ੈ✩‧₊˚ safe and sound | poly!moonchaser x reader
pairing: poly!moonchaser x Black fem!reader (remus lupin/james potter x reader)
summary: remus and james realise all you do is look out for your brothers. nobody ever looks after you.
word count: 4.8k
ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ content: angst, hurt/comfort, black brother angst, child abuse, abusive!walburga, james/remus/reader are in a pre-established situationship, physical and emotional violence, reader is sirius' twin sister and referenced as looking like him
author's note: when you realise moonchaser is an option... i actually really loved writing reader as sirius' twin
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ deep dive the archives
It occurs to Remus after a night where only you could console Sirius, that nobody ever looks after you.
He knows James and Peter are also explicitly attempting to avert their attention—to make it look like they are doing anything except listening to you and Sirius—because that is what he is doing, too. However, it is hard when you live in a cramped dormitory, with little to no privacy.
The curtains are mostly drawn around Sirius’ bed, but in his state, it’s obvious that both of you forgot to close them entirely, and the Muffliato charm hasn’t crossed either of your minds in the last half an hour.
Remus had considered casting it for you, but Sirius’ temper prevented him from doing so. The thought of upsetting him even more, or embarrassing him by letting him know they’d even heard bits and pieces, wasn’t worth it.
So, perhaps cowardly, Remus buries his face in his book. He doesn’t miss the glances that James keeps stealing from behind his own homework. Peter is probably doing the best job at keeping busy; he’s drawn his own curtains and must be ‘having an early night’ to escape it all.
“I know, I know,” your voice carries slightly louder than Sirius’ heaving sobs, not-surprisingly strong, because Remus knows how well you always manage to keep it together for both of your brothers.
“I can’t—I can’t—-”
“You can. You’re alright, Sirius,” you reassure him firmly, and he catches the movement of your hand brushing through his long curls as he lays his head in your lap, essentially cuddling your legs. “Reggie is fine. I’m fine.”
“I just wish you would both—both come with me,” Sirius says, his chest rising and falling with his cries.
“I have to keep an eye on Reg,” you say quietly.
“But you and Reg can come to James’,” Sirius pleads, “you know it’s better than at that house. It’s so much better.”
Remus listens to the silence of your pause. He has heard this conversation angrily whispered between the two of you too many times to count, and the verdict is always the same—you have to stay with your parents to look after Regulus.
You always tell Sirius you’re not as brave as him to leave, but Remus always thinks you’re a different sort of brave for staying. He doesn’t blame either of you. Sirius deserves freedom, but you deserve it too— and so does Regulus. He thinks if Regulus could only take a chance himself, then you wouldn’t hesitate to leave your wretched parents behind, too.
Remus notices the way James’ gaze flickers up at his name being mentioned, before his head immediately tilts back to his parchment and quill. James hasn’t written anything new in the last twenty minutes, and he’s awful at pretending.
His lip is tugged between his teeth as if, for a brief moment, he can’t decide whether or not he should say something. Thankfully, Remus thinks, James decides to keep silent.
“I’d love to come and stay at Jamie’s,” you tell him so gently that Remus wonders if you’re trying to stop yourself from becoming overemotional too.
James pulls a face like he’s trying to do the same thing.
“But more than anything, Sirius, I need to keep Reg safe.”
“That’s not your job,” he says desperately.
“No, I know. It shouldn’t be.”
“He’s made his own mind up,” Sirius says, and like clockwork, he starts to get angry. “He didn’t want to come. He said himself that it is a privilege to serve Voldemort.”
You shush him in a way that only you are able to without making Sirius angrier. Remus would like to see anybody else try to silence the eldest Black sibling without getting their head chewed off.
“Reg is younger than us,” you try. “And he’s confused and he’s wrapped up in the wrong group at the minute. But you know he’s just scared. He’s just listening to mother and father.”
“They’re not my mother and father,” Sirius protests sourly. “Might be yours and Reg’s, but not mine.”
