The Man Who Sold The World

[ameliasashes]

Never Drink Alone || Amelia & Sirius || July 1, 1978

[ameliasashes]

Amelia grinned in triumph as she caught the flush creeping up from his collar. She hooked a finger in the neck of his shirt and pulled it aside. “Well, would you look at that,” she teased softly. 

It was clear she’d caught him by surprise, he had been hoping for something quite different. Amelia truly didn’t have much experience with men – between being focused on school and work and her brothers scaring off any potential suitors, it just didn’t work out that way for her. Despite being several years older than Sirius, she had no doubt he had more sexual experience than she did. 

“Of course I remember. It’s not every day that the head girl is offered a date with a first year. You were adorable. Staring up at me with those big puppy dog eyes… I was half tempted to let you off the hook but I thought it would set a poor precedent for the rest of your schooling. Little did I know it wouldn’t have mattered.” She smiled at him fondly, remembering the days when he’d been a gangly, dark haired munchkin, all elbows and knees. “That was probably the last time I got to look down at you, you shot up like a weed after that.” 

[toujourspunk-blog]

Sirius could feel the blush on the back of his throat and it was most unwelcome. He had rather been that she wouldn’t notice it when, alas, slim fingers hooked into the collar of his shirt exposing his embarrassment for the world to see. Tugging himself back, he chuckled, shaking his head. “Oi, gerroff me! Unless you plan on taking me home tonight I am going to have to ask you to keep your hands to yourself, Miss. Bones. Lest we give in to the carnal heat which has built between us for years now and end up shagging right here on this bar.” Oh yes, two could play at this game. If a fight was what she wanted then he was not opposed to flirting her socks off. Of course if it worked he would be faced with something of a dilemma, for though he ardently adored Amelia their friendship was one of the few he prized enough not to sully it with sex…but she was dressed exceptionally well that evening. Stop it, bad brain! Hoping to cleanse himself of such unsavory thoughts, Sirius instead tried a much more tender topic.   “Anyway, all flirtation aside I hope you know…” sighing through his nose, he frowned at the bar, picking at one of the coasters (stuck with a thick layer of grime, alcohol or both) with his thumbnail “You…ah…You mean a lot to me. Just…Felt I should say something. Y’know, what with the war, in case anything were to…happen.” 

[alionwithoutitsroar]

Let’s cause a riot | December 2nd, 1976 | Mary and Sirius

Mary hadn’t been the same since she started her sixth year at Hogwarts, hadn’t been the same since Mulciber’s brutal attack on the blonde. That wasn’t to say she hadn’t tried to return to normal, because she had, truly she had. Over the summer she had chopped off her waist length, honey-brown hair, given herself a full fringe, and bleached the whole lot a bright blonde. She’d agreed to continue on as a prefect, and had managed to convince the very select few of her friends who did know of the attack to simply let the matter go - or at the very least, not allow her to think about it.

But some things were easier said than done, and Mary had clearly been naive to think that she could simply act like such a brutal attack on her life was something that she could simply get over. Everywhere she turned, he was right there beside her. It didn’t matter what she did to distract herself, what she did to make herself forget, nothing could get the picture of his face as he loomed over her out of her mind, and it was killing her. In the last month alone, Mary had all but fallen apart at the seams. She had given up her position as Gryffindor’s, female, sixth year prefect, had stopped going to all of the school clubs that she had once gotten so much joy out of, and Mary frankly couldn’t even begin to remember the last time she had held a proper conversation with one of her friends. Avoidance had been the way forwards for the blonde, and as a result she had almost definitely hit rock bottom.

Seeing as she had been so very unsociable in terms of the people close to her - everyone, really - you can only imagine Mary’s surprise when she received a letter from one Sirius Black, requesting she meet him by the Black Lake asap. Mary had been admittedly reluctant at first, and had almost considered not going. But Sirius was one f the very few people that she trusted indefinitely, one of the few people who never failed to put a smile on her face, and so if he needed her as urgently as the letter had suggested, how could she refuse?

It was for this reason that Mary now found herself sat on the edge of the lake, her feet mere inches from the surface of the water as she hugged her legs to her chest and waited for her housemate to join her.

