When Lyall meets Sirius Black for the first time every suspicion he's had of his son resurfaces. The boy is pretty and posh. He wears a leather jacket and too much jewellery, and when he speaks to Remus it's with crinkled eyes and no care for anyone else.
But Lyall doesn't mention it.
He lets Remus introduce Sirius as his mate. He finds extra bedding for their sofa and pretends not to notice the way Sirius's eyes linger on his son.
There's nothing to confirm his suspicions, just tug at them.
That is until the fourth night, when he can't sleep and stumbles into the kitchen for water. The light is already on and the door to the backyard is just open enough that when he looks out the kitchen window he can see the two boys sat on the last step of the stoop, encompassed by the kitchen's warm glow.
"Lloer," Sirius whispers just loud enough for Lyall to hear.
His pronunciation is off -he can't round his 'oh' enough while also rolling his 'r'- but the words is unmistakable non the less.
Moon.
Remus laughs, in a way he's never heard his son laugh before- so warm it could have been the sound of his own heart beating- and tilts his head to look at the other boy.
"Lloer," Remus says slower.
"Lloer," Sirius repeats.
It still isn't perfect, but it's better, and his son seems satisfied as he takes a drag from the cigarette.
For a moment neither boy speaks, they both stare at the sky, the sound of rustling leaves and their own breaths filling the space. They sit shoulder to shoulder and quietly pass the cigarette back and forth.
The silences lasts so long Lyall almost turns away, though Sirius's voice stops him.
"and what's my?" the boy whispers
"fy."
There's another stretch of silence, and then a response so soft Lyall almost misses it:
"fy lloer."
Remus smiles, the warmth evident even shrouded in shadows, and buries his face into the crook of the other boys neck. He mumbles something into his shoulder and Sirius laughs before pressing a kiss to the top of his head, an act so natural he may as well have been breathing.
Lyall turns away, before either boy decides to glance back, and leaves them to their moment.
The next morning he finds his son at the kitchen table a cup of tea and book in his hand. Remus hums a good morning, but otherwise doesn't look up, even when Lyall takes a seat across from him.
In the daylight he looks tired, his curls a mess and eyes dark, but still the healthiest Lyall has seen him in a long time. He isn't too skinny the way he has been and there's a new glow that seems to linger in his eyes.
"I like Sirius," Lyall says casually blowing at his own cup of tea.
Remus's eyes flick up -a small sign of his nerves- but when he replies his voice is steady. "People tend to."
Lyall hums, and looks down to his own cup as Remus goes back to his book.
He doesn't know how to do this. Connect to his son. Tell him he doesn't care who he's with, as long as he's happy and safe. That Lyall's love for him beats his heart, and nothing could change that.
Hope would.
He taps the side of his mug then swallows.
"He's good for you," he finally says and Remus glances up once more, a small smile across his lips.
It isn't everything he wants to say, no where near, but he hopes his son understands.
Not the important things—never those. He remembers dates, passwords, obscure footnotes from books he hasn’t touched in decades. He remembers the exact tone of Sirius’s laugh when it’s real versus when it’s performative. He remembers how many steps it takes from the bedroom to the kitchen in the dark.
But the small things slip.
Where he left his glasses. Whether he already fed the cat. If he took the kettle off the stove or only thought about doing it.
Sirius notices before Remus does.
At first, he assumes it’s stress. They’re older now. Life has weight. Some forgetfulness is expected. Sirius makes jokes about it, gentle ones, the kind meant to cushion rather than poke.
“Professor Lupin,” he’ll say, handing Remus his wand, “you dropped this again. Honestly, I worry.”
Remus laughs, because Sirius expects him to. Because laughter is easier than admitting the quiet panic that sometimes flickers when his mind comes up empty.
The forgetting isn’t dramatic. It doesn’t arrive all at once. It drips in.
Remus forgets the name of the shop they’ve been going to for years. Forgets a conversation they definitely had—Sirius is sure of it, because he remembers being annoyed. Forgets what he was about to say mid-sentence and trails off, embarrassed.
“I’m sorry,” Remus says too often.
Sirius hates that part most.
One evening, Remus stands in the doorway of their bedroom, frowning faintly.
“Did we… move the wardrobe?” he asks.
Sirius looks up from tying his boots. “No.”
Remus nods slowly. “Right. That’s what I thought.”
He doesn’t sound convinced.
That night, Sirius lies awake listening to Remus breathe, counting it without meaning to. In. Out. In. Out. Like a spell he’s afraid to break.
The forgetting has edges. Sharp ones. It snags on Remus’s old habits—his tendency to blame himself first, to assume fault where there might only be chance.
“I’m just tired,” Remus insists, when Sirius finally brings it up. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something,” Sirius says gently. “It doesn’t have to be terrible to be something.”
Remus looks at him for a long moment, eyes tired but steady. “I don’t want to be… difficult.”
Sirius’s chest tightens. “You’re not.”
“I don’t want you to have to—”
“Remus.” Sirius takes his hands, grounding them both. “You don’t get to decide what I’m willing to do.”
Remus exhales, shaky. “I don’t want to forget you.”
The words land hard and quiet.
Sirius presses his forehead to Remus’s. “You couldn’t forget me if you tried.”
That makes Remus smile, just barely. “I have tried,” he says. “You’re rather difficult to misplace.”
They don’t name it. Not properly. There’s a doctor, eventually. Conversations with too many pauses. Words like progressive and monitoring and we’ll see.
