welcome to kinktober .⋆♱ this is my first year participating and i am sooo excited! the fics will be shorter blurbs to longer drabbles, and some will be porn without plot and others will have plot and (of course) smut. which is why this event is strictly 18+ mdni!! please read the warnings on each fic before proceeding <3
oct 1. sex tape / belly bulge ⋆ james potter
oct 3. vibrator / caught masturbating ⋆ roommate!sirius black
oct 5. pregnancy / breeding ⋆ husband!james potter
oct 7. kneeling / praise ⋆ poly!wolfstar
oct 10. thigh riding / innocence kink ⋆ sirius black
oct 11. somnophilia ⋆ james potter
oct 13. period sex ⋆ james potter
oct 15. eiffel tower / degredation ⋆ poly!prongsfoot
oct 17. tit fucking / just the tip / cock warming ⋆ james potter
summary: when Sirius and Remus travel back in time for an Order mission, they come face to face with you: their girlfriend who died during the first Wizarding War
ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ content warning: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, grief, smoking, death, gore, blood, graphic descriptions, age gap due to time-turning magic, swearing, dark themes, older sirius black, young sirius black, older remus lupin, young remus lupin, morally grey wolfstar and there is nothing they wouldn't do for you
word count: 9.3k
author's note: unfortunately not proofread. sorry!
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ navigation or read part two here or part three here
Remus sat with his back to Sirius, running his hand across the windowsill, his gaze flickering over the snowy scene of a December Hogsmeade afternoon. It was only four o’clock, but the sky was already dark, and the street was nearly deserted. A few people headed into the Hog’s Head across the street, their laughs carrying all the way up and becoming muffled in Remus’ ears. He heard Sirius’ heavy sigh for the hundredth time that night.
“Stop,” Remus said sternly, though his voice wavered, his eyes clenching. “You know that you’re lucky they even let you come with me. If we do it, you’ll never see the sky again, Sirius. They’ll keep you locked at Grimmauld Place.”
“They can’t do that to me.”
“They very well can, Sirius! And you know they can! It’s either that or back to Azkaban. Please, feel free to choose,” Remus’ voice dripped with sarcasm, so stabbing it was painful.
“Maybe it’s worth it,” Sirius said, and his voice broke. With it, Remus’ heart. He turned to face the darker-haired man, taking in the way his mouth curled, and his silver eyes shone. Remus had to look away. “Maybe I’d die for one last moment with her, Remus. Just one more time where the three of us are— where we are whole: where she’s with us! Don’t you want that? You can’t say you don’t think about it—about her—all of the time, too!”
“Of course I do!” Remus suddenly exploded, standing from the chair and holding his palms to his temples. “Don’t even—don’t you dare for a minute insinuate that I don’t miss her with every fibre of my fucking being! You have no idea what it was like when you were in Azkaban—when I thought I’d lost both of you! How much I wished you both were here!”
Sirius scowled. “Imagine how I felt from my cell!”
Remus’ hands trembled as he shook his head, turning from Sirius. “Save the story, Sirius. I’ve heard it a hundred times before.”
“You’re such a dick.”
“You want me to break the law, Sirius! You’d like for us to go against the Order’s wishes to see—to go and see her, and fuck, Sirius, Merlin knows how much I’d kill to see her again, but we can’t! Horrible, terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time! We were given strict orders—to retrieve James’ cloak. We can’t let anyone see us, Sirius!”
Sirius felt like he could rip his hair from his head. Instead, he bit his knuckles. “But horrible things happened to us anyway, Remus! How the fuck could it get any worse than it’s ended up? There’s another war raging on. I went to Azkaban, you spent thirteen years alone, and Y/N is fucking dead! She’s gone, and you can’t even say her fucking name!” He watched Remus’ face go completely white. “Go on, say it, Remus! Because I haven’t heard you say her name since she was—since she was here with us!”
Remus’ fists curled. “Fuck off, will you?”
“I said your names every single day when I was in Azkaban! I refused to forget any of it. Any of what we had! Just say it, Remus!” Sirius’ voice rose to yelling, and he stood from the bed. “Go on. It’s Y/N—in case you fucking forgot. Say Y/N’s na—”
Remus caught Sirius’ wrists when Sirius went to shove him, his large hands gripping him hard. “You’ll be back in Azkaban if we were caught! And I’d be in the cell next to yours! Is that what you want?”
“I don’t care—”
“Of course you don’t, but one of us needs to think rationally. You said you’d be fine doing this when Moody asked! You said—”
Sirius jerked away from Remus, his face stony and his glare cold. “Fuck off, Remus.”
Remus rolled his eyes and quickly shuffled for the pack of cigarettes in his coat pocket. He watched Sirius stalk back over to the bed and chuck himself in it, yanking the duvet up to his shoulders. He felt the strain in his chest and his throat, his eyes growing incredibly hot as he propped open the inn’s window. He lit his cigarette and hung his head out into the cold air, and only then did he let the tears drip down his face.
He glared at the snowy pavement, seething with rage—furious that Sirius had put him in such an awful position, angry at you for no longer being here, and absolutely sickened at the fact that he had the time turner around his neck. He couldn’t use it for the one thing in the world that he wanted.
He glanced over at the vibrant pink and green sweet shop. Honeydukes was always the first place you went to, every Hogsmeade trip, and you always used to get the same thing—toffees and a chocolate frog. Across from Honeydukes was the bench where the three of you had drunkenly admitted your feelings for one another back in your sixth year. He stubbed his cigarette out on the windowsill hard and then lit a second one.
When he finished and shut the window, he turned, and the room was cold and smelled of nicotine. He pulled off his clothes and got into the bed next to Sirius, careful not to touch him—apprehensive that the feeling of their skin touching would only fuel their furies.
Sirius’ voice was thick with clogged tears when he spoke a few minutes later, filling the heavy silence. “We don’t work without her, Remus. You know that.”
He bit the inside of his cheek and didn’t say anything for a long while. He thought Sirius might have fallen asleep, and perhaps that was how he gained the courage to speak.
“I miss Y/N all of the time,” he whispered, barely audible. “I miss her first thing in the morning, and the last thing at night. I think about what the three of us had back then. It was the last time I was actually happy. And we all took it for granted.”
“We were idiots,” Sirius whispered back croakily. “Young, and we all thought that made us fucking invincible or something.”
“It should have woken us up when Marlene died.”
“They—” Sirius’ voice cracked. “Peter was always going to have to kill Y/N if he wanted to frame me and make you go away. There was nothing we could have done.”
Remus’ fists clenched. He scrunched his eyes shut. “She loved Peter.”
Sirius choked. “What he did to her—” He felt physical pain shudder through his system. “The state he left her in—He was fucking brutal, Remus.”
“I know,” Remus whispered, his eyes growing fuzzy, his brain numb.
“She didn’t deserve that. She was still—she was alive when I—”
“I know,” Remus said, harder. “I already know.”
Sirius lifted his shaky hands as if he could still see the blood on them, even in the dark. Remus reached over to encase one of them, and he tugged his hand against his chest. Sirius shook as he cried, wriggling closer to Remus, sobbing into his chest. Remus felt himself begin to crumble, too.
“She was only twenty-one.”
And that was enough for Remus to really sob. They were in their late thirties now. Remus was aware they were never supposed to get this old without you. You had always spoken of your future together, every word as optimistic as the last. You were supposed to be here. He would let you take his place any day. He’d let you and Sirius have this at the drop of a hat—you deserved to see the world beyond the first war.
“Just one more time,” Remus whispered, and he grasped Sirius’ hand tighter in both of his, moving them upward from his chest to the time turner sitting around his neck, engulfing the cool metal.
Sirius’ eyes were wide and wet with shock. “Remus?”
Remus spun the time turner back and back and back—all the way to 1978, before they had become soldiers for the Order.
── .✦
Remus inhaled the familiar smell of the Hogwarts corridors. He’d been here only a few years ago at his temporary position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, but somehow, this felt different. Perhaps it was because Sirius was by his side, or maybe it had something to do with the fact that they had gone back to the 1970s. He swallowed as he glanced around at the empty halls, his expression nearly matching Sirius’.
“Merlin,” Sirius muttered. “This is fucking insane.”
Remus nodded in agreement. “This was a bad idea.”
Sirius swatted him hard. “Are you fucking kidding me, Remus? She’s here! She’s in this building right now!”
“And we’re nearly forty years—”
“-I’m thirty-six, actually—”
“We will not blend in with everybody else here! We’re going to be noticed immediately,” Remus worried. “And Dumbledore will quickly realise we’re from the future, and we’ll be hurled off to—”
Sirius grabbed Remus’ wrist and yanked him closer to an alcove despite the lack of anybody around them. “Okay, so we’ll sneak into Slughorn’s classroom. He’s bound to have some sort of de-ageing potion.”
Remus scratched the back of his neck anxiously. “This is so wrong, Sirius.”
“I’m not leaving here without seeing her, Remus,” he told him firmly, and Sirius took off in the direction of the dungeons, as if it hadn’t been twenty years since they were last students here.
It was rather easy for Remus and Sirius to find the correct potion in Slughorn’s storage cupboard. Sirius and James used to have their fair share of fun experimenting and swapping things over to cause chaos for early-morning potion lessons. Remus watched Sirius throw his head back and down the potion as if it were a shot at the bar, his face scrunching at the taste.
Sirius wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, ridding the purple residue, and he blinked at Remus strangely. “Well? Do I look any different?”
Remus shook his head. “No, you—”
Sirius suddenly jerked forward with a violent cough, one of his hands grabbing onto Remus. Remus’ hands gripped him, trying to keep him upright, his dark eyes wide.
“Pads!” Remus panicked. “Shit, are you—”
He watched the silvers that had been starting to appear on the back of Sirius’ head turn black again. His shoulders seemed to broaden ever so slightly, his body rejuvenating after the thirteen years spent malnourished in prison. Remus gawked, helping Sirius back up when he’d stopped trembling.
“Sirius?” He whispered. “Are you alright?”
Sirius groaned and touched his forehead. “Yeah, I think so.”
His voice. Remus felt his heart skip a beat. He grasped Sirius’ head, forcing him to look at him, and Remus felt everything inside him freeze over and then promptly ignite. Gone were the first signs of wrinkles around his eyes and the bits of silver that had started to make an appearance on his head. Sirius’ stubble was gone, replaced with smooth, clear skin—his eyes youthful, his face a little fuller.
“Did it work?”
Remus couldn’t help but laugh. “It fucking worked, Pads. It actually worked.”
“It’s your turn, Remus. It’s your turn. Hurry!”
Sirius spent the next ten minutes looking at himself in the reflection in one of Slughorn’s cauldrons, while the effects of Remus’ took place. The coat he was wearing suddenly felt looser, his back and hip far less stiff. Remus moved Sirius out of the way to look, touching his scarred face in awe at the youthful man looking back at him.
“How long does this last?” He whispered in awe.
Sirius reached over to touch Remus’ face. “A few hours. Merlin, Rem. You look so young, it’s terrifying. We were so young when all of this was happening.”
Remus swallowed and touched Sirius’ hands. They were smooth. “I’m scared,” he suddenly admitted out loud—he didn’t even realise he was going to blurt it, and hadn’t a clue that he was really feeling so anxious. “Part of me isn’t sure I can handle seeing her, Sirius.”
Sirius exhaled and splayed his fingers broader on Remus’ face, as if to cup as much of him as he could in his palm. “You can do it, Remus.”
“What if she asks questions, Sirius?” Remus whispered painfully. “I can’t spend these moments lying to her. I can’t—I don’t know if I can do this knowing it’s the last time I’ll see her. I accepted years ago that I never got to say goodbye. I can’t say goodbye to her tonight, Sirius. I ca—”
He was cut off by a pair of lips pressing against his own. Remus hesitated for a moment before he kissed back, and he was startled by the familiarity of kissing a much younger Sirius. It almost felt wrong, and yet it felt like no time had passed, as if he was back home. He pressed his hands to Sirius’ arms as if to physically force himself off of him.
“Shall we find her?” Sirius pleaded breathlessly.
Remus nodded, his chest tightening.
── .✦
“It’s only eleven at night, so chances are, everybody’s in the common room,” Sirius said as they headed up one of the staircases.
Remus pulled a face. “Yes, including us, Sirius. How are we going to get past that one, hm?”
Sirius chewed on his bottom lip. “Errr—”
“Mr Lupin!” Madame Pomfrey exclaimed, and both men jumped as they turned to face the older woman. “Did I or did I not tell you to stay put exactly where you were? You shouldn’t be moving with your leg the way it is!”
Remus exchanged a panicked glance with Sirius. “Er, I’m sorry, Madame Pomfrey. It’s only, I’ve been feeling better, you see, and Sirius was just walking me back up the dorms. I’d like to sleep in my own bed tonight.”
“Mr Black, you should also be in bed!” Madame Pomfrey scowled. “You’re in no position to be helping Mr Lupin yourself! Where on earth is your splint?”
It dawned on Remus very quickly which full moon had just occurred. He remembered it all too well, with a sick feeling in his stomach still to this day. He had badly hurt Sirius in his Animagus form, and Sirius had ended up with a snapped arm and a broken nose. It was the Christmas break, and you had stayed to not only keep Remus company over the full moon but also because you would rather be with them than back home.
If Remus was remembering correctly, you were one of the only students to stay that year. The war was raging on, and people didn’t feel as safe at Hogwarts anymore. James’ father was starting to get sick, and he wanted to take Lily back to them for their first Christmas as a couple.
“Miss Y/L/N will come and see you boys first thing in the morning, she told you herself,” Madame Pomfrey scolded. Remus flinched, and Sirius nearly swayed in his spot. “So get back down to the infirmary right now. I’m heading back in ten minutes—I expect to see you back in your beds, and you with that splint on, Mr Black!” She turned away from them, marching down the corridor. “For Merlin’s sake, these children…”
“Fuck,” Sirius said, holding his hand against his pounding heart as soon as they were out of sight of the school nurse. “That was so fucking close. How lucky was that?”
“Lucky,” Remus said, though he was hardly as amused as Sirius. “Come on, before I make us turn around.”
They hurried up the stairs even quicker than they had been going before. Remus took three steps at a time easily, though his legs felt like lead, as if they wanted to plant to the ground and stay there. When they reached the portrait of the fat lady, Sirius groaned.
“It’s you,” he said distastefully.
“Not the password!” She sang to him.
“We don’t have time for this. If you’d be so kind as to let us in,” Sirius said with a forced smile, his teeth practically gritted. “You know who we are.”
“You could be anybody!” The Fat Lady argued.
“Do I look like anybody to you?” Sirius huffed. “I am Sirius Black, you know exactly who—”
The portrait swung open, causing the Fat Lady to scream unexpectedly. Her shrieks dimmed in both their ears, and their mouths dropped open. Remus swallowed thickly, his heart nearly coming out of his throat. Sirius was as silent as Remus had ever seen him.
You stood there, wearing one of Remus’ old knitted jumpers—one he still had at his home to this day, and the plaid bed shorts you swore matched it. You looked just as beautiful as they both remembered you, though your face was yanked down with the heavy weight of concern. Remus felt like he had been sliced open.
“I thought I heard you two bickering out here,” you said uncertainly, your furrowed brows scanning them both over. “Oh, Merlin, I am so glad you’re both okay.”
You hopped from the small stair and landed with your arms thrown around both their shoulders. Your touch was all to familiar, like hearing a song you had completely forgotten about, and fuck, you smelled of the oils you ran through the ends of your hair each evening, and the moisturiser you always used to “bribe” him or Sirius to slather on your skin (they were more than happy to do it for you, they just liked when you asked).
Remus thought he might be sick as he wrapped his arms around you, too. Sirius was as stiff as a board, his eyes startled as if somebody had just murdered his entire family in front of him.
“Sirius,” you murmured as you pulled away, and your hand touched his face. He flinched back to life. “Are you okay, darling?”
Sirius choked a laugh and then began to laugh harder.
Remus anxiously grasped the back of Sirius’ neck, squeezing it gently. “I-I think maybe he’s still in shock. From last night.”
You nodded and traced your hand down so that it met with his. You squeezed his fingers. “Come on then. I didn’t know Madame Pomfrey was going to let you both out tonight; otherwise, I might have asked the House Elves to prepare us all a nice dinner. I already ate something, but I could maybe—”
“We’re fine, thank you, Y/N,” Remus murmured and followed you into the common room. It was easier to talk to you when he was covering for Sirius. If he’d had to speak purely for himself, he was sure he might be in the same boat.
