Author: SableUnstable
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 10,407
Era: MWPP
Summary: Remus has a superpower. Sirius is sure of it. It's one that the quiet, unassuming werewolf isn't even aware of possessing, and it's one that drives Sirius completely up the wall
....or three times Sirius Black was an utter twat and the one time he wasn't.
Comments: Sirius is so oblivious; he manages to miss the meaning behind the searing jealousy he has anytime someone tries to flirt with Remus. There’s confusion and pining and a very exasperated James. But everything comes together eventually, in a perfect ending scene.
I have been dreadful at reading fanfic lately, mainly cause in between writing, and RL, everything has been far too hectic. However, these are a couple stories that I’ve started, and hopefully will be up to date in by the end of March.
Iacta Alea Est by EliMorgana
Fate is a fickle thing - when Luna is approached by an ancient magic for help, she sets in motion a prophecy involving a Werewolf, an irate Goddess and four marauders that will turn the Wizarding World on its head. Hermione, Luna, Ginny and Lavender adventure tale. Time-Turner. EWE/AU. Previously titled TPTSHB.
I’m only on chapter 3, but it is fucking brilliant so far, like OMIGOSH. So far Luna is my favourite character so far, and Ginny is a close second. SO GOOD.
Things In Common by Colubrina
Ginny's resentment at her family's poverty explodes while shopping for school supplies. Under the cover of her mother's embarrassment, Lucius Malfoy slips a diary into her cauldron and suggests she'd be welcome in his home. Throw in a sorting into Slytherin and let the dark games begin. Slytherin!Ginny, Dark!Ginny, AU.
Collie’s writing is always devastatingly good, and I bloody adore this story, I have no words. I am in love with it so far, and the way Collie writes things never fails to make me stare in wonder at her talent. AGAIN, IT’S SO GOOD. Ginny is written extremely well, and I cannot wait to see what happens next, it’s driving me nuts that I haven’t read more of it yet. Have I mentioned that I love it?
Air by Calebski
His life was one of structure, regime, and obedience, everything was in formation lines. Everything except for her, Hermione. With her wild hair that sprang in every direction, she broke every rule in his overly dictated life, and he wasn't sorry for it.
Caleb’s writing always ruins me, and this story is no exception. I swear. This story is majestic, and just, I cannot. I have a few more chapters to read, but everything so far has just been, YES. Her OC’s seamlessly fit into the story and, I CANNOT. It’s so darn good.
Stages by SableUnstable
Because every relationship is essentially just a stage, whether it's a friendship, a familial, or a romantic relationship. Theirs encompasses all three. Angst-heavy Remione AU with a side of Sirimione, rated M for language and adult content. For ShayaLonnie.
Stages leaves me an emotional wreck after each chapter. Sable knows exactly how I feel about Stages, and how utterly in love I am with it. I entirely blame her, Shaya, and Lais for how much I ship Remione. Stages is just a work of art. There is no other way to describe it, and I expect many more tears to come as I catch up. I rarely actually physically cry reading, but I did reading this.
He hadn’t been expecting her. He hadn’t been expecting anyone, and the consequences are difficult for both to face. Nothing is ever logical when you’re lost, after all.
WIP as of 17/7/17
(urgh… how could i possibly not love everything sableunstable throws my way? quite an original concept and wonderfully executed! i think the characterisations here are spot on, too.)
I didn’t so much as reread this after writing to please excuse...anything.
Remus could hear footsteps crunching along the nearly-there path to where he way lying prone on the grass. He ignored them, instead paying attention to the breeze coming off the lake, cooling him just enough to counter the warmth from the sun, giving his whole body and mind a warm fuzzy feeling.
In this little spot the lake lapped gently against the shore and the trees of the forest blocked out any view of the castle. They had found it while they were back in school. Sirius had claimed he’d followed a bunny to the spot -- or something equally ridiculous. Some long-forgotten joke about a familiar and things with furry tails teased the edge of Remus’ mind but in his relaxed state he couldn’t quite catch on to the memory.