Forget is a gentle word for it. It sounds like something you can choose.
Remus forgets the ends of things first. The last line of a poem. The conclusion of an anecdote. Sirius learns to fill them in without making it obvious.
He forgets where he put his notes. Sirius starts putting them back in the same place every time.
Remus forgets what day it is. Sirius writes it on the fridge in big, looping letters.
They build a life designed to catch what falls.
Some days are better than others. Some days Remus is sharp as ever, teasing Sirius over breakfast, correcting his pronunciation of obscure French authors. On those days, Sirius pretends not to notice the relief humming through his bones.
Other days, Remus stares at a book he’s read a hundred times and frowns like it’s written in a foreign language.
“I know this,” he murmurs.
“I know,” Sirius says.
Remus presses his fingers to his temple. “I hate this.”
Sirius sits beside him, shoulder to shoulder. “I know.”
“I don’t want to be someone you have to remember for.”
Sirius turns, eyes fierce. “You are not a burden.”
Remus flinches anyway. Old instincts die hard.
That night, Remus forgets Sirius’s middle name.
He knows instantly that he’s lost it. He feels the gap where it should be, like a missing tooth. Panic blooms fast and sharp.
“Hey,” Sirius says softly, catching his expression. “What’s wrong?”
Remus opens his mouth. Closes it.
Sirius’s heart stutters.
“…Remus?”
“I—” Remus swallows. “I know you. I know you. I just—there’s a word. I can’t—”
Sirius doesn’t let him spiral. He takes Remus’s face in his hands, steady and warm.
“It’s Orion,” he says. “Sirius Orion Black. Named after a constellation and an ego problem.”
Remus lets out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t,” Sirius says. “That one’s my fault anyway.”
Remus laughs weakly, tears in his eyes. “You always did hate it.”
“Desperately.”
They hold each other for a long time after that. Sirius’s arms are a constant. A promise.
The forgetting continues. Slowly. Unevenly. Cruel in its unpredictability.
But there are things Remus never forgets.
He never forgets the way Sirius smells—leather and soap and something indefinably him. He never forgets the sound of Sirius’s footsteps, the weight of him in the bed, the way he says “Moony” like it’s a secret.
He never forgets that he is loved.
One morning, Sirius wakes to find Remus already up, standing at the window, sunlight catching in his hair.
“Morning,” Sirius says.
Remus turns. Smiles. “Morning.”
There’s a pause. Sirius’s chest tightens, bracing.
Then Remus says, softly, “I know you.”
Sirius crosses the room in three strides and pulls him close, burying his face in Remus’s shoulder.
“I know,” he says hoarsely. “I know.”
Later, much later, when the forgetting takes more than it gives, Sirius becomes the keeper of their shared history.
He tells Remus stories. About school. About the war. About the day they finally stopped pretending.
Remus listens, eyes bright, like it’s new every time.
Sometimes he says, “That sounds like us.”
Sirius smiles. “It is.”
On a quiet evening, Remus looks at him suddenly and asks, “Have I ever loved you?”
Sirius’s throat tightens.
“Yes,” he says. “You do. You still do.”
Remus considers this, then nods. “Good.”
He reaches for Sirius’s hand, grip firm.
“I might forget things,” Remus says. “But don’t let me forget that.”
Sirius squeezes back. “Never.”
And if Remus forgets everything else—names, places, years—Sirius will remember for both of them.
For a moment, he just observes the ridiculous domesticity he's walked in on. Sirius is halfway between sitting up and lying down in Remus' bed, Remus practically draped across him. James would almost assume the two are asleep, if not for Sirius' hand moving gently through Remus' hair. The two of them look...
Well.
James isn't really sure why he's so taken aback.
Sirius' eyes open at the sound of the door falling closed behind James, meeting his eyes and frowning as James gives him a look. A look that James is all too used to giving Sirius, as of late.
"What?" Sirius asks finally, voice quiet and hand stilling in Remus' hair.
"What happened to distance?" James whispers back, setting his bag down. Sirius had been adamant about the whole thing; that all he needed to do was take a step back. That 'no, Remus doesn't like me back, he can't.' That he needs to have a little bit of space to get over his feelings.
"He's not well. I brought him some tea," Sirius argues weakly, gesturing vaguely to an abandoned mug of tea on Remus' bedside table, the teabag having been left in it for so long that the water has been reduced to nothing but a dark void.
James looks at Sirius again, arching an eyebrow disbelievingly.
"Shut up," Sirius mutters, face turning red at an alarming rate.
Remus mumbles something a little incoherent in his sleep, arms tightening around Sirius' waist. Sirius' face softens in an instant, looking down at the boy on his chest fondly.
James just sighs, shaking his head to himself as he decides to stop intruding on them any further.
The two of them wouldn't be able to keep their distance to save their bloody lives.
Who knows, though?
Maybe they'll finally figure their shit out this time.
just read you wolfstar daughter!reader x ron weasley period cramps fluff and I just can’t stop thinking about them dating and remus finding them on a date in the hoghwarts courtyard or them making eyes at each other in class.
Could you write something like that? :D
hello lovely!! thank you for your request, i made a teeny tiny adjustment plot wise so it can be a direct continuation of the first drabble. i hope i made it justice <3 enjoy!! xx
wolfstar x daughter!reader
word count: 1.2k
tags: wolfstar daughter!reader, fem!reader, a weasley makes an appearance again. slice of life.
this is sort of a continuation of this drabble, but can be read as a stand alone.