[toujourspunk-blog]

-

Scarred souls will always recognize one another. Will feel the magnetic pull of understanding, seeing beneath the veneer of normalcy to the chaos beneath. Mary could hide all she wanted, but Sirius saw how fractured and fragmented she had become. The shadows that lingered in her eyes were mirrored in his own; they were survivors and yet they had not escaped from their separate horrors unscathed. One thing he admired about her was the ability to handle all inquiries with such a quiet dignity. Unlike him, she embraced what had happened and moved on with her life, whereas he spent far too much time hiding behind joviality to heal. But then, quite unexpectedly, she had begun to unravel. It was as though invisible fingers plucked at the loose thread, tugging until the once composed and dignified young woman was reduced to little more than a shadow of the bright and bubbly soul she had once been. In the business of scheming, Sirius had come up with an adequate distraction enough for them both. James’ fixation with Lily Evans, far from being the passing fancy he had hoped, was instead blossoming into stalker territory. Yet, for whatever reason, it appeared as if she was starting to soften on him. Still, Potter had yet to close the deal and watching the constant back and forth was enough to give even the most patient person a migraine.   So he resolved to do something about it. Help give both of the berks the little push they needed to realize they were two smitten kittens and end the torture that was their awkward pseudo courtship. The only issue was finding a partner in crime. Someone who he could trust to carry out his plan with very little objection, actually serving as an asset to the whole affair. His initial instinct had been to go to Marlene McKinnon, his usual accomplice for such affairs, but as she had recently begun a fledgling romance of her own she was currently out of commission. Amelia Bones was too honest and might just give the game away which left only one girl for the job.

Mary MacDonald.

Given that she’d been through a lot recently, she had been rather low on the list. That was until he decided she was in dire need of a decent distraction. So it was with that thought in mind that he approached her, down by the lake at their arranged rendezvous point. “Seems pointless to ask how you are, all things considered, but…I may have something to cheer you up.”

[toujourspunk-blog]

Working Class Hero - Benjy and Sirius - June 18th 1978

[theorderfromchaos]

Benjy’s focus had gone back to the alley, scanning for further risks, but the tone to Sirius’ voice pulled his eyes and his attention back to the teenager at his side.  The look on the boy’s face was what could only be described as gleeful and for a moment Benjy questioned if he was patrolling with the right member of the Black family.  Adrenaline and youth were one thing, but there was a level of excitement that went too far, when one was dealing with the bleeding and injured.  The Ravenclaw had past experience with both, having seen them first hand at Hogwarts.  Adrenaline and youth fueled the schoolmates who teased him and knocked his books from his hands, even those who got a few kicks in when he was down, but they had quickly walked away once the glow had worn off of the situation.  It was an entirely different darkness he had seen in the eyes of those who had kept kicking, who had pulled their wands and tested the limits of how much damage they could do without letting the evidence show.  Benjy hadn’t seen that in Sirius, not yet at least, and he was hoping he never would.  There was a rush of relief that filled him, when he saw the panic on the boy’s face.

“Dead…?” he asked, the word falling matter of factly from his lips, as though to remind Sirius of the joy he had taken in the man’s possible demise just a few moments ago.  He leaned down and laid the flat of his hand under the man’s nose.  A soft puff of air touched against his skin, giving the answer.

“No, just knocked out, and for quite awhile I’d think given the hit he took to the head.”

Benjy took a look at the unconscious man’s face, which turned toward the wall was still hidden from Sirius.  He was no one that the Unspeakable recognized, but that meant little.  Benjy wasn’t exactly social, so unless the man was a dealer, a user, or a worker in the Department of Mysteries, there was a good chance he would go unnoticed in Benjy’s world.  He carefully grasped the man’s jaw and turned his face toward Sirius and the small amount of light that filtered into the alley.

“Anyone you know?” he asked.

[toujourspunk-blog]

Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead. The words circulate, over and over again like water swirling down a plughole. His heart raced, beating painfully against his ribcage sending waves of nausea through him with each heavy pound. This would make for the second in a fortnight, the blood which already stained his hands becoming more permanent. I’m not like them. I’m not like them. I’m not like them. The secondary plea, one in which he begged whatever higher power there may be to separate from his family, was  d e s p e r a t e . He had witnessed their cruelty and sadism firsthand, knew of the very worst things that humanity was capable of if correctly motivated. This was a fear that spurred him on, that lit a fire in his belly, pushing him further into the Order. The desperate desire to become as different from his family as humanly possible. Yet was this him fulfilling his destiny? Swimming upstream against genetic currents so much stronger than he, was it any surprise he was becoming every bit as ruthless as his Father? At Benjy’s response, relief burst through him in a glorious eruption. Letting out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, it was soon followed by a soft and depreciating bark-like laugh. “Thank Godric.” For all of his postulating and bravery, there really was no worse outcome than death in his mind. Especially when the intent of the assailant weren’t nearly as clear as he would like. If it was carved out in stone that he intended their demise, well that would at least be justifiable. But for all they knew in this present moment, it was just another foolish child throwing around hexes they really knew very little about in the hopes of coming across as scary. As the man’s face was turned towards him, the nausea abruptly returned. The familiar lines etched across it, the mirthful glee he had witnessed in those sunken eyes the night he left home forever were eternally carved in his memory. “That…that’s Theodorus Nott. My Father’s best friend.” Scrubbing a trembling left hand over his face, wand still firmly held in his right, he took a step back. “Fucking twisted bastard. You may want to find someone else to patrol with, Fenwick. Seems there’s a target on my back.”

