#a different orbit

[eeveequ33n]

For @lunapwrites I present one gutter punk welsh wolf. Their writings a blast to go through

[lunapwrites]

Important note:

ADO-verse Remus is the little spoon.

That is all.

[lunapwrites]

newspaper habits

Somehow, in the course of writing today, I have discovered that I have a very specific headcanon about how the Marauders take the Prophet.

Peter gets the paper (the owls hate him, so they always aim for him no matter who has the subscription anyway.) He pulls out the comics pages, passes it to James.

James pulls out the sports section (quidditch stats and commentary and the like.) Passes it to Remus.

Remus pulls out the crossword for Sirius, and then actually reads the news. I imagine he gives a cliffnotes version to the other 3 before buckling down to help Sirius with the bits of the crossword he's stuck on. Because Sirius always, inevitably, gets stuck on something. (Remus knows it's on purpose, most of the time, but he doesn't mind.)

I imagine this being, like, a daily ritual for them. To the point that other students have noticed, but just... accepted it as A Thing.

I imagine that Remus started getting his own subscription after graduation, but that he would still pull the crossword out to hand to Sirius over the breakfast table. Or to leave at his spot if he was out on a mission or something. I imagine he never once forgot to do that.

I imagine that Remus stopped getting the Prophet after November 1981, when he pulled out the crossword and then remembered why. He had to replace the table afterwards, but couldn't afford to so he just stopped eating breakfast instead.

I imagine he started to get the Prophet again in 1993, when he saw the headline in passing, just to get any scraps of news.

I imagine that in 1995, he sat at the breakfast table and passed Sirius the crossword again for the first time in 15 years and it felt like putting on an old favorite coat that he'd thought he'd lost forever but it was still just as warm and it still fit, if a little different now. It still smelled like all the things he loved.

(And if we're talking canon, I imagine that in 1997, he still took out the crossword and set it at an empty place at the table, and Tonks still set Sirius' favorite mug out for him. And neither of them said anything about it but they didn't need to.)

(But if we're talking my timeline, imagine that only with less angst, and Sirius telling Harry to quit talking with his mouth full. While also, ironically, having his mouth full. And it wasn't perfect but it was good.)

[lunapwrites]

Need some smol distractions from my shitty shitty workday.

Pick a number between 1 - 167 and I'll give you the corresponding song off my series playlist and The Vibe it's supposed to be going for.

[lunapwrites]

Remus: I lost Dora.

Sirius: How did you LOSE Dora?!

Remus: To be fair, she is very small.

[lunapwrites]

Dora: *signs a legal document with a glitter gel pen*

[lunapwrites]

Remus: .. .----. -- / ... --- .-. .-. -.-- [translation: I’M SORRY] Dora: What's that? Remus: Remorse code. Dora: I'm even angrier now.

[lunapwrites]

A Rarity

Someone in the HPFC discord got me thinking about Remus gardening while wearing baby Teddy and talking to him like a little adult (because he so would) and I had to write some domestic in-universe fluff. I wouldn't call this spoilers, exactly, but it's a HC I play with sometimes that has no bearing on where my plot is actually heading lol. Scene below the cut.

"I reckon we're in for a tidy yield this time; what do you think, Ted?"

The baby cooed brightly from his sling, his hair turning as blue as the sky above their heads. Fine days like this were a rarity in the Valleys, and Remus was determined to make the most of it. He tied his hair back, dropping to his knees in the soft soil of the garden with his son tucked snugly into his chest.

"See this? First tomato of the season. Une tomate. Your mam will be thrilled," Remus said dryly, showing the offending fruit to the baby. The little boy's hair had turned a matching shade of red. "Oh! Well done." He pressed a kiss to the baby's hair, smiling widely. "Your mam actually hates tomatoes, she does. But that's alright because I need them for things she does like. Like... I dunno, pizza, or bolognese or something. Couple of curries." He snorted. "Actually, there's a lot of things she likes that use them. Bit silly. But maybe you'll like them. I hope you'll at least try them when you're older. Should try everything at least once."

Remus hummed as he checked the remaining fruits on the vine; the rest were still green.

"Needs some more time, this one. See?" He tilted his body slightly so Teddy could see the unripe tomatoes, blinking up at them with newly green eyes. His eyes. The baby wrinkled his nose, his hair turning the same bright green as the tomato his gaze was fixed on.

