#muggle!sirius

[ashes-and-ashes]

Written on February 2, 2020 and found only recently :) Another bit of HSFTY!

tw for pretty graphic gore!!

~

“Jesus Christ,” Remus says.

Sirius forces a chuckle, wincing as he feels his lip split open wider. “That bad?”

Everything hurts. There’s blood everywhere, coating his lips, his shirt, dripping down into his eye and stuck underneath his fingernails. He coughs, spitting up more blood; red, red, red everywhere and he thinks he’s about to pass out.

“Fuck,” Remus says. He reaches out, though Sirius doesn’t know why, either to hold him or steady him or -

Sirius pulls away. “Don’t. You’ll get blood all over yourself.”

Remus levels a flat, unbelieving look at him. “Really.”

Sirius shakes his head. “I...I can stand.”

“And I can talk to animals but that’s not fucking useful, is it?” Remus hisses, grabbing onto him. Sirius tried to twist away but Remus holds firm. His fingers are wrapped tightly around Sirius’ wrist, heedless of the blood there, and Sirius frowns.

He doesn’t know why his stomach turns, every fiber in his body twisting at the contact. He feels dizzy, almost light headed; he wonders if it’s due to the blood loss.

“Shit,” Remus hisses again. His face has gone grey, his breathing stuttering in his chest. “It’s not stopping.”

Sirius clamps his lips together; he feels a bubble of laughter rising up his throat, a strange sense of giddiness overtaking him. He bites down hard on his cheek, lets the pain bring everything back into focus, body aching with every movement.

Remus glares down at him, then shakes his head. “You need help. I’ll get someone - “

“No,” Sirius says. “Don’t. Don’t tell anyone. I can’t let them see me like this.”

Remus stares at him, then slowly looses a breath. “Why? Why do you keep - keep fucking with people? Keep getting into all these fights?”

Sirius shrugs, then winces. “I don’t know,” he says. “Guess it makes me feel alive.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Sirius laughs, then immediately regrets it. He doubles over, hands pressed to his side, gasping as the pain slowly worked its way up his body. “I happen to be your idiot.”

Remus doesn’t bother arguing. He stares at the marks, the blood, his face a cold, flat mask. Sirius takes one look at his expression and curses himself - Remus always did this, when confronted with blood and torn flesh. He didn’t know what memories plagued Remus’ nightmares, what had been done to him to leave those huge, ripping scars. He wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to know.

“Wait here,” Remus says, his voice gravelly and low. His footsteps are silent as he leaves Sirius’ room - the handle of the door clicks behind him, the faintest scrape of picks against metal. Sirius closes his eyes, breathes through gritted teeth. Water drips on the roof above him, a maddening beat in time with his heart.

He’s not sure how long it’s been when Remus gets back. Long enough that his muscles ache in protest when he forces himself up, elbows braced against the pillows behind him. “Where did you get that?”

“Where do you think?” Remus dumps the first aid kit on the bed, the white plastic luminous in the moonlight. It casts strange shadows across Remus’ face - jagged lines, sharp edges. “Supply closet.”

Sirius huffs a laugh that quickly turns into a wince. “That easy to pick?”

“I did it in the dark,” Remus says flatly. “What do you think?”

His hands are hot against Sirius’ skin as he finds the hem of his hoodie, yanks it up to his shoulders. Sirius hisses under his breath at the scrape of fabric against his wounds, the cold brush of air, the searing touch of Remus’ fingers. He’s not sure what aches more, actually - broken skin or the feeling of Remus’ hands on him, fingers pressing gently into the spaces between his ribcage. “Fuck.”

“Shhh.” Remus’ voice is muffled - he has a small packet gripped between his teeth, tears off the corner. Sirius only has a moment to brace himself before fire snakes up his side - he groans into his arm, teeth digging into his skin. “Ah fuck.”

Remus merely dabs at the wounds again with the alcohol. Sirius has to choke back tears, biting down hard into the half-healing marks on his lip. “Shit that burns.”

“Maybe next time you won’t be such an idiot,” Remus says dryly. The burning moves higher - he presses the cloth against the cut on his chest, fingers so searingly hot against Sirius’ skin. “Who knows if I’ll bother to clean you up again.”

“You will,” Sirius says. He means for it to sound flippant, but the words land too heavily for it to be anything but the truth. “You love me too much.”

Remus’ eyes flicker down, to his own hands pressed against Sirius’ chest, flits back up to meet Sirius’ gaze. He can barely see Remus’ face - it’s all covered in shadows and moonlight and scars like strips of stars set into his skin. “Maybe,” he whispers, and it’s the truth too. “Maybe I do.”

[lumosinlove]

Can i pleeeeeeease get some muggle wolfstar on an airplane?? Like are they cute and cuddly, does siri love to look in skymall, does rem get super anxious flying, do they do the diddly do on an airplane??? PLEAse GIv e Me some WolfSTAr in thE AIr

i love these two.

“You should buckle your seat belt.”

Sirius sat up from where he’d been rummaging through his backpack, trying to find the crisps he’d stashed their earlier, and looked at Remus, “Huh?”

Remus tugged at his own buckled belt, “They’re going to yell at us.” Remus looked nervously down the isle, as if talking about it would automatically summon one of the perfectly dressed stewardesses.

Sirius cracked a smile, “Re, they won’t yell at us. They probably won’t even notice with all their drink carts and stuff. I never wear my seatbelt.”

Remus sent a troubled look up to where the screens that had shown the instructions video earlier were now folded into the ceiling, “But they said…”

Sirius laughed lightly, leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to Remus’ cheek, “It’s not all as big as you think it is, love, don’t worry. Hey, you haven’t seen the crisps have you?”

Without looking, Remus reached into Sirius’ backpack and pulled the bag out, dropping it into Sirius’ lap.

“Right.” Sirius picked then up, looking slightly bewildered, “How do you do that? I swear to god, I just looked—“

“What about the no smoking? That’s enforced isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah, that is.” Sirius look from the crisps to Remus, tugging lightly at the airplane pillow he had hooked around his neck, “You look fucking cute by the way.”

Remus flushed, reaching up to touch the soft material with a self-conscious smile, momentarily forgetting about the video and seat belt, “They recommended it.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, “They?” A smile started to creep across his face again, “Did you research?”

Remus spluttered, “I—I might have looked into it.” He looked sheepish for a moment then nodded at Sirius’ crisps, “You shouldn’t eat those here. The sodium will make your feet swell.”