[at-the-bitter-end]

The News (flashback) | August 1976 | Regulus & Sirius

[toujourspunk-blog]

at-the-bitter-end:

Hadn’t this been what he had wanted? The nights where he had dreamed of a reunion, dreamed that there was perhaps some other reason for his brother’s quick departure, had become so numerous by this point that he was not entirely certain this wasn’t another addition to the sequence. The whole thing was just so surreal, too much for real life to be a viable explanation. He felt Sirius’s arms wrapped around his own small frame, felt himself moving back and forth guided by his brother’s gentle moments, and yet he could not bring himself to give any of that warmth back. Sitting stiffly was the only thing that seemed to make sense, the stillness to his body a direct contradiction to the thoughts and fears and questions clattering around inside his mind.

This wasn’t the first time Sirius had talked so openly about running away. Even before he actually packed up and went through with it, seemed like his mind was always elsewhere. He remembered running through the grounds, tiny feet covered with mud and grass before they were old enough to cast Scourgify, Sirius egging him on to just run “a little bit further”. Always a little bit further. One time they traveled so far that the house was no longer in plain view. Still. “Just a little bit further.” The prospect, however minuscule it was, that Sirius might not lead him back to the house had caused young Regulus to burst into tears. And he was reminded of that again today, once more feeling that internal pull. Family versus brother. Loved one versus loved one.

“I… Y-you know I can’t do that. Leave them. I can’t – I can’t just leave.” His chin lifted slightly, their heads just a touch too close for proper eye contact. He caught a glimpse of Sirius’s chin in his peripheral vision. “I still care about them.”

He could only assume that Sirius no longer did.

An idea sparked in his mind, and all at once he broke away from his brother’s embrace, sitting back slightly on the couch and turning himself towards Sirius. “But maybe I could come visit you sometimes? I could say I was staying with Narcissa, or Barty, but come visit you instead?”

Or that he was meeting with Bellatrix, or Rodolphus, or Lucius. His mother would know exactly what that meant. The meetings that had been occurring all summer; the ones that signaled, Soon, so soon. Walburga would be positively thrilled with this, so much that such a clandestine getaway might even be too easy. It was an excuse that Sirius certainly did not need to know.

His hand reached out and found his brother’s knee, lay his palm on it and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I could maybe even do that tonight?”

Regulus was, for the longest time, the only thing Sirius ever believed good or worthy about his life. Having his brother by his side enabled him to face anything. Everything. The love they shared, so sacred and so irreplaceable, anchored him through the nights when his father’s mood would darken and the abuse would start. Reggie made him brave in a way he had never believed possible, had been the reason he was sorted into Gryffindor, he was sure of it. “I-I know you can’t.” The words, barely above a whisper, shocked him to his very core. In that moment, he understood what Regulus felt. He could no more leave the Black household than Sirius could the Marauders. Perhaps there was a small chance the compassion that had never been granted was reserved for Regulus as he believed to be the case when childish envy clouded his mind in his younger years. “Besides, the place would fall apart without you.” There was a bitter edge to his tone. He longed to egg his brother on, to incentivize him to leave once and for all. But how could he? For a brief moment, he considered asking Andromeda to invite his younger sibling over so he could go back to Grimmauld Place and burn it to the ground. Whether his parents lived or died was arbitrary in that moment; all he cared about was liberating his beloved brother. “You think I hate them, don’t you? Part of me does. But…but they’ll always be my parents, Reggie. Fucked up as that may seem. Can’t change my blood…believe me, I’ve tried.” The bitter, bark-like laugh echoed humorlessly for a moment before Regulus’ suggestion hit home. Chewing on the inside of his cheek for a moment as he mulled over the possibility of having his little brother here, home where he belonged. Reaching out a black-nailed hand, his fingers laced through Regulus’ and he nodded slowly, his voice soft. “I…I would really like that, Reg.” A part of him feared Walburga would find out, as she had a tendency to do. But selfishly, he brushed the worries aside. They could always cross that bridge when they came to it. For a moment, he considered the ramifications of just giving up, going back home where he belonged. Or at least, where they told him he did. Swallowing hard, he shook his head, shooing the thought away. It was useless going back now, after all he had done. How far he had come since those days of being a cowering, shadow of a person?