—
Remus usually prides himself in being the most perceptive of your family—always one step ahead, thinking of outcomes and preparing for every situation, whether you need him or not. Always willing to spot the change even from miles away. So, naturally, this new development has definitely helped realize things about himself. Maybe he’s not as perceptive as he thought, or maybe the change was too interwoven into your daily lives that he didn’t think much of it.
The weather’s finally nice, after days and days of pouring rain and ruined plans, the sun is out and there’s a breeze light enough for picnic and friendly Quidditch matches. Or, well, as friendly they can be when it comes to the Potters.
“No, no, no! That didn’t count!” Sirius shouts, already flailing his arms around like a coach from professional leagues. “Absolutely not—run it back. No, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Don’t be a sore loser, Prongs.” James calls out from the skies, still keen in trying to relieve his own glory days and missing by a whole mile. “It did absolutely count.”
“Yeah, uncle Pads.” Harry taunts, flying low and in circles around Sirius. A carbon copy of James’ actual glory days, stamina and smug smirk included. “We can run it back, if you want. But wouldn’t that hurt your ego again?”
Sirius scowls, making him look even more similar to you. He turns towards Remus, not exactly sure how he can help. “Moony, help?”
He shakes his head, pretending he hadn’t been staring daggers at the back of Ron’s head. “It does count,” he says easily. And a little petty, as well. That’s what Sirius gets for keeping him in the dark.
Sirius gawps, genuinely wounded before turning to you. It’s almost comical how his smirk spreads, both taunting towards Remus and knowing at you. “And what does my lovely girl think?” he leans over his broom, arms crossed and looking irritatingly handsome. “Her opinion ought to matter the most, seeing she’s so interested in Quidditch as of lately.”
To your credit, you only shrug. “I didn’t really pay attention. Sorry, dad.”
Harry flies lower, side by side now. “Why didn’t you?” he glances at Sirius, copying his stance over his broom. “S’the least you can do, seeing you stole our star player.”
At your side, a tiny bit closer than a friend would do, Ron blushes. “Fuck off.”
Ginny snorts. “Star player? Ron?”
“He meant me, Ginny,” you tilt your head, smirk spreading at the way Ron rolls his eyes at you. Fondly. Scooting a tiny bit closer. You wave them off. “Alright, then. Scurry off, you’re still in a tie.”
“Ah, so you have been paying attention.” Sirius points at you, eyes narrowed. “You just like being a petty little contrarian.”
You shrug. “Maybe.”
Sirius juts his chin at Remus, smirking. “She’s just like you, Moons.”
Remus only sends him a mock smile from his seat, tucked away under the shadow in the little garden table. His book remains open but the pages yet to be flipped, too engrossed enjoying the day to focus on the story. Across from him, Lily hums knowingly, flipping a page of her own book with a little smile.
“What?”
“Hm?” she glances up. Even if she’s wearing sunglasses, he can spot the mischief in her eyes. “Oh, nothing.”
“Lily.”
“They’re adorable, s’all,” she flips a page. “He’s very sweet with her, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, he’s a sweet kid,” he shrugs, but his eyes still flicker up to where you’re laying down on the picnic blanket. Still engrossed in whatever Ron is talking about and definitely not in the forgotten, open book on your lap. “That’s still a bit much, don’t you think?”
Lily laughs. “Remus, relax. They’re not even that close.”
“They look close enough to me.”
“Ginny told me Ron has been pining after her since that time they went to the Quidditch cup.”
“What?” his heart stutters. “Since then?”
“Oh, please. It wasn’t that long ago.”
“Last year!”
Lily closes her book, looking far too pleased with herself as she leans back. “Makes you think, right?” she reaches for her glass, ice mostly melted. “They’re finally getting their moment.”
Remus scoffs, but immediately schools his expression when you walk up to them. Book tucked under your arm and cheeks flushed enough to know something transpired during your hushed conversation. You glance back to the match over your shoulder, watching as Ron joins after taunting and joking from his sister and Harry.
“Hi, love.” Lily smiles, setting her feet away from the empty seat for you. “How’re you feeling?”
“Heaps better,” you nod, sitting between them and setting your book down. The bookmark hasn’t been moved. Lily sends your dad a wide look, almost smug that, of course, you catch. “What?”
“Nothing. Just glad you feel better. Right, Remus?”
Remus nods, smiling back at you. “Of course. Would you like more lemonade, my darling?”
“Oh, um, sure. Thanks, Da.”
He smiles, watching as you settle back, eyes occasionally glancing back at the match. You tap at the spine of your book, repetitively and almost in a thoughtful manner. Remus recognizes it enough to know there’s something you’re bracing for.
“Ron asked me out,” you say quietly, between sips of lemonade.
“What!?”
You turn quickly, eyes wide to find a comically large pair of grey eyes staring back at you. Sirius points at you with a gaping mouth, but no words come out.
“Dad!” you turn back on your chair, dropping your face to your hands. “Oh my god.”
Sirius jogs the rest of the way to your table, finger still pointing at you. Remus only rolls his eyes, handing him his own lemonade to drink up instead of saying something incriminating out loud again.
Lily smiles. “That’s nice, lovely. When?”
“Um,” your glance back at your dads. “Tonight.”
“Tonight?” Sirius asks louder, and this time, his volume does catch the attention of the rest as they stand a few feet away. “What do you mean—”
“Sirius.” Remus sighs.