“God,” Sirius laughed. He reached forward, tucking his fingers into the hair at the back of Remus’ head and pulling him in for a kiss, “I love you.” He said the words against Remus’ lips, “And all of your little preparations.” He leaned back in his seat, shaking his head and smiling, starting to open his crisps, “Research…” He mumbled to himself.

Remus watched him for a moment, accepting a few crisps despite his warning, and loosening his seatbelt. He supposed it did all feel more relaxed than he had expected. When Sirius pulled out a magazine called Skymall and was diligently flipping through it making little noises of exclamation, Remus pressed as far out of his seat as he could until he spotted the bathrooms that were—as promised—located at the end of the isle. He dug his teeth into his lip, feeling a little thrill shoot up his spine.

“Pads.” He unhooked the pillow from around his shoulders, stuffing it into the seat pocket.

“Hm?” Sirius dogeared a page, “Look at this, Re. A heated water bed.” He tapped the page with his finger, “I think we need this.”

Remus leaned over the armrest, hand trailing down the inside of Sirius’ forearm until he could tuck his fingers into Sirius’, “Pads.”

Sirius finally looked away from the magazine, “Sorry, sorry. Yeah, love?”

Remus bit back a smile, instead nosing gently at Sirius’ jawline, “Do you want to know what else I found during my research?”

Sirius snorted, “Yes, Re, what else did you find?”

Remus glanced across the isle briefly, gaze hidden by Sirius’ profile. There was an older couple seated there, one with headphones on and staring out the window, the other already safely snoozing away. He slid his hand from Sirius’ wrist to his thigh, fingers digging into the muscled skin through his sweatpants, “There was one article,” he said, smiling at the way he heard Sirius’ breath hitch, “that talked about a certain…activity that could take place in the bathrooms. I think they called it ‘the mile high club’. Sound familiar?” His lips were trailing along Sirius’ jaw now, his hand inching its way upward. He felt Sirius inhale sharply.

“Fuck, Re.” The magazine was crinkled in Sirius’ grip.

Remus’ voice was a whisper now, just for Sirius, “They wrote all about how good its suppose to feel up here, how strong…I want that with you.” Remus ducked his head, just a little, and pressed a gentle kiss to the heated skin of Sirius’ neck, “Pads…”

Sirius made a little needy sound, voice cracking, and Remus knew he had him.

“Okay.” Sirius let out a breath, “Fuck, okay, okay, yes, yes.” He let out a little laugh, “Jesus, your first time on a plane and you want to—God, have I mentioned I love you?”

Remus grinned, “A few times.”

Sirius let his head rest against Remus’ for a moment before shoving the magazine into the seat pocket, nearly spilling the crisps as he tried to do the same with them. He practically tore his seatbelt off before pressing his hand over Remus’ where it was still settled on his thigh again. His eyes were dark, the pupils wide, when he looked at Remus, “I’m gonna go—“ He turned away for a second, looking down the isle before looking back, “to the left one, yeah? Wait like—three minutes then—“

“Longest three minutes of my fucking life.” Remus huffed.

Sirius grinned, leaning forward and capturing Remus’ mouth in a hard kiss, tongue pushing in. Remus let himself fall into it until Sirius pulled away, all too soon.

“Three minutes.” He whispered, “I’ll be waiting.”

[ashes-and-ashes]

For all the lovely people who wanted more HSFTY <3

~

Sirius catches him in the hallway, all grey walls and dark shadows and the silver light of the moon. He’s leaning against the corner, just across from the door, arms folded and eyes dark.

“It’s not going to work,” he says, and Remus startles so much that he almost drops his picks. It’s only a sharp twist of his wrist that saves them from clattering against the floor, cold metal gleaming in the moonlight, a needle spinning around the soft skin on his fingers. “Trust me. It won’t.”

Remus slowly gets to his feet, slips the picks deeper into his sleeve. He shrugs the bag across his shoulder in an effort to distract Sirius from the motion. “What won’t work?”

Sirius laughs. “Running.”

“Who says I was running?”

Sirius inclines his head. “The bag. The clothes. The lock picks.”

Remus closes his hands tighter, feels the metal dig into his palm, sharp and bright and cold. “What lock picks?”

Sirius just laughs again. It’s almost too loud in the silence of the hallway, louder than the pounding in Remus’ chest and the empty echos of a settling building. “That explains it then. They locked the bedrooms.”

“How did you get out then?”

Sirius just grins, holds up his hands. The fingertips are rubbed raw and bloody, the nails broken and cracked. “Climbed out the window. Across the roof and in through the sitting room.”

Remus just swallows. He spares another look behind him: the door lies closed and mocking where it’s set against the wall, the lock dark and empty. He needs at least another minute on the lock, maybe two. Slowly, he takes a step back, hands dropping down to his side. “That’s dangerous. You could have fallen.”

“Oh,” Sirius says sarcastically. His grin is dark and savage and beautiful - Remus remembers when he had seen him for the first time, his mouth dripping with blood and his knuckes bruised, still smiling even as the staff had forced him to his knees. He looked like a demon, something delicate in its twistedness, an angel long fallen. “Yes. Because climbing a roof is the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done.”

Remus takes another step back. If he reaches out he can almost brush the cool texture of the wall, press his fingers against the wood. “Then what got you in here?”

Sirius’ eyes go dark. “Isn’t it rude to ask questions like that?”

“Maybe,” Remus says. Another half-step and his back is pressed up against the wall, fingers pinned behind him. “But I’m curious.”

Sirius studies him for a long moment. It’s bothered him, for the 3 months he’s been at Hogwarts. People are like locks to Remus, made up of metal pins and empty spaces. He’s always known where to push, where to scrape, how to work them with nothing more than a few twists and prods. It’s how he survived for so long on the streets.

Sirius is different though. Sirius is a lump of melted metal and twisted wires, full of too many cracks and sharp, vicious edges that tore at Remus’ hands whenever he tried to push. Sirius was rusted iron in a corroded keyhole, grating and jolting, full of so much anger that sometimes it reminded Remus of himself.

Remus’ fingers ache, sharp pains shooting all the way up to his shoulders. He swallows it down though, meets Sirius’ level gaze.

“You tell me first,” Sirius says.

Remus takes a deep breath. “I stole from the wrong person,” he says, and the words echo softly in his head.