[fyeah-scores]

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[toujourspunk-blog]

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[callmeremus-blog]

Late Morning || Sirius & Remus || August 19, 1978

[toujourspunk-blog]

Remus groaned and rolled his head surprised to find an actual pillow and mattress and not a lump of grass underneath him. Someone must have apperated him home in the early morning. Remus groaned again, not wanting o think about all that would have been entailed with that procedure. Remus stretched his arms out over his head, immediately regretting the decision as a bolt of pain wrenched through his left shoulder. Remus dropped both arms back to his sides and tried to breath deeply as he tried to remember any details from the night before.

Impossible flashes of potential memories from the night before flashed through his mind, some of the images seemed more like fantastical dreams than the reality he was sure James, Sirius, and Peter could remember better. The wolf swell up inside him at the memories, pleased with his pack’s loyalty. If only Remus had a better grasp on exactly what happened. It was always like this, though full moons with the marauders had helped his memory retention in human form. Curiosity burned in his chest, similar to the way his shoulder was burning under the t-shirt he was wearing.

“Sirius?” Remus’s voice was a hoarse whisper as he sought out his friend. Remus had no doubt that Sirius was close. Though they each had their own apartments Sirius always seemed to move himself in around the the full moon. Not that Remus minded sharing the tiny studio apartment with the other boy all that much, it was was a little like being back at Hogwarts. Remus ran a hand down his face and winced in pain and the fingers dragged over the swelling around his left eye.

“Sirius, what happened to my face?”

The metallic taste of blood was on his tongue, the first stirrings of a headache beginning behind his right eye. Still in his canine form, the sound of his name pulled him back from the realms of unconsciousness, one amber eye opening to peer at the young man curled on his side above him. Everything hurt. Stretching with a whine, the large black dog raised himself up onto paws that were still a little on the large side, sitting on his hind legs, the front ones thrown over Remus’ lap. Snuffling at his face, a lick was delivered to the wounds on his face, a small sigh huffed through his wet nose. Head cocked, Padfoot studied the now human Remus pensively, before all at once the dog was replaced by the young man Remus had called for. Beneath his right eye was a long, thin cut that stretched the length of his cheekbone, his lower lip split in two parts and crusted with dried blood. He didn’t often make a habit of being Padfoot unless the occasion called for it, but similarly he had no wish to intrude on Remus’ space when he was in the throes of lycanthropy. Sleeping on the floor seemed best and it was a good deal more comfortable to do this as a canine. “Uh well that would be Peter. Shocking, I know. But Moony got a little more…zealous with Wormy than usual last night so he bit you. Looks like a nasty one too. As for the other eye, that was me. Sorry. Padfoot entirely underestimated the drop when they were play fighting and Moony ended up at the bottom of a rather large hill. Think that was likely why your back looks like it does.” Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, he cleared his throat. Even though it had all happened in the context of fun, seeing Remus looking like such a sorry state made the guilt coil in the pit of his stomach. “Want me to go make a cheese sandwich?”

[toujourspunk-blog]

When My Brother Loved Me (Legend of Korra/Toy Story Parody)

When my brother loved me, everything was beautiful Every hour we spent together, lives within my heart And when he was sad, I was there to dry his tears And when he was happy, so was I, when he loved me. Through the summer and the fall, we had each other, that was all Just he and I together, like it was meant to be And when he was lonely, I was there to comfort him And I knew that he loved me.

[toujourspunk-blog]

UNSENT LETTERS - R.A.B 1979 - STAGE V: ACCEPTANCE

[toujourspunk-blog]

toujourspunk:

The parchment has been sitting in his desk draw, with the green ink Regulus always favored in their correspondence, for years. 