Remus wants to jump in and exclaim how unfair that is. They all know how Walburga detests you almost as much as she hates Sirius. They all know how much the toxicity of the Noble House of Black gets to you—the pureblood traditions, the family duties.
Sometimes, Remus wonders if it’s worse for you because you are the only daughter. He has a strong feeling that it’s been worse for you since Sirius left, a theory both him and James had whispered about before. Though you’d never say anything, and he was almost certain you’d never let it on to Sirius.
Though Remus thought perhaps the reason Sirius was always so upset and angry at the world was because he did know it deep down. He likely knew how his estrangement was impacting the relationship between you, Regulus, and your parents. He wouldn’t say it out loud though, and maybe that’s why he blows up like this.
It’s why you’re the only one who can help him. And you’d mentioned to James once about how you have to do the same thing for Regulus sometimes.
Remus wonders what you do, when you must inevitably feel the same way as your brothers. You weren’t born to look after them, you weren’t created to make them feel better while you act as though everything is fine. You are not a robot, and yet he’s not sure he’s ever seen you cry about it. Even when Sirius is crying so hard he cannot breathe, and it looks like you’re seconds away from joining him. You never do.
“I just can’t stand how he won’t look at me. I wish I didn’t care about him.”
“He’s your brother. You’re supposed to care,” you tell him. “We all care about each other. You feel all of the care for him that mother and father should. Just as I do.”
Sirius’ sobs become less intense, dying down into embers of sniffles. Remus dares to glance up slightly, and he sees that Sirius has his eyes shut as you wipe a tissue across his face.
“I worry about you too, Y/N,” Sirius murmurs after a few moments. “I know you hate it when I say that, but I worry about you the most. I don’t want them to break you or use you up. You’re too good. You’re better than I am. Or Reg.”
“I’m not. The three of us are all just different,” you say stiffly. “The cards that we have been dealt are none of our faults.”
Remus watches curiously, to see if you’re angry, but you only look defeated as you brush a curl out of his face. Sirius hums in the same bitter way Remus knows means he doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t argue with you either, and instead settles against you to lay in a blissful silence.
It’s then that Remus watches you tilt your head to the ceiling, as if you are coming up for air, or breathing in something that doesn’t feel like clogged tears and heavy hearts. Your hand never stops brushing through Sirius’ hair, as if you are on autopilot, but he watches as your eyes begin to water.
He quickly averts his gaze when yours flickers over, and with pursed lips, you flick your wrist and the curtain whizzes fully shut, closing the small gap. A moment later there is a faint buzzing of the Muffliato spell.
Remus watches James finally stops pretending, and sits with his back against his bed, defeated.
⋆˚꩜｡
It’s only a few days before the summer before your final year when James finds you quietly arguing with Regulus by the Potions classroom.
He freezes in his tracks when he sees the tears that are silently streaming down Regulus’ face, and the distraught expression on yours as you sigh and bury him against your shoulder.
“He left us, Y/N,” Regulus says, a mixture of strained anger and frustrated sadness. “He chose the easy way out— he didn’t actually care if we follow or not.”
“Reggie, he begged us to come,” you remind him softly. “He was going to stay, remember? You’re the one who told him to go in the end. Mother was being horrible to him.”
“But mother’s just… like that. To all of us sometimes. That’s just how she is. We still have to—respect her.”
“Sirius doesn’t see blood as an obligation the way that you do, Reg,” you remind him. “Sirius sees family in his friends. He sees it in you and I. He sees a future without mother and he decides that’s what’s best for him. I don’t blame him, Reg. Not after the things she said to him.”
“She says those things to you and you never leave,” Regulus says.
James feels his heart squeeze in his chest. He knows he shouldn’t be listening, as he’s clutching his late Potions essay in his hands and hiding around the corner like a coward for you two to finish speaking. Only, he can’t help it. It’s sort of answering the missing puzzle pieces he could never ask you or Sirius, the ones that he and Remus often wondered about.
