(As my family went to a museum at Limfjorden in the North-West part of Denmark, I learned about how, during WW1, a lot of ships from Britain to Germany was knocked off course during a storm, and ended up sinking in the very dangerous waters near the Danish West coast. And while this kickstarted a Wolfstar AU, with Remus being half Danish and living as a a local English teacher in North-West Denmark and volunteering to help translate for the few British survivors from the shipwrecks, one of them being Sirius... I’ve fallen into a Jegulus hole since then, so this is what happened instead. I hope you’ll enjoy <3)
James was crying by the time Remus handed him the coat. Remus hadn’t known him for long, but it didn’t surprise him to see the tears swell up and then fall. James seemed like a man who didn’t care about what others thought of him, and he expressed himself so openly, almost like the emotions were spilling out of him, out of his control, and even if he did try and control it, it’d just hurt. For someone who felt so much, the pressure of keeping all of those emotions inside would be crushing.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Remus couldn’t meet James’ gaze, couldn’t handle the weight of the gratitude, but he could feel it nonetheless. Could feel it like a heavy blanket.
“Of course.”
James hadn’t seemed this at peace up until this moment, and Remus hadn’t thought much of it. Everyone would feel confused and scared and weary, waking up in a strange place after a storm had raged so powerfully around you that your ship couldn’t stay afloat. It seemed like a natural response, and Remus had thought nothing of it. Sirius had been like that, and then some, almost violent in his distrust. It had helped settle him when he got confirmation that James had survived the storm as well. He had started to open up more, talking with Remus, carefully at first, and then excitedly, and Remus caught himself thinking about stars and poetic thoughts centered around those grey eyes, shining and sparkling more vividly than any star could ever do. Those thoughts were never going to leave his head, but Sirius would sometimes smirk, like he knew about them anyways, somehow. It was infuriating. Remus had given up trying to use the excuse of being one of the few in the town who spoke English well enough to be a translator. People just laughed and Remus barely even spoke to any of the other shipwreck survivors. Just Sirius.
And James.
James was rummaging through the pockets of his coat, almost desperately, hope shinning in his eyes, never dying down, even as he didn’t seem to find what he was looking for. He kept looking.
And then he found it.
A pocket-watch. James started crying again as he opened it, and Remus hadn’t meant to look, but he saw it anyhow.
Inside the watch, a photo was attached, somehow not ruined from the water. The picture showed a young woman, stunningly beautiful, a fierce gleam in her eyes. Besides her stood a man, a little bit taller than her, but not by much. While the woman seemed full of joy and life and humour, the man was colder, more drawnback, not showing much emotion on his face. Maybe that was why it took a while before Remus realised that the man looked slightly like Sirius. But Sirius had never looked so cold. Not like that.
And yet there was something soft, almost fond over the man. He was holding a small child and the care with which the man held the child was impossible to overlook. The woman had her hand placed lovingly on the child’s head.
“That’s Harry.” James’ voice was so soft, so filled with love and pride and adoration as he looked at the picture. He pointed at the child.
“He’s only a little over 3 years old, I... I didn’t want to leave, but Sirius was and it’s a war, and-”
“James. I understand.” Remus smiled, a hand on James’ shoulder, reassuring in a way words never could be. Not from Remus, anyways. And it seemed to comfort James.
“Yeah... Yeah... Anyways, that’s Lily, she’s... She’s, eh... She’s Harry’s mum...” It was obvious that James loved the woman, loved Lily, But his thoughts seemed painted on his face and they were divided and James so obviously tried to make a decision, and Remus almost pitied him. So he asked.
“Is she your wife?” He tried to communicate more with that question. Tried to ask something else, tried to tell James that he could tell as much as he wanted to, but that he didn’t have to hide anything. Remus knew better than to judge, and besides... He was one of the few people out there that understood English either way.
And James seemed to understand.
“... Legally, yes. And I do love her, I... Once, I LOVED her, that’s why... Harry... I mean... But we... I...” he gestured with his pinky towards the man holding Harry, and something in Remus softened immensely, wanted to reach out and hug James, wanted to let him know that it was okay. He sat down next to him.
“We were young. We wanted different things, I think, or... I don’t know. Lily and I, we didn’t work... But that’s Regulus.”
James hadn’t needed to say anything else. Remus knew. Just from the tone of James’ voice, the way his entire body relaxed, how his eyes glazed over... It seemed like an instant relief, like James could breathe a little easier, as if Regulus’ name was all it took for James to feel at peace. To feel home. But he still continued, almost gleefully.