The anguish he feels at the loss gradually manifests itself into bitterness and anger. Regulus was too weak to go against the grain, as he had. He spits words of vitriol when asked about him, for its easier to feel disappointment than despair. Sirius is beyond damaged by the loss. He has years to brood and fester, not to mention the torment he suffers by the dementors. Though brave, Sirius is woefully tunnel-visioned, and clearly sees things in extremes. He often oversimplifies things, as a defense mechanism albeit an inexcusable one. It makes life easier for him.  It' was simpler to be angry and resentful of him than to deal with the fact that he winds up living across the hall from his perfectly preserved bedroom, which brought up overwhelming feelings of guilt. Sirius prized loyalty, bravery, above most other things but when Regulus needed him the most he left. This is something that still haunts him. He's not angry with Regulus at all, or at least not for the reasons he imagines. His loathing is more for himself if only he wasn't too pig-headed to see it. He was unable to save him, the way he always swore he would.

The final letter, the one with assurances time had healed the pain, he had found some measure of peace, of happiness, is never written.

For Sirius Black never accepts the death of his beloved brother. 

[toujourspunk-blog]

UNSENT LETTERS - R.A.B 1979 - STAGE IV: DEPRESSION

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Reggie,

It’s been almost a month and I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. If it wasn’t such a necessity, I don’t think I would even breathe. Most days are spent in a confused stupor, stumbling through the hours just waiting until I can collapse back into bed. Not that I find any rest there. The second I close my eyes, it’s your face I see.

Remember when we were really little and I used to take you out to look at the stars? I’d show you which ones we were named after, all the constellations, the galaxies we read about. Do you remember that one Midsummer’s Eve when there was the meteor shower? You were scared the sky was falling and I took your hand in mine and held it, so tight. And you told me, years later, that was the moment you knew you didn’t have anything to worry about long as I was around.

I promised you I would protect you.

I swore I’d love you until all the stars fell.

I said I’d be there, with you, forever.

I am so sorry, brother.

Sometimes, I think I see you. In a crowd. Across the pub. Reflected in the mirror.

Everything hurts, Reggie. I know you always thought me strong and terribly brave, but the truth was YOU made me that way. You gave me a purpose and without you I’m not quite sure how to go about things. Everything made sense once, didn’t it?

We were born into madness you and I. But we muddled our way through it, best we could.

The lads try to keep me busy. The Order gives me stuff to do. I am doing my best, but honestly what’s the bloody point without you?

Nothing now can ever come to any good.

I love you.

[toujourspunk-blog]

Unsent Letters - R.A.B 1979 - Stage III: Bargaining

[toujourspunk-blog]

Reggie,

Please come back. 

Please don’t leave me.

Please.

I need very much for you to come over and tell me it’s all been a huge bloody mistake, alright? I’ll do anything. Anything. 

I just need for this all to have been a very bad dream.

Maybe…maybe there’s some spell or something? You think? I mean, with all the bloody magic there is out there…Trust me, Reg. I’ll find a way. 

I’ll find a way to bring you home.

Even if you’re out there, floating somewhere as a ghost, please drop in. Like you used to do. I’m not angry anymore, I promise. I just want you to come home. I need to see you, Reggie. I need to know that maybe you’ve found the peace you always sought.

I need to know you’re happy.

My chest feels all hollow and empty. Like a tin can. Thoughts rattle around my head like pennies but I can’t make sense of anything.

I don’t work without you.

So just…come home. Please? 

I swear…just come back. 

I love you, brother.

[toujourspunk-blog]

Unsent Letters - R.A.B 1979 - Stage II: Anger

[toujourspunk-blog]

Reggie,

I can’t breathe. 

I can’t think.

I can’t…anything any more.

How could you do this? How could you be so bloody stupid as to get yourself killed?!

I asked you to trust me. I told you I would get you out. You have any idea how fucking much it has cost me? And for what? 

YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD. 

DEAD.

AND NOTHING CAN BRING YOU BACK.

I hate you more than I have ever hated anyone. If there was a way to drag you back from the grave to kill you all over again I’d bloody do it. You make me sick. How could you have so little faith in me?

Or maybe they were right. Maybe you never were anything other than a snivelling, slimy coward who played me for a fucking fool.

The Order holds me at a bloody arms length because they found out, Reg. They discovered what I wanted to do. If it wasn’t for James and Lily I’d be going bonkers. Seems even Remus is looking at me differently these days.

You did what we swore we’d never do.

You left me.

Alone here.

I fucking hate you for it.