“Right, but I can’t leave you,” you admit. “I’d rather die than leave you with them alone.”
“I could handle it,” Regulus replies numbly. “If you’d like to just leave, too.”
“You know I won’t go until you do.”
“If you ask me one more time, I’ll never speak to you again,” Regulus suddenly huffs, and even James can detect the trembling in his tone, but he knows it still must be terrifying for you to hear. “I’ve already told you—I’m committed to the cause.”
James sticks to the wall as Regulus marches past him—so blinded by his anger and desperation to escape the tension, that he misses him. James hesitates and wonders if he should confront you, but then he hears your shallow breaths and all reluctance flees out the window.
“Y/N?” He murmurs as he rounds the corner, and you quickly flinch.
“James,” you say firmly, and eye the papers he’s holding. “You just missed Professor Slughorn. I think he’s retired for the evening.”
“Oh—I’ll—leave them on his desk, then,” James replies anxiously, and scratches the back of his head as if it will stop the thousands of thoughts from flying around in there. All things he wants to say, but never could.
You nod, and just as you turn to leave, he gently reaches out to you, his large hand splaying up your forearm and to your bicep, where he very carefully pulls you back into place, so you are subtly forced to look at him.
“Regulus really doesn’t like it when other people know his business, so it’s best you don’t repeat anything that you heard,” you say. “Even to Sirius. Actually, especially Sirius.”
James becomes even more flustered as he clears his throat and shakes his head. “I wasn’t going to say anything to anybody—or Sirius. I just wanted to check on you.”
“Me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “I’m alright.”
“Are you sure?” James asks.
“Yes. Are you alright?”
James hesitates. “I’m fine, Y/N. You know, it’s just… Remus and I… we were worried about how much pressure there is on you. To keep it altogether. I can’t imagine how overwhelming it must be.”
Your nose prickles. James knows that you have the same self-destructiveness as your brothers—the thing he sees in Sirius all too often. He knows you have that same deep-down self-loathing, and the dismissiveness that comes with the Black genetics.
He’s terrified of scaring you off. At least when he scares off Sirius, Sirius runs to you. He has no idea where you go.
“If you ever need to speak to someone,” James attempts to smooth things over, but he can see it in the way your eyes shift behind him and in the movement of your pursing lips that he cannot save this. “Remus and I. And Peter. We’re all your friends, you know? And the girls, of course, but you already—you’d already know that. I hope.”
Lily has already confirmed to him that you do not speak to her about your issues when he dared to ask her once. He’s overheard Mary and Marlene whispering about the way you’re always looking after your brothers one night—as if you were their mother.
“I know. Thank you, James,” you muster a small smile. “I should head off. It’s getting rather late.”
“Alright. Goodnight, Y/N,” he says, so softly that he’s unsure if you hear him, because you take off without looking back.
⋆˚꩜｡
Summer arrives, and Regulus is hauled up in his bedroom, and you are in yours, your door open as you stare across the landing at Sirius’ closed bedroom door. It nearly makes your eyes water—thinking of your best friend in the entire world living somewhere else, so hurt by the family you’ve both grown up in, that he saw no other choice than to leave.
You can hear mother crying down the corridor. She goes through phases where Sirius’ name isn’t to be mentioned, as if he is dead to all of them, and then other phases where she misses him like she has lost a limb; sobs wracking her body, her hands smacking surfaces.
Yourself and Regulus have worked out it is best to avoid her when she is in a manic state. Often, your similar appearances to Sirius brought out the worst in her. Especially you, with your longer hair, and your braver personality.
It is dinnertime when things blow up.
The house elves have poured her too much wine. You know it, father knows it, and Regulus knows it too—but nobody says a word, because mother keeps ordering more and more, and perhaps secretly, you all hope she’ll become the sort of drunk where she passes out prematurely and is forced to retire to bed.
Unfortunately, she does not this time. Tonight is one of her drunken rampages. One moment, she is eating, and the next, her glass is shattering against the wall behind father’s head, alcohol spraying everywhere as she screams in frustration.