Something like sympathy sparks in Sirius’ eyes. “I killed the wrong person.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus whispers, and he gives his pins one last stabbing jolt. The lock clicks behind him; he wrenches the handle open with one hand, sliding his foot into the crack between the door and the wall. Sirisu blinks in surprise.

“You - “ he starts, then he cuts himself off. Remus’ hand tightens around the handle, hard enough that if he looks down he thinks he’ll see straight lines seared into his skin. Sirius swallows, mouth a tight line.

“The door’s on the right,” he says. “Two halls down. Past there it’s the showers, then the searching room. I only ever got to there. There’s bars of the window, and blocking the main door. They come down from the ceiling. Never knew how to get past them. If you manage though, there’s the waiting room.”

Remus nods, shoulders tensed up.

“They’ll taser you when they catch you. Don’t resist. One of them broke my arms once.”

“They won’t catch me.”

Sirius gives him a sad smile. “That’s what they always say.”

His face is the last thing Remus sees as he slips into the darkness, closes the door behind him.

~

He makes it all the way to nearly the front door before they catch him.

[ashes-and-ashes]

As promised - a circus au :)

~

Sirius bumps into him on the street. He wasn’t paying attention to where he was going - not with the wind and the rain and the throbbing bruises spread out like a fan on his cheek. The cool night air was like a balm on his aching skin, numbing the pain just a little bit.

He was walking with his head down, the brim of his hat down low over his eyes and the collar of his shirt flipped up in an effort to protect himself against the cold. Sirius swipes his hand roughly over his eyes, blinking furiously as to not let the tears flow and continues down the street. This wasn’t a great part of town, and a young boy walking alone was already enough to warrant too much attention. Sirius swallows, grimly - he’s made an effort to disguise himself, wearing old clothes from the back of the closet instead of his usual rich attire.

He really should have been paying more attention. All he knew was he was walking, eyes fixed on the cobblestones in front of him and then a bony shoulder and a thin arm and Sirius was flying backwards. He flung his arm out desperately; a pale hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him up just as he was about to fall. His hat was knocked off, tumbling onto the wet stone, his coat soaked with dirty mud.

Sirius swallows, hard. “I beg your pardon,” he starts, turning to look at the person. “I didn’t mean to - “

His words die in his throat.

The boy standing across from him merely smirks, his face half-hidden in shadows. He’s dressed in swathes of emerald green, his ears decked in chains of glistening gold that matched his eyes. There were odd shoes covering his feet - rubber, Sirius realizes, meant for climbing and gripping. Despite his delicate appearance Sirius could feel the calluses where the palm of the boy’s hand wrapped around Sirius’ wrist, the type only made from hours of hard work.

“I’m sorry,” he says again; the boy seemed to gleam like gold in the rain. “I wasn’t looking where I was going - “

”Beg your pardon,” the boy says easily. He bends smoothly, dusting off Sirius’ hat - it’s soaked through with wet mud and bits of hay. “I apologize. I seemed to have ruined your hat.”

“Don’t think of it,” Sirius says reflectively, even as his insides shriveled up. His mother -

What did it matter, he thinks, bitterly. I’m getting beaten anyway.

“Well,” the boy says. He’s stepped under the awning of a nearby building, the street lamps flickering across the sharp planes of his face, too fast for Sirius to get a clear look. He follows the boy, grateful for some reprieve of the storm. The boy leans against the wooden planks of the building. “I’d better get - “ he starts, then freezes.

“What?” Sirius asks. “Are you...goddamn. “

The light had shifted under the awning, his face fully illuminated now. Sirius ghosts his fingers over the bruises on his cheek and winces. “That bad?”

The boy shrugs, an elegant, fluid motion. A dancer, Sirius decides. He must be a dancer.

“Have a habit of getting into fights?” he asks.

Sirius laughs, bitterly. He presses down onto the swollen skin, winces at the dull spike of pain. “An accident. I’m no fighter. Walked into a pole. I have a habit of walking into things.”

The boy tilts his head, coming closer. It’s still too dark to see his face; he stops right outside of the beam of light, hidden in the shadows. “Maybe here,” he says, and softly brushes the purple lines on Sirius’ forehead. “Though I would say these look more like a cane to me. These ones though...” He drifts his fingers down, to the heavy marks on Sirius’ cheekbones. “These were made by fists. You can tell by the imprints.” His fingers drift up. “And this was from a bottle. Wine, probably.”

Sirius jerks away. The boy merely stares at him, his hand still lifted in the air. “How do you - you don’t know anything - “

“Funny,” the boy says, and his voice was different now, harder and more steely. “Never knew rich bastards were hit too.”

“I’m not rich - “

“Please.” The boy shakes his head. “Your clothes. Old, but well made. That hat costs more than I could make in a year. You’re as rich as they come. Why are they hurting you?”

“They aren’t.”

“Liar,” the boy says, and steps forward. Sirius can see his face in thin flashes; golden eyes, curling hair, a set of vicious scars all over his face before he’s back in the shadows, the gold at his neck and wrists and ears clinking softly. “How bad?”

“Bad enough,” Sirius breathes. The boy nods.

“You got a talent?”

“Not particularly.”

“Everyone has one.” He tilts his head, staring Sirius in the eyes. “But you can’t run. Not yet.”

“I have a brother,” Sirius chokes out, and he wonders why he’s doing this, revealing all his secrets to a boy he met in a dripping wet alley. “I can’t leave him.”

The boy’s face tightens. He steps back, running his hand through his hair and Sirius sees the muscles in his arms, long and lean, his fingers covered with flicks of shiny scars. “Here” he says, and tosses something at Sirius, a bit of damp paper. “Say that Remus sent you.”

“Remus.” The name tastes soft in Sirius’ mouth. “What do you - “

“Trapeze.” Remus smiles. “Best in the country.” He nods at the piece of paper in Sirius’ hand. “When you’re ready.”

Sirius unfolds the paper with trembling hands. He can already see the brights colours - all reds and blues and yellows bleeding through the damp parchment. “Remus...”

He looks up. The alley was empty, no sigh of Remus save for the paper in Sirius’ hand. Heart pounding, Sirius glances down, the words swimming in front of him.

He runs his fingers over the black words printed on the top, all spiky points and flowing script.

Hogwarts Circus.