“Dad,” you say simultaneously, shrinking down and down on your chair. “Quiet, please?”
“I won’t be quiet. You can’t just drop this bomb on me and go!” he sips at his lemonade, nearly choking with the haste he does to swallow it down. “What will you wear?”
You blink. “What?”
“Yeah, we haven’t got much time to prepare.”
“Wait. You’re not…” you glance between them, face now full of confusion. Remus’ heart aches when you tilt your head slightly to the side, looking more and more like Sirius with that tiny frown. “Is it okay…?”
Remus nods immediately, clearing his throat and sending Sirius a chiding look to stay quiet. He turns to you. “Of course it’s okay, darling girl.”
You nearly melt with relief. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he smiles, reaching over the table to squeeze your hand. “You feel better to go, though?”
You nod, a tiny movement that is mostly out of excitement rather than to reassure him. Remus huffs a laugh. “Yeah. I feel better.”
“Heaps better, you mean?”
Sirius sets his lemonade down. “Um, I rather not ask about what you two are secretly talking about,” he turns around, waving at James to indicate he’s pulling out of the match. “But we’re talking about that later. Come on, my love—we’ve got things to do.”
“Now?”
“Well, yes?” your dad’s tone borderlines on disbelief, reaching for your hand to help you up. Careful, always careful. “Lils, you coming?”
Lily pushes her chair back hurriedly. “I’m coming!”
Remus laughs, watching you being shepherded inside to prepare for this date. He doesn’t miss the way you look behind your shoulder, lips already twitching up in that smile he’s seen more and more of since summer started—around Ron, specifically. His eyes flicker back to the match, where Ron is waving back at you from the skies. Looking as excited and positively giddy as you do.
Remus opens his book again, making himself comfortable to finally catch up with his reading.
@wolfstarmicrofic I march 1 - thick I word count: 1,9k
I again apologise for my inability to write fewer words...
“God, Remus, how can you be the most brilliant person one day and so bloody thick the next?!” Sirius’s voice still echoed inside Remus’s brain since the moment the door slammed behind the other man. It’s been almost nine hours since Sirius had left their shared flat, and Remus was spiralling more and more with every second that passed without his best friend.
The thing is… Remus wasn’t even sure what they had been fighting about anymore. Lately, it seemed like all he and Sirius were doing was fighting. About Sirius leaving his clothes everywhere in their combined living space, or Remus never doing the dishes (he hated cleaning the leftover grease and food on the plates - not that Sirius appreciated his excuse).
About Sirius’s very vocal lovers he’d bring home every other day when Remus was trying to sleep or study for his next exam, or Remus ditching karaoke night with their friends in order to meet up with his current girlfriend (Emmeline and him were broken up for three weeks now and he was yet to tell Sirius about it, never getting around to with all the fighting and yelling they were doing).
Whatever little or big thing it was that had Sirius yelling again and Remus rolling his eyes… it mattered less and less the longer Remus had to endure the silence of the flat.
The sun had long disappeared, leaving only the light of the full moon to illuminate their little street, where they lived. Watching the clock tick by, Remus grabbed his phone, growing more concerned about Sirius’s whereabouts.
He briefly considered calling his best mate, but ultimately decided against it. If Sirius had been ready to talk to Remus, he would’ve come home by now, just like he always did after a few hours post-fight. So instead, Remus called James.
It rang twice before his friend picked up with a cheery voice.
“Remus! To what do I owe the pleasure of one of your rare calls? Everything alright?”
Remus could hear a baby crying in the background and another voice - which most likely belonged to Lily - shushing the child. Remus winced at the sound, feeling all the more guilty for bothering his friend so late.
“Yeah, I- sorry to call so late. I was just wondering… is Sirius at your place?” he finally asked, feeling stupid for it the moment the words were out of his mouth. Here he was, at twenty-four years old, calling his friend (who just became a father) because his other friend wasn’t home at 10 pm after a fight they had.
He felt ridiculous and was about to just tell James to ignore him and have a good night when James answered.
“Nope, sorry. He was here a few hours, though, said you both had one of your fights again?” James questioned. There was the sound of a door closing, and James’s voice came again, now without the constant crying in the background.
“He said he wanted to take his mind off things for a bit. Took his bike. He’s not home yet?”
“No, he isn’t. We- I don’t know why we’ve been fighting so much lately. It’s impossible to talk to him without one of us blowing up about one thing or another…” Remus sighed, pinching his nose from the stress of the past few weeks.
He glanced at the clock again. “You think he’s okay?” he couldn’t help but ask.
James hummed. “I’m sure he is. He’s probably just at a bar, finding a nice girl or bloke to let off some steam. You know how he gets.”
Remus groaned at that, feeling possibly worse than before. “Yeah. I know. Thanks, James. I’m sorry to bother you with all this. Especially with Harry and all. How is that godson of ours?”
“He’s good! Keeping us up all night, the little fucker. But honestly, I love it. And no feeling sorry for calling me! I wanna know if you’re feeling down and need to talk. Maybe we can come around tomorrow? You can cuddle with Harry. You know his chubby hands can make anyone feel better.”
Remus huffed a laugh, smiling to himself. “Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. I’ll text Lily about a time. I think I’ll just be going to bed now, too. I think I’m getting a headache,” he said, ending their talk.
James wished him well and left him to sit in the silence of the flat again.