Father closes his eyes. “Walburga—”
Your foot touches Regulus’ beneath the table. His silver eyes are wide but trained on his food, his fingers stiffening around his fork.
“How dare he!?” Mother sobs hysterically, and she starts to sink to the floor with her face in her hands. “How could he leave me? Why would he leave his mother!? After everything! After all I have given him!”
Her wails are haunting, sending shivers down your spine. You and Regulus say nothing but try to force down some more of your dinner, knowing what was to come. And it comes, seconds later.
“The ungrateful bastard!” She screams, and begins to kick her legs out at the table.
Father did not rise, but sighs heavily and drops his fork onto his plate, the clattering noise hardly heard about his wife’s racket. He pinches the bridge of his nose.
You can see the terrified look on Regulus’ face. He is usually good at hiding how he truly felt, but he struggles around mother. You know he loves her, but he also fears her more. Perhaps because one moment Walburga is the acting as the doting parents she knows she should be, and the next, everything is souring and rotting, and the mask is peeled back and nobody is safe from her sharp tongue and stern glare.
You slide onto the floor beside her. “Mother. Mother, it’s alright.”
“No, it’s not!” She seethes. “What an embarrassment he has caused to this family! What a sick excuse for a son. He’s horrible. He’s cruel. A disgusting, filthy blood traitor.”
You can feel your pulse rising and you swallow, doing your absolute best to bite your tongue and keep your mouth shut.
“He’s better off dead,” she snaps, and it’s your final straw.
“Don’t say that,” you order, your voice strained, your face clamped in a mixture of horror and fear for the repercussions. “Don’t speak about Sirius like that.”
His name leaving your mouth makes her expression go so firm that it rivals that of a rock. Her hand smacks your face so quickly that you jolt backwards, wincing as Regulus audibly flinches behind you. Hot pain explodes across your skin.
“You can be horrible as he is,” mother hisses into the silent room. “You’re just not brave enough to follow him.”
Your lips tremble, a mixture of the pain and the grief, and you pull yourself from the floor. Regulus is watching you like a hawk, his silver eyes shining so sadly that you want to grab him and haul him with you to the furthest place you can to get away.
“You’re both dismissed from the dining table,” mother mumbles into the floor, and Regulus is quick to shove his chair back and grab you by your arm, tugging you away from the dining room.
He leads you all the way upstairs and checks your face, his fingers and thumb pressing into your chin. You huff, your hands pushing him off. He only takes one step back so you can see his glare, your own fingers touching your face where it throbs.
“Let me look after you this time,” Regulus snaps, his voice thick.
“No. I’m your older sister. I’m supposed to be the one who helps you.”
“You help Sirius and he’s older than you.”
“By a few minutes. That hardly counts, Reg—”
“Oh, just don’t, Y/N,” Regulus huffs, and you watch as he begins to sniffle to keep his tears at bay. “You can’t keep defending him.”
“I have to, Reg. He’s our brother. I’d die for him. Just as I would for you.”
Regulus shakes his head. “You shouldn’t do that for me. I’ve been thinking a lot recently and you should probably just go with him. I know he keeps asking you. He needs you more than I need you.”
“That’s not true!” Your heart stutters in your chest.
“You’re not made for all of this, Y/N. You’re just going to waste your life if you’re here—looking after me. You should follow Sirius.”
You can feel your chest getting tighter and you will it not to.
“Come off it, Reg. You’re teasing me and it’s horrible. You say this to me now, but you’ll only resent me for it later like you do with Sirius now. You didn’t blame him at first—when she started smacking him and he had to go.”
Regulus shakes his head. “You know it’s more complicated than that with Sirius.”
“I don’t see why it should be. He’s your brother like I am your sister.”
Regulus shakes his head. “It’s not like that between us anymore.”
You hold on your throbbing cheek and close your eyes.