[ashes-and-ashes]

Could you do a oneshot where like Sirius has like just run away from home and everyone thinks it’s all fine now but he’s still dealing with the repercussions of the abuse and he starts crying or something. Lol just something angsty ;)))

A speedwrite (and not very good lmao!) Bonus points if you can guess what music video I took inspiration from whilst writing this ;)

~

Sirius almost collapses in the alley. It’s dark and wet and cold - the streetlights reflecting off of the rainwater, leaving streaks of light against the dull brick. It smells like alcohol and piss, the fumes enough to make Sirius’ head spin.

He’s covered in blood. It lies drying on his skin in a thick layer, his hands shaking and ribs aching. The rain didn’t do much more then wash blood into his eyes, making his eyes sting and blurring everything together.

He’s shaking, through he’s not sure if that’s due to the rain or the sheer adrenaline pumping through his veins. He can barely breath - his throat burns with every pass of air into his lungs, his mother’s fingertips a ghostly memory against his skin.

Sirius slides down against the wall, until he was rocking back and forth on his feet. The images flood his head, ghostly and silent, head spinning so much he thought he’d be sick.

Him, on the floor, blood seeping out of the wounds on his back. Regulus, on the ground next to him, his Mother screaming as she raised her hand again.

He felt it. Every blow she gave Regulus, every kick and every punch, felt it as if she was beating him instead of his brother. He remembers pushing himself to his feet, pain ripping through him in horrible spikes, the burst of adrenaline as he charged into his mother and knocked her into the wine cabinet.

It’s also shattered glass and twisted metal and the floor, wine and blood and clear spirts, his mother’s twisted body and Regulus’ horrified face and -

Sirius opens his eyes. It seemed to have gotten darker, the rain falling faster in a thick curtain. He pushes himself back until he can feel the wall against his shivering body, the tiny overhand of the roof barely enough to keep the water off him. There’s something hard digging into his leg - he sticks his hand into his pocket with a wince.

When he finds the phone Sirius almost collapses with relief. He doesn’t think he’s ever been like this before - shaking so hard that he couldn’t stop, his breaths coming in harsh, fast gasps. With trembling fingers he dials the number, the number burned into his memory by a boy so long ago.

He didn’t know how much he needed this until he puts the speaker to his ear, begs and pleads and prays for someone to pick up, for him not to hear the dial tone that already was echoing in his ear. He didn’t know he could break like this but he was already gone - twisted into pieces like the body of his mother and oh god he killed his mother he killed his mother

“Sirius?”

Sirius lets out a noise, something guttural and desperate, something he didn’t know he could make until it was tearing out of his throat. Remus’ voice is sleepy - it was 2 in the morning, Sirius remembers. He had probably woken Remus up.

“Sirius? Are you okay?” His boyfriend’s voice is concerned now - no doubt he could head the rain and the wind and the frantic breaths Sirius was taking in an effort to stay calm.

He closes his eyes, shivering so hard it hurt, gripping his side so hard it burned. “Remus,” he manages, in a voice hoarse from screaming. “Remus. Oh god.”

“Sirius.” He holds onto the sound of Remus’ voice, lets it wrap around his aching body like a blanket. “Fuck, Sirius. Are you - “

“The alley.” Sirius’ throat is so swollen he’s surprised when he’s able to speak. “Near Grimmalud Place. The one where we used to build our forts.”

“Sirius - “

“Please,” he gets out. “Please, Remus, I need you - “

“I’m coming,” Remus says and Sirius lets out a sob.

[ashes-and-ashes]

Lockpicks

Another Hogwarts School for Troubled Youth fic? Why not??

~

Sirius is awakened by the feeling of weight on his bed.

He bolts upright, kicking hard at the figure perched on the edge of the mattress; the person let out a pained grunt, falling onto the floor with a hard thump. With shaking hands, Sirius lunges for the light switch, flicking it on, illuminating rumpled covers and chipped walls and Remus Lupin curled in a fetal position on the ground.

“Shit,” Sirius says and gets out of bed - the air is freezing against his bare feet. He trips over Remus’ legs and goes down hard, collapsing on top of Remus. “Ah fuck Re, what the hell are you doing?”

Remus mumbles something - he can’t make out the words, seeing as Remus’ face was mashed into the floorboards. Sirius pushes himself up, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. “Jesus fuck, Re, what the hell are you doing here at 4 in the morning?”

Remus rolls his eyes, folding his legs underneath him. He rubs his side ruefully, hair tousled and cheeks flushed, eyeing Sirius’ feet resentfully. “Thanks for breaking my ribs.”

“I’ve broken someone’s ribs before,” Sirius says. “That kick was nowhere near hard enough.”

“Well I happen to have had my ribs broken before and I think this hurts just as badly. Asshole.”

Sirius shakes his head. He moves over, making space for Remus to fit on the bed, pulls the blanket over the two of them. It’s freezing - Hogwarts had shitty insulation and sheets of icy rain lashed against the window panes. “I don’t even - I locked my door!”

“Yes,” Remus replies, “And I was sent here for pickpocketing and breaking and entering so of course your shitty door lock could stop me.”

“I thought they took your picks.”

Remus held out his hands; twin probes of slender steel appeared between his fingers. “The staff really can’t tell the difference between proper lockpicks and unfolded paperclips.”

“Could you pick my lock with unfolded paperclips?”

“I probably could pick your door lock with a pair of socks.”

Sirius shoved him, hard; Remus lets out a little yelp and shoves him back. The lockpicks disappear - Sirius doesn’t know if they’ve gone up his sleeve or into his pockets. He grabs Remus’ arm, pushing the sleeve up; there’s nothing but scarred skin, silver lines livid against the flesh. “Where did they go?”

“Up your ass.”

“Oh really?”

“Would you like me to get them for you? I can pull them out.”

“You might find a whole heap of other things up there.”

“Of course. No one to play with, Sirius?”

Sirius flips him off. Remus just raises his eyebrows and grins. “Look, if you really want to know you probably should check your jacket pocket.”

Sirius stares at him, and then at his leather jacket, slung over a chair in the corner of the room. “You were nowhere near my jacket.”

Remus just winks at him. “Check the pocket. Wait,” he says, as Sirius strides over. “Not the side pockets. The breast one.”

Sirius glances at it. It’s held shut with a heavy buckle, dark metal and paint. He sighs, works the leather through the hole. “Jesus, this is hard.”

Remus just gives him a mocking smile. With a curse, Sirius pulls the strap lose, reaches inside the pocket to find 2 slender metal objects. He brings them out; the light glints off the tips, the twisted curves at the bottom and the small rounded bulb at the top. “No fucking way.”