“He was furious when Lily came and told me. He was scared, I think, but he had nothing to be scared about... But it took a while before we reached... Well, this. But it’s working out alright, I think. Harry has a mum, and...”
“And two dads?” Remus smiled as James looked up with hope and joy in his eyes, and Remus could do nothing but nod and smile some more.
“-he’s a lucky kid.”
“He is. And I’m lucky. I’m so, so lucky. And after this... Remus, I’m going back home as quickly as I can. I won’t be going to Preussia. I’ll go home.” James looked back down at the watch in his hands, at the picture like it was the entire world, and Remus didn’t doubt that it was.
And Rosie? Oh, Rosie tasted like death. Her lips were cold and chapped, no wisps of breath slipping through. Her body was frozen and it was like holding a statue in her arms. For a moment, just a single, splintering moment, Vega regretted ever risking anything. Keeping her feelings hidden might kill her but it would have been less painful than this apparent rejection.
But then the corpse slowly came back to life, Rosie’s arms moving for her hands to cradle Vega’s face, warmth blooming under the touch. A sound seemed to form behind Rosie’s lips, and oh. Oh. Rosie surged forward, so much force and life that it spilled over, drowning Vega in it, and it was such a sweet way to drown. She’d do it again and again and again, take everything that Rosie had to give. It overwhelmed her senses and killed her thoughts, but who needed thoughts or sense when there was feeling?
Rosie started moaning and whimpering, low and small, but she kept moving and shoving like she always had, only this time, it seemed like an attempt to get Vega closer rather than away. She kept moving until Vega was with her back against the wall, Rosie’s tall figure caging her in.
“Oh I’m an idiot,” she murmured, breaking away from Vega’s lips and immediately started covering her face in faint kisses, barely more than running her lips over every inch of her face, and words seemed to, for once, completely die in Vega’s throat, making Rosie hum with satisfaction when she felt Vega’s breath hitch.
“I’m so so dumb, such an idiot, I didn’t…”
“You’re not dumb.” Vega somehow managed to find her voice while clinging to Rosie, the words barely more than a sigh and she could feel Rosie smirk.
“Well, perhaps not, you’re right, I am awfully clever, but oh… Oh I didn’t know this was what I was feeling. Oh damn you, Vega Prince, darling princess. Oh you’re my princess, aren’t you?” And Rosie had finally pulled away, just a bit, resting her head against Vega’s, both of them breathing the same air and Vega found those lovely blue eyes looking into her soul, only this time, they were looking for all the things Rosie had seen before, but simply ignored in favour of all the rotten things to be found in Vega instead. This was entirely new territory and Vega was frankly terrified of the mere thought of exploring it. She trusted that Rosie wasn’t. She wrinkled her brows at Rosie’s words though, and Rosie pulled a face like it both amused her and was a personal offence against her.
“Alright, well, first of all: Your princess? Just because I kissed you doesn’t mean I want to be your… Your…” Her face turned red, and Rosie smirked and Vega was back to hating her again. Pretending to. She cleared her throat.
“-and second of all!!! You really had no idea that you… You mean to tell me, that up until five seconds ago, you hated me??!”
“Well, when you put it like that…” Rosie pulled a face, feigning embarrassment, but Vega was no fool and she could see the humour shining through unashamed. Rosie barked out a laugh.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Lovely, I’m a master liar, am I not? That’s my secret right there!!” She laughed, winding her arm around Vega’s waist, pulling her closer, her lips hovering over Vega’s while whispering, “that’s why I’m so good at lying to everyone. I lie to myself.”
“... You need therapy.”
“No, really?”
“Don’t get cheeky with me.”
“But, you see, I just learned… You probably love it.”
The irritation around Rosie apparently didn’t die out just because Vega didn’t have to hide her feelings in the hollow place where her heart should be. A shame, honestly. Because now she had to deal with being in love with someone who apparently really just was annoying, rather than just being annoyed about supposedly unrequited feelings.
“Well, this has been a blast, truly, but I really do have to get going, I have violin practice, and if I’m not wrong, you have training as well.” Rosie just continued to smirk and grin, face full of lively delight as Vega pushed her way out into the hallway, out from where Rosie had her pinned against the wall.
It’s been a while since I’ve written something. Since I’ve written something for me and myself, not as part of other people’s lovely and amazing stories. Since I’ve made stories with words rather than sounds and moving images, pouring my stories into a visual medium.
It’s been a while since I found comfort in words and allowed for them to speak for themselves.
I think I’d like to return now.
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