“I’m coming back. But I am leaving for a bit.”
Regulus swallows. “Maybe you shouldn’t come back.”
You still. “I have to.”
“You don’t want to.”
“No, I don’t. But you’re here. So I’m here.”
Regulus huffs at you. “You don’t get it, do you? You’ll only start resenting me soon. If you haven’t already, subconsciously. And I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help. You’re only going to watch me take the dark mark this summer, you know. There will be absolutely nothing you can do to stop it.”
Your chest is heaving. “Regulus. Please.”
“If you stay, they’ll marry you off, or they’ll make you take the mark, too. You do know that, don’t you? You can’t look after me. I’m not a child anymore. I appreciate it all while it lasted. But now you’re in more danger than I am. You’re eighteen in November. You should take Uncle Alphard’s money and get as far away from mother and father as you can.”
“You don’t want that?” You ask him tearily. “To start your own life somewhere else?”
“I want it for you,” Regulus whispers.
“I’m coming back,” you tell him thickly. “I’m just going to… stay somewhere else tonight. To cool off.”
Regulus nods, his eyes following you around the room as you begin to shove a few things into a bag. He can’t help but think that you remind him so much of Sirius, the way you put things in there without checking what it is or folding it first.
One day he wants to follow you both. But he can’t leave yet.
⋆˚꩜｡
You purposefully do not pack enough clothes for more than two or three days, so that you will not be tempted to stay. You love Regulus more than yourself, but the idea of escaping the house you detest so much is often times so overwhelming that you worry you’ll act before you think someday.
You’re thinking of him the whole time as you approach the doors to the Potter household. You know he can handle himself for the meantime. He’s mother and father’s favourite by far; mother’s never laid a hand on him, though you’d never put it past her, because she never used to hit you or Sirius. You’ll be back soon. Regulus will be fine.
Right now, however, you are not fine.
Your hand creates a fist that gently knocks on the front door, and you budge impatiently from foot to foot as you wait for a response. It feels like your heart is attempting to make its way up your throat and spill from your mouth, your palms damp with sweat.
When the door finally cracks open, you feel no better as James Potter’s face drops at the sight of you, stood in his front garden with a stuffed bag hanging on your shoulder. You hesitate, and plant a finger to your lips.
Contemplation flickers across his face, his dark eyes pleading. “Y/N, are—”
“Shh,” you snip at him, “I don’t want Sirius to know I am here.” Your face softens and you tug your lip between your teeth. “I’m sorry. I had nowhere else to go.”
James swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing harshly in his throat, and he leans forward to grasp your bag, and steps aside so that you can enter into the foyer of his family home. You’re silent as you follow him up the staircase, past the room your brother had recently become into possession of, and into his.
Your eyes widen a little at Remus sprawled out across James’ bed, flipping through what appears to be one of James’ superhero comic books. He quickly sits up at the sight of you, on his knees, and James clicks the door shut behind him, casting a silencing spell quietly.
“Y/N?” Remus murmurs, his eyebrows tugged together, so concerned he looked older. His hands twitch over his knees, like he wants to come over and hug you already.
“Sorry,” you sigh, though the exhale of air does nothing to release the tension in your chest, and it comes out as some sort of pathetic half-hearted noise. “I had to get away for a moment. I just don’t want—I don’t really want Sirius to know, because he’ll only worry more, and I can’t stay. I have to get back to Reg. But I couldn’t…” You swallow, and to your horror, your eyes begin to burn hot. “I couldn’t breathe in that house.”
“Shit,” James curses as tears silently cascade down your cheeks, and he lifts an arm to wrap around your shoulders, bringing you into his chest without hesitation. He feels you trembling as you wrap your arms back around him.
Remus sits at the end of the bed, his hands on his lap, his shoulders hunched as he sucks in a breath and holds it for a moment, sharing a soft, sad look with James.