Remus had visited your grave for more years than he had known you alive, and yet there you stood, walking around, smiling and doting over them as if nothing was wrong. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He was sure he’d wake up, and it would be a dream.
“Y/N,” Sirius suddenly rasped from where he sat on the sofa. You quickly turned to him. “Y/N.”
He touched your face and then stroked your hair behind your ear. His eyes were darting all over you, as if he was looking for any sign of injury. He looked down at his hands after he had touched you, and he found no blood this time. Last time, his skin had been stained with it. He’d woken up in his cell covered in the crimson that used to keep you alive, and they did not let him scrub it off of himself for weeks.
“Sirius,” you repeated, and cocked your hide to the side with a small smile. “Do you want a cup of tea or something?” You reached up and touched his forehead. “You are quite warm,” you told him.
“He’s fine,” Remus said pointedly. “How are you?”
You thought for a moment and then sighed, your face contorting into a pinched smile. “I’m okay. Better now that you two are here. It was awful without you last night—it’s really scary in the tower alone.”
Remus felt the guilt start to eat him. You’d been alone when it had happened. You had most likely been the most terrified you had ever been in your entire life.
“I missed you both,” you said, and ran a hand through Sirius’ hair.
He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch.
“I missed you, too,” Sirius whispered, and his hand reached up to cup yours over his face.
You furrowed your brows at him. “Why are you being so solemn, hm? You’re concerning me a little bit, love. And you’re being awfully standoffish over there, too, Rem.”
Sirius shook his head quickly. “No, no. I think—I think the full moon just reminded us that it’s scary when we’re all apart. And that—and that anything could happen. We’re just glad nothing happened to you.”
“Because I wasn’t stupid enough to chase after Rem when he clearly wanted to be alone,” you chuckled at Sirius and leaned forward to kiss him. “Always have to insert yourself into places you don’t belong, don’t you?”
Sirius frowned. Remus nearly chuckled at the irony. She was right, and Sirius never grew out of it.
“It’s not a bad thing, sweetheart,” you told him affectionately. “Just don’t like seeing you get hurt because of it. It’s bad enough when Remus has torn himself apart every month. Don’t need both of you in there.”
Both of them were in awe at your kindness. They had forgotten that people like you existed. Someone who was so understanding of them—someone who saw all of their flaws and loved them for them. You were so young, and yet so emotionally intelligent. Neither had met anybody like you before.
“It won’t happen again,” Sirius whispered.
“I’ll believe that when I see it!” You called with a laugh as you headed over to the staircase. “Come on then, we should head to bed. It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow! It’d be nice to take a walk through Hogsmeade if you’re both feeling up to it. We’ll need to check your hip first, Rem.”
Remus felt his heart lurch. He grasped Sirius when he stood to follow you eagerly.
“We might stay down here for a little bit, baby,” Remus said as softly as he could, his brown eyes nearly melting in the warm lights of the Gryffindor common room. “We’re not tired yet, but we’ll follow you up.”
Sirius pulled away as you frowned. “But—but I don’t want to sleep without you again,” you said. “Please, Rem. I don’t mind you’re awake. You can read or—or do whatever you’d like, but I just want to sleep with you next to me.”
“Of course we’ll come up with you, sweetheart,” Sirius said, and turned back to give Remus a wicked grin. “Come on, Remus. Don’t be so ridiculous.”
Remus could have smacked Sirius. The look on your face was enough to make his heart burst in his chest. His logic was battling with his feelings, and he knew the right thing to do for all of you was to leave now, but he couldn’t force himself. He found his long legs carrying him up the familiar staircase that led to their old dormitory. You pushed open the door like it was yours, and quickly rushed to jump into Sirius’ bed, which had been transfigured into a king-size at some point.
You wriggled under the covers. Remus glanced at Sirius and saw him staring at the bed at the end of the room. James’ bed. His Quidditch kit was chucked over his chair, a pair of red Converse by the end of the bed as if he had been there only the other day—because he had been. He bit down on his bottom lip and gently pulled Sirius over to you, who hadn’t noticed the strange behaviour from the boys.
Sirius felt his face melt, and he was quick to head over, kneeling onto the bed and climbing into your side.
“You need to put your pyjamas on!” You told him. “Both of you, hurry.”
He laughed as your hands half-heartedly pushed him away. He opened the drawer at his bedside and then the one beneath. He couldn’t quite remember where he put them until—
“Idiot,” you muttered and threw a pair of plaid trousers at his head. “Under your pillow, remember?”
“Right,” Sirius said, and ripped his shirt from his body, then his trousers.
He pulled on the pyjamas and glanced over at Remus, who was doing the same. They were both moving like teenagers again, slightly more effortlessly than men in their late thirties. His gaze flickered to his own chest and his arms. He had the start of a couple of tattoos, but nowhere near as many as he got as soon as he had left Hogwarts. He felt naked.
“James sent an owl asking how you both were, by the way,” you said, and it was so casual to you, and yet so horrific for them to hear as they got dressed. “He said he feels bad for leaving while you were asleep, but I reminded him it’s not his fault. Oh, and Lily asked about you both, too.”
“We’ll owl them,” Remus said, his chest hollow, his smile fragile as he turned back to you and climbed into the bed.
You were in the middle tonight, it seemed, and neither of them was complaining. It was where you often ended up, if Sirius wasn’t in a mood and desperately after the most attention.
“Pete asked too,” you said, and all the blood left both their faces immediately. “He’s such a sweetheart, honestly, you two—he sent in a box of chocolates for you both. It’s got some of your favourites in it, Rem, but from the looks of it, he chose which ones went in himself. It’s got a note and everything, bless him.”
“Bless him?” Sirius retorted, his fists clenching the bedsheets.
He suddenly felt as sick as he did that day. He could see you lying on the kitchen floor of the house, which the three of you shared. Remus and Sirius weren’t talking to each other—they were arguing for the hundredth time that week, and you were being a fucking saint putting up with them. It had ended particularly awful that morning, with both of them accusing the other of being the traitor that the Order was searching for. Remus was off doing werewolf-related tasks for the Order, and Sirius went out for a ride on his motorbike. It was better than having to listen to you and your excuses for Remus.
He walked slowly up the path, dreading your kindness, but the sight of your front door knocked open enough to make him feel nauseous. He was lightheaded all the way through to the kitchen, where your record player had stopped singing and instead rested on a static pause. The sink was full of cold, soapy water, dishes half done, and you had baked something—he remembered the air was so sickly sweet that night. Cinnamon. He couldn’t stand that smell anymore.
It had mixed with the scent of iron. He had nearly slipped on all of the blood. It was thick. It pooled over the tiles you used to dance on, it caked the hair he used to run his fingers through. Your dress was ripped, a slice down your arm that was obvious to him in seconds. Your chest was home to a massacre, and the kitchen knife you always used, because it was the sharpest, lay discarded feet away, painted crimson with your blood. Your wand had rolled beneath the table, your fingers still open like you were reaching for it.
You musn’t have gone down without a fight. The kitchen was a mess.
He lay there for an hour next to you. He kept thinking about how this would be the last time he’d ever get to do it. Eventually, his howls dimmed, and he lay staring at the kitchen ceiling as lifelessly as you. Sirius dragged himself up from the floor. He needed to find James—see if James knew where Remus was. He needed Remus. Remus needed to know about you. Remus had no idea.
Sirius had continued to sob when he leaned over and gently grasped your wrists. He settled for leaving them on top of your stomach, and his fingers shakily reached to close your eyelids. He hovered over you for a few more minutes, and gripping the skirt of your dress, bunching the material as silent sobs racked through his body.
It took him another hour to get up. His legs felt like lead as he left you there. He wasn’t sure he was fully alive as he Apparated to the back of the Potter’s cottage, where they often snuck in and out to avoid being noticed. Sirius startled when he found the air had shifted, a dark green cloud smoking over James’ home, a snake coming from a skull.
He knew it was Peter immediately. The Secret-Keeper. Of course it was. He had been the traitor the entire time. Whilst Remus and Sirius had been pointing fingers at each other, Peter had been sitting there, often next to you, and he had probably been plotting all of your deaths. Sirius thought of James. Lily. Harry. You. He thought of you, and he knew what he had to do.
The rest of the night was such a blur to Sirius now. He remembered hunting down Peter in his Animagus form, using his sense of smell to realise he wasn’t too far. He found him down a Muggle street in London, trembling and shaking down an alleyway. He remembered having Peter pinned, he remembered seeing blood down Peter’s arms, and a splatter across his face.
Peter himself was missing a couple of his fingers. You must have gotten him. Sirius remembered how furious he had been: that Peter had gotten away, and you were gone.
He was so furious that he wasn’t thinking straight. He could only imagine your confusion, your hurt, and the agony you must have been in. He hurt Peter the Muggle way. He wanted him to hurt as much as he hurt you. Only, Peter seemed to be thinking more rationally— he drew his wand, and he created an explosion.
It was so large that Sirius had dropped him, and by the time he’d looked back, Peter was in his rat form—gone.
The Aurors arrested him near enough on the spot. He screamed and protested. He yanked at his chains and gritted his teeth as they told him he was going to be imprisoned for all of his crimes. He begged for Remus over and over again. His screams turned to laughter when he realised how easily he had been tricked by Peter Pettigrew. Everybody had underestimated him. Sirius himself had seen Peter as meek and underpowered. Sirius had lost absolutely everything in a matter of hours, and he had woken up that morning thinking the day would be no different from every other.
He went manic. He screamed and screamed all night. He rattled the bars of his cage until somebody Crucio’d him. He wondered if he was in as much pain as you had been when Peter had stabbed you over and over and over again. He told himself he deserved it for not being there for you. He deserved to rot behind bars just for that.
“Did Pete do something?” You asked, and Sirius nearly leaned over the side of the bed to be sick.
His eyes flickered over to Remus, who was watching you with such a haunted look that Sirius couldn’t take it. Sirius thought to himself that if he were to ignore hindsight and the future, then he would be sending you off to your death. You’d die again. It really would be his fault. He could have saved you. He should have saved you. He should have—
“I just don’t really like him very much anymore,” Sirius murmured. “I’ve… I’ve seen something in these tea leaves, okay? I saw something, and I didn’t like it.”
You snorted and tapped Sirius’ chest. “You’re rubbish at Divination! Last month, you thought you were going to end up riding a Hippogriff back to London!”
Sirius and Remus cast a look at each other, Sirius’ mouth slightly agape. “Actually, I think I have a knack for it. Maybe my timing’s just a bit off.”
“Sirius,” Remus warned.
“He won’t freak me out, don’t worry,” you reassured Remus, and patted his leg over the duvet. “Why, Siri? What did you see that Peter did?”
Sirius swallowed and shut his eyes. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he panicked once he reopened them, and he was quick to dart away.
You worriedly watched him go and looked back at Remus. “What’s wrong with him, Rem? Seriously. I’m worried about him. He’s not acting like normal.”
Remus sighed heavily. “Let me go and check on him.”
He climbed carefully from the bed, walking over to the bathroom. Just as he touched the handle of the door, he glanced back at you. You were watching him, your head tilted curiously.
“What?” You asked.
He shook his head. “Just stay right there, okay? I’ll only be a few minutes.”
“I don’t plan on going anywhere any time soon, don’t you worry,” you told him innocently enough.
Remus shook his head and pulled open the door. He shut it behind him immediately when light poured through, and he found Sirius bent over the toilet, trembling.
“I can’t do it, I can’t do it,” he kept muttering.
Remus felt the rage ignite inside his chest, hot and raw. “Sirius, this was your idea.”
“I thought I could handle a peaceful evening with her,” Sirius heaved. “But I can’t, Remus. How can we leave her here, knowing what’s going to happen to her? We’re essentially sentencing her to her death!”
Remus’ face curled, but his eyes were hot with tears. “It’s difficult. It’s how…” his voice broke. “It’s how it’s supposed to go.”
“You don’t even believe that!” Sirius shot back. “I can tell in your voice! You want to save her, too! Didn’t we always promise her that we’d keep her safe, Remus? Didn’t we? Look at her! She’s eighteen years old, and she only has three years left! That’s not fucking fair, Remus! Why did we get to live for so long, and she didn’t?”
They’d had this conversation a hundred times since Azkaban. Sirius held a particular amount of survivor’s guilt and PTSD. Remus was slightly better at burying his grief and self-loathing, just about content enough to survive until he saw Voldemort and Peter dead. He always thought he’d see how he felt after that.
“Sirius, I know,” Remus hushed him, smoothing his face with his hands. “I know. I know.”
“We could save James and Lily, too,” Sirius said desperately. “And Marlene. Harry’d never have to go to the Dursleys. The second war would never have broken out. We just have to kill that fucking rat! Right now, Remus! I can gut him as he did to her!”
Remus closed his eyes, grounding himself by gripping Sirius’ shoulders. “Calm down, okay?”
“Calm down—?”
“If Harry and Lily didn’t defeat Voldemort, who would have, Sirius? We were losing the war back then. If it had never happened, the Dark Lord most likely would have become even more powerful. Eventually, he would have taken over. You’d have been used as an example of blood treason. James, too. Lily and the other Muggleborns would have probably been rounded up to be slaughtered. I’d be carted off to the werewolf packs. Y/N…” His face went green. “Fuck, Sirius, Y/N would have probably been married off for her blood status—used to repopulate the Purebloods.”
“You don’t know that!” Sirius seethed, but his face was crestfallen, his breathing rapid.
“You don’t know that wouldn’t happen either, though, Sirius! Everything has a knock-on effect.”
“Then…” He hesitated, a strangled expression over his face. “Then perhaps we can just try to save Y/N.”
He mentally apologised to James over and over and over again. He’d make it up to him through Harry.
Remus covered his face with his hand. “You’re not listening.”
“I don’t care!” Sirius cried. “Is that what you’d like me to say, Remus? In all honesty, I will take whatever risk it is to give Y/N the chance of living! So we don’t kill Peter then. Fine. But maybe we can make sure that Y/N is not in the house that night. That nothing bad happens to her that night. I won’t—I won’t go to Azkaban, she won’t die, you won’t have to spend years alone, and Harry can have a family! The three of us can raise him, Remus. We’ll stop the second war from breaking out. We’ll let Peter go to Azkaban for what he’s done! That’s worse than death!”
Remus blinked, and for a few moments, it looked as though he was truly considering what Sirius was saying. Sirius could feel the hope blossoming and blooming in his chest. He grasped onto Remus and shook him impatiently, as if that would make him hurry up with his decision.
“Well? You look like you like my idea.”
“Of course I do,” Remus melted. “Of course I want all of that to happen.” He tugged his lip between his teeth. “I have always said I would do anything to have her back.”
Sirius could have burst into tears. “Remus, don’t say all of this to take it back. Please.”
“Sirius, if we get caught, we’ll be arrested at the very minimum.”
“I’d go back to Azkaban for a hundred years for her, Remus,” Sirius said so determinedly that the air knocked from Remus’ lungs, and it was as if Sirius’ words had burst Remus’ morality bubble for the first time that evening.
His body sagged, his eyes sinking. “Yeah, me too, Pads.”
“Then let’s risk it. Or give me the time turner, Rem. I’ll do it myself. We can send you back, and I’ll come and get her. I’ll make it right. You’ll never know the difference,” Sirius pleaded.
Remus’ trembling hand took Sirius’, and he shook his head. “You won’t have to do this alone, Sirius. We’ll do it together.”
There was a knock at the bathroom door, gentle and quiet. They both glanced at each other with softened eyes, and for the first time, their chests deflated. There was a feeling of ease knowing they were going to rewrite their story, that they would get to spend the rest of their lives together after all.
Remus moved forward and opened the door, letting it swing open. Your eyes squinted blearily at the bright light of the bathroom.
“Sirius, are you okay?” You asked softly. “I’m sorry if I made you feel silly about your… vision of Peter. It’s just… it’s Pete. He’s our best friend.”
“Y/N, I think we should all sit down and have a talk,” Remus suggested as calmly as he could muster, placing a hand on her arm, gently guiding her back into the room—back to Sirius’ bed. “It’s probably best we come clean to you.”
You peer at them even more anxiously. “Did something happen? Oh Merlin, Sirius, is your arm actually okay?”