Remus took a deep breath and immediately realized he had forgotten someone had been walking towards his secluded spot. Sirius. Not for the first time, Remus wondered if his Wolf somehow interacted with people’s magics to give them permanent identifying sent. Sirius always smelled the same and he could always pick him out in a crowd - or battle. In varying degrees Sirius always smelled a little like petrol, cut grass and spices Remus could never quite pinpoint.
There was an almost mulled spiced sent like cloves in the air as Sirius sat down next to Remus. Something sweet too. Remus cautiously opened one eye to see Sirius Black sitting next to him on the grass (well, sitting on his cloak he’d set down on the grass), wearing a loose-fitting deep plum shirt that was coming quite undone in the front, long black hair blowing in the breeze and eating a nectarine as if it were the last piece of fruit he would ever have in his life.
Remus realized he’d been staring at his best friend’s mouth when Sirius’ lips slowly turned up and there was no more fruit in sight. Confirmation that he’d been caught was clear when Remus met Sirius’ eyes and the small smile turned into a full smirk. Remus couldn’t believe that he’d actually be blushing like a third year when he was now a fully grown man, but he turned his face back into his arms just to be safe, attempting to surreptitiously adjust his position at the same time.
He heard rustling next to him but had resolutely decided to ignore Sirius and anything else he did. Any talk of exams or the end of the school year could wait. He’d hated having to miss the last couple days due to the moon and owed Sirius for covering for him by proctoring a few exams and lecturing the other students on who knows what. Dueling, probably. Sirius had always been a good dueler - talented at doubling up spells; able to keep his shield up while still throwing hexes. A few mental images of Sirius deuling in that half-undone shirt had him cursing himself and adjusting once again.
Spiced oranges suddenly filled his senses and Remus groaned.
“Now, now, Professor. None of that,” Sirius said. Remus could feel the other man getting closer and refused to budge. He kept his head resting on his arms, face directly towards the ground, and eyes shut. “I just gave your sixth years a lecture about tending to themselves, staying healthy as well as fit otherwise they’re no good to anyone in a crisis or a duel.”
“I’m not in a crisis or a duel,” Remus mumbled.
“What kind of examples would either of us be if I let you go without getting well and you became permanantly wounded,” Sirius continued, completely ignoring Remus’s interjection.
“M’not a bloody patient.”
“Good, because I’m not putting on a nurse’s outfit.”
Remus snorted at that and then became keenly aware of how his chuckle had lifted the edge of his shirt, exposing a strip of his back when he felt Sirius’ cool fingers sliding along the small strip of skin. His heart was beginning to quicken it’s pace and he thanked whomever was listening that Sirius wouldn’t be able to tell.
“C’mon, Moony. This isn’t the first, nor’s it going to be the last,” he said quietly.
No, it wasn’t the first time Sirius had helped Remus heal after a moon. Not even the first time in the last few years. But between the end of the war, the rebuilding - both literal and metaphorical - and Remus coming back to Hogwarts to teach again… This was the first time in a long time that the process had even the potential to become, well, intimate.
Remus felt Sirius’ broad hand slip under his shirt and up his back, slowly, softly. He wanted so badly to let himself sink into this sensation, to let go, act for one moment if even in his mind that perhaps the last twenty years hadn’t happened. He couldn’t tell if he was actually rolling his back ever so slightly to help Sirius push off his shirt or if he was just imagining it. The touch was real though. Sirius was there, rubbing the spiced orange Soothquick into his aching muscles, the scent blending the present with the memories of countless times this had happened in their past.
He didn’t think he imagined Sirius moving in closer. Was his shirt completely gone? When had that happened? Remus began to tilt his head to the side, lost in his own mind between trying to keep what little composure he had left and simply wanting Sirius.
The breath on his neck made Remus pause, and the whisper in his ear shattered any doubt that this wasn’t real.
sableunstable replied to your video “(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pcVvg3ErJBU) Sorry to do this to...”
WHERE DID YOU GET YOUR HUFFLEPUFF ROBES AND SCARF FROM???? Also, this is brilliant, btw. Also, also, it THRILLS me to hear all those hp fandomy words I hear all the time IN MY OWN ACCENT!! :D
I got the robes from eBay, and the scarf and tie came from the Harry Potter exhibition when it was in Sydney, was lucky enough to have a trip to Australia coincide.