After staring at the wall for another ten minutes, Remus finally got up from the kitchen table, wanting to put on the kettle for a cup of calming tea. Instead, he was faced with the emptiness of the cupboard, all of their mugs carelessly thrown into the sink next to a pile of dishes that had been growing for the last five days or so.
He sighed, stared at the mess in front of him, willing it to clean itself, before forcing himself to just do the damn dishes.
Sleeves pulled up and water bubbling with soap, he got to the tedious task, hot water stinging his cold hands.
He was drying the last of the mugs when he heard the front door open, and Sirius stepped inside, hair windswept from the ride on his bike, cheeks and hands tinged pink from the still lingering cold.
He froze in the entryway when he saw Remus at the kitchen counter, mug forgotten in his hand, blinking a few times, before kicking off his shoes.
Sirius’s eyebrows scrunched in thought, and he hesitated before vagely gesturing his hands. “You did the dishes,” he voiced the obvious.
“I did,” Remus replied hesitantly. Afraid this weird stalemate between them would somehow turn into another fight if he didn’t tread carefully.
Sirius stepped further into their living space, coming to a stop just a few paces away from where Remus stood.
“You hate doing the dishes,” Sirius stated again and Remus just shrugged, finally putting down the last mug.
“Thought you might be more inclined to talk to me civilly, if I did.” Remus couldn’t help the slight bitterness when he said it, immediately bracing himself for Sirius’s reaction.
But instead of yelling again, Sirius just leaned against the counter with a sigh. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore, Remus. Not now or ever again.”
“I don’t want to fight with you, either.” Remus agreed, fingers playing with the kitchen towel.
When Sirius didn’t say anything else, Remus looked up again, still seeing the sadness in his best friend’s eyes. And because he didn’t know what to say either, he just blurted out the next best thing that came to mind. “I broke up with Emmeline, you know?”
Sirius’s eyes grew wide at the admission and he opened and closed his mouth a few times before finding his words.
“Oh. Uhm… why?” he questioned, and Remus thought he saw a flicker of hope in those grey eyes he loved so much.
Why indeed. Remus thought to himself. He couldn’t possibly tell Sirius the truth. That Remus had finally given up on finding someone who’d fill that empty space inside his heart that could only be filled by Sirius. Someone who would finally get his mind and heart away from the man standing in front of him. The same one he had loved since they were teenagers.
“It just didn’t work out with us. I wished- She just wasn’t-” he stopped himself. Catching his blunder.
“She wasn’t?” Sirius prodded, taking another step towards Remus, having to tilt his head just a bit in order to look in Remus’s eyes.
And maybe it was because Remus was simply too exhausted from all their fighting to really care anymore. Or it was Sirius’s cologne that he could smell so clearly now. Or maybe it was Sirius’s eyes, so full of something that made Remus say his next words.
“She wasn’t you, Sirius,” he admitted on an exhale.
There. It was out now. His biggest secret, just like that.
Remus had expected Sirius to step back, to let him down and move out the next day, to laugh at him. Anything really, that left Remus standing there like the fool he was.
What he hadn’t expected was Sirius to gently grab his hands, which were holding onto the kitchen towel like a lifeline, thumb smoothing over his rough knuckles.
“You like me?” Sirius breathed out, warm breath hitting Remus’s cheek, eyes oh so sparkling under the soft kitchen light.
Remus couldn’t speak, couldn’t make sense of this moment, seemingly stopped between time and space, the sweet spot between admitting your feelings for someone and awaiting their response. The push and pull of will they, won’t they. The space where Sirius could still be his and simultaneously would never grace Remus’s life again.
He nodded, just a small tilt of his head really, and Sirius broke out into the biggest smile Remus had ever seen on the other. Cold fingers intertwined with his own, Remus barely even registering the motion, trying to figure out what Sirius was thinking.
“Fuck, that’s- I like you, too, you infuriating man.” Sirius shook his head, still grinning like a lovesick fool. It took Remus far too long to process the words, but when he finally did, he used his grip on Sirius’s hands to pull the other even closer, crashing their lips together.
The kiss was better than anything Remus had ever imagined. Sirius’s lips were soft and pliant against his own, causing the butterflies to cause mayhem in his stomach. He releases Sirius’s hands, opting instead for the silky strands of Sirius’s hair. It was as soft as he’d always imagined, and he sank his hands into it, pulling softly at Sirius’s scalp, eliciting a soft moan from the other that made Remus lose his composure.
He crowded Sirius against the counter, their bodies pressing tightly against each other. He licked inside Sirius’s mouth, tasting the other man and thinking that he would never get tired of this. Would lose himself in Sirius over and over again if granted that wish. Messiness and stubbornness included.
He loved him for fucks sake. He would never let him go now.
When they finally parted, gasping for breath, heads leaning against each other, Remus needed a second before he was brave enough to open his eyes again.
When he finally did, Sirius’s gaze was already on him. Unapologetically himself, open like Remus hasn’t seen in a long time, and so clearly full of love, it made Remus smile like a lunatic.
His thumb smoothed over Sirius’s cheek and he took a moment longer in order to be able to speak.
“No more fights, then?” It came out breathless, and a lot more insecure than he would've liked it to.
Sirius nudged his nose with his own. “No more fights. I was just jealous of Emmeline anyway,” he confessed with a sheepish smile.
Remus nipped at Sirius’s bottom lip in an answer. “Well, there’s no need for that anymore. Not ever again, if you’d ask me.”
“Never, then,” Sirius replied before going in for another kiss, sealing the deal.