“My arm is perfectly fine, baby,” Sirius couldn’t help but laugh, and he wanted to lean in and peck your hairline, but he was scared you’d want him nowhere near you in the next few minutes, so he refrained. “It’s something else entirely.”
“And you’re clever,” Remus said. “So we’re going to try not to sugar coat things. It’s going to be… hard to listen to. But we’re here for you the whole time, alright, sweetheart? Okay?”
You hesitated, staring them both over for a few more moments. Then you nodded, and Remus took a deep breath.
“Good girl. Do you know what this is?” He reached under his shirt and pulled out a golden chain with a circular pendant.
You shook your head. “I don’t think so, Rem.”
“This is a time turner,” Remus explained. “Do you want to see how it works?”
“Yeah,” you agreed, and Remus was positive you didn’t fully understand the meaning behind his words from how nonchalantly you were reacting to the information he was giving you.
“Give me your hands, sweet,” he instructed, and when you did so, he cupped your hand beneath his and gave the time turner one small spin.
Suddenly, the two of you were standing up in the exact place you had been moments ago, right before you sat on the bed. The past versions of you disappeared, and Sirius’ gaze flickered between you both, his lips quirking up.
Your eyes were nearly bulging out of your sockets. “What just happened?”
“We went back in time,” Remus explained. “Only by a few seconds. It’s not always good to go back too far.”
“When did you two get that?” You gaped and pinched your brows together at Sirius. “Did you steal it? Potter heirloom?”
“No,” Sirius laughed. “No stealing, not an heirloom. The Order gave it to us.”
You cocked a brow. “The Order of the Phoenix?”
“Yes.”
You nearly howled with laughter. “Well, that’s absurd! Why would the Order of the Phoenix trust you two with a time turner? You’re only eighteen years old, for goodness sake! We’re still at school!”
The silence that followed quickly made your amused smile evaporate. It started to settle in that this was not a joking matter, and that they were being very serious. Your gaze flickered between them, and your eyes widened as you seemed to put two and two together.
“You're not from this time, are you?” You whispered to them both.
“No,” Sirius admitted quietly.
“But how is that possible?” You demanded, standing from your seat and pacing, running a hand through your hair. “Are you from the future? By what? A couple of years? You both look exactly the same as you did when I saw you a few hours ago.”
“Y/N,” Remus swallowed. “Sit down.”
You did as you were told, but you felt incredibly lightheaded, the dizziness starting to make you sway a little. Sirius supported you with a large hand.
“We’re from the future, yes,” Sirius said. “We’re from, well, 1996.”
You paused. Your stomach flipped and your hands grew clammy. You stared at them both, unsurely.
“This is a prank?” You asked, but you had a feeling even these two weren’t such good actors. There was no way they would do this to you so close after a full moon. Even if Sirius had come up with the sick idea, you don’t believe he’d ever be able to do it to you, and Remus would never agree to it anyway.
“Not a prank,” Remus assured her.
You were silent for a few moments. “Well, that would make you each thirty-six years old. That’s not possible, is it? You look so young. Do your appearances change with the time you go to?”
“We took a de-ageing potion,” Remus admitted shamefully. “To blend in.”
You stare for longer. “Rem, I don’t like this. It’s not funny.”
“It’s not a joke, I swear on your life, sweetheart,” Remus said. “Look, I can prove it.”
He moved over to the coat he’d thrown over the chair and went into the pocket, pulling out a box of cigarettes and a few crumpled bits of paper. “Er, receipts with the year on them.” He dug in the other one and found his wallet, taking his seat next to her again. “That’s you. In the future.”
Sure enough, Remus opened his wallet and in the plastic covering was a small Polaroid of you. Your breath hitched and you took it from him. You looked hardly any different to the way you looked now, except your hair was cut differently, in a way you had never had it before, and this was your first time seeing the image.
“That’s me?”
“That’s you,” Sirius said thickly. “In 1980.”
You shook your head. “Wow. Well, this is only a couple of years away, then.” You handed it back to Remus. “Why… Why are you showing me this? Why are you two here? Are my Remus and Sirius okay?”
“They’re fine, darling,” Remus said. “They’re still in the hospital wing healing, and if I remember correctly, they’re anxious to come and see you—but they’re fine.”
You smile waveringly. “Is this to do with Peter, then? Like you said before? You don’t like him?”
There was a long silence.
“What did the Order send you here to do?”
“The Order didn’t exactly send us here,” Sirius said. “This was more of my idea, really. I just…”
Your breath hitched at the look on his face. Suddenly, their strange behaviour made so much more sense. Sirius getting emotional, Remus becoming shut off.
“That’s the last photo you have of me, isn’t it?” Your voice came out deadpan, dread icing your insides as you watch their faces for confirmation. “That’s why you don’t have a newer one, hm?”
Their expressions crumbled. Remus looked positively ashamed, avoiding your eyes. Disgust crept over Sirius’ features.
You tried hard not to let the panic swallow you. “Can you…what happens to me?”
Remus hesitated. “You die during the war.”
You don’t say anything for a moment, but hot tears flood your eyes. “When I’m twenty-one? In 1980?”
Sirius nodded, and you dumped your face into your hands. “Oh, Merlin. Oh no.” Your mutterings broke their hearts, and then they heard you begin to cry, your frame shaking with each sob. “I don’t get any older?”
Sirius felt sick. Remus couldn’t open his mouth as he watched you cry, but Sirius had been itching to comfort you since the second he saw you on the kitchen floor eighteen years ago. All he’d wanted was for you to wake up and cry, so he could reassure you, wrap his arms around you, and reassure you that you were going to be fine.
“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” Sirius cried. “We weren’t… We weren’t there the day it happened. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“What happened?” You whimpered. “What happened to me?” It dawns on you. “Pete?”
When neither said anything, you became more frantic. “No! Did I die saving him? It must have been—it must have been some freak accident, surely!”
Sirius shook his head, fists clenched. “It was not an accident, Y/N,”
You rubbed your eyes. “But—but—Peter is—”
“Not at all what any of us thought,” Remus finished for her sternly.
“Oh Gods. Is it painless at least?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Remus cut in before Sirius could. “Because it’s not going to happen again.”
“Wha—what do you mean?”
Remus lifted the time turner. “We’re not going back to a world you’re not in, Y/N. Not ever.”
Your breath hitched. “What?”
“I know this is overwhelming,” Sirius said. “I’m sorry. We just—we want to be sure that you want to be saved, Y/N. That you want to live. We don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
You thought for a few seconds. “Of course I want to live,” you croaked. “I want to grow old with you both. But I don’t want to change the future for the worse. What if bad things happen?”
“Bad things happen anyway,” Sirius mumbled.
“Sirius is blamed for your death,” Remus said, and purposefully left out the news of James and Lily. “He goes to Azkaban for thirteen years, until he breaks out.”
You look over at him, agony nearly shredding you apart. “Sirius,” you breathed, and your sniffling nose and flushed eyes were enough to make him coo and bring you into his warm chest. “Merlin, Sirius, I am so, so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” he murmured into your hair. “Never your fault, honey.”
You stayed like that for minutes. Your eyes began to feel tired from the emotion and weight of the day. Sirius couldn’t take his eyes off of you, curled up in his arms, finally safe.
“Let us save you,” Remus pleaded with her quietly, brushing her hair from her face. “Please.”
“But what if it makes everything worse in the long run? I don’t want you two to get into more trouble.”
“We’d Obliviate you after this, sweetheart,” Remus said, and Sirius was nearly surprised that he’d come up with a plan so soon, but also not really because it was Remus. “You won’t remember this, and you’ll go on like normal. Sirius and I will jump to the day you pass. We’ll make sure Pete doesn’t get to hurt you.”
“Why can’t we stop Peter now?”
“We can’t change too much of the timeline, baby,” Sirius swallowed thickly. “No matter how much we want to. Some things have to stay the same.”
There was a long silence. Minutes ticked by agonisingly slowly.
“What do you think?” Remus asked quietly.
“Let me sleep on it, Rem,” you said, furrowing your brows, but not opening your eyes as you rested against Sirius’ chest. “I can’t—I can’t think straight right now. Too much.”
“Okay,” Remus whispered, though his fingers twitched and his lips pursed. “Yeah, darling. Go to sleep. We’ll still be here in the morning.”
It took you a very long time to finally lose consciousness. You lay there, dwelling and agonising for hours, until the steady beat of Sirius’ heart lulled you to sleep.
── .✦
The next morning, you were the first to wake. You studied the men on either side of you, unsure if you were freaked out by their aged faces or calmed by them. A part of you was relieved that they got to see this age, and they survived a war you hadn’t managed to. The other part of you couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that there was no other version of you that got to wake up to this.
They both mostly looked the same. Both had a few silvers running through their hair, and the slightest of wrinkles around their eyes. It was obvious they were older in a handsome way, tattoos adorning every inch of Sirius’ skin in a way that had you almost breathless.
You traced them until he stirred slightly, and then you froze, a nervousness washing over you that you usually didn’t get with the boys. You supposed that was because these weren’t boys, but men. You didn’t know this version of Sirius and Remus; these were around eighteen years older than you and had lived lives you’d never know about.
You hesitated for a few moments, your thoughts drifting to the version of Sirius and Remus who were downstairs in the medical wing. You suddenly yearned for them more than ever, even if their elder selves were with you. Very carefully, you chose the one who used to always sleep like a log and prayed that was still true. Climbing over Sirius’ sleeping figure was a sport you had become extremely skilled at, especially because he liked to lie flat on his stomach.
Pulling on Remus’ jumper, you hesitated, watching them both sleep peacefully in the bed. Remus’ nose twitched, just like it always did. His hand splayed out across the mattress, as if looking for you or Sirius. You decided to leave before they woke up.
You stalked down all of the staircases, not a soul in sight, until you made it to the infirmary. You pushed the door open and headed straight for the two occupied beds at the end of the hall. Remus was already awake, a book in his hands and his eyes bleary from, knowing him, lack of sleep.
“Hi,” you breathed, and dropped into the chair next to him.
He looked pleased to see you, his face melting into a smile. “Y/N. It’s so early. Why are you here?”
“I just needed to come and see you both,” you whispered, but your voice cracked at his gentle face, and your eyes welled with hot tears, much to your horror.
Remus quickly placed the book down, concerned, and he pulled his blankets off his legs.
“No, no, no,” you attempted to usher him back in. “Rest, Rem. Stop. Don’t worry about me, I just… I had a nightmare last night. I’m being silly.”
He looked dramatically less concerned, his face easing into a look of sympathy as he made a soft sound in the back of his throat. “Oh, sweetheart. You had a nightmare, did you? What was it about?”
You hesitated and gulped down the lump in your throat. It felt like all of the air was stuck there, and something was squeezing your chest unrelentingly.
“I died,” you blurted. “A couple of years into the war. I got murdered. You and Sirius—you both were really sad afterwards.”
Remus’ brows tugged together, and he opened his arms out to you. You climbed into them, careful of all of his wounds, resting your head on his chest. You felt better nearly instantly, but dread sank in your stomach like an anchor—a constant, aching reminder that you would only have this for the next couple of years. You looked over at a sleeping Sirius. In a couple of years, he would be in Azkaban. Remus would be alone, a shell of the person he was before.
“That won’t happen,” Remus whispered, stroking your hair. You almost believed him from the softness and sincerity in his tone. “You’re safe with us, baby. I’ve got you.”
The tears streamed even more easily down your face.
“Y/N?” Sirius’ groggy voice came from the bed over. “Is she okay, Rem?”
“Poor thing’s had a nightmare,” Remus said, and it wasn’t long before you heard the duvet shuffle and the padding of feet over to you.
“Darling,” Sirius whined dotingly, and stole you from Remus’ arms, dotting kisses throughout your hair. “You’re alright. Was it that bad?”
“I just—it felt really, really real,” you sniffled. “And I’m—I’m— I was thinking what would happen to the two of you if something really did happen to me.”
Remus’ face contorted. “Don’t ask questions like that, love.”
“Yeah, it won’t ever happen,” Sirius said forcefully. “Never, Y/N.”
You grasped his jumper tighter.
“Gods, your hands are shaking, sweetheart,” Sirius muttered.
“Sorry,” you murmured, and dragged yourself away from him.
They both watched you with such soft, kind eyes. Your heart ached, pulsating and dying all at once. You itched to grab them again.
You wanted this forever. You wanted to know the two boys in the tower above you, too—you wanted to watch this Sirius and Remus grow into the men upstairs. Hopefully, happier, less traumatised versions.
You’d felt a weird sense of nausea when you’d woken up earlier, looking at the familiar faces of your boyfriends and realising you didn’t know them, and would never know them.
You needed to know them.
“I’m going to get ready for the day,” you breathed out. “I’ll shower and put some clean clothes on, and then I’m going to come down here with some games or something for us to play. It’s Christmas Eve, you know.”
Remus frowned. “Let us come with you.”
“No, no. I’m going to get the house elves to make us something really nice, okay?” You said, and your encouraging smile lifted their spirits slightly. “You’re right. Both of you. It was just a dream.”
You had your answer for the Sirius and Remus upstairs.
summary: you’re a shy crow animagus, quietly watching the marauders from the shadows, admiring them from afar. you think you’re invisible, but sirius and remus have started noticing you in ways you never expected. then, after a sudden accident leaves you vulnerable, the quiet distance between you begins to unravel, one button at a time.
warnings: shy reder, animagus transformation, animal form, accidents and injury, vulnerability, slow-burn romance, subtle emotional tension, insecurity, blood, infirmary, angst, lonely reader, anxiety, social awkwardness, mention of ravenclaw!reader, teasing and gentle flirting, mild language, moments of self-doubt, themes of trust and acceptance, angst, happy ending.
w/c: 6.1k
a/n: as someone who was always seen as 'weird', this was so healing to write <3 masterlist
It wasn’t unusual for you to be roaming the grounds late at night.
In fact, it had become something of a ritual—an instinct more than a plan, something stitched into your routine without you ever deciding it. The forest always felt more alive once the rest of the castle fell asleep, the air cooler, the trees older, the world quieter in a way that let your thoughts breathe.
Most nights, you slipped from your bed and disappeared beyond the edge of the grounds, feathered and weightless in the shape of a small crow, darting through branches and perching high in the canopy where no one thought to look.
What was unusual, however, was this: Remus Lupin limping through the forest, his arms slung around the shoulders of Sirius Black and James Potter like they were the only things keeping him from falling apart entirely.
Now that—that was something new.
You stilled in the trees, tucked between the leaves, dark eyes following the scene below.
It was strange, not because they were out after curfew. That much you’d come to expect from the troublesome Marauders. But because even here, in the middle of the forest, long past midnight, the three of them still carried with them that same impossible brightness.
You had never spoken to them before, not once, and yet somehow you knew their names the way everyone did. James Potter, Quidditch star with a laugh loud enough to rattle windows. Sirius Black, the most troublesome student, who drew people to him like a flame. And Remus Lupin, softer than the others but no less magnetic, with his weary kind of stillness that felt older than all of them combined.
You’d seen them around—of course you had, everyone had, but you’d been watching them for longer than you’d care to admit. Not deliberately, or creepily, you hoped.
It was just that once you started noticing them, you couldn’t seem to stop.
They moved through the castle like they belonged to it, like the halls bent slightly to let them pass. Even when they weren’t trying to be the center of attention, the world seemed to place them there anyway, everything revolving around their presence like they were born to be the stars of some story no one else had been invited into.
And even now, deep in the forest where no one was meant to see them, that pull hadn’t faded. The trees themselves seemed to lean toward Remus, branches curving like they knew he was hurting. The wind circled Sirius like it was part of him, rustling his hair just so. And James—he kept his head high even though his shoulder bore half of Remus’s weight, eyes sharp and steady in the dark like someone who refused to be afraid.
From your branch above, your small body shifted forward slightly, feathers ruffling against the bark.
Remus looked worse than you expected. Pale and exhausted. His mouth was tight with pain, and he leaned heavily on both of them, clearly fighting to stay upright. It wasn’t hard to guess what had happened. You didn’t need someone to spell it out for you.
You already knew.
You’d known for some time now, if you were honest with yourself. It wasn’t a secret, not if you paid attention.
The monthly disappearances, the gray pallor that settled into his skin for days afterward, the limp he sometimes carried with him, the faraway look he wore when he thought no one was watching.
It was clear, if you knew how to see it. Remus Lupin was a werewolf.
You weren’t afraid of him.