I had considered putting on an English accent, but it would be so obviously fake. Let’s just say Cassandra is a Kiwi who moved to the UK before eleven.
Dis, my darling, I know you're busy, but could you possibly do a Millicent/Blaise? ConfidentButSecretlyVulnerable!Milly, FlirtatiousButUnknowinglyGenuine!Blaise. Pretty please with pink sugar on top, just when you get a chance? Love ya! <3
Pairings: Blaise/Millicent, Vince/ErnieRating: K+fanfiction.net || archive of our own
“Are you going to sit there reading and ignore me all night?” Blaise asked with a frown.
Millicent kept her face buried in her textbook, a slim tome for beginners in alchemy. She rather hated all the suggestions her family gave her when deciding her future. Sign a marriage contract? No chance in hell if the political climate continued like it was. She intended to pursue an actual, fulfilling career. After years of practice ignoring her father’s parade of suitors, Millicent could bat away Blaise’s whining with ease.
“Blaise, would you please go away? You’re interrupting valuable study time.”
“Shut up, Pansy, I’m not talking to you. And you’re not even studying…that’s Witch Weekly.”
Pansy faked a yawn, not quite proficient enough at the move at fourteen as she would be at twenty, tempting long lines of Quidditch professionals wrapped around her little finger. It would have worked on Draco, though, but not the son of Elora Zabini. “Aware of that. Don’t care. Go away.”
Millicent tuned them out as she continued to read. The bright symbols on the notebook reminded her of a children’s storybook, but it would have to do. She knew nothing of the art of alchemy and it hadn’t been included on the Hogwarts curriculum since before her grandfather attended. Pointedly ignoring Blaise who kept attempting to ask her to the Yule Ball (really, his intention was written all over his face) and she wasn’t about to be the butt of another joke. No way in three salt circles was Blaise Zabini asking her for any other reason than pity or a bet. Her half-blood status assured her of that. She would just wait for Vince to ask her since her friend wouldn’t be able to buck up the courage to ask Ernie Macmillan like he really wanted to.
When Blaise finally stood up in a huff to go back to his familiar nest of Slytherin boys, Millicent breathed again. A brief glance towards Pansy assured her the slim witch was glaring over at the group as if to say and stay there.
“Did Vince ask you, yet?” Pansy asked when they retired to their dorm for the night. Their cheeks were still a bit pink after almost running into two older girls that were obviously locked in a private moment, ending with one of them enthusiastically agreeing to go to the ball with the other.
“Not yet but I think he will soon. There’s not much time left for us to order robes.”
Pansy nodded, “I’m sure my mother can contact someone for you, Millie. You won’t be stuck in something awful if Vince waits until the last moment to ask you, I promise. You’ll catch that lovely Beauxbatons boy, yet.”
Millie’s pink cheeks darkened to a pleasant shade of red and she hung her head forward so her dark hair could cover her face.
Vince leaned his forearms on his thighs next to Millie, both of them partially hidden behind a large Christmas tree in the corner of the transformed Great Hall. His intricate tie, courtesy of Pansy, was loose now after dancing along with the rest of the attendees. Millie was perfectly content to sway on the sidelines with Daphne and a few of the Durmstrang girls who hadn’t going with anyone; the wizards they were betrothed to were all back in their home countries and unable to make the trip, anyway.
One of the witches, wrapped snugly in red velvet from her wrists to her ankles, dotted with small slits here and there to imply the figure beneath, had asked if she could touch the sleeve of Millie’s gown. A warm swell of pride bubbled up as the slimmer, prettier witch ran her fingers through the fine feathers decorating her dress, her eyes fixated on the way the feathers changed from dark purples to shiny blues as they moved.
“They’re not real,” Millie insisted. “Madame Malkin is really a very skilled seamstress, she can mimic any fabric or decoration she wants.”
“Truly? I will need to write this Madame Malkin for my wedding next March. My mother insists on pearls, so many pearls, but to have a way to copy that look so it will not be too heavy…”
She lost herself in the quiet conversation, enjoying the attention to what she had to say. Even with all the attention on her future at home, she felt like she was largely ignored, and tried to not let it bother her overmuch. She kept going over every detail of the conversation in her head and hoping she hadn’t made a fool of herself, when Vince sat up next to her.