Remus just shrugs. He crosses his arms across his chest as Sirius brings them back to the bed, tipping them onto the sheets between them. “Here.”

Remus shakes his head. “Nah. They’re yours. Happy Birthday.”

Sirius freezes. He gasps at Remus, his entire body going numb. With an effort, he swallows, hard, tries to keep the shock off his face. “What did you say?”

“Happy Birthday. November 1st. One year closer to getting the hell out of here.”

Sirius closes his eyes. It felt like his throat was being filled with pebbles, crushing his chest, his breath whistling through his teeth. “How did you - “

Remus studies him; he can feel the weight of those amber eyes. Sirius just shakes his head, forces himself to take deep breaths. “I thought they changed it.”

“What do you mean?”

“My parents.” Sirius opens his eyes; Remus levels a calm look back at him. “They changed my birth date. Wanted to keep me in here as long as possible. I thought - even Peter confirmed that it was changed. In the database, I mean - “

“Hey.” Remus takes his hand, holding it in between his. “I don’t know shit about electronics. But I saw your birth certificate. That’s how I knew.”

“How the fuck - “ Sirius sighs. “Of course you broke in.”

Remus waves him off. “I’m more interested to see why the school let your parents make you 8 months younger.”

“More money, I guess. I stay here for longer. You can’t leave until you’re 18.”

Remus falls silent. His hand was still wrapped around Sirius’ wrist - he wonders if Remus can feel his pulse, fast and unsteady and irregular. “Re, I...thanks.”

“Of course.”

“I haven’t...” Sirius trails off. “I’ve never gotten anything for my birthday before.”

Remus looks up sharply - there’s pain in his eyes, smoothed over in an instant. “You’re joking. James and Peter...?”

“Nah.” Sirius looks down, at the lockpicks in his hands. “We’re not allowed to bring anything in - the outside world is a ‘bad influence.’” He spits the words out. “We used to be able to get things through Gid and Fab but then their contact got murdered somehow, so they’re just as screwed as the rest of us. Besides, no one knows my actual birthday.”

“And your parents?”

Sirius forces a bitter laugh. “My parents used to beat me. Every year. ‘Thanks for being alive,’ they’d say, and then beat me until I passed out. It was a bit of a tradition, I guess.”

Remus presses his thumb to Sirius’ wrist, right along the inside. Sirius could feel the blood pulsing against Remus’ fingers, the steady throbbing of his heart. He lets out a shaky breath - Remus holds his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Sirius scoffs. “What for?”

Remus doesn’t say anything, just looks down. He lets go of Sirius’ arm - the sudden lack of contact makes Sirius feel dizzy. Remus doesn’t seem to notice though - he’s too busy staring at his own fingers, roped with scars, the bones crooked on one hand.

“I,” Remus begins, then cuts himself off savagely. “I used to count the days down before my birthday. My parents were poor but...There was this plate that we used to use, have dinner off of and that was good enough. When I grew older, I kept on waiting for my birthdays, but only because you had to be at least 14 to...to...”

Sirius flinches. Remus takes a deep breath, his face breaking apart. He looks down, his expression blank then forces a smile. “Sorry. It’s about you today, not me.”

Sirius isn’t fooled - he knows Remus just internalized the pain, shoved it down where it couldn’t hurt anyone but himself. “Fuck,” he says. “Remus - “

“Drop it,” Remus says and Sirius can hear the steel in his voice. He lets it go.

“Okay. Thanks.” He holds the lockpicks up, admiring the smooth way the steel bent around his fingers, trying to imitate that grace Remus always had when wielding them. “I have no idea how to use these, though.”

Remus shoots him a startled look. “You - “

“They never used locks,” Sirius tells him. “Rope, sometimes, but never locks. Too hard to dispose of.”

“Right,” Remus says, but Sirius can sense the boiling anger underneath the surface. He gently reaches over, takes one of the picks in his hand; he spins it around his fingers, around his wrists, fingers flashing so quickly Sirius can barely see them. “I’ll teach you.”

“You’ll,” Sirius begins, then rolls his eyes as Remus balances the pick on the tip of his middle finger. “You’ll teach me to become like you?”

“I doubt you’ll ever be like me. I’m a prodigy.”

“Asshole.”

Remus held his hands up, palms out. The lock was gone from his hands and he gave Sirius an innocent look. “It’s true. You’ll learn from the best.”

He gestures towards his ear; Sirius sighs, reaches up to find the pick, woven into his hair. “How did you - “

“Shh.” Remus stands; he’s beautful, all long limbs and silver scars and flickers of light. “Go to bed, Sirius. I’ll teach you in the morning.”

“It is the morning,” Sirius protests but Remus ignores him. He’s gone in an instant, the door shutting behind him; Sirius knows by the tell-tale click that he had locked the door from the outside. With a sigh, he places the picks on the table, thinks better of it and shoves them under his pillow.

The blankets are still warm from Remus’ body. Sirius presses his face into them - it even smelled like Remus, citrus and cold metal and the outside air. With a sigh he rolls over in the bed, his fingers brushing the cold edges of the lockpicks.

He thinks about Remus, clever fingers, lockpicks flashing in his hands. He thinks about other things, those beautiful hands in his hair, against his cheek, on his hips and -

“Fuck,” Sirius says, staring up at the ceiling. “I am so fucking screwed.”

[ashes-and-ashes]

This turned out to be really dark and really heavy. It’s basically Remus’ story, and how he managed to get himself into Hogwarts School for Troubled Youth.

tw for abuse, kidnapping as well as implied prostitution.

Untouched Memories

~

“Fuck.”

Sirius stares, at the lines on Remus’ back, the gashes and the cuts and the scars. They all looked different; knife wounds and puncture marks and shiny silver burns, raised indents where the flesh had been torn and deep pockets where it had been scooped out.

“Re - “

“What?” Remus’ mouth is set in a hard line. “It’s nothing, okay? Drop it.”

“Re - “

“Drop it.”

Sirius swallows, hard. He stares at one particular mark, a diagonal slash against Remus’ back and for a moment everything goes dark. For a moment he’s on the ground, arms gripping the table in front of him as his mother carved lines into his back with a belt, hears the whoosh of the leather as it cut into his skin.