You weren’t sure what you felt, actually. Not pity, not fear. Just this soft ache in your chest, a fluttering concern that made your wings twitch and your claws dig slightly into the bark beneath you.
You wanted, more than anything, to help. Not in a way that would ever be noticed, not in some dramatic act of kindness or courage. Just… to be useful. To ease the weight of whatever he carried, even if only for a moment.
But you didn’t move. You stayed quiet in the branches as they passed beneath you, Sirius murmuring something to Remus that made the corner of his mouth twitch upward, just barely.
James glanced up once, scanning the canopy, but didn’t pause. None of them noticed the crow perched above them, holding her breath.
You watched them disappear between the trees, the sound of their footsteps fading into the dark, and felt that familiar twist settle in your chest again.
You were never part of their world. That much had always been clear. You moved through corridors like a ghost with pockets full of silence, a soft-footed observer in a universe that burned far too brightly for someone made of distance.
Where they shone with the ease of constellations, you lingered at the edges like mist, half-invisible and entirely forgettable.
It was not envy that caught your breath when you looked at them, it was something lonelier than that.
You told yourself it was mere curiosity, a passing glance toward something golden.
But the truth pressed heavier than that simple excuse. You had spent so long folding yourself into the corners of rooms, shrinking beneath your own voice, that to witness something so effortlessly vibrant felt almost otherworldly.
It was not that they demanded your attention. You would have resented them if they had. It was that your attention, unbidden and unwilling, bent toward them in spite of you.
As though their presence altered the air itself. As though their laughter rewrote gravity.
You tried to retreat, to withdraw as you always had, but the further you pulled, the harder you were drawn in.
It was the slow inevitability of celestial force, like a lonely moon being dragged across the dark by a sun too blinding to ignore.
You told yourself you were content in the quiet, and maybe you were. But every so often, when the night made the world gentler, and their noise softened into something almost tender, you allowed the wondering.
You let yourself ache for the impossible. To imagine, just briefly, what it might feel like to stand in the warmth.
And then, as always, you turned back into the branches, into the dark, into the small and silent shape of someone who was never meant to be seen.
You stay in the tree long after they pass, eyes tracking the shape of them as they disappear into the thicket, the way James’s silhouette leads, the way Sirius shifts slightly to support more of Remus’s weight without ever making it seem like a burden.
They speak in low voices, too distant for words to reach, but the rhythm of their steps is steady, if uneven, and for a moment you allow yourself to believe they’ll be alright.
Still, you follow.
You shift in the branches, feathers settling against your sides as your body lightens, stretches, and then lifts, black wings cutting through the night with soundless ease.
You dart above the treetops, careful to stay far enough that they won’t hear the flutter of your passage, but close enough that you can still see them through the breaks in the canopy.
You watch as Sirius ducks beneath a low-hanging branch—too low, it turns out. The edge catches his shoulder, just barely, and he swears under his breath.
James chuckles while Remus winces and lets out a soft noise you can’t quite hear. They all pause for a beat, just long enough for Sirius to adjust his grip around Remus’s back.
And that’s when you see it.
The glint of something small and dark tumbling from Sirius’s cloak as he shifts. It falls soundlessly into the underbrush, half-hidden by shadow and leaf, but you catch the flicker of it all the same.
A button. Round, worn, and gleaming faintly in the moonlight as it lands near the base of an old root.
They don’t notice.
They keep walking, unaware, their laughter returning faintly on the wind as they near the edge of the woods.
You watch them for a few more moments—watch as James pushes the castle door open with his shoulder, as Sirius leans close to say something low into Remus’s ear that makes him sigh softly despite himself.
Their backs retreat into the stone, swallowed by the warmth of the light spilling from within.
Only once the door swings shut behind them do you move.
You dive, wings spread in a wide curve, and land beside the tree root. The button sits half-buried in moss, still holding the faint warmth of Sirius’s coat.
You press your beak against it, tilting your head. It’s not much, just a lost scrap. An unremarkable little thing that no one will miss.
You nudge it into your beak carefully, curling your claws against the bark to steady yourself. The metal is cool, and a little heavier than it looks. A strange weight for something so small.
You glance up once more toward the castle, just to be sure. And that’s when you see him.
Sirius.
He’s paused in the doorway, slightly turned, head tilted back toward the woods. His eyes scan the tree line..
For a second, your eyes lock—his wide, gray, still crackling with whatever storm he always carries behind them, and yours small and dark and unblinking.
Then he gives a tiny tilt of his head, just barely perceptible, like a question.
Then he turns and disappears into the castle all the same.
And you lift your wings again, button tucked in your beak like a treasure, and fly after him—back toward the tower.
The days that followed blurred into one another with a kind of quiet that felt dreamlike. Nothing monumental had happened, but something within you had shifted.
You told yourself it meant nothing. Just curiosity, perhaps. A trick of loneliness. A moment that would fade if you left it untouched. After all, you didn’t really know them.
And yet, your gaze sought them in every room. You lingered in places you normally passed through.
You didn’t know how to name the feeling that followed you. It was not love, not yearning, not anything so clear. Just a soft ache that fluttered behind your sternum whenever they looked your way.
So you tried to smother it gently, the way you always had, with quiet rituals and familiar comforts.
That afternoon, the castle pulsed with early spring. Laughter echoed through open halls, and golden light spilled across the stone like a secret.
You had left the library later than usual, the small wooden box clutched protectively to your chest, your bag slipping slightly off your shoulder as you hurried to make it down the hallway before the rush swallowed you.
You weren’t paying close attention to where you were going. Your fingers curled tightly around the lid of the box, and your thoughts, once again, had drifted far ahead of your body
You didn’t see them until you collided.
Your shoulder struck something solid—someone’s chest—and your breath caught in your throat as the impact jarred the box from your hands.
The lid sprang open, and in an instant, a hundred small fragments of your quiet world tumbled across the cold stone floor.
Buttons scattered in all directions, clinking and skipping like startled birds, tiny kaleidoscopes of color and shape spinning out across the corridor.
You dropped to your knees with a sharp breath, heart racing, hands frantically collecting what you could before they rolled too far.
You reached for them with trembling fingers, too humiliated to look up, your mind already preparing for the laughter, for the awkward glances, for the words you’d have to stumble through.
But the first voice you heard was warm, low, touched with a gentle humor.
“Are you okay, love?,” came the voice, unmistakably Remus Lupin’s.
Your breath froze.
You looked up slowly, dread tightening behind your ribs—and there he was.
Remus stood just above you, tall even when slightly tilted from the weight of his cane, his soft knit sweater stretched slightly across his frame, the collar turned wrong in a way that made your fingers ache to fix it.
His gaze was steady, unreadable, but not unkind—warm in that quiet, bone-deep way he always seemed to carry, as if the tiredness in him was ancient and affectionate and chose what it wanted to notice.
Beside him, Sirius Black was already crouched to the floor, hair falling in black waves around his cheekbones as he reached for one of the stray buttons—a glossy red one with a cracked side. He held it between his fingers and tilted his head as he offered it out to you.
“I think this one belongs to you,” he said, and there was a smile in his voice—not mocking, not teasing, just bright and real and somehow far too much for your chest to hold at once.
You reached for the button slowly, your fingertips brushing his for a second too long. “Thank you,” you whispered.
Sirius turned the button once more between his fingers before letting it go.
“This looks exactly like the one I lost the other night,” he said thoughtfully. “Coat got caught on a branch, and I remember it falling.”
You blinked, your mind scrambling to build some sort of casual response. “Oh. That’s… funny. What are the odds?”
Sirius narrowed his eyes with mock suspicion, but only smiled. “Yeah. What are the odds.”
Remus’s voice broke in again, quiet but curious. “Do you usually carry a whole collection around with you?”
You glanced down at the box in your lap, half-full, many of the buttons still scattered across the stone.
“I collect them,” you said. “I find them, and rescue them, I guess.”
Sirius leaned closer, crouching again, interest flickering in his expression. “You rescue them?”
“Yeah, I just think buttons are really cute,” you said softly, cheeks warming. .
There was a pause, quiet and weightless, suspended like a held breath.
Then Remus smiled, slow and gentle. He leaned down slightly, balancing his cane with practiced ease, his gaze steady as it met yours.
“I think you’re really cute,” he said, voice low but certain, as though he were stating a simple fact rather than handing you the sun.
Your breath caught. The heat in your cheeks flared instantly.
Sirius, still crouched beside you, let out a bark of laughter. “Moony,” he said, grinning wide, “you’re absolutely flustering her.”
He then picked up a button shaped like a starburst and turned it over in his hand.
“Do they have names?” he asked, half-smiling.
You hesitated again, but they were both still looking at you like they genuinely wanted to know. And so—shyly—you nodded.
“That one,” you said, pointing to the pink with the curved edges, “is Dai. The red one is Cheri, the little navy blue one is Ruxy, and the green swirl one is Teo.”
Sirius grinned. “Ruxy looks like a cutie.”
“She is!” you said automatically, and then blushed again.
Remus gave a small laugh—barely audible, but sincere.
And then Sirius’s gaze flicked back to you, brighter now, edged with something that felt almost like a secret.
“Well then,” he said, voice low and amused. “Can I have a button named after you, Miss Ravenclaw?”
The words hit you all at once. You stared at him, mouth parting slightly.
“I—um. You can have the whole box,” you said too quickly. “If you want, I don’t mind.”
Sirius laughed, rich and surprised, eyes narrowing just slightly as he leaned in a little.
“All of them?”
“They’d be safe with you,” you answered, almost without thinking. “With you and Remus.”
Remus looked at you again, gently. “But I thought you said they were precious.”
“They are,” you murmured, your fingers curling tighter around the box. “But I think they would be safe with you.”
Sirius leaned back, something like admiration flickering behind his lashes.
You didn’t quite know what to do with the way they were both looking at you.
And just when the silence stretched a little too long, a voice called from the far end of the corridor—“Oi! Sirius! Remus!”
All three of you looked up.
James Potter stood down the hall, grinning, fingers laced with Regulus Black’s in a way that felt less surprising than it should have been. Regulus looked vaguely annoyed, but didn’t pull away.
Remus stood first, then Sirius, both of them brushing imaginary dust from their sleeves.
Before turning to leave, Remus looked down at you once more, his expression softer than it had been all afternoon.
“Buttons like these,” he said gently, his voice as low and warm as a lullaby, “are safest with someone like you.”
He smiled once more, and then he was gone—walking beside Sirius, their shoulders brushing as they headed toward James and Regulus, leaving you behind with your heartbeat in your throat and your button box held close to your chest like it had just turned into something more than what it had been that morning.
In the days that followed, you found yourself seen in ways you had not expected. It was never loud or showy. Just the kind of noticing that lingered in the spaces between things.
Sirius would greet you with a grin that curved wide, his laughter always arriving half a beat early, as though he had been waiting for yours.
Remus had a different quiet, a warmth that never needed words. He would glance at you across the Great Hall, the corners of his mouth tilting up slightly, as though something about your presence softened the sharpest parts of his day.
Their light caught you even when you were not trying to catch it.
And somehow, you found yourself orbiting them without realizing when it had started. You did not speak of it. You simply moved in tune with it, steps quieter, glances longer, as though gravity had chosen for you.
But on full moon nights, the gravity changed.
You could never remain in the Ravenclaw dormitories, not when the thought of them beyond the walls left your chest tight and your sleep restless. So you became what magic had allowed.
You shifted. Feathered and silent, you slipped into the dark as a crow, wings slicing through the wind with singular purpose.
You did not follow too closely. You never let yourself be seen, but you watched. You hovered high in the trees, a shadow among branches, waiting for their safe return.
It was not out of duty. It was something far deeper, far stranger. It was worry, but it was also something you refused to name.
Especially when it came to Remus.
There was something about the way he moved beneath the moonlight that left you breathless. Something quiet and aching, something wild and controlled all at once.
It drew you in the way a fire does to someone who has always lived in the cold. You had not meant to fall into such devotion, but you did.
What you had not meant to do was get caught.
You had not seen the branch until it was too late. It had splintered beneath your landing, sharp as a blade, and pierced clean through the delicate bones of your crow’s foot.
You had cried out, a sound that belonged to neither bird nor girl, and now you are trapped. Your leg is twisted, impaled through the narrow branch, wings fluttering uselessly, body trembling from pain and fear.
The forest is deep and dark around you. The sky is heavy with clouds. The world below is quiet in the way that makes sound feel impossible.
You try to pull free, but it only burns. You try to breathe, but each breath comes thin and shaky.
You had come to protect. You had come to be sure they were safe.
And now, you are the one in danger, and no one knows you are here.
Remus was lying curled in the grass, his body trembling with the aftershocks of transformation. His skin was slick with sweat, chest rising and falling in slow, shallow breaths.
James crouched beside him, murmuring something too low to hear, while Sirius stood just behind, watchful and steady, arms folded tightly across his chest.
They were preparing to carry him back—like always. The routine had become muscle memory by now: someone took his shoulders, someone his legs, and they would move through the underbrush in silence, just three boys and the weight of what they refused to name.
You watched from above.
You always watched.
Perched in the tree line, your feathers damp and trembling, your heartbeat a staccato against the splintered wood that held you. The pain was sharp now—constant.
The branch had pierced clean through your crow’s leg, the wound throbbed with each flutter, and your small body had begun to lean sideways from exhaustion.
You really were trying not to fall.
You tried to call out again, but the sound was strange and half-formed, stuck somewhere between your beak and your pain. You blinked, dizzy and panicked, watching Remus blink slowly up at the trees, unaware that you were breaking just above him.
Sirius glanced up. It was casual at first, a flicker of curiosity. His brows furrowed slightly, his gaze lingering.
"There's a crow watching us," he muttered.
James looked up too. “Bit early for birdwatching, innit?”
You wobbled again, wings fluttering helplessly, and this time the pain stole your breath entirely. Something gave—a soft sound, barely audible—but Sirius stepped forward like he heard it anyway.
“That’s not normal,” he said, a strange edge to his voice. “That—James, that bird's not flying off.”
James straightened, still holding Remus’s arm draped over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s not scared of us. It’s watching us. Bleeding, even.”
You blinked again, vision swimming. The pain was starting to blur the edges of things.
And Sirius had always been sharper than he let on. He stepped forward, squinting up into the tree line, eyes narrowing. “It’s too still, like it’s waiting.”
Something about the way he said it made your stomach turn.
They didn’t know you had followed them—every full moon, without fail. That you had shifted the second they were gone, just to make sure they were okay. That you stayed out of sight. That it wasn’t a coincidence, the way a crow always seemed to circle above them at the end.
They didn’t know because you’d never told them.
Because what would they say?
The shy Ravenclaw girl who barely spoke at meals. Who had feathers hidden beneath her skin and a fondness for strange winds.
You hadn't meant to be seen.
You hadn't meant to fall.
And now, all it took was one branch and one mistake to unravel it all.
Sirius took a step closer.
“Something’s not right,” he said, voice low now. “I’m going up.”
“Pads—” James started, but Sirius was already reaching for a low limb, already climbing, already listening to something he couldn’t name but couldn’t ignore.
Sirius climbed carefully, boots pressing against bark slick with moss, one hand braced on a branch as he narrowed in on the trembling bird.
The crow didn’t flinch. It only watched him with dark, glassy eyes, chest rising unevenly with every breath. Its feathers were ruffled, one wing visibly twitching from strain, its claws caught by a jagged splinter of wood. The wound had darkened the bark below it with a smear of blood.
And beside it, nestled in the fork of two branches, was a small, uneven nest.
A nest filled with buttons.
Sirius froze.
Red. Pink. Navy. Green.
His breath hitched.
Cheri. Dai. Ruxy. Teo.
It struck him like a gust of cold wind, the memory rising all at once—how you had shown him those buttons in the quiet corner of the hallway when you bumped into him and Remus, your voice barely above a whisper, explaining that you named the small things you kept close.
He looked back at the crow, still trembling, and his chest clenched with certainty.
“Y/N,” he said, voice low but sure, “it’s you.”
And in the seconds that followed, you shifted.
Feathers melted into skin. Wings collapsed inward and became arms, trembling and bruised. Your body curled in on itself, still perched awkwardly in the tree, leg bloodied and twisted at an angle that made Sirius’s stomach flip.
You clutched the branch with shaking fingers, hair matted and face flushed with effort and something deeper—shame, thick and suffocating.
You didn’t cry from the pain. Not even when your injured leg gave a sharp spasm, tearing through the nerves like fire, or when your fingers trembled uselessly against bark still sticky with your own blood.