“Would you like some more punch, Millie?”
His smile was infectious, and she couldn’t help but lightly pinch one of his dimpled cheeks. She slipped her shoes back on. The cool satin fabric vastly differed from how much the black heels had already pinched her feet, but she needed to move and not just sit at the table all night. “You’re looking a bit red, still, Vince, after dancing so close to Macmillan. I’ll grab us a few glasses.”
The line by the punchbowl stretched further than before the dancing started, so she resigned to wait a few moments before she would be able to grab two servings. As soon as she got the front, however, the bowl of crimson was Vanished by a sour-looking Professor Snape.
“Tampered,” he snapped quietly, stalking around the room and vanishing each bowl that didn’t meet muster. Millicent saw one of the Weasley twins getting what looked to be a thorough verbal dressing down from his Head of House.
“Damn shame, that was the best tasting bowl here.”
Millie rolled her eyes. “Blaise, they were all the same sort of punch before Weasley decided to draw attention to himself again.”
He shrugged, picking at his sleeves to undo the buttons, rolling them up his arms as he spoke. “Shall I escort you across the hall to the only remaining bowl?”
“I’m grabbing some for Vince, too,” she said, biting her lip as she tried not to look at the way his hands worked on the white fabric of his shirt.
“An extra set of hands would be beneficial then. Let’s go.”
Queueing in the even longer line for punch meant that Millie could fully appreciate her foolhardy shoe decisions. She didn’t have the built up callouses in the right places. Trying to be discreet she rolled her feet around a bit to find a spot on the soles of her feet that didn’t hurt as much yet.
“Molliare.”
Blaise’s spellcasting was quiet, but he was standing close enough behind her to make goosebumps bloom across her neck and arms, as his cushioning charm did its work on her shoes and aching feet.
“Thank you,” she said, a bit more enthusiastically than she intended but really, those shoes were murder. She would never wear heels without the charm again.
If Blaise were one to shrug, he would have at that moment. “My mother casts it on her feet every time we go to some event with her husband du jour. And you looked miserable, did Vince step on your foot?”
She lightly hit his chest, making him smirk. “Be nice. He’s having a good time and no he did not step on my feet. We haven’t danced much tonight, yet, because my feet were sore just from standing.”
“You could be like that Weasley girl and leave your shoes at your table,” Blaise observed.
Sure enough, Ginny was sliding around on the floor near her date, the Longbottom boy. Millie sniffed. “Not my style of dancing.” Several people abandoned the queue as a louder song filled the room, something they all recognized from the wizarding wireless. Millie took the opportunity in the confusion to grab three glasses. “Here, you take mine and I’ll carry Vince’s.”
By the time they reached the table where Vince was when Millie left, he was already gone and likely dancing in the mill of people at the center, or had convinced Ernie to stroll outside with the topiary. Blaise drained the less-than sufficiently sized glass in his hand, and stood near Millie while he stared at the centerpiece. Tinkling notes of a softer Christmas song started to play.
“What kind of dancing do you like, then?”
Though the question was presented innocently enough, Millie’s stomach flipped a bit. She looked up at Blaise’s question, pulling her gaze away from searching for Vince in the crowd. “What?”
Blaise set his empty glass down and took her hand. His lower lip was pulled between his teeth, but he was smiling softly at the same time. She allowed herself to be lead to the dance floor, the barest edge of it near that same Christmas tree.
“Dance with me, please, Millie?” Blaise asked, so sincere that it made her blink in surprise, and blurt out a quiet, “Sure.”
There were a few moments where Millie moved stiffly several inches away from Blaise with her hands in his hands, but their bodies took over and they remembered all the dance lessons preparing them for moments like this. Her hand found his shoulder and his wrapped around her waist, and they swayed gently. Maybe Millie’s pretty dress started to itch where Blaise’s arm was pressed into her side, and there was a chance that Blaise could feel his sock sliding down into his shoe, making the steps uncomfortable, but neither of them complained.