He didn’t know about it, all the scars. It was only just then, when he had stormed into the dorm room, adrenaline pumping through him thanks to the fight. They didn’t have locks on the doors - too much chance of a suicide. He had just barged right into Remus’ room, intending to ask him to pick the lock on the supply cupboard, steal some bandages for the broken skin on his knuckles.

Instead he found Remus, shirt off and discarded in the corner, meticulously rubbing some sort of salve into his skin. He was in front of the window, the light washing everything out in grey, and Sirius thought that the scars on his back looked like silver chains.

He bites his lip, fighting back the wave of darkness that was rapidly taking over his field of vision. “God, Remus. What happened?”

Remus shakes his head. He collapses onto the bed, his head in his hands. The curved line of back made the scars stand out even more, livid against his skin. “For fucks sakes Sirius. I said to fucking leave it.”

Sirius ignores him. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, feels the world spinning around him. He’s aware of his hands, clenched into fists at his side; he can’t remember doing that. There’s only the scars, the blood, the roaring blackness filling his head -

Remus is on his feet in an instant, his hand a steadying touch against Sirius’ skin. “Calm down,” he says. “Deep breaths.”

Sirius listens to him, fills his lungs with cool air. Remus holds his gaze as he does so, those amber eyes steady, that little ripple in the right pupil so vivid against the gold. He doesn’t know how to describe it, that colour; maple candy held out in front of the sun, the rays shining through it until it glowed, bits of gold and amber and rose.

Sirius lets out a shaking breath, locking everything away until it is almost quiet again. He looks down at his feet; Remus’ hand is still around his wrist, cool fingers against his hammering pulse and Sirius breathes into it. “Sorry.”

Remus doesn’t say anything, just lets go and collapses back into the bed. Sirius sways slightly on his feet, suddenly so unsteady without the reassuring feeling of Remus’ hand on his. “Re?”

Remus doesn’t say anything. Sirius can’t stop looking at the scars, all the raised flesh and sunken dimples, ripples like waves against the ocean shore. He reaches out waveringly, brushes his hands against his back; Remus lets out a strangled gasp.

Sirius quickly pulls his hands back. “Sorry.”

Remus just shakes his head. “Please. Don’t.”

He lets his hand drop back down to his side, remembering that first few weeks. Sirius had put his arms around Remus - he’s always craved physical contact after being touch-starved for so long, always needed someone to drive away the memories of his mother. Remus had panicked, though, at that press of Sirius’ arm against his shoulders, had almost taken Sirius’ eye out with a tiny silver blade seemingly pulled out of thin air.

He learnt his lesson, though. He never touched Remus, not unless the other boy initiated it, held himself back from that golden skin and those silver scars and eyes like sunlight on a cloudless day.

He lets his gaze drop down to Remus’ hands. He always thought of them as magical; able to pull things out of the sky, slipping into pockets and into bags, fiddling with locks on the door, running through his hair and tapping against tables. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen them this still before, splayed out on the white sheets of the bed. He finds himself looking at the thick scar around his finger, tracing the lines with his eyes until it ended at the crooked knuckle. It had obviously been broken before, yet it never seemed to impact Remus’ pickpocketing.

Cautiously, hesitantly, Sirius approaches Remus. “Can I...”

Remus nods, his face still burried in the covers of the bed. Sirius sits down, careful not to let any part of him touch Remus, squashes down the prickling in his skin, the keen awareness at being so close to Remus and yet unable to feel him.

He realizes that Remus is shaking, so hard that he can feel the bed underneath him move. Sirius swears, knots his fingers together in front of him. “Remus? Are you okay?”

He’s never seen Remus break down like this. He’s held James as he sobbed in his arms, comforted Peter with cups of tea, let Marlene punch the hand targets he held in the gym for hours, watched Lily draw on his wrists and arms, shattered glasses with Dorcas, but he didn’t know what to do with Remus.

“Fuck,” he says. “Re, I’m so sorry.”

Remus just shakes his head. He slowly pushes himself up, his hair rumpled and face pale. “No. You’re fine. It’s - “

“Don’t,” Sirius says quietly. “Don’t say that it’s nothing. Because it isn’t. It so obviously isn’t.”

Remus just lets out a quiet laugh. He looks down, wipes at the eyes with the backs of his hands. “Can you pass me that paperclip? On the table?”

Sirius hands it over to him, and Remus immediately unfolds it. He watches as he bends it into an ‘L’ shape, smoothing out the bends in the wire; he’s seen Remus do this many times before, lock picks and tension wrenches, made from hairpins and paper clips and earring hooks. He wonders how many Remus has made, how many locks he’s opened in his 17 years of life.

Sirius leans back against the bedpost, watching Remus, that beautful face he always made when concentrating; all lowered lashes and bitten lips and messy hair. He could watch Remus for hours, his fingers and his eyes and the careful precision of his every movement.

He laughs, soundlessly and bitterly to himself. He never knew why people described love as being drunk, not until he met Remus but God he understand now. He’s tipsy, drunk on blood and glass and all the shared pain, scars and trauma and skin and some people loved despite the cracks but Sirius loved because of them. He tips his head back, watches Remus with a fierce aching in his heart for something that could never be.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed, the sun setting in the distance when Remus finally speaks. There’s a collection of tools on the bed in front of him now, hooks and picks and other shapes that Sirius could never name if he tried. They glitter under the golden light of the sun as Remus speaks.

“I was 5” he says, and Sirius’ sits up straighter. “I was 5 when my father left us. He just walked out. There was no goodbyes, no final messages. He was here one day and gone the next. My mother never spoke of him again. I don’t really remember him; it’s all blurred faces and belts and bruises.”

Sirius’ breath hitches in his throat. Remus carries on, seemingly lost in the tangled web of memories.

“We were poor. My mother worked, constantly, but it wasn’t enough. It never was enough. And my sister...” He faltered. “My sister was starving. I was starving. And then my mother fell ill.

“I don’t know what it was. Fuck, I don’t know a lot of things. One day she just couldn’t get out of bed. There was nothing we could do, no doctor we could call. I watched her wither away in front of us.

“It got to the point where we were literally starving to death in that tiny house. We hadn’t paid rent for 5 months - we were going to get kicked out and I didn’t know what to do. I was 14 and...”

“Oh god,” Sirius says, horror filling his bones. Remus just closed his eyes, as if to shield himself from the pain that was surely etched on Sirius’ face.

“There was nothing else I could do. And I was making money - not a lot, but enough so that we weren’t dying.