You cried because you had been seen.
It had always been the one thing you wished for. The softest, most secret ache of your childhood.
To be seen. Not glanced at, not acknowledged in the polite way professors nod at a raised hand or classmates murmur a distracted hello—but truly seen.
To be noticed with intention. To be understood in your full, strange shape. You had begged for it in silence, prayed to stars without names, asked the moon to make you visible.
And now the universe, in its crooked wisdom, had answered. You had been seen—bloodied, exposed, and caught in your smallest truth.
You had sat through years of being overlooked, of having your voice mistaken for wind or your presence mistaken for absence. You had learned to expect it, but never stopped wanting otherwise.
You had begged, in ways that did not involve words, to be noticed
And now, here you were.
Revealed in trembling flesh and blood. Not behind a desk, not through the soft offering of a smile or a story or a named button—but like this.
Injured, fragile, unraveled, and caught.
They had seen you, truly seen you. Not the version you curated in classrooms or in hallways with quiet nods and subtle glances. They had seen the strange bird who followed them into the night.
The girl who built nests out of threadbare things. The one who had watched them like they were made of light and belonged to a constellation she would never be brave enough to touch.
And it was cruel, wasn’t it? How the universe had finally answered your oldest prayer, but in the wrong language.
How being seen could still feel like being misunderstood.
You hadn’t wanted them to think you were weak. You hadn’t wanted their pity or confusion. You hadn’t wanted their worry to be born from the sight of your blood or the way your hands shook. You hadn’t wanted to be caught.
You had wanted them to understand.
You had wanted them to see the quiet devotion threaded through every watchful flight. The care behind every shadowed perch. The love it took to stay hidden when every part of you wanted to land at their side.
But now that they had—now that they had seen the part of you you kept hidden beneath feathers and wind—you wanted to disappear all over again.
Isn’t that the tragedy of it? That the very thing you once begged for could arrive in a form you didn’t recognize. That after all the aching, all the hoping, all the prayers you sent to unseen gods, being seen could still feel so much like being misunderstood.
And yet, even in that moment, even with shame biting at the edge of your vision and tears sliding down your cheeks, part of you still clung to the hope that perhaps—just perhaps—they hadn’t misunderstood you after all.
“Hey—hey. Look at me,” A voice low but urgent breaks through your haze.
Hands find your face, thumbs brushing beneath your eyes with a softness that makes something in your chest splinter further.
“Don’t cry, love. Please don’t cry. You’re alright. You’re safe. I’ve got you, just breathe with me, yeah? Just stay with me.”
You try to look away, but he won’t let you. His gaze holds yours, steady and unwavering, the kind of look that feels like being tethered—pulled back to something real, something warm.
You barely notice Remus limping toward you until he drops beside the branch, breath catching in his throat.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, and his voice breaks around the edges. “Is it your leg? Are you hurt? Y/N—what happened?”
You can’t answer, not right away. Your mouth opens, then closes again, but Sirius is still there, crouched in front of you, hands steady despite the thudding panic you can feel rising in both your chests.
He speaks again, softer now. “You—you’ve been watching us? All this time?” His voice trembles with something between awe and heartbreak. “Alone? During every full moon?”
You nod once, a small, broken motion, tears slipping down your cheeks in silence. Your jaw is clenched so tightly it aches.
“I didn’t want you to know,” you whisper. “I thought—if you saw me, it’d be weird or pathetic, or—”
He cut you off gently, reaching out to cup your cheek with a care that made your throat tighten.
“Pathetic?” he echoed, incredulous. “Pathetic? Y/N, you’ve been dragging your body into the sky just to keep us safe. You bled for us tonight. You’ve been doing this alone. That’s not pathetic—that’s... that’s fucking brave.”
His voice broke on the last word.
Below, James appeared at the base of the tree, voice rising in concern.
“Sirius?” James shouted. “Is it hurt? Is it—wait, where are you?”
“It’s Y/N!” Sirius called back down. “It’s her. She’s an Animagus.”
“What?” James’s voice cracked. “What do you mean it’s her?”
But Sirius wasn’t listening anymore. He was already helping you into his arms, cradling your body close with infinite care, his hand pressed protectively to your injured leg, holding you like something precious and breakable.
He whispered reassurances as he climbed down, slow, careful steps that betrayed the panic beneath his steady hands.
By the time Sirius’s boots hit the earth again, Remus was already beside him.
His breath came ragged, the lingering tremors of the transformation still curled in his limbs
Now, standing just steps from you, Remus looked like the ground had given out beneath him. All the color had drained from his face, but it wasn’t just shock.
You tried to speak, but the moment Sirius set you down gently in the grass, Remus was already kneeling, like his body had moved before his mind could catch up.
“Y/N?” His voice cracked, hoarse and thin. “What—what happened? What were you doing out there?”
You couldn’t meet his eyes. Not with the weight of both their gazes pressing into your skin. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”
“A burden?” he repeated, the word leaving his mouth like it tasted wrong. “You’ve been following us? While I’ve been transforming? Every full moon?” His breath hitched. “While I was—”
“I didn’t want anyone to worry,” you whispered. “I just needed to know you were okay.”
Remus inhaled sharply and let it go like a wound reopening. His hand hovered near yours, trembling. Then he reached for you anyway, brushing your hair back from your damp, dirt-streaked cheek.
His fingers paused near the scratch below your ear, reverent, aching.
“You shouldn’t have had to do that alone,” he said, softly but with conviction, like he was swearing an oath he never should’ve forgotten. “You shouldn’t have had to hide this. You didn’t have to hide this.”
“I didn’t think you’d understand,” you murmured, tears threatening again.
“We understand now,” he said, brokenly. “And it shouldn’t have taken blood for us to see it.”
Sirius’s jaw was clenched so tight it trembled. Remus’s voice was frayed, but firm. And both of them looked at you like you had done something immeasurably brave. Like you were worth mourning, protecting, holding—everything.
You finally looked up at them, eyes glassy, face streaked with tears and dirt and disbelief.
Sirius exhaled sharply, pressing a kiss to your temple. Remus closed his eyes, his hand settling gently over yours.
James crouched nearby, still stunned, but his voice was gentle when he finally spoke. “Next time, you don’t watch us from the trees. Next time, you’re down here with us.”
The walk back to the castle was slower than usual. Not because the path had changed, or because the forest was any darker than it had been—but because something between the three of you had shifted.
Sirius carried you most of the way, arms secure beneath your back and knees, murmuring quietly each time you winced, while Remus walked close beside him, watching your face as though afraid it might disappear.
James had gone ahead to clear the way and fetch Madam Pomfrey, but you hardly noticed his absence.
Your body ached, but it was the tightness in your chest that throbbed hardest. You had never meant for them to know, not the Animagus form, not the secret flights, and certainly not the nest tucked into the trees like a childhood you’d never outgrown.
By the time Sirius set you down gently on the edge of the infirmary bed, your throat was dry from trying not to cry again.
Remus didn’t speak at first. He just knelt beside you, hands gentle as he peeled away what was left of your sock and began tending to your leg. His fingers were deft but soft, brushing the dried blood away with a damp cloth, jaw clenched as he examined the wound with quiet intensity.
You hated the silence. You hated how heavy it felt.
“I’m sorry,” you said, the words breaking free before you could stop them. “I know it’s weird. I know I’m weird. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”
Sirius, who had been standing nearby, leaned forward suddenly, resting one hand on the mattress beside your hip.
“Stop,” he said, firm but not unkind. “Don’t do that. Don’t apologize for being the one person who cared enough to follow us into the dark.”
Your breath caught.
“I just… I didn’t want to be a burden,” you murmured, your voice barely more than a breath. “I didn’t think you’d understand.”
Remus’s hands paused in their careful rhythm as he finished unwinding the gauze. He looked up slowly, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet but certain.
“Y/N, if you truly believe we’d ever mock you for caring—for watching over us in the only way you could—then I’ve clearly failed to show you the kind of man I am, and the kind of man I hope to be.”
Your fingers curled in your lap. “I watched you,” you whispered, eyes flicking toward Remus. “Every month. I couldn’t sleep knowing you were out there. I just... needed to make sure you came back.”
Remus didn’t look away. He soaked the cloth in warm water and pressed it gently to your scraped skin with hands that trembled slightly—not from fear, but from how much he was holding back. “You never needed to explain that,” he said. “But I’m glad you did.”
Sirius moved closer, silent until now. He sat down beside you on the bed, his palm finding the small of your back, grounding you.
“You watched over us,” he said, his voice low and rough at the edges. “Even when we didn’t ask. Even when we didn’t know. You broke your body trying to keep us safe. And you’re still sitting here thinking we might call you strange for that?”
You looked up at him then, wide-eyed, voice shaky. “I mean... I collect buttons. I sleep with open windows so I can hear the wind. I speak to animals. I—I’m not exactly—”
“Normal?” Sirius offered, a half-smile playing at his lips. “Good. We’re not either.”
Remus finished wrapping your leg and looked up, expression softening like a wave pulling back from shore. “You think we’ve spent all these weeks noticing you for no reason? You think we didn’t see the way you listen more than you speak, or how your eyes always catch the smallest things—the things no one else notices?”
“You care in ways no one else ever has,” Remus added, more gently now. “You cared about me in a way I didn’t know how to accept until right now.”
Your breath caught. “Wait… are you saying...?”
Sirius laughed under his breath and leaned a little closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “Love, we’re saying we’ve been completely enchanted by you for ages. We just didn’t know how to say it until tonight.”
You blinked, stunned. “Really?”
“Really,” Remus said, his voice warm. “In every way that matters.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came. Your throat was too full of something tender, too new.
Remus leaned closer, his voice softening. “Listen to me,” he said. “You don’t have to hide yourself from us. Not your wings, not your magic, and certainly not your quiet. We like you—we care about you—for everything you are. You’re not strange, love.”
Your lip trembled.
“And the button nest?” he added, grinning now. “It’s the most heartbreakingly you thing I’ve ever seen. That nest in the tree… it wasn’t weird. It was beautiful.”
Sirius smiled, something quiet and bright in his expression. “Well, we were talking about it on the way back—Remus and I, and if there’s ever room for two more in that nest, we’d be honored to be named and to be part of something you created.”
You blinked. “You want to be… buttons?”
“Not just buttons,” Sirius said, bumping his shoulder gently against yours. “Your buttons.”
Remus looked up then, meeting your eyes with something deep and sure and aching in its sincerity. “If we’re lucky, maybe you’ll even give us names.”
You looked down at your lap, hands trembling in your lap, and then, slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, tentative but real.
“You can be in my button nest,” you said, voice barely a whisper.
And for the first time, it wasn’t just that someone had seen you.
It was that they had recognized you — all the strange, quiet, fragile pieces you’d kept tucked behind your ribs, the ones you had never dared to name aloud.
They hadn’t flinched from your softness, or your silence, or the wild devotion stitched into the things you loved. They had understood it. And more than that, they had chosen it.
Chosen you.
You had spent your life making altars out of small things. Buttons, feathers, the hush between words. You had prayed in your own language — not in churches or temples, but in the way you noticed everything others overlooked. You had asked the world for so little: just to be held in return.
Just to matter to someone the way you had quietly, unfailingly let others matter to you.
And for so long, the world hadn’t answered.
But maybe it was not that it hadn’t heard you. Maybe it had simply taken time.
Because now, without asking, without performing, without even meaning to — you were seen. Not in passing, not in pieces, but fully, tenderly, and without having to translate your love to the world.
You were no longer a distant thing.
And perhaps, after all, the universe had been listening the entire time.
Now, it had spoken , softly and reverently, in the form of two boys who looked at you as if you were something celestial stitched into the earth.
After all, the button nest had always been waiting for them too.
a/n:
to the readers with soft hearts and quiet hopes;
may someone see your soul the way you see the world.
to the readers who love gently, who notice everything,
and who wait, patiently, to be noticed in return;
may your button nest always be full ❤️🩹
i’m just obsessed with the idea of poly!wolfstar having sex for the first time except remus and reader have been together for longer time so it’s a lot of remus telling sirius what she likes fbsibxkakx
Thank you for your request babe!
cw: smut mdni
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If you’re new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 714 words
“Sweetheart,” Remus’ voice is gentle, oh so gentle, as Sirius fucks into you, “you’ve got to tell him what you want.”
You look up at your boyfriend with wet eyes, fucked out and frustrated from chasing after the orgasm that keeps slipping away from you. You want Sirius to just know what you want, the way Remus does, even if you know it’s not fair to expect that of him. It feels mean to give Sirius directions. Like you’re saying he’s not good enough.
Remus doesn’t have the same reservations. When you don’t speak up, he turns to Sirius and tells him plainly, “She likes it harder than that.”
At the foot of the bed, Sirius’ eyebrows go up. “Yeah?” He looks at you. And there’s nothing unkind about his stare, but you still shy a bit under the weight of it. “Sorry, gorgeous, I didn’t want to hurt you. Tell me if this is better.”
The next time he pulls out, Sirius slams back into you with so much force you’re sure his cock has gotten lodged somewhere in your stomach. You arch, a choked-off cry leaving your lips.
Sirius huffs a laugh. “Suppose that’s my answer.”
“That’s it, yeah.” Remus brushes the hair from your face, his touch comforting as you reach around blindly for his cock, desperate to give something back. You’d started out asking to go down on him, but Remus hadn’t thought it was a good idea to have your mouth around him while you and Sirius were only learning your way around each other for the first time. So instead, you’re lying on his lap with your legs spread for Sirius. The way you’re feeling now, you think Remus made the right call.
“Don’t be afraid to get a bit rough with her,” he says. “She likes it.”
Sirius grins at that. “Oh, yeah?” His grip tightens on your hips, squeezing meanly. “Is that true, pretty girl? You into that?”
You think maybe all language has been jostled out of your head. You can only whine as Remus catches your hand before you can tug down the elastic waistband of his boxers, his thumb stroking over your knuckles despite the bulge you can see right beside you.
Your body answers Sirius’ question for you, anyway. His fingers tighten even more, blunt nails biting into your skin as he hisses, “Fuck, baby.”
Remus chuckles and kisses your white knuckles.
“Fuck, Remus, can you—ah—can you get her leg for me? I want to—”
Thankfully for you both, Remus knows what Sirius means before he has to fumble his way through getting it all out. Remus reaches sideways, grasping the underside of your knee and pulling it up by your chest. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Sirius pants, and then he’s fucking you even deeper than before, harder too, the dull, satisfying pain intensifying until your vision blurs. You twist your fingers in the hem of Remus’ boxers and hold on for dear life. “That’s perfect. You’re so perfect, pretty girl, does he tell you that enough? Fuck, Rem, we should—we should put a mirror on the ceiling so she can see how she looks like this.”
“Maybe we should,” Remus hums. He smiles down at you, and the last bit of sense in your brain dissolves like sugar into tea. “You’re doing so well, love. You’re being so good for us.”
When you look back on it later, you won’t be entirely sure which of you he’s talking to, but that doesn’t stop you from going warm all over in the moment. Sirius’ fucking gets more frenzied as you get worked up, until you’re trying to get Remus out of his boxers again, feeling frantic with the certainty that the climax you’d just been chasing is now chasing you.
“I can—I want to—” You try, distressed when he again catches your wrist in a firm grip. “—want to help you—”
“Shh, I know, sweetheart.” Remus strokes the inside of your knee. “Let’s get a couple out of you first, and then once you get used to Sirius, we can try. Yeah?” He looks at Sirius. “Think you can manage?”
Sirius scoffs. He hikes your other leg up higher. “Don’t patronize me. I had a bit of a learning curve, but I’ve got her now.”
remus lupin x fem!reader x sirius black ( aka poly!wolfstar x reader )
a joke from sirius has you playing tennis with no panties on, though nobody's laughing when you end up fucked dumb in both holes at the end of your game ( 4.1 k ) ( mdni 18+ )
a/n: embarassingly this is my longest fic and also the one that took me the least amount of time to write...oopsies! also this had no intention in being so challengers coded but thats just the way the cookie crumbles 🤷🏻♀️ im having major writers block with all my st stuff so heres a little woflstar breather for all my marauders followers !!! ( divider by @cafekitsune )
tags: very very very brief moment of eviil walburga black mention, the black family are rich and evil, yes wolfstar and r broke into the black estate and destroyed every single room no we will not be talking about it, modern!au, prankster sirius black though thats just normal sirius black, flashing? panty stealing and panty fucking, everyone is sweaty, slightly voyuerism, oral (m receiving), object fucking-ish (tennis racket), fingering, anal, double penetration, unprotected sex, pup nickname, sirius is a massive slut, minor blood mention??
