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.”
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
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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.
Coaxed to a fancy blood-sucking vampire speakeasy by your best friend, you end up in between two guys who are instantly obsessed. With your blood, and with you. They make it very clear they want to see you again.
Vampires!poly!wolfstar x fem!reader, 2.8k words
"Okay, look, just... hear me out."
Lisa has that terrifying glint in her eye. The one that means you're about to be coaxed into something that sounds objectively insane.
"It's not a fetish thing," she starts, "it's, like, a service. Super upscale. Very discreet."
"The service is letting a vampire drink your blood," you say flatly. "Lisa, that's a fetish thing."
"It is not! Ugh, you're so vanilla. It's a transaction. They get dinner, we get..." She does a little full-body shiver of pure bliss. "You know that feeling when you're so stressed your shoulders are in your ears, and then you get, like, the world's best massage? Times a thousand. It's a full-system reset. And it feels... honestly, it feels amazing."
You take a long sip of your drink, rolling your shoulders. The idea makes your skin prickle, and not entirely in a bad way.
"It's safe," she presses, seeing your hesitation. "It's totally mainstream now. It's called The Velvet Room. Sounds fancy, right? My guy is lovely. Very sweet. Says he's been doing this since the Great Depression, can you imagine?"
“You’re letting a Depression-era vampire drink your blood,” you reply, putting your glass down with a clink. “What’s next? Getting your hair done by a ghost from the Victorian era?"
Lisa rolls her eyes so hard you worry for her optic nerves. “He’s not from the Depression, he… lived through it. There’s a difference. And he’s very modern. He has an iPad.”
“An iPad? Wow, okay, a real techie. I should go to him for electronics advice, huh? I wonder what he uses it for..."
“He uses it for solitaire!” she defends, then frowns. "But that's not the point! The point is he’s professional. And discreet. You won’t even see a fang if you don’t want to.”
“Professional,” you repeat slowly. “In a place called The Velvet Room."
“It’s exclusive! They have complimentary towels that are insanely soft. Like, a cloud soft. I stole some last week. But I guess it's not really stealing if they're complimentary, right?"
“I don’t want a soft towel, Lisa! I want to not be someone’s Capri Sun!”
“You’re not a Capri Sun! You’re a… a fine vintage! A delicate, artisanal…” She gestures vaguely at you. “…soup.”
You stare at her. “You just compared my lifeblood to a soup.”
"A good soup! Something you'd pay a proper forty dollars for!" She slumps back, defeated. "Look. You're wound up so tight, your eye bags are insanely dark, and you look exhausted."
"Wow, thanks for the compliment," you deadpan. "You're so sweet, Lis."
"I'm being honest! You look like you haven't slept in a week." She leans in, voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper. “Just come with me. Sit in the fancy chair. Drink the complimentary sparkling water that probably costs more than our electric bill. If you get the ick, we bail. No hard feelings. But if you don’t…”
She gives you a look. "You’ll finally understand why I’ve been so zen since April. I haven’t bitten a single nail.”
You glance at her hands. Her nails are, indeed, miraculously intact and even painted a cheerful coral. Probably the most compelling evidence of the night.
“The second I feel a single… slurp… noise,” you say, holding up a finger. "We're out. We're getting cheesecake, and you're never mentioning this ever again."
Lisa's face brightens. "Yay! You're gonna love it, I promise."
"I have my doubts." You sigh, resting your chin in your hand, swirling your drink with the other. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to be soup.”
“The best soup,” she corrects cheerfully, already flagging down the waiter for the check. “A bisque, maybe. You have bisque energy.”
The Velvet Room is... not what you expected. It's like a kind of speakeasy, really.
Lisa leads you down a grimy alley, past overflowing dumpsters, to a nondescript black door. There's no sign, just a small, velvet-lined slot at eye level. She leans close.
"The moon is a lonely hunter," she whispers, clearly delighted with the phrase. You roll your eyes at her enthusiasm.
The door clicks and swings inward.
The ceiling is high and lost in shadow. The floor is scuffed wood, covered here and there with deeply coloured rugs that look like they’ve seen a century of parties. The walls are lined with shelves crammed full of books and records and strange little trinkets that you'd explore if given the time.
Low, squashy sofas and armchairs are arranged in little groups, lit by the soft glow of table lamps and hanging chandeliers. And there's jazz, a band playing in real time.
The place is busy. Not packed, but comfortably full. People are tucked into corners, talking quietly, laughing softly. You see a woman with red streaks in her hair offering her wrist to a vampire in a sweater.
A guy in paint-splattered jeans is leaned back in a chair, eyes closed in bliss while a vampire, who looks like she stepped out of a 1940s film, murmurs something near his ear.
"See?" Lisa squeezes your arm. "Totally upscale."
Before you can answer, a man rises from a deep armchair by the crackling fireplace. He’s tall, with a kind, tired face and a neatly trimmed beard.
This, you assume, is Lisa’s Depression-era solitaire enthusiast.
“Lisa,” he says, his voice warm and gravelly. “You made it.”
“Franklin!” Lisa chirps, darting over to give him a quick hug. “This is my friend. The one I was telling you about.”