“And then I turned 15 and...there was this guy. Greyback.”

Sirius’ blood went cold.

“He almost killed me. Said that he paid for me and that I was his, that he owned me...He took me. The police came 2 weeks later but by then...”

Remus gestures to his body with a wry smile. “And that was that, I guess. I stopped after that. I became a thief - one of the best. Then I...I picked the wrong pocket, I guess. Got caught. Now I’m here.”

Sirius takes a deep breath, his heart aching. “Re - “

“Don’t,” Remus says quietly. “Don’t be like all the others. Don’t pity me like that. Everyone thinks I’m - I’m weak, or I’m pathetic, like I’m still that 15 year old kid - “

“How could I?” Sirius whispered quietly. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

It’s like the words break something in Remus, like there were the pick cracking the lock inside of him. With a strangled groan, Remus buries his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. Sirius reaches out, unthinkingly, then freezes, his hands hovering over Remus’ back.

“Fuck,” he says. “What can I do, Re? What can I do to - to help you - “

Remus lets out a shaking breath. “Do it,” he says, and Sirius lets his hand brush over the scars.

He feels Remus tense underneath him, the muscles locking underneath the scarred skin, and Sirius is about to pull away but Remus grabs his hand. “Stay. Please.”

Sirius nods, heart breaking, Remus still shuddering underneath his fingertips as he whispers, “Always.”

[ashes-and-ashes]

I'm not sure if you're still taking prompts but :)) This probably has been done but: University AU. Remus takes history or english Sirius something art related they meet at the university café or library idk and they just keep meeting there til one day one of them decides to give the other their phone number to keep taking about whatev and well things happen ;)

Ooh. A university, coffee shop and fake dating AU all rolled into one!

Don’t ask me where this came from. I need to sleep.

~

Remus stared at the boy across the street and scowled.

It was his own fault really, for going out last night. He wasn’t going to, was planning on staying at home and binging Netflix until 3 in the morning but Dorcas wouldn’t have it.

“You’ll never get a boyfriend staying at home Re! Come one! Meet some people! Have fun!”

“I am having fun,” Remus protested, but Dorcas ignored him. She had dragged him out to somebody’s house, complete with flashing lights and karaoke screens then promptly abandoned him to hook up with her girlfriend Marlene.

It was all very awkward. Remus barely left his dorm room, besides going to classes. He was standing awkwardly by the punch bowl, wondering if he could drown himself in it when he saw the boy.

He had walked right over, no sign of the fear or trepidation that filled most people’s eyes when they saw Remus. The scars barely faded, even after 15 years, still carved raised, angry lines over his skin.

“I’ve never seen you before,” the boy had muttered, shooting him a flirtatious wink. “I thought I knew everyone here.”

“I’m surprised you can even see, with the amount of alcohol you’ve consumed.” Remus folded his arms, gesturing at the cup in the other boy’s hands.

The boy shrugged. He shoved the cup in Remus’ hands, fingers reaching round to tap Remus lightly on the ass. “Who knows? I’ll probably forget all this tomorrow.” He paused, pulling something white out of his pocket, stuffing it into the waistband of Remus’ Jeans. “See you around then?”

“Get your hand off my - “ Remus started furiously, but the boy had already sauntered off. Remus glared down at the cup in his hands, filled with some slushy mixture. He winced. Maybe he needed some alcohol.

He couldn’t stop seeing the boy after that. It was like a spotlight was on him, trailing him through the rooms. Remus watched as he paraded about the house, handing off random drinks to people and occasionally scribbling something on top of the napkins laying about. He watched as the boy laughed and swore and flirted with everyone in the room, finishing off with an impassioned duet with a girl with flaming red hair.

Remus was leaning against the bar, idly flicking through his phone when the boy came over again. He was covered in glitter, smears of it in his hair and across his cheekbones, his eyes bright. “So? Loosened up a bit?”

“Not as much as you have,” Remus said drily.

The boy laughed. His hair was tangled, a dark cloud of black hanging around his shoulders. Remus wondered if the boy could hear his heartbeat, pounding in his chest.

“So.” Remus shrugged. “Just coming to chat?”

“Never seen you before. It makes you interesting.”

“Well. I don’t get out a lot.”

The boy cocked his head, fixing Remus with a piercing gaze. He smirked, then snatched the cup from Remus’ hands and upended it. Remus watched the light gleam on his exposed throat and looked down. “Look,” he said. “I don’t know what you’re doing here - “

“Maybe I like you.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “I don’t believe in love at first sight.”

“Maybe that’s cause - “ The boy broke off, his eyes fixed on someone across the room. Remus followed his gaze; a girl with waist length hair stood at the doorway, beckoning with one hand. Remus couldn’t tell who she was; the air was hazy with falling glitter and cigarette fumes, but the boy’s eyes lit up. He pushed off from the bar without a second glance, striding over to the girl. Remus watched as he flung an arm around her shoulders and allowed himself to be lead off into one of the other rooms.

The ring of a bell tore Remus from his memories. He scowled, looking down at his hands. There was still glitter trapped underneath his nails, proof that the party had happened and the boy was real and he was hopelessly, hilariously smitten -

He glanced up; the door had just opened, and coming in was -

“Oh no,” Remus hissed. He fumbled for his phone, shoving it in pocket, chugged the rest of his coffee and swore. “Shit!”

It was the boy from last night, his hair still a mess and his cheeks flushed. A look of relief filled his face as he spotted Remus; Remus groaned and sunk down lower in his seat.

“Thank God it’s someone I know,” the boy said, sliding into the seat next to Remus. His lips were chapped, the skin slightly raw like he had bitten the skin off. “Hide me.”

Remus slammed his laptop shut. “Look. I know we technically met last night but I don’t know you. And I happen to have a History essay due tomorrow, and I haven’t done any of it. So if you wouldn’t mind - “

The boy raised a brow. “Snarky.”

“I told you I don’t go out very much.” Remus gestured to himself. “This is me hungover.”

“Yeah? Well this is me sober.” The boy leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table. Remus swallowed, looking down; he wondered if the boy was able to see the flush that colored his cheeks. “What are you - “

“Shhh!”

Remus rolled his eyes. He watched the boy, noticed his his gaze was fixed over Remus’ shoulder. He turned slightly in his seat, gazing out the window behind him. “Looking for someone?”

“Hiding from someone.”

“Who?”