“Sirius has gone to bed early, so you’re alright,” Remus murmurs, as if that’s any consolation to your list of problems. He understands perfectly why you wouldn’t want to speak to Sirius about them. Sirius would only try to convince you to run away. He had a habit of meaning the best, but only hearing what he wanted to hear—and telling you what he would do, and failing to realise that not everybody was like him.
“Thanks,” you sniffle as you turn away from James, pressing your hands to your eyes.
“What happened?” Remus dares to ask, because he knows he will not like the answer, but a million different scenarios are running through his head, and he needs to settle on just one.
Your lips purse. “Mother—she smacked me.” Your throat bobs and you choke on another sob.
James’ jaw tightens and Remus looks like he can’t decide whether he wants to yell or be sick. They knew what Walburga was like; how the final straw for Sirius had been when she hit him so hard that he nearly fainted. From their understanding, it was mostly psychological and emotional abuse; shit designed to break you.
They hope this is your final straw, too, but they also know you—and they know that you’re too stubborn to ever leave without your youngest brother.
You sniffle and wipe your face. “Gods. This is pathetic. I am so sorry.”
“Why is it pathetic?” James protests. “You can speak to both of us. We’ve always told you that you can. Your mother is…”
“We’re not supposed to be like that,” you mutter, hastily ridding the puddles from your cheekbones. “We all said no…no feelings.”
Remus makes a noise in the back of his throat, and reaches his hand out to hold yours, squeezing your palm.
“That’s what you said, sweetheart,” Remus says gently. “We already told you we’d be whatever you wanted us to be.”
You shake your head. “Sirius needs you both. I can’t take you from him.”
“We’re still there for Sirius, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be there for you, too,” James protests firmly, a conversation that the three of you have had far too many times over the last six months or so. “You don’t deserve any less than him.”
Remus hesitates. “You’re allowed to feel safe, too.”
James watches the way you pause, your watery eyes flickering between them both. “Do you feel safe with us?” He asks.
“When I’m with you two, I feel like I’m not looking after anybody for a few moments,” you admit quietly. “Like I’m my own person. Nobody’s sister. Nobody’s daughter.”
Remus can’t help but slide his hand up from yours, up your forearm, to your bicep, where he drags you closer to him. Instinctively, you bury your face into him like you had done with James.
“You’ve been distancing yourself from us, dove,” Remus whispers worriedly, stroking your hair. “Is it because you knew summer was coming up?”
“I don’t like relaxing for too long,” you mumble.
James folds his arms across his chest. “By relaxing, do you mean feeling alright? Feeling happy?”
You shrug your shoulders, but it’s all the confirmation that they need to know that you’re just scared of having too much of a good thing, and the feelings that will come if it was to all go away suddenly. Sirius used to be the same.
They remember a time before everything had gotten so bad, where you had been easy-going and light-hearted—where you knew everything about them, and they knew everything about you. Puberty and ageing had caused you to hang out Lily, Marlene, and Mary a bit more in the most recent years, but you in yourself had never changed.
Not until the war became to prevelant in all of your lives. Not until Sirius left and your family was torn apart, you like a tuat piece of rope between them both, being tugged so hard that Remus and James were forced to wonder when you might snap.
“We really like you,” James hesitates. “You should know. I didn’t want to scare you off by telling you, but…but you deserve to know. You can decide what you do with that information.”
You peel from Remus and glance up at him curiously. He nods. “Dove, we thought it was slightly obvious we’d be anything you want us to be. But we’d like to be more than what we’ve been for the last few months.”
“I’m scared.”
“We know,” Remus strokes your skin delicately. “We’ll look after you.”
He feels you sag against him at that, as James joins you, and runs a hand through your hair, his eyes meeting yours. He kisses your forehead.
“Just let us,” he proposes.
You hesitate, but you nod. And Merlin, the feeling of the two bodies crushing you together feels so good. The pressure is perfect; the arms, the smells, the chests, the hair tickling you. It feels euphoric to indulge. And maybe you can stay here just a little while longer than usual.
Maybe you deserve peace, too.