Sirius’ old house is disgustingly huge, all high arched doorways, sleek matte trims, guest bedrooms the size of your current apartment. You’ve seen it in the winter, cold and desolate with traces of the abuse Sirius endured at the hands of his mother. Her oil portrait that would cost you a fortune to repair and the Black family a mere graze off their bank account sits crooked in the hallway you’ve broken into, crude doodlings splattered over strokes of Walburga Black’s pinched face, courtesy of a wide-tipped sharpie pen dug out from Orion Black’s pristine office.
In the summer, when the whole Black family has retreated to the South of France and the house lays empty, it almost looks…home-like. The sunlight streaming into the windows and the Sirius’ messes of rage, anguish, mirth and pleasure littering the rooms give it a more lived-in quality, despite the estate's age of almost 300 years. Now, with its only inhabitants being the three of you, it reads more like a lavish house listing on a real estate website than a building featured on a news article that makes the Black’s sound more important than they already are.
Sirius tells you that the tennis courts are a new addition, though, a couple metres away from the stables where he had his first kiss with a stablehand. He’s sprawled out on a lounge chair, looking far more comfortable in the torn apart Black estate than he ever had been in his 18 years of hell. Red athletic shorts he pulled from his old bedroom sit low on his hips and a pair of black sunglasses push his raven-black hair back. The box of his old school trunk lays open as Sirius plucks items out one by one, tossing the things he has no desire for over his shoulder and the ones he’s keeping at the foot of the chair.
You’re not all for breaking and entering, robbing, trespassing on private property, whatever stamp on your record Regulus hissed through a phone call when he realised Sirius had used his keys for a little more than “I just need to get the last of my shit, Reg. And then I’ll never go back,” but this certainly feels worth it.
Remus returns from the main home pushing a beverage cart that looks comically small shadowed by his height. He’s in a similar outfit predicament to Sirius: thin, sweat-proof shorts and a bare chest sheening with the whitish tinge of sun cream. He holds a plastic cup (leftover crockery from the small party Sirius had thrown two nights before) filled half-way with his choice of drink in between his teeth, nodding his head to the sounds of The Doors playing through a bluetooth speaker on the top half, the sound sending a buzz through the expensive glassware.
You lean against the tennis netting, tight enough to support your weight, as you let your sweaty hair fall out of your ponytail and down to swing in and out of your vision. It kisses your cheek as you call out to Remus. “What’cha got for me, Moons?” you ask, squinting to block out the sweltering sun.
He chucks you a can of something icy cold to press to your burning neck and then something similar to Sirius who misses completely, letting out a shout as the beer clatters to the ground, the spray of liquid splashing over the lean muscle of his body. “Moony!” he cries out, voice half-drowned out by your laugh as he jumps out of his seat, promptly kicking away the can farther down the large court with the toe of his flip flops. It spins out before coming to a stop, spray calming down as cider flows weakly from the lip.
You crack open your own beverage slowly, taking a long sip and turning to Sirius with your best that’s what you get! look. He gives an affronted harrumph, sulking further into his seat as Remus comes around to hand him another. He bends forward to press a light kiss to Sirius’ temple and then scrape the skin of his face teasingly with his teeth.
The sun beats down on you and you shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other in your denim minishorts. They sit low waisted and kiss the top of your thighs, but they’re thick and itchy, and you can feel the beginnings of a chafe begin to form. You hadn’t thought about proper lounging around gear like Sirius and Remus had, and you’re reaping the consequences in your outfit fairly inappropriate for a tennis game.
Remus tosses you a tennis racket, and then digs deep into his shorts pocket to search for a second item. A ball of something blue soars through the air and then into your free hand. You hold the racket in between your legs to unravel the crumpled up thing slowly, realising that this is supposed to be the athletic gear you had requested: a thin tennis skirt shorter than your forearm that could easily be considered modest for a young child, but worthy of a public indecency fine on your figure. “Remus, what the fuck is this?”
Sirius lets out a low whistle and a wolfish laugh as he plucks the fabric from your hands, pulling the waistband as far as he can in between lithe fingers. “It’s a little modest, don’t you think?” he asks Remus sarcastically, thick eyebrows raised, “They’ve even got little built in panties!”
Remus blinks at your incredulous expression. “You said you wanted something lightweight to move around in.” he shrugs. It’s not in Remus’ nature to play dumb, but when he does he really really goes for it. You grab the scrap of fabric from Sirius’ big hands to further inspect it. You’re not really in the mood to journey back up the hill and into the estate to find better clothing, and it’s not like a public court where half of your ass can be seen by the general public. Remus and Sirius have seen you in no clothing at all, anyways.
“Where’d you even get that thing anyways?” Sirius asks.
Remus deadpans. “Your mothers wardrobe.”
“Very funny,” Sirius jeers before pausing, “Wait, seriously?”
You leave the quarreling boys on the courts to pull open the doors of the on-court changing rooms, relishing in the cool air that dries your sweaty skin as you kick off your shorts and underwear. A whole estate with a private court and changing rooms is your fucking dream, and you feel a small tinge of envy for the Black family. But you’ve met Sirius’ mother (against your wishes and his) and you’ve heard enough stories to know that most of them border on evil. If money really does buy happiness, the Black family would have to become sextillionaires to pull the sticks out of their asses.
You pull the small curtain around you to step into the smaller changing areas, thumbing distracted circles at the razor burn on the top of your thigh. The door of the room hits the concrete wall as one of your two boyfriends strolls in. From the Led Zeppelin whistle cutting through the air, you can already tell it’s Sirius.
“Let’s get a move on, darling,” he calls out, flicking on the tap to probably wash off the sticky cider on his bare chest, “Don’t want to keep Coach Black waiting.”
“You’ve never even played tennis.” you scoff.
“Is something I’ll be saying to you when I see your first serve,” Sirius drawls, effectively poking at your competitive side to coax you back on to the courts. You hear the door creak open as he tells you, “And I want to see that skirt that Moony picked out for you. See if it’s suitable to wear at the home chapel when I have to repent for what I’m going to do to you and Moons in the dining hall later,” and then it shuts and you’re left with your own racing thoughts.
All you can do is roll your eyes, clench your thighs together at the last comment and step into the skirt. You blink down. There’s a clear circle where you can see the clean tiled floor with none of the built-in panties Sirius had boasted about.
You pull them up, grateful for the stretchy waistband, and give yourself an experimental twirl in the mirror. At your full height, the hemline barely grazes the three-quarters of your ass, and when you bend at the waist, your whole cunt will be on display, already slightly glistening with slick as you crane your neck to get a good look.
As expected, when you step out of your mini-fashion show you’re met with an empty wooden bench, your panties and shorts missing and 100% being twirled around Sirius’ index finger as a sick show of victory to Remus.
You don’t even bother to pretend like you have any modesty as you step back out, ignoring the way that Sirius wolf whistles and how his lounge chair has been dragged suspiciously around to your end of the court. When you ready your stance, you’re certain to give Sirius an eyeful of his next meal.
Remus has the audacity to blush when you pick up your racket, shifting his from one hand to the other like it wasn’t him who picked out your outfit in the first place.
“You wanna play or what?” you ask boredly, though internally you’re applauding yourself for the smooth double entendre.
Remus swallows thickly then volleys first, clumsily hitting the ball in your direction and sending you running down your end of the net, serving it back with a jump of your own that has your skirt fluttering around your asscheeks. Sirius practically moans when he sees a sliver of your cunt and you watch amused as he pulls down his sunglasses to block out the sun and get a better look. He wiggles his fingers at you as if to say, “keep playing.”
Every skid, sprint and step has you showing off something to one or the other, whether it be the flash of your ass to Sirius or a peek of your bare cunt to Remus, who grows visibly frustrated at losing his game of tennis, though you’re certain you practically dangling your pussy in front of his face doesn’t do much to help his temper. You watch him rearrange his heavy cock in his shorts as he jogs back to retrieve your bright green tennis ball, breathing heavily through his nose as you pretend to stretch while you wait, sneakers squeaking on the hot floor.
You’re gripping the racket tight, ready for the next serve when Remus completely drops the ball, jaw going slack as he looks past your face and behind you, the ball rolling away. “Oh fuck,” he half-protests-half-moans, “Sirius!”
When you spin back around, Sirius has his head thrown back against the lounge chair in an inky black halo, legs spread and chest flushed as he pumps his tall cock wrapped up in your stolen panties. The moan he lets out when he notices your eyes is lewd, bordering on pornographic. A cool breeze whips your skirt high enough that he can see the front of your pussy and he shakes as he almost cums on the spot. Thighs quivering, the soles of his bare feet rubbing up and down the lounge chair as he tries to anchor himself to something, Sirius’ deep set eyes blink slowly at you and Remus, only fluttering shut when he grips his length harder. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he groans out, thumb rubbing over his leaking slit, voice turning pitchy and whiny, “‘m gonna cum,”
You and Remus watch in awe as Sirius spills over his pale stomach, his eyes rolling back as he fucks himself through his orgasm. If the sun on your wet cunt had you glistening earlier, you would be lit up like a fucking star. Sweat drips down from your chin, into your shirt and past your hardening nipples, your mouth impossibly dry.
“Fucking hell,” Sirius groans out finally, looking pretty and fucked out as he comes back down to earth, still holding your pink panties now ruined by his cum, “any of you lovelies have any interest in playing with a different kind of balls?”
It’s crude and so very Sirius that you laugh at the silliness of it all, letting yourself bend at the waist to help with your shuddering diaphragm. The sound dies down in your throat when you realise you’re now showing off your pussy to Remus, swallowing thickly at the sound of a tennis racket clattering to the floor as he steps over the net to drag you towards Sirius.
You fall over him clumsily, forehead hitting his bare chest as the hand still carrying your tennis racket smacks the ground as you try to lift yourself up. Sirius’ cloth-covered cock digs into your stomach and he wastes no time dragging you further up his front to messily press his lips to yours, tongue pushing deep into your mouth. You haven’t even realised he’s plucked the racket from your hand when it comes to press against your entrance.
A gasp leaves your lips as Sirius grins against them, looking up at Remus stepping out of his athletic shorts and pulling your sneakers off. The handle rubs slow circles around your clit, your sopping pussy allowing an easy glide around the sensitive nub as you arch back into it. You whine and Sirius presses hard into your clit before dragging the covered handle to your entrance, pushing in enough to make you moan against his mouth.
He parts his legs further to allow Remus some room where he hovers straddled above Sirius’ thigh, the taller boy looking down at you. “Maybe we should fuck you with the racket,” Sirius says, voice held so straight you think he’d been asking you about the fucking weather, “Fuck your mouth. Give you something to bruise that throat on,” he sighs, contemplative. “Or, we could fuck your perfect litle pussy instead, hm?” he asks before fully pushing into your entrance, the handle sitting a comfortable half an inch in your hole as you groan, greedily rolling your hips back into it.
“Look at it, Moons,” he coos, “Look at ‘er fucking suck it in,” Sirius hums and it leaves just as quick as it came, falling back onto the hot concrete. “Not today, maybe,” he tsks, “I’d quite like to have you stupid on my fingers instead.”
A long digit pushes past your gummy entrance, curling up against your spongy spot inside. “Shit,” you murmur, hole clenching around Sirius’ finger. He shifts you to curl into his side instead of sprawling out on top of him to give space for Remus to duck his head down and take Sirius into his warm mouth. He gives the pink head a quick kiss and a kitten lick before you watch it disappear down his throat.
“Remus,” Sirius begs now, previous bravado disappearing and his hips lifting so Remus’ nose can press into Sirius’ happy trail, his free hand guiding Remus up and down his cock by the back of his head.
You cry out Sirius’ name at the same time as marriage meets middle, two fingers pistoning quickly in and out of your soaked cunt. Despite the moans he lets out and the incessant stuttering of his hips, Sirius still manages to stay laser focused on fucking you just the way you like it.
The steady beat of your cunt speeding up to a wild, erratic thing has you pressing a warning kiss into Sirius’ neck. “I’m gonna cum,” you warn, thighs tightening as Sirius curls in faster and deeper, removing a hand from Remus’ head to encourage circles around your sensitive clit, “Siri, I’m going to fucking-”
“Cum for me, pretty,” he stops you, breath hot and heavy against the crown of your head. Remus takes the pitch in his voice as an indicator that he’s about to spill into his throat, letting Sirius take the lead and fuck into him at a bruising pace. “Fucking lovely, the both of you.” Sirius sighs before cumming with a shout.
You follow quickly after, pussy spasming as Sirius rubs slow, soothing ministrations to the soft muscle of your insides. Crude, but sweet.
Remus comes up for air, cheeks red and cock achingly hard as he wipes his sticky mouth with the back of his hand. When he leans down to kiss you sweetly, you’re allowed a taste of him. Mint gum, rum and coke, Sirius and tobacco flood your senses, and you lick greedily over a spot of Sirius’ cum drying on Remus’ chin.
“What do you want, sweet girl?” he asks you, voice still hoarse and a hand rubbing up and down your sweaty back. Despite the skirt riding up your midriff and your thin tank top, you’re significantly more clothed than your boyfriends. Remus helps you to kneel on the chair with wobbly legs, letting you pull the tank top up past your foggy head. Sirius reaches up to palm roughly at your bare tits. “D’you want one of us in your mouth, another in your little hole? Tell us, pup.”
“Can you both fuck me?” you request.
“How d’you want us?” Sirius asks, already palming his length with another hand still massaging your chest. The words in his mouth leave soft and kind, but he pinches your nipples hard and mean.
“My back against your chest.” and then for an added safety measure, “Please.”
Sirius is already pulling your sweaty back against his chest, huffing slightly when your hair falls in his mouth. “Great idea, my darling,” he praises, emphasising his sentiment with a squeeze of your chest, “That way me and Remus both get a look at your pretty face when we get you all stupid.”
You pant and squint up at the sun, hot and bright and beating down on your face, and like the gentleman Sirius is, he gently places his sunglasses on your face. He murmurs a quiet apology in the shell of your ear when he fumbles around blindly to line himself up with your hole. Remus does the same, fat tip running through your slick and sensitive folds. You can see him properly now through your protective eyewear, looking significantly tanner with a splattering of freckles all over his long torso. You make a mental note to kiss over all of them, and then some more, later.
“Don’t push in too quick, Pads,” Remus warns, gripping the soft fat of your thigh.
Sirius does, because he’s Sirius, spitting roughly in his hand and smearing it all over your hole, pushing a middle finger in for good measure. You writhe against his back but his forearm keeps you locked in place, held extra tight when his head pushes past your ring of muscle.
“Hole’s so fucking tight, darling,” Sirius laughs, “Do I have to break her in again?”
It’s an agonizing stretch that seems to go on for hours, but when you feel Sirius slump back against the chair, you feel amazingly full. Your cunt throbs and you clench tight, grinning when Sirius curses in your ear.
He reaches down to stroke Remus’ cock, both of you watching in awe when he lets out a satisfied sigh and a click of his neck when his chin comes down into his chest. Remus lets Sirius pump his thick cock once, and then twice before slapping his ringed hand away.
“D’you just not want me to last then, baby?” he laughs, realigning himself with your entrance.
Sirius doesn’t respond, but you can tell he’s sporting a lazy grin in the way Remus flushes a dark red.
Remus pushes in, kinder and slower than Sirius but still with the same desperation, and you almost scream. The stretch from Sirius’ fingers help accommodate his length, but the sensitivity from your previous orgasm has you digging crescent shapes into your palms.
“F-fuck!” you stammer, beating your fist into the chair as your heart jumps, “Please,”
“Please, what?”
“Please, just fuck me,”
Sirius obliges first, hips moving slowly as he starts a steady beat. He practically lifts you up with every thrust, and you watch in awe as he helps move you up and down Remus’ cock. Remus catches you on the up thrust, big palms under your ass keeping you still in the air so he and Sirius can put in all the work.
Slick from your pussy pools and drips down your ass and onto Sirius’ cock, allowing him a faster pace in your ass. Your ears only focus on the sounds of Sirius panting in your ear and the squelching sounds as your cunt practically gurgles around Remus’ cock. The speed they’re both building up to forces lewd, pornographic sounds bubbling up past your throat and out of your bitten lips.