Franklin turns his gaze on you. “A pleasure,” he says, extending a hand. You take it. “Any friend of Lisa’s is welcome here. We’ll take good care of you.”
He’s nice. He’s perfectly nice. But your attention is already snagged, pulled away like a compass needle finding north.
From a chaise lounge tucked in a darker booth near the band, two men are watching you.
One is all sharp edges and lazy grace, dressed in black, his hair a dark wave falling to his shoulders. He’s staring with a frank, interested intensity, a slight smile playing on his lips.
The other is softer. Curly, sandy hair, a worn-in jacket over a simple shirt. He looks like he’d be more at home in a library, but his eyes—a warm, amber colour—are fixed on you with a focus that makes your skin prickle.
They are, without a doubt, the most beautiful people you have ever seen.
“Your friends?” you whisper to Lisa, nodding subtly towards them.
Lisa follows your gaze and her eyes go wide. “Oh. Them. No. That’s… that’s Remus and Sirius. They’re kind of… legendary around here. They only ever feed together. And they’re really picky.” She lowers her voice further. “It's okay. Franklin’s great, I promise. Very sweet. Safer. I don't know much about those two.”
But it's too late. The one in all black stands up first, moving with a liquid sort of grace. He says something, his voice too low to catch, directly into the other man's hair.
The taller one—the one with the soft curls and the kind eyes—turns his head, listening, then his gaze snaps back to you. He nods, just once, and stands up.
Before you can blink, even, they're across the room, having come to a stop right in front of your little group. They don’t even look at Franklin.
“She’s with us,” the dark-haired one says, his voice low and smooth. His eyes never leave your face.
“Yes," the taller one murmurs, his tone softer but just as firm. “This one’s ours.”
Franklin lets out a small, resigned sigh. He gives your shoulder a gentle, almost apologetic pat. “Seems you’re in for a different sort of evening, my dear." He gives Lisa a look. “Shall we?”
Lisa looks utterly gobsmacked. “Uh. Yeah. Sure.” She gives you a wide-eyed, what-is-happening stare before letting Franklin lead her away to his cozy chair by the fire.
And then it’s just you and them.
“I'm Sirius,” the dark one says, finally introducing himself. He nods towards his companion. “And that’s Remus.”
“Hi, angel," Remus says softly, gesturing for your hand. You let him take it, watch in fascination as he presses a kiss to the back of your palm. He hands your hand over with entirely gentle care over to Sirius, who mimics the action, smiling against your knuckles.
“You were right, Pads,” Remus murmurs, hazel eyes tracing over your face. “She’s perfect.”
“I'm always right,” Sirius murmurs, lacing his fingers with the hand you'd extended to them, coaxing you towards their secluded booth towards the back of the room.
Remus sits first, settling back into the corner with an easy sigh. Then he looks up at you, pats his thighs. “Here, sweetheart. Best seat in the house.”
Your brain stutters. “On… on your lap?”
“Unless you’d rather sit on mine, baby,” Sirius murmurs easily, sliding onto the chaise beside Remus, his movements fluid. “But he’s comfier. And he gives better cuddles.”
“Sirius,” Remus chides, but he’s still looking at you, his expression open and patient. “Only if you’re comfortable. We won’t take a drop otherwise.”
Something in his soft, gentle tone makes the decision for you. Feeling surreal, you move forward and awkwardly perch on his thighs. His arm comes around your waist, guiding you to lean back against his chest.
“There,” Remus murmurs into your hair, his voice a soothing vibration against your back. “That’s it. Just relax.”
Sirius is immediately there, close. He takes your hand, his fingers cool as they find the frantic pulse in your wrist.
He lets out a soft, sympathetic tut. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re all wound up, aren’t you? Let’s fix that.”
You feel Remus’s nose gently nuzzle the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, pushing your hair aside with a tenderness that feels more intimate than any kiss you’ve ever had. “Ready, love?” he asks, his voice a low murmur right by your ear.
"Mhm." You feel like you're floating.
Sirius’s lips curve into a smile against the inside of your wrist. “Good girl,” he whispers. “You'll tell us anything you need.” It's a statement, not a suggestion. You nod anyway.
You feel Remus’s lips press softly against your skin, then a sharp, clean pinch that dissolves instantly into a warm, pulling feeling. At the same time, Sirius’s mouth finds your wrist—a kiss, then the same precise sting, melting into that same bone-deep, golden warmth.
The effect is... woah. You totally get why Lisa has been so zen recently. The constant, buzzing static in your brain fizzles out. The weight on your shoulders dissolves. A sigh slips from your lips, and your head lolls back against Remus’s shoulder.
“That’s it, love,” Remus coaxes against the soft skin of your neck. “Let it all go. We’ve got you.”
You float. The gentle tug at your neck and wrist is rhythmic, soothing. The jazz music wraps around you. You faintly hear Sirius makes a soft, humming sound of pleasure against your skin.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, his voice thick. “So good, baby.”
You are held, completely, between them. Remus’s steady strength at your back, Sirius’s focused attention on your hand. You're putty in their hands, being moulded to their whims, being shaped to their wishes. Time becomes a soft, shapeless thing.