"You're getting quite good at this, aren't you now then?" He resisted the urge to tap his son's nose; his hands were already covered in dirt. "Next thing you know you'll be morphing your face into Harry's and mocking him at the table."

They worked like that for some time, Remus keeping up a steady stream of easy chatter, informing his son of all the best ways to grow a variety of vegetables and herbs and showing off each in turn as he harvested. Naming them in three languages. Teddy, for his part, watched with slightly unfocused but still-curious eyes, his hair colour shifting with each new treasure his father showed him.

"We've got some nice leeks coming in now then. That's called cennin in Welsh, but the French call it poireau. Bit stuffy, if you ask me." He pulled one of the onions out of the ground, gently shaking the excess soil off the roots. Teddy giggled, shaking his fists, his hair turning a dark brown. "You like that, eh?"

Remus looked down at the basket of vegetables and herbs, taking inventory and making a mental note to check with Molly if she needed any asparagus. The bloody plant had been producing more than any sane man knew what to do with, and he was running out of ideas.

"Might be I could make that risotto again. Seemed like it was a hit — oh! Careful there," he admonished softly, pulling Teddy's tiny hands away from the fennel greens he'd been attempting to stuff into his mouth. Thus foiled, the baby shoved a tiny fist into his mouth instead. Remus sighed.

"I should probably be discouraging this, but as you're already fond of chewing on your own toes I'm going to let you have this one."

The air was split suddenly by the sound of clanging metal, flapping wings, and vicious swearing; Remus looked up just in time to see Sirius running out of the garage like his hair was on fire, pursued by a large and angry goose.

"Looks like someone got on the wrong side of Moriarty again," Remus whispered conspiratorially to his son. Teddy stared, wide-eyed, his hair a shock of yellow so bright it almost hurt to look at him.

Almost.

Remus hauled himself to his feet, brushing the dirt from his jeans and making sure Teddy hadn't grabbed anything else untoward (he had not).

"Suppose we ought to go rescue him. Your mam will have something to say if she comes home and I've let Pads get eaten by the goose again. Do you remember what we call Moriarty in Welsh?" Teddy made a sort of grunty noise; Remus nodded seriously. "Good effort. He's called gwydd. Or oie, in French."

A long string of expletives echoed out over the yard as Moriarty continued his furious pursuit.

"Don't call him that, though," Remus warned. "Your mam and Pads will have to hide for laughing, and I'll be stuck having to pretend to be cross with you."

Between the five of them — Harry and Ginny included — it was almost a guarantee that Teddy's first word would be something particularly foul. Remus sighed, making his way towards the house, whistling sharply.

As expected, Moriarty came waddling over, acting as though butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Remus pulled a bit of lettuce out of the basket, offering it to the little menace who plucked it cheerfully from his fingers and toddled off, clearly satisfied.

"Don't tell Pads I'm encouraging him," he stage-whispered, and Teddy cooed up at him cheerfully. Moriarty was the only one of their animals that wasn't enamoured with Sirius, having decided that Remus was His Person almost out of spite. It gave Sirius something to do, though, spending hours figuring out how to ward a goose out of his workshop through trial and error. The error, in particular, granted Remus and Dora both endless hours of entertainment.

He stopped at the door, looking out over the garden, the garage where old Baglan's tractor was being repaired. The field where the sheep were grazing. Inside, Sirius was at the kitchen sink, muttering darkly as he washed the motor oil from his hands with the soap that Dora had brought home last week, the one that smelled of oranges and seemed to be working a treat. Dora was due home in an hour, likely full of stories about the newest batch of recruits she was "training." Remus would have called it hazing, but she insisted it was a part of the education that Mad-Eye had given her, and she was intent on keeping his legacy alive. Harry would be working late, bouncing between working at the shop with the twins and trying to find a premises for his own venture — which he still wouldn't divulge any details of to anyone, insisting that the surprise would be worth it. Remus suspected that it was music-related, given Harry's sudden interest in where he'd sourced his record collection.

They'd all worried that after all those years of chaos — of war — they would struggle to settle down. But as always, life surprised them. Things were peaceful, yes, but certainly never boring.

Life was good.