"No, i'm not a sheep despite what I must look like." Sirius says to Bryn, a sheepdog whom Sirius believes is looking at him funny due to the thick jumper he's wearing. It was another Remus-made item; fluffy and white as mountain snow, embroidered with several flowers – dog roses and pimpernels and harebells in bright crewel wool. And mushing down raven curls, was a bobble hat to match.
Bryn gives an enthusiastic wag of his tail, nosing at Sirius's jean-clad leg.
"You don't look like a sheep, Sirius." Remus says with a roll of his eyes. His own jumper was oat-colored and embroidered with potatoes, carrots, parsnips, rutabagas, and prasine cursive lettering spelling out 'Let's ROOT for each other'.
"What do you mean? Doris and I are practically twins. Isn't that right, Doris?" Sirius asks one of the sheep that were grazing in the pasture. Doris continues to graze, rather than answering him.
"She doesn't seem to think so." Remus grins.
"She does. She told me so in my head. Twin telepathy and all that." Sirius says, petting the head of the sheepdog that's been trying to get his attention.
"Can I Have Forever with You" // Wolfstar // Canon Divergent // 638 words
“How long have you and Moony been together?” Harry asked quietly, late one summer evening when he and Sirius were sitting on the floor of the parlour, old polaroids scattered in front of them and a lingering warmth in the air.
Sirius held one in his hand, the date March 1976 printed across the bottom in his careful hand writing. In the photo a much younger Remus was sitting on one of the couches in the Gryffindor common rooms, a book in hand and Sirius’s head in his lap. He carded his fingers through Sirius’s hair while the other boy slept with an arm thrown over his face, and when Remus looked up from his book a warm smile spread across his face and he waved in greeting.
“Seven years,” Sirius replied softly, his eyes crinkling as photo Remus went back to reading, fingers once again in his boyfriend's hair. “Nineteen if you ask Remus.”
“Nineteen?” Harry echoed and his godfather hummed.
“Remus counts the years I was in Azkaban. He’s awfully sentimental that way.”
Harry didn’t point out that the same could easily be said about Sirius, who had the phases of the moon tattooed across his forearm and carefully charmed to follow the moon’s orbit. Whose favourite song was the first song Remus had shown him when they were children and who still had a box of old letters in his study, each covered in Remus’s scribbled hand writing.
“Oh, don’t get in a huff,” Sirius said rather fondly as photo Remus pointed down to where photo Sirius still slept on his lap, then brought his finger to his lip, expression clearly annoyed as he shushed them.
Sirius shook his head lovingly before tossing the polaroid into the pile of other’s, a smile still across his lips, even as his gaze trailed over the various photos. Soft moments forever captured in time— versions of himself still untouched by what was to come.
In many ways Harry found it odd to see Sirius so young and bright —always grinning at the camera, moving without care for the space he filled— and in many others it made sense that the boy in the polaroids was the same man sitting next to him. He could see the resemblance in the brief moments when Sirius lit up as they played quidditch or when he was listening to a story Harry told, his laughter loud and warm, momentarily untouched by his pain.
He was always the brightest with Remus. Dancing in the kitchen, humming to a song that didn’t play. Reading with their feet in each other’s laps or sharing a cigarette on the back steps of Grimmauld Place, with nothing but each other for warmth. Neither of them aware of Harry’s presence, too lost in the joy of one another.
Now Harry brought his knees to his chest, resting his chin on top as Sirius continued to sort through the polaroids, telling stories about the ones he could remember and laughing over the ones he couldn’t. It was long after they’d finished going through the box when Remus called them for dinner and Harry followed his god father out of the parlour.
“Nineteen years is a long time,” he said as they stepped into the dining room, food already covering the long table and warm evening light spilling through the large windows. Remus stood at the far wall where their record player was set up, humming to himself as he flipped through the records, unaware of their presence.
Sirius looked at the other man the way he always did, his eyes gentle and smile warm, as if his heart beat with no other purpose, and when he finally replied, his voice was quiet and laced with the same tender care. “You know what Haz? It hasn't been nearly long enough.”
Mr Lupin is Hogwarts Grammar School's most beloved English teacher. He's also an incredibly private person, which has sparked many a debate about his personal life, especially his relationship status. None of the students ever expect to meet his spouse until they finally do.
A/N: inspired by this lovely post I came across today that I couldn't resist writing a little something about. Also check it out on AO3
Remus was currently running extremely late. Traffic was absolutely horrendous, and of course he’d overslept because Sirius had turned off his alarm in his half-asleep state. To make matters worse, he’d had to get ready in such a hurry that his tie was crooked and he’d forgotten his lunch and home keys, meaning he’d have to make sure Sirius was home later that afternoon.
He glances over at the little digital clock on the dashboard of his car and curses. 8:19 it reads, as if mocking him. He's due for roll call at 8:30, and no way is he going to be at school in 11 minutes. The drive from the point he's at now takes about that time when he isn’t stuck in a traffic jam.
Remus sighs when a car cuts him off by driving into the little spot that had just opened between his car and the one in front. This is going to take forever, he thinks, and quickly pulls out his phone to let someone know.
“Remus. Good morning,” his favourite colleague and fellow teacher at Hogwarts Grammar School, Lily, says chipperly.
“Morning, Lily,” he replies tiredly, and sets his phone down on his thigh on speaker. The last thing he needs now is to be pulled over because he’s on the phone while driving.