“Feels like fuckin’ heaven, dove.” Remus groans, muscles flexed as he forces your back into an arch.
Sirius pulls your head to the side, nose almost knocking with his own sunglasses as his lips meet yours tasting slightly metallic. He must’ve bitten down on his lip so hard when he first fucked into you that his mouth fucking bled. “So sweet for us, so fucking sweet.” his hand snakes down to scoop slick from your sopping cunt and you jolt backwards, “Tastes so sweet too.”
Remus bends forward, chest pressed against your tits shiny with sweat. He presses a long kiss to your lips, sweet and soft, and then something shorter with much more tongue to Sirius’. “You’re right, our girl here is the sweetest.”
You want to roll your eyes and try to push down the heat in your cheeks but you can’t, all of your energy is focused on the coil building in your stomach and the tingly burning in your thighs. “Shit, I’m close,” you moan, your first full string of words other than the incessant whines leaving your tongue. “‘S so fuckin’ deep,”
Remus speeds up, chasing his own release as his tip bruises your sensitive cervix. Sirius does the same, canting his hips perfectly to reach a spot inside your ass that has him groaning and you cursing. The world goes bright, a hotter white than before, and before you can tell, you’re cumming with a shout.
“That’s our girl, that’s a good doll,” Remus pants, spilling into you with his own fucked-out sound, seed flooding your cervix.
Sirius, who was at his third orgasm for that hour, cums loud in your ear, words falling apart in his mouth to create something begging and mindless. “So lovely, angel, so fucking good. Such a good job.”
Your little blue skirt looks almost navy on your tummy, soaked through with sweat and you watch with tired eyes as Remus kisses past it and through the valley of your chest before collapsing, his forehead bumping your chin.
“I hate you, Sirius,” Remus murmurs finally.
Sirius scoffs, affronted, “What did I do?”
“It’s all your fault. If someone asks me where the best sex of my life was, I’m going to have to say at this bloody mansion.”
You’re all giggling before the heat and exhaustion washes over you, floating back to silence as the birds chirp around the private court. “Remus?” you ask quietly.
“Yeah, lovely?”
You bite back a grin, going for something thoughtful and innocent and landing on something all too eager. “Didn’t you say there's a pool room we haven’t seen yet?”
“And I suppose you want to play there too?”
You sigh dreamily, your foot rubbing down Sirius’ ankle in your tangle of limbs. “I suppose.”
thanks for reading ! please like, comment or reblog ! all support helps<3
summary: during a mission for the Order, you end up in a tiny shack with Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Bill Weasley. a game ensues.
cw: MDNI 18+, smut, age gap, mfm, forced proximity, reader is mid-twenties (same age as Bill)
masterlist
“Must you do that?” Sirius drawled, stubbing his cigarette on the window sill.
You flipped him off, not even faltering in your pacing, undoubtedly wearing a path in the ancient carpet of the tiny safe house. Barely 600 square feet, it was more like a shed than a house. But it was where you, Bill, Sirius, and Remus had been sent to camp out after a reckon mission.
Bill, one of your closest friends from school, was already asleep upstairs, taking the first sleeping shift with Remus.
Sirius chuckled, his voice rough with exhaustion, eyes tracking you back and forth, back and forth. “So ill-mannered,” he teased. “How do you and Weasley get on so well?”
“Because I'm a delight,” you countered.
He only hummed in response, the sound sending a tremor up your spine. Of course, he looked particularly sinful tonight, his dark hair messy from the days work, dressed in one of Remus’ too large button-down shirts that showed off way too many of the tattoos on his chest to be considered appropriate in decent society.
Sirius was hot. He knew it, you knew it, but it didn't change the fact that he was a decade older than you and in a committed relationship with another man. Who also happened to be exceptionally attractive. And also a decade older than you.
It was fine. You were fine.
It's not like you've had a debilitating crush on both of them since Bill brought you into the Order, right?
Right?
Then, like a vision from your filthiest daydream, Remus came plodding down the stairs, dressed in sweats and…nothing else. Just bare, burnished skin, lightly muscled and littered with pearly scars.
You and Sirius both sucked in a breath, then glanced at one another. Your eyes were wide like a deers, while Sirius’ narrowed, unreadable. Then, the faintest smirk hooked the corner of his mouth, and your lungs withered.
“Sorry, dove. Thought Sirius would have sent you to bed as well,” Remus said, his voice still thick with fatigue as he made his way to the kettle.
“And miss out on her charming company?” Sirius crossed the room to greet him, pressing a kiss to the taller man's scarred shoulder as he took over tea-making. “You're supposed to be sleeping, love,” he chastised, thought there was no real bite to it. Like he had anticipated Remus wouldn't be able to sleep.
“Couldn't,” Remus replied, glancing at you again before taking a seat at the kitchen table. “House is too quiet.”
“Ah, so you could hear her pacing a hole through the earth’s crust?” Sirius teased, winking at you.
You stuck your tongue out at him.
Remus chuckled. “It was hard to hear anything over Bill's snoring.” He pulled out the chair beside him, gesturing for you to take it. “Something on your mind?” He asked when you sank into it, your body suddenly feeling heavy on your bones.
Merlin, it had been a long day.
“Wouldn't even know where to start,” you said, sounding petulant even to yourself. You weren't usually the sort to sulk, but something in your body felt out of sorts, your mind racing a million miles a minute.
Remus' brow furrowed, eyes lifting to Sirius as the other man set a mug of tea in front of him, and then another in front of you.
Sirius' hand landed on your shoulder, squeezing experimentally. “Saints, you're coiled up like a snake, love,” he muttered, bringing his other hand up to massage your shoulders. “Poor thing,” he cooed, and your stomach flip flopped, heat climbing into your cheeks.
What the hell was happening? Had you fallen asleep on the couch and now were having the best dream?
His hands were burning, long-fingered and etched with ink, and the tension in your body started to give way to his coaxing. A soft sigh escaped your lips, and you quickly bit them together, stiffening once again.
“Sirius, you don't have to—”
“Ah, ah,” Sirius warned, squeezing a bit harder. “Relax, doll. Let us help you.”
Remus was studying your face, his eyes growing darker when Sirius tilted your head to one side, working his thumbs along the vulnerable curve where your shoulder meets your neck.
Your heart picked up, thrumming eagerly under your skin, between your legs.
“How's that feel?” Sirius asked, his face so close you could feel his breath tickled your skin. “Good?”
You nodded. “Y-yeah,” you breathed, perilously close to a moan.
“Just tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, then his lips caressed your jugular, the faintest brush, but it felt like you'd been electrocuted, a gasp wrenched from your chest.
Remus made a low sound of approval in his throat. “Seems you were right, Padfoot,” he said, taking a sip of his tea like nothing out of the ordinary was transpiring.
Sirius smirked, his lips on your skin growing heavier, more insistent as he charted a tingling path towards your ear.
“Right about what?” You asked, hands gripping the table, unsure of what was happening, or if you were allowed to touch him back. But fuck, you wanted to comb your fingers through that gorgeous hair so bad it made your skin itch.
“That a pretty thing like you could want us,” Remus answered with a knowing smile, and your jaw dropped.
Who wouldn't want them?
“He thought I was mad,” Sirius chuckled, one of his hands coming up to hold your jaw, turning your face towards him. His storm-cloud eyes were molten, dark lashes heavy with unmistakable desire.
“Not mad,” Remus corrected. “Just thought it was wishful thinking.”
“Was it, baby?” Sirius asked you, the tip of his nose grazing yours. “Am I dreaming that needy look in your eyes?”
You shook your head. If he didn't kiss you right that second, you thought you might die.
“Words, pet,” Remus ordered, his tone gentle despite the clear command. “Tell us what you want.”
“I want you both,” you whispered, hardly believing that you were saying it aloud. This long buried secret of yours that you only brought out in the dead of night, fingers between your legs, desperate moans muffled by your pillow.
Sirius surged forward, molding his lips to yours, and it felt like he knocked your soul out of your body. Gentle but insistent, tinged with nicotine and honey, he coaxed you open in a way only a man with experience could.
Already, this was different than any experience you'd had prior. Better.
His hand cupped the back of your neck, dragging you closer, his tongue prying apart your teeth to taste you. Your hands fisted his hair, rising up to try and press your bodies together, desperate to feel him.
Remus loosed a low chuckle. “Ever been kissed like that, dove?” He asked.
You shook your head, unwilling to break the kiss to answer, and Sirius smirked, his teeth catching your lower lip and tugging before disconnecting your mouths.
“Have to taste her, Rem,” Sirius said, his thumb collecting the string of spit still connecting your lips and feeding it back to you. You wrapped your lips around the digit, the salted, smokey taste of him it's own aphrodisiac. “So sweet, aren't you?” He cooed, watching you with open appreciation, eyes dark with desire.
“Come here,” Remus said, and your heart seized, excitement pooling low in your belly.
You released Sirius' thumb and slid off your chair, taking measured steps towards Remus in the hopes of not betraying just how eager you were. But he had no such reservation, his big hands grabbing you by the hips and pulling you down into his lap.
“Feel a little different than what I'm used to. All hard angles, that one,” he murmured, glancing at Sirius. His calloused hands glided over your curves, almost reverent as he studied you. “You’re a soft little thing.” He tightened his grip, pressing you harder against him, and you could feel just how eager he was pulsing against your covered heat.
“Remus,” you whined, nails biting into his bare shoulders. Meager lines of pink amid a map of scarred ruin.
“Shhh,” he soothed, bringing one of his hands up to cradle your face. You couldn't help but lean into his warmth, craving the safety, security you associated with him. “Don't worry, dove. You trust us?”
You nodded, pressing a kiss to his inner wrist. And it was true, Sirius and Remus had protected you on countless occasions against Snatchers and Death Eaters. You trusted them with your life.
He smiled, and Sirius made a soft, affectionate noise in his throat. “You are sweet, aren't you?” Remus asked, his thumb ghosting over your lips. He leaned forward, laving his tongue across the seam of your mouth, and you squeaked in surprise, parting for him instantly. But he didn't kiss you, leaning back against the chair again. “Can hardly taste anything through the smoke, you degenerate,” Remus remarked with an amused smirk, looking over at Sirius.
“Mhm, just like me,” Sirius purred, suddenly right behind you.
“Don't go getting territorial now, mutt.” Remus’ grip tightened even further, belaying his real strength. It made your head swim. The two of them could tear you apart, a werewolf and a murderous hound. “We both know that's a fight you'd lose,” Remus added, voice low.
“Oh, look what you've done, doll,” Sirius chuckled, running his fingers through Remus' hair to soothe him, the professor's grip loosening a bit. “Got us acting like proper beasts.”
It clicked then that they were just playing with one another, circling like dogs before they pounce. Just part of the game. You were the proverbial rope in their tug-of-war.
Remus stood suddenly, lifting you into the air and dropping you onto the table and rattling the tea cups. He finally kissed you then, towering over you like a god of war, he pillaged your mouth with his, laying waste to your mind and soul. Remus kissed like it was the first and last time—all desperation and ravenous fury. With none of the sweetness and reservation he carried on a normal day.
You were helpless to it, giving yourself to him, to them, completely as he laid you back on the wood. His hands slid beneath your knees, pushing your legs back and out, his body settling between them.
“Want a real taste,” he muttered, kissing down your neck before lowering his head between your thighs.
Sirius appeared by your head, smoothing back your hair. “We've wanted this for a long time,” he said. “Since that first day and you dove headfirst into battle with those Snatchers…”
Remus hummed in agreement, guiding your jeans down your legs and laying them over the chair he vacated.
“Knew then that you could handle us,” Sirius continued, lifting your shirt over your head, leaving you completely bare to them.
“So fucking pretty,” Remus said, pressing a kiss just north of where you ached for him. “You sure about this, dove?” His hazel eyes met your over the naked stretch of your body.
“Please,” you said, carding your fingers through his tawny hair. “I've wanted you both for so long too.” The admission made your head spin, relief ballooning in your chest.
“Yeah?” Sirius asked, nosing into your neck to kiss your pulse, the hot muscle of his tongue making you tremble. “You've been a little slut, daydreaming about older men, haven't you?”
“Padfoot,” Remus huffed at his crude language.
But you loved it, the filthy words electric. “Yes, Sirius,” you panted, arching your back when his lips reached the peaks of your chest, the liquid heat of his mouth enveloping you.
“You touch yourself thinking about us?” He asked, teeth scraping fragile, rose-colored skin. “Our names muffled into your pillow when you shatter?”
“Yes—countless times.”
Whatever was holding Remus back seemed to give way at your confession, and his mouth enveloped you over the fabric, his tongue laving a demanding stroke.
You cried out, pleasure crashing through you, and Sirius clapped a hand over your mouth, bringing his face up yours.
“Quiet, love. Unless you want Bill to get an eyeful,” he warned.
Something rumbled from Remus’ chest. Displeasure at the idea of Bill finding you, you imagined. Almost instinctively, you scratched at his scalp to soothe him, lifting your hips to encourage him to continue, and he obliged, settling once again.
A dog with a bone.
Sirius smiled, removing his hand and stealing a quick kiss. “Seems she's got you figured out, Moons,” he teased.
Remus didn't reply, his finger hooking in the gusset of your panties and tugging them aside so he could taste your properly. Your mind lit up like it was a reward, you'd passed some test.
Another moan bubbled up and Sirius caught it with his fingers, pushing them past your lips again while his free hand explored. You sucked on his fingers, lapping at the texture of his rings, quickly getting lost under their expert attention.
Remus was insatiable, sloppy with it, devouring you like a hot meal on a winters day. You felt like you were flying, pitched and tossed through crests of ecstasy and agony.
“Such a good girl,” Remus praised, easing a thick finger inside of you. “So fucking pretty. C’mere, darling.”
Intuitively, you knew he wasn't talking to you.
Sirius abandoned his work, having left a row of marks along your sternum, and slipped his fingers from your mouth. “Look at that,” Sirius hummed, bracing a hand on the table as he leaned down, watching Remus work.
Remus chuckled, shifting back so Sirius could have a taste while he toyed with you slowly, deliberately. Stretching you, you realized before another wave a euphoria crashed over you, rendering you thoughtless once again.
Sirius groaned, nuzzling closer as he savored you. His enthusiasm was your undoing. You had to bite your hand to keep from crying out when you finally came apart for them.
“That's our good girl. Well done, dove,” Remus praised, splaying his free hand over your ribs to stop you from shaking the table with your aftershocks. Feeling the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the clammy sheen of sweat over your skin. He withdrew from your heat when you started to wince, but Sirius didn't let up, drinking you down like a mountain spring.
You whined, trying to inch up the table and away from the overstimulation, but Remus wasn't having it, wrapping an arm around your thigh to keep you locked in place.
Sirius finally came up, ending your torment with a wicked a smile on his face. Tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Not done yet, are you, love?” He asked as he moved back up towards your head.
“No, just—fuck,” you panted, slumping back against the table. “I've never…that hard before.”
“No?” Remus asked, placing a final kiss on your inner thigh before straightening.
“A travesty,” Sirius said, standing fully behind you now, his eagerness straining against his jeans just a few inches from your face.
Now it was your turn to lick your lips.
“Surely, we must get a reward for that?” He asked, undoing his belt with one hand, the sliding under your hair to hold the nape of your neck.
“You think so?” You teased.
“I do.” He yanked you across the table, your head dangling just slightly over the edge. “And I know just what I want.”
“So rough,” Remus tsked, tugging you back the other way so your head was fully supported. “You'll break her neck.”
Sirius rolled his eyes, and you giggled. “I'm not going to break her neck—” he tugged you back down, though not quite as far as before. “I'm going to fuck her throat.”
Your hands immediately went to undo his jeans, practically salivating at the thought. Merlin, how many times had you dreamed tasting Sirius Black?
“I was going to tell you ask nicely, but apparently she likes being manhandled,” Remus chuckled, watching as you freed Sirius from his boxers.
“Fucking made for us, Moony,” Sirius moaned, head falling back on his shoulders when you took him fully into your mouth.
You moaned at the heady flavor of him, hot and silken on your tongue. You could already tell it was going to be a concerted effort to take all of him like this, but you were determined to please him.
“Yeah?” Remus tugged you back down, pulling you slightly off of Sirius. You were about to complain when you felt him glide through your heat, a ruthless tease. “Were you made for us, dove?”