The boy shrugged. “A girl. Black hair. Grey eyes. Crazy enough to murder someone.”

The words stung. “An Ex?”

The boy cringed, his gaze sliding over to meet Remus’. “Ew. No. A cousin.”

“Oh.”

Seemingly satisfied that his cousin wasn’t following him, the boy leaned back in his chair. He stretched his legs out, one foot resting on Remus’ - Remus quickly jerked his foot back. “Well. Nice to see you again. I realized I never introduced myself. I’m Sirius.”

“Sirius.” Remus frowned. “Canis Major? The Dog Star? You’re named after a star?”

Sirius grinned, eyes shining. “Oh, I prefer to think of it as an excellent opportunity to make ‘Are you serious’ jokes. Not many people pick up the star reference. You doing Astronomy?”

Remus shook his head. “History.”

Sirius nodded. He spread his hands out on the table; there were tiny flecks of ink, like stars littering his skin. “I’m doing art.”

“Oh.” Remus nodded. “That’s probably why I’ve never met you then. We’re on opposite sides of the campus.”

“I know loads of History people! Peter, Dorcas, Hestia. And Fab and Gid are over in English.”

“Yeah. Well, I guess our friend groups don’t mix then.”

Sirius laughed. “All of you are too boring for us. Party poppers.”

“Drunkards.”

“Prudes.”

“Stoners.”

Sirius smirked. “You’re a dick, aren’t you?”

Remus shrugged. “Sorry. The nice Remus has been beaten out of me. You’ll have to put up with the hungover asshole instead.”

“Remus.” Sirius cocked his head. “That means wolf, right? I did a project last year - it was this mural of Romulus and Remus and the Wolf Lupa.”

Remus spread his arms. “See? Not too shabby!”

“Yeah - “ Sirius broke off, his eyes fixed on the window. Remus turned and saw a girl with dark hair, texting on her phone on the sidewalk. He glanced over at Sirius. “Her?”

“No.” Sirius sunk back into his seat. “Thank God.”

Remus frowned. “Why are you hiding from her?”

“Oh God, it’s a long story.” Sirius stared down at his hands, running his nail against the pale skin. “My parents are old fashioned. And rich. They keep setting me up with people…people that I can’t be with. Not in that way. And I just can’t - “ He broke off. “Bella saw me with my friend last night. Instead of being with my...with my girlfriend.” He spat the words out. “And Bella, being the world’s greatest bitch, is going to lord this over me. She’ll blackmail me. Threaten to tell my parents.”

“Oh.” Remus blinked. “So. That blond girl. You were cheating on your girlfriend with her?”

Sirius looked puzzled. “What blond girl?”

“You know.” Remus waves his hand vaguely. “Pink dress. White heels. Blond hair down to her waist?”

“Pink dress - Ohhh.” Sirius shook his head. “Oh god. No! No, that wasn’t a girl.”

“Wasn’t a what?”

“That’s my friend. His name is James. He was just in drag for that night because - oh it’s a long story. No, Bella saw me with him, assumed he was a girl - “

“Right.”

“ - And now all this shit is happening.” Sirius threw his hands up. “God. What a fucking nightmare.”

“Sounds rough.” Remus ran a hand through his hair. His stomach was rolling again, palms slightly sweaty. “So, who’s your girlfriend?”

Sirius groaned. “Oh. Oh she’s awful, but she’s rich so - “

The door flew open, hitting the wall so hard it left a crack in the plaster. Remus jumped, his eyes falling on a girl, her curly black hair piled up on top of her head like a beehive. She looked like Sirius - the same high cheekbones and grey eyes and pale skin, arrogance reeking from every inch. “Sirius!”

Sirius swore, shoving his chair behind him. He stood, fists clenched at his sides. “Go away Bellatrix.”

Bellatrix shook her head. She turned her phone around, revealing a picture of Sirius. The picture was blurry but clear enough to make out Sirius’ face, his arms wrapped around James’. “Who’s this girl?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Bella, that isn’t a girl.”

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. “She’s in a dress. Wearing heels. Has boobs that are practically popping out. But sorry, what were you saying?”

“That’s James in fucking drag you moron - “

“And I’m the queen of England.” Bellatrix shook her head. “Oh, your parents are going to be so mad, Sirius! So, so mad!”

“Fuck them.”

Bellatrix gasped in mock horror. “Oh. I don’t think they’d like to hear that!”

“Uh.” Sirius swore. “Fine. Post it. I don’t care. I’m not even dating her.”

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. “Oh. And who are you dating?”

“Remus,” Sirius said promptly. Remus started, jerking back in his chair. What the fuck?

Bellatrix laughed. “Who?”

“Remus.” Sirius met Remus’ eyes - he seemed to be pleading for him to follow his lead. “We’re dating.”

Bellatrix spluttered. “You? You and - and him - “

Fuck you, Remus mouthed at Sirius, standing up from his chair. He paused - he didn’t know jackshit about being in a relationship. He thought back, trying to picture Marlene and Dorcas, Hestia and Peter, before linking his hands through Sirius’ and resting his arm on Sirius’ shoulder. “We’ve been dating for 6 months now.”

Sirius’ eyes lit up. He turned, brushing his lips against Remus’ cheek - he could hear Sirius breathing, whispering a quiet thank you before turning to face Bellatrix.

She coughed, fanning herself dramatically. “You - you just wait until I tell Auntie and Uncle. They’ll be so mad at you - “

“Fuck off,” Remus told her. With a huff, she spun on her heel, slamming the door behind her.

“Shit,” Sirius said. He sunk down into the chair, holding his head in his hands. “God. I’m so sorry Remus - “

“It’s…” Remus trailed off. “So what happens now?”

“Bella tells Narcissa,” Sirius mumbled, from behind his fingers. “Narcissa tells Andromeda, who tells Ted, who tells Marlene, who announces it to the fucking world…” He sighed. “Guess I’m getting disowned.” He turned, staring at Remus. “Look. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean - we can pretend to break up - “

Remus interrupted him. “How long?”

Sirius stared. “What?”

“How long until this dies down.”

“I don’t know. A week? 2?”

“Fine.” Remus tilted his head. A familiar fire was filing his veins, the wolf inside of him that refused to back down. “Fine. Two weeks.”

Sirius frowned. “What do you mean?”

“How long do you think we can fool people into thinking we’re dating?”

A slow smile spread across Sirius’ face.