“I’m stuck in the worst traffic jam on the A4147. Can you let the 11A students into their room and tell them I’ll be about five minutes late? At least I’ll try to make it in less than five minutes…”
She tuts affectionately, but he knows he can always count on Lily to get him out of an awkward situation. God knows he’s been in plenty of those before today.
“Of course I will. Be careful on the road, okay? You shouldn’t be calling me at all,” she says, and he can hear her quiet laugh. There’s some rustling of paper in the background, and Remus suspects she must be in her office at school already.
“And let me know if it’ll take longer than five minutes.”
A small weight lifts off Remus’s chest. At least that part will be sorted this morning, and he can worry about the rest later.
“Thanks, Lily, honestly. See you in a bit,” he replies, now concentrating on starting his car when the traffic starts moving again.
“See you,” Lily says and hangs up the phone.
Lo and behold, Remus finally arrives at the school parking lot around 8:33. Five minutes late wasn’t such a false prediction then, luckily. He quickly fixes his crooked tie in the overhead mirror and grabs his bag from the passenger seat before hurrying inside.
He enters his class’s tutor room a few minutes later to find his students already inside, thanks to Lily, no doubt, chatting to each other or working on revisions quietly.
“Good morning, class,” he calls out as he makes his way up to the front desk a little out of breath and sets his bag on the floor beside his chair.
“Good morning, Mr Lupin,” they call out, mostly in unison. The few students that were standing quickly take their seats without much of a fuss while he starts the computer to take attendance.
“Sorry that I’m late, I’m sure Mrs Potter already told you.”
A few of his students make little replies in response to his apology while he still works on getting the attendance sheet up. The door to his classroom creaks open again, and another one of his students, Seamus, walks in late as well.
“Sorry, Sir, the bus was running late,” he quickly says while taking his seat.
Remus looks up to see who’s walking in but quickly shakes his head.
“Take a seat, I was late myself this morning, so I won’t mark you. Alright, let’s get started with attendance and then I have a few information slips for you regarding your GCSE dates—” Remus begins.
He quickly calls out everyone’s name in order, like he does every morning, and ticks off the names of those that are present before filling the rest of morning registration with what he had planned. The classroom is relaxed but mostly quiet, exactly how it usually is. Remus is quite a beloved teacher at his school, known for being a passionate English teacher and exceptionally kind to both the students he teaches and those he doesn’t have in his classes as well.
Unbeknownst to him, while he’s preoccupied with handing out the info slips and talking about upcoming exams, a few of the girls in the back have started to talk.
“So,” Lavender says to Padma and Parvati under her breath, who are both sitting at the table next to hers. They had been gossiping about which teachers they think are married while everyone was waiting for Remus to get there and of course now want to continue that conversation before English starts.
“What do you think about Mr Lupin?” she asks the two girls.
“What, about being married?” Padma replies, looking back to the front desk where Remus is currently taking his seat again, and Lavender just nods in response.
“He does kind of have that whole tortured poet thing going on,” Parvati chimes in, observing the slightly tattered state of his blazer.
Lavender giggles under her breath but quickly looks down at the info slip on her desk when Remus looks up from the computer.
“Girls, please work on your revision for another ten minutes,” he speaks up. He rarely ever scolds his students, finding that shouting usually never works anyway. Not that he shouts at anyone to begin with.
“Yes, Sir,” Padma quickly replies while Lavender mumbles a quiet “Sorry”. But as soon as Remus turns his attention away, they’re quick to stick their heads together again.
The topic isn’t exactly new either. Many of Remus’s students tend to ask him questions about his personal life outside of school, but he prefers to separate it from his career very harshly. He knows his students are only curious about him, and for many he’s their favourite teacher. But he doesn’t want to blur the line between authority figure and friend too harshly and prefers to keep a few boundaries in place, such as this one.
Rationally, he knows he probably could tell them he’s married. Many other teachers aren’t shy to talk about their spouses, such as Lily, for example. And, while her husband James isn’t a teacher at their school, many students have met him when he attended school festivals or picked Lily up after classes in the afternoon. But Remus isn’t so sure the same would be true about Sirius, his beloved husband of a few years now. The school administration does know that he’s gay, not that it makes a difference or is anyone’s business, really. But for some reason he’s a bit iffy about revealing that part of his life to the student body.
Of course, the mystery surrounding Remus’s love life hasn’t stopped students from wondering. In fact, it seems like it’s encouraging the speculations.
Padma whispers to the others, “And I bet he was proper hot when he was younger. Plus, he’s, like, ten feet tall.”
Lavender nods quickly, all three of them imagining what a young Mr Lupin must have looked and been like. He isn’t really that old anyway, they assume, probably somewhere in his early to mid thirties like Mrs Potter, but imagining him in his early twenties or, even better, at their current age is almost impossible. He seems like the type of person who was born thirty, always kind and soft-spoken, and obviously passionate about English and literature in general.
“Yeah, I vote he must be married. I reckon that golden ring he’s wearing is his wedding ring too,” Lavender speaks up, and both Parvati and Padma look to the front desk.
They quietly ooh and aah about the ring, never having noticed it before their conversation today.
Parvati leans in towards the other girls again.
“So what do you think his wife is like?” she whispers.
All three girls stop to think for a moment. It’s hard to imagine any of their teachers with—anyone, for that matter. They seem like aromantic beings that just cease to exist as soon as school ends. God forbid they have an actual life outside of school. But they must, mustn't they?
