (+20)
on this blog i post primarily about OUTER BANKS THE SUMMER I TURNED PRETTY. on my main blog, @maryslouisv i mostly post about HARRY POTTER.
i do write from time to time, usually one shots or small blurbs. please feel free to check out my request rules (below!) if you’d like to see a piece on a ship or an x reader! xoxo 🪴