You are, for the first time in living memory, completely quiet inside.
“Never,” Remus murmurs, his lips moving against your throat, the words vibrating through you. “Never tasted anything like you, angel. Like honey and sunlight.”
You feel Sirius’s slow, deliberate swallow against your wrist. He lets out a shaky breath. “So good.”
You make a soft, incoherent sound of acknowledgment, your head a heavy, blissful weight on Remus’s shoulder. You are completely, utterly droopy against them. Your limbs are loose. If they weren’t holding you, you’d slide right off the chaise into a contented puddle on the rug, and you're not sure you'd entirely mind.
You feel the gentle draws begin to slow, becoming softer, more languid. Savouring. They’re drawing it out, reluctant to let the moment end.
You feel two soft, cooling licks—a faint, soothing sting—sealing the tiny wounds. A final, lingering kiss from Remus at your neck, as if he can’t quite bear to let go of the spot.
Sirius turns your hand, his grip infinitely gentle, and presses a line of soft kisses from your wrist to the tips of your fingers. “Thank you, baby,” he says softly.
For a long moment, they just hold you, letting you float in the aftermath.
Remus rocks you gently. Sirius strokes your palm with his thumb.
You blink your eyes open. You don't even remember when you'd closed them. The world's fuzzy at the edges, like how it gets when you're drunk, only better, 'cos you're not nauseous now.
“Welcome back, sweetheart,” Sirius says softly. He’s looking at you like you’ve hung the moon.
Remus nudges your hair with his nose. “How do you feel, angel?”
It takes a monumental effort to form words. Your tongue feels thick and lazy. "Like jelly," you mumble, words slurring just a little. "The good kind," you add in reassurance. They probably don't need it. They probably know their effect on you.
Sirius lets out a delighted, choked laugh.
“Jelly,” Remus repeats, his tone rich with amusement. “I’ll take that.”
You try to nod, but your head just lolls to the side, coming to rest against Remus’s collarbone. You’re practically melting off his lap, held in place only by the secure band of his arm. You make a half-hearted attempt to sit up straighter, but your muscles just won’t cooperate.
“Oh, look at her,” Sirius coos, his voice dripping with fondness. He reaches out and brushes a stray strand of hair from your forehead. “Absolutely boneless. You did so well, sweetheart. We turned you into jelly, huh?”
“Sirius, don’t tease,” Remus murmurs, but he’s pressing a smiling kiss into your hair. “Here, love, let’s get some water in you.”
He gestures to someone above your head, and almost instantly, a glass of water appears on the low table beside you.
Sirius picks it up and holds the rim to your lips. “Come on, baby. Small sips. Just for us.”
You obey, mainly because it’s easier than not obeying, and partly because you want to hear their praise again. You manage a few swallows before turning your head away with a soft, protesting noise, nuzzling instinctively into the warmth of Remus’s neck.
“Alright, alright,” Remus soothes, chuckling. “That’s enough for now.”
You’re drifting again, lulled by the steady beat of Remus’s heart (do vampires have heartbeats? This one seems to) and the gentle stroke of Sirius’s thumb over your knuckles.
“So,” Sirius says after a moment, his voice unusually careful. “We have a bit of a problem, Moony.”
“What’s that?” Remus asks, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your arm.
“Well, we’ve found the perfect girl. And now we have to let her go walk out into the world, all wobbly and unsupervised. Seems irresponsible.”
A slow realisation curls through your jelly-like insides. They don’t want you to leave.
It makes you feel warm.
Remus hums in agreement, his chin resting on top of your head. “It does seem a shame. We’ve only just gotten her properly calibrated.”
You manage to peel your eyes open. “Calibrated?” you mumble.
“Mhm,” Sirius says, leaning in close. His grey eyes are soft and serious as he tucks a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to his liking, eyes softening when you go lax under his touch. “To us, sweetheart. You fit just right. We’d… we’d really like to do this again. If you want to.”
“We’d like to see you again, angel,” Remus adds, his voice a gentle rumble beneath your ear. “Properly. Not just here. Maybe for coffee, or... we could take you out to dinner.”
The offer hangs for a second. It’s crazy. You've just met them. They just drank your blood. But...
A slow, drowsy smile spreads across your face. You don’t have the energy for anything more. “M’gonna need a nap first,” you whisper. “A really long one.”
Sirius’s answering smile is brilliant. “We can work with that.” He tucks a card into the pocket of your jeans, his fingers lingering for just a second. “Our number. Text us when you wake up. Or don’t, if you don't want to. But we really hope you do.”
Remus helps you sit up, his hands steadying you as the world tilts a little. “Can you stand, love?”
With their help, you manage to get to your feet, though you sway like a sapling in a breeze, instantly leaning into Sirius’s offered side. They walk you back to where Lisa is sipping tea, looking thoroughly de-stressed.
“All in one piece?” Lisa asks, eyes wide.
“Better than,” Sirius says, his pride unmistakable. “She’s flawless.”
You give Lisa a wobbly, blissed-out thumbs up.
As you're guided towards the door, Remus leans down, his lips brushing your ear one last time. “Sleep well, angel. Dream of us.”