“She must be super sweet, exactly like Mr Lupin,” Lavender assumes, still trying to picture an actual person in her head.
“Maybe someone like Mrs Potter, you know?”
Both Padma and Parvati nod enthusiastically at this idea. They all agree that Remus’s wife must be lovely, just like him. Before Lily revealed her husband, many actually shipped her with Remus since the two get along as colleagues so well.
“Oi,” a voice from their left suddenly whisper-shouts so Remus doesn’t hear them at the front desk.
When the girls look over, Seamus and Dean at the nearby desk are looking at them.
“Who are you gossiping about?” Dean asks, and Seamus snickers beside him.
“We’re talking about if Mr Lupin is married or not,” Parvati replies, already annoyed that the boys can’t mind their business.
Seamus scoffs. “Do you really think he is? I don’t think so…”
Lavender rolls her eyes at his obvious stupidity.
“He has a ring,” she says judgementally and holds up her hand to point at her ring finger.
Both boys look to the front desk just as Remus runs a hand through his hair, and sure enough, the golden ring on his left hand catches the light. That finally makes both Dean and Seamus pause. Mr Lupin must be married then, as impossible as it sounds. Not that he isn’t nice enough to get to know anyone like that, they just cannot for the life of them picture him talking to a woman in that way. Or worse, flirting with a woman in that way.
“What do you two think his wife is like?” Padma now directs the question at the two boys. Perhaps they would have some better ideas apart from ‘sweet and like Mrs Potter’.
All five of them continue to discuss the matter for a few more minutes, but they don’t really come up with anything else.
“I bet they read Pride and Prejudice to each other,” Seamus finally says, and both he and Dean snicker under their breaths when they imagine that.
“Or Romeo and Juliet,” Dean suggests, and they erupt into laughter.
The three girls look very offended at the boys making fun of Mr Lupin like that, even if it’s all in good fun.
“You just don’t understand romance,” Lavender scolds them, but it doesn’t exactly help to stop them laughing.
Remus looks up from his desk again. The clock now reads 8:59, so it’s about time to start his English lesson for today anyway. He sighs and stands up, causing the boys to immediately clamp their hands over their mouths.
“Alright, since everyone seems to be done with their revisions, please get out your copies of Macbeth.”
With the sudden increase in noise in the classroom when students get out their books and prepare themselves for Remus’s English class, the five students in the back take the opportunity to continue their conversation.
“So you think he romances her?” Dean says with an amused voice.
Parvati, Padma and Lavender still look cross with both him and Seamus.
“Probably. I bet she’s happy to have a husband as kind as Mr Lupin. There’s no way she isn’t just as sweet, patient, calm and humble—”
But Parvati is interrupted by a knock at the door that makes all the students in class and Mr Lupin perk up from what they were currently doing.
Remus had been writing some things on the board in preparation for their session on Macbeth, but he looks over to the door upon hearing the knock.
“Yes?” he speaks up, expecting it must be one of the teachers or maybe one of the students he marked as absent today trickling in later than usual.
But to his and everyone else’s surprise, someone completely different opens the door. When it swings open, there’s a man standing there that the students have never seen before. He has long-ish, black hair, a confident smirk plastered on his face, is carrying the lunchbox that Remus usually has with him in one hand, and a motorbike helmet in the other.
All jaws are on the floor, even Remus’s. He didn’t expect Sirius of all people to show up here all of a sudden. And the students are in shambles, especially the female portion of the class. What dirty romance novel did this hottie walk out of?
He’s wearing a black band tee, and the short sleeves reveal the tattoos decorating his entire arms. Upon closer inspection, he even has an eyebrow and a nose piercing. Whoever this man is, he looks effortlessly cool and is possibly the sexiest person this group of sixteen-year-olds have ever laid eyes on.
“Sirius,” Remus stutters as Sirius saunters over to him, seemingly completely unaffected by the shocked reactions of the students. Remus is sure his classroom has never been this quiet before.
Sirius stops in front of him and confidently hands over the lunch box he was carrying.
“You forgot this at home, love. I couldn’t have you go hungry all day, could I? I was on the way to the garage anyway.”
Remus’s class has also never seen him blush before, until right this very second.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he answers after clearing his throat and carefully sets his lunch on the desk beside him.
Sirius just grins. He is shameless enough to kiss his husband right in front of his students, but he’s restraining himself for Remus’s sake. He would absolutely hate it, and it would make him incredibly uncomfortable too. Sirius would never risk that.
“Nonsense,” Sirius says and reaches into the back pocket of his black, slightly ripped jeans to pull out Remus’s house key.
“And you forgot this,” he drops the keys into Remus’s hands and then can’t resist leaning in to press a soft kiss to his flushed cheek.
“See you at home, love,” he adds before turning around to leave again. He grins when he catches sight of the shocked reactions of the class and winks at them.
“Have fun with Macbeth, everyone,” he says smoothly, and then the door clicks shut softly behind him.
There’s a split second of stunned silence where nobody dares to say anything, still processing what the hell just happened. Lavender, Padma, Parvati and the boys Seamus and Dean all share a look. Seems like they were insanely far off with Remus having a wife in the first place.
Then the classroom erupts into absolute chaos.
“Mr Lupin, is that your boyfriend?”
“Are you married to him?”
“Sir, why have you never said you had a husband before?”
“How long have you been together?”
“How did you even meet?”
Remus has no idea how to even begin to rectify this situation. This is exactly why he didn’t want his students to meet Sirius.