You whimpered around Sirius, nails scratching on the table for something to hold. Sirius grabbed up both of your wrists, gripping them in one of his hands against your chest, effectively immobilizing you.
Like that, pinned and at their mercy, Remus finally eased into you, bullying through your clenched cunt into the gooey warmth of your body.
“Fucking saints,” he hissed, sandy hair falling across his brow.
“That’s a good girl,” Sirius praised, withdrawing a bit so you could breathe through the stretch, thighs trembling on either side of Remus' hips. “Take us both so well, don't you, dolly?”
You tried to nod, a strangled moan escaping from your chest when Remus started to move, the two men falling into a punishing but hypnotic rhythm.
They were everywhere, everything. They were twin planets, massive, grasping stars, and you were a speck of space dust, flung helplessly into their orbit.
You didn't stand a fucking chance.
“Going to come for us again?” Remus asked, lifting one of your legs to rest over his shoulder, hitting an entirely new, eye-crossing spot deep in your guts.
“Such a perfect little plaything, aren't you? Being fucked open by men a decade older than you—fucking hell,” he groaned when your throat tightened around him, your whole body winding tight as your orgasm built. Higher, higher, higher—
“Go on dovey. Show us how much you love this—”
You combusted, starlight exploding under your skin, and if Sirius hadn't been painting your throat white, you probably would have screamed loud enough to wake the dead. It ravaged you, scorched you, left you a pile of smoldering ash on the poor, abused table.
Remus released across your stomach, his moans stifled when he sunk his teeth into the meat of your calf, fucking into his clenched fist.
Sirius leaned forward, kissing along your face and neck, his hand massaging your wrists where he'd held them. “Did so good, baby. Fuck me, you're perfection—”
“Dove, are you alright? Did we hurt you?” Remus asked after tugging on some pants, his hand smoothing over your hip, the skin still stained pink from the ferocity of his grip.
“Blimey, look. We damn near broke the table—”
“Padfoot, not now—”
“M’okay,” you giggled, managing to press a kiss to Sirius' jaw, and the two of them relaxed a bit.
They managed to get you wrapped up in a blanket and onto the couch, tucked securely into Remus' chest. Sirius pressed your magically re-heated mug of tea into your hands.
“Please tell me you enjoyed that as much as we did?” Sirius asked, catching your lips in an airy kiss before you could respond.
So instead, you threaded your fingers through his wild hair, drawing him deeper. Trying to pour every ounce of excitement and relief you were feeling into him.
“No going back now,” Remus chuckled, grabbing your chin to turn you toward himself, nudging Sirius away so he could steal a kiss too.
A creak snatched your attention, making the three of you jump and look towards the stairs. But they were still dark and vacant, the air around them undisturbed.
Another creak, then—CRASH!
The table collapsed, the legs buckling entirely under the weight of the tabletop, and fell into a wooden heap on the floor.
Bill came flying down the stairs before any of you could move, wand aloft and still dressed in his pajamas.
“What the fuck?!” He cried, skidding to a halt by the table, his wand arm lowering a bit. Then, he turned to face the three of you, still mostly undressed and looking, well, thoroughly fucked. “Wha—what the fuck?”
Hii, i see you in nearly all the marauders fic comments omg 😭😭 U seem so sweet and like u write alot, would u ever consider posting a fic rec of the best fics u read? 🫶🏻🫶🏻
aelinwya's all-time favorite fic recs
omg hi darling !! your message is so sweet and made me so so happy, thank you 🥹 i actually don't write fics myself (yet) but i probably will in the future when i gather enough courage
here are some of my favorite fics i've read and the lovely authors who wrote them, these are fics that have stayed in my heart even long after reading them, and the writers are truly just angels and so sweet !! hope you love reading these just like i did 💗
disclaimer! : this post is regularly updated and i always add new fics on here that have captivated my heart <3
MARAUDERS :
JAMES POTTER :
pizza fight by @luveline (i'm sobbing i want my own james this is so cute)
fell from heaven for you! by @bartonomy
is it over now by @zrvllya
do you really want to hurt me? by @zrvllya
hear it in the silence by @ghostedgwen
under that attitude by @ghostedgwen
lost in translation by @bartonomy
shades of wrong by @ghostedgwen
you dote on james when he's injured by @moonstruckme
james gives you the hug of the year by @moonstruckme
all the reasons we're not in love by @dismalflo
james tries to help when you have a sore tooth by @luveline
sorry by @cosmal
coworker james x sick!reader by @luveline
a knock on the head by @dismalflo (oh this is so cute)
SIRIUS BLACK :
my girl by @colouredbyd
on thin ice (series) by @moonstruckme
sirius taking care of drunk!reader by @luveline
gorgeous by @cassiopeiasdaughter
i think he knows by @theemporium
blisters by @cosmal
shitty IT job by @dismalflo
REMUS LUPIN :
the archive by @dismalflo
midnight zoomies by @colouredbyd
sparks by @zrvllya
sweater weather by @zrvllya
the art show by @dismalflo
i'll hold your hand through all of christmas day by @crescenthistory
matchmakers association by @dismalflo
paradise by @luveline
still here by @sunskisser
remus x autistic!reader who is comfortable stimming and unmasking around him by @luveline
notes in the margins by @dismalflo
REGULUS BLACK :
a bet on "not quite together' by @colouredbyd
all that is left to say by @colouredbyd
the great war by @zrvllya
the nightingale (series) by @colouredbyd (dalia's writing will touch the deepest parts of your soul, i'm in love with her fics)
you occupy my every thought by @crescenthistory
sweet like honey; karma is a cat by @crescenthistory
and what will come of us then? by @crescenthistory
sacrifices by @aetherraeys
BARTY CROUCH JR :
barty x black!sister!reader by @crescenthistory (i can always rely on carina for heart-warming fics, especially with barty and regulus jsksk)
this isn't fun anymore by @crescenthistory
LILY EVANS :
academic rivals by @moonstruckme
in absentia lucis, shoebox regnant ✴︎ 1.5 by @aurelia-in-the-margins
lily and whimsical!reader befriend a ghost by @moonstruckme
MARLENE MCKINNON :
locked out by @crescenthistory
i think i'm in love with you by @daystarpoet
sailor song by @zrvllya
POLY!MARAUDERS :
emt!marauders help after you're pressured into drinking too much by @moonstruckme
lover, you should've come over by @amnmesias
murdering flicker by @colouredbyd
secrets have teeth -> part two & part three by @colouredbyd (i'm in absolute awe oh my god)
roommate!marauders x reader by @moonstruckme
ghost hunter!marauders x new recruit!reader by @shadesofhogwarts
alone by @sunskisser
banana bread by @dismalflo
you're being hurt and your boyfriends protect you by @writtenbymoonflower
your emt boyfriends coax you into a hospital visit by @moonstruckme (all of mae's poly!marauders drabbles are just amazing, i recommend all her fics!)
whimsical!reader tries some alternative healing methods by @moonstruckme
your emt boyfriends comfort you through vertigo @moonstruckme
your emt boyfriends show up after your car wreck by @moonstruckme
emergency contact by @cosmal
homesick by @thesweetestofdreams
reader is attacked by greyback by @heaven4lostgirls
POLY!WOLFSTAR :
the time turner (i'm crying but also screaming this is so good and i never knew i needed this concept — i'm in love) by @starry-eyed-moony
scary dog privilege by @colouredbyd (i'm obsessed with this fic)
sirius is plagued with a bleeding remus and a fainting you by @moonstruckme
thawing out (series) by @moonstruckme
your boyfriends love you unconditionally by @moonstruckme
POLY!ROSEKILLER :
evan and barty help you ward off a creep by @ervotica
dissecting is just a hobby of his by @tiredofthehumanlife
POLY!JEGULUS :
celestial bodies by @glamourscat
you all reassure harry after he overhears an argument by @juleswritesstuff
POLY!BARTYLUS :
secrets by @evermoreness
oh my, love is a lie! by @colouredbyd
POLY!MOONWATER :
broken vases by @colouredbyd
hospital visit by @crescenthistory
PLATONIC/FAMILY MARAUDERS :
'til all that's left is glorious bone — by @colouredbyd
-> — so you'll bury your own (part 2) by @colouredbyd
if i follow you to the river (series | i am obsessed with this and cannot stop thinking about it, one of the best series i've ever read <3) by @amnmesias
always an angel, never a god by @amnmesias (honestly as someone with no friends and no one to comfort me, this fic hit very hard and i know i will be re-reading this a lot)
we are friends (slytherin emeralds x reader) by @crescenthistory
stop, you're losing me (james x sister!reader) by @amnmesias (don't mind me i'm just over here sobbing)
home by @amnmesias
you learn the consequences of a shared bathroom (marauders roommate au) by @moonstruckme
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who remus will be forced to marry... eventually ✿ 1.6k words
summary: remus' father dies, leaving him to become Lord Lupin. his mother insists he marry, but there's a problem: remus lupin already has a lover.
cw: no reader in this part, bridgerton-inspired au, established!wolfstar, period-typical homophobia mentioned, sirius being dramatic
°˖✧✿✧˖°
one two three four five six seven
The golden-amber liquid swirls gently inside the cup as Remus shifts his wrist absent-mindedly. When he brings it up to his lips, it burns as it touches his skin and he can feel it trail all the way down his esophagus and into his stomach. He takes another sip, hissing as the burning intensifies. His eyes are distant, two fingers rubbing at his jaw. His gaze finally finds the street below, puddles reflecting moonlight, interrupted by fat raindrops.
It’s rained every day since his father died.
It’s not long before he can hear the signature jingle of keys at the door to the apartment, an all-too-familiar grunt as the door is pushed open. Remus leans his head back against the wooden frame of the chair, and he hears the moment Sirius sees his things. Everything goes silent for a second, and then there’s quick footsteps dashing until he’s standing in front of Remus.
“Well?” Sirius’ eyes are already red-rimmed and full of fury, his fingers clenching into fists at his side. Remus knows his lover is quick to anger, and he himself would be no exception to this, especially when Sirius likely feels he was practically abandoned. “Where the hell have you been, then?”
Remus sits up, taking another drink of his whiskey. He’s trying to form the words, trying to string them together and force them from his throat and out his mouth but he can’t get it quite right. He hisses against his teeth. “Sirius…”
“If you were going to throw me aside like some whore, you should at least have the decency to admit it before you run off!” Sirius crosses his arms in front of him, tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he shakes his head. Remus can’t help but think Sirius is at his most beautiful like this, though he’ll never admit that.
The glass makes a small thunk as Remus sets it aside, letting out a huff of breath as he stands. Sirius stares directly into his eyes, waiting for an answer, for anything. His anger, red-hot and inflamed, is only covering up for his worry, his insecurities. They grow every moment Remus doesn’t speak, every moment he keeps looking at Sirius with that look on his face.
Remus steps in front of him, lowering his face until their foreheads press together. Remus closes his eyes, but Sirius doesn’t, watching the way Remus’ face seems to crumble for a moment, his hands finding Sirius’ arms.
“My father… is dead.” The words feel impossible to speak, if not only for the other ones he knows they will lead to. Sirius tries to pull away but Remus’ grip on his arms tightens, keeping him in place. “It was quite a shock.”
“Remus, I-” Sirius swallows thickly, his own hands finding Remus’ back, pressing him closer. He feels guilty for assuming Remus had tossed him aside, that the absence had been personal. He’s always been a selfish git, but now he’s truly feeling it. “I’m so sorry.”
Remus shakes his head, or at least as much as he can with his forehead pressed to Sirius’. The tips of their noses brush and something in his heart breaks. “No, I should’ve written to you. I wanted to write to you, only… I didn’t have an opportunity.”
Sirius’ lashes brush against Remus’ when he blinks, slow and fluttering. “Why not?” He asks softly, though he knows Remus will continue speaking anyway.
“My mother. God bless her, she’s mourning him more than I am.” Remus swallows again and then clears his throat, pulling Sirius closer. “She was constantly hovering, she did not let me have even a moment of peace. I could hardly bathe without her knocking and asking if I am alright.”
Something about that makes Sirius smile, the corners of his lips tilting up, but it vanishes when Remus looks up to meet his gaze again, and that look is still there. The one that tugs low in his gut, and not in the good way that normally happens when he sees Remus. “What is it?”
“There is something I must tell you.”
Remus’ words hang in the air, thick and heavy like a cold mist. It raises goosebumps on Sirius’ skin in the same way, and his heart sinks lower than he thought possible. Maybe to Hell. Maybe lower. This time he doesn’t prompt Remus, he just stares, awaiting the death blow.
“I… I am Lord Lupin now.” Remus’ voice sways on his new title, the idea of it straining his throat and he doesn’t know how long it will take before saying that sounds normal to him. He runs a hand through his sandy lock before speaking again. “And… because of that, it has become a new focus of my mother that I find a wife.”
Sirius feels like time stops. His brain refuses to process the words Remus is saying, the syllables just running on loop over and over like a scratched record. He doesn’t take in another breath, he feels like his heart doesn’t beat again for several seconds.
“A wife?” It feels like he’s floating outside himself, his voice echoed and disembodied. Remus looks like he feels the same. That, or like he might be sick. It’s several seconds before Sirius speaks again, but it almost comes out as a laugh. “You?”
Something in Remus’ jaw sets but Sirius doesn’t back down, raising his brows just a bit.
“My mother is insistent.” He says, but the look doesn’t leave Sirius’ face, though his color has started to come back. If anything, Sirius doubles down, his head tilting the way it always does when he’s being particularly snarky. “I like ladies,” Remus insists, “Just because I’m in love with you doesn’t mean-”
“What are you trying to say?” Sirius cuts him off, his words punctuated by a smirk and the cock of his hip.
“I am trying to tell you that-”
“You’re replacing me with some dull, horrid woman from the Ton?” Sirius scoffs, then gasps dramatically, “If you marry my cousin, I will cut off your bollocks.” The look of disgust that takes over Remus’ face is enough to have Sirius’ teasing morph into a chuckle.
Remus takes a breath and straightens his shoulders. “I am not going to replace you.” He reaches out for Sirius’ hand, interlacing their fingers together and giving it just the slightest of squeezes. “I do not want to take a wife, it will simply be to make my mother happy.”
“And to produce an heir,” Sirius’ fingers trace slowly down the skin of Remus’ neck, feeling the twitches and movements of his muscles underneath his skin. “Do not forget, I was to be a Lord once too. I know the expectations.”
“Perhaps, in several years, once I am done with my studies-”
“Moony, please,” Sirius scoffs again and his hands fall away from Remus’ neck, his arms crossing over his chest, “Be realistic. Do you think your mother is going to allow you to continue your studies here while your wife remains in Mayfair? She wants an heir.” Remus opens his mouth to speak but Sirius shakes his head and raises a hand, stopping him, “As soon as you finish saying your vows, your mother is going to be speaking of grandchildren. I’m surprised she hasn’t already brought it up, truly.”
Remus’ silence is all the response Sirius needs. His shoulders drop, and his hands reach for his lover again, sliding over familiar ridges and settling softly against his back. “Remus, my love, my moon… What are you asking me?”
“I… I’m asking you what you want?”
Sirius purses his lips. He runs a hand through his hair and brushes his nose against Remus’ jaw. He sighs. He tangles his fingers in Remus’ shirt.
“I want you.” Sirius whispers, tongue darting out of his mouth and wetting his lips. He pulls back to look up into the taller man’s eyes, “Always. Like always.”
“And you’re… alright with that?”
“With being your mistress?”
Remus can’t help but guffaw at this, but he guesses Sirius has a point. “Yes.”
“Well, is it truly that different from what we are doing now?”
The question makes Remus ponder. He has a secret apartment in the city, paid for through Sirius and purposely located far from any main streets. The two of them are sneaking around, have been sneaking around since the beginning of ‘them’. No one in good society would approve of the two of them galavanting around together. At least not together as they truly are.
“I guess not.” Is what Remus finally decides on. Something softens in his stomach and it’s like he can take a breath for the first time in the last several weeks.
“I just have one request.” Sirius says, face turning serious and his grip on Remus’ shirt tightening, silky fabric clutched between his knuckles.
“Anything.” Remus says it, and he means it, though he knows it’s not entirely true. There are things Sirius could ask of him that he could not deliver, but he would try his damned best.
“I want to approve of the woman you pick.”
The words hang in the air for a moment, and Remus finds himself nodding, tugging Sirius closer and lowering his lips to his lover’s.