[toujourspunk-blog]

Unsent Letters - R.A.B 1979 - Stage I: Denial & Isolation

[toujourspunk-blog]

Reggie,

Saw you made the cover of the Prophet today. Merlin, I know there’s a war on but they really should get their facts right. Although pretending to be dead is a stroke of genius on your part. It’ll make everything so much easier.

Things have been unravelling so quickly, Reg. It’s like trying to hold onto sand. The harder I try, the quicker it slips through my fingers. 

Least I have you though, eh? Together until the stars fall, just like we promised.

I was thinking…we should go to Paris. Always liked it there as children, remember? I’ll help you get set up with all the enchantments and then I can come visit you at the weekends. James thinks I’m mental for going through all this but…it’s worth it.

You’re worth it.

You’re the only brother I’ll ever have.

I’m even willing to smuggle you Kreacher, as you’re so bloody attached to him. Nobody’ll really think much of his disappearance. I’ve heard of House Elves wasting away when their owner dies so…I mean, everyone knows he worshipped the ground you walked on so it’ll hardly be a surprise.

Do me a favour though? Will you write to me? Let me know this is just some elaborate hoax so I don’t feel so bloody mental. 

Because I mean…you can’t be dead. Not now. Not after…everything.

I love you. 

Stay safe and write soon.

[toujourspunk-blog]

Letters to Pan // August 20th 1977

Pan,

I regret to inform you that your absence is entirely intolerable.

Tea, my house, the usual time?

Disregard the question mark - this is entirely mandatory. No ifs, ands, buts, or exceptions. If you do not come I will be forced to come and find you.

And yes, my favorite lost boy, that is a threat.

Love always,

Tink

*

My Darling Tink, Of course it’s intolerable. I’m me. And I’m awesome. How could it not be? I will only accept said tea if there are biscuits to go along with it. And before you get smart, the human kind (although I will take some doggy biscuits for the ride if you please).   Rest assured my butt (as it were) will be there. With bells on. Alright, maybe not with bells on but you get the picture. Will Ted be there? Hoping for maybe some family alone time. And yes, I know he’s technically family but it’s just...complicated, is all. Besides I have a gift for little Nibs he might not approve of. Love from your favorite person, Pan

[toujourspunk-blog]

Letters to Prongs // August 18th 1977

Oi oi Potter! You’re a knob. But I love you. You’re my knob. My proud, unwavering, slightly unkempt knob. And you deserve only nice things. Like little baby unicorns. And a lifetime supply of chocolate frogs. And my presence in your life. And probably Evan’s vagina, I suppose. As you seem so interested in it.   Love you, tosser!

[toujourspunk-blog]

Mugglemania // Sirius & Arthur // August 5th 1978

“What is it?” “What do you mean?” “Well what does it do?” “…it’s a gramophone. It plays music.” “Like a radio?” “I…well, in a manner of speaking. You have to buy records for it.” “Oh! Like a record player?” “Yes, exactly. This is an antique record player.” “Will the trumpet make music if I blow it?” “…don’t blow it.” “But will it?” “Please. Don’t. Blow. It.” “But…oh!” Turning away from his conversation with an entirely frazzled merchant upon recognizing the swinging gait of one Arthur Weasley, Sirius brightened. Shopping the stalls of Covent Garden was enough of an adventure, yet it always improved with a fellow Muggle enthusiast in tow. Nobody knew more about their non-magical brethren than Weasley. Nobody he knew, at least. “Arthur! Hello! Look what I found! A grimeyphone!” “Gramophone.” “Yes, that too. It plays records.” Pausing, he turned back to the merchant, a serious expression upon his face. “Will it play the Sex Pistols?” “What? The…it doesn’t decide what it wants to…but I really wouldn’t…they’re just…” “Excellent! I’ll take it, then.” Attention moving back to Arthur, he smiled. “So mate, how’s your summer been going? How are the wee ones? Molly’s quite the little baby maker, eh?”

[toujourspunk-blog]

Why Can't I Say Goodnight? // Daisy & Sirius // July 31st 1978

[toujourspunk-blog]

the-bellis-perennis:

Leaning into his side, cuddling up against him, it still felt as easy as breathing. No one who knew what happened would expect them to still be able to be around each other  – exes didn’t stay friends. And, for a while, Daisy let that be true. But the same things that drew her to him initially were still true. Yes, he’d done some truly awful things, but honestly she blamed Remus for that more than Sirius. It probably wasn’t fair, the blame should be split evenly between them, but the difference was that Sirius had apologized. He’d literally begged for forgiveness and Remus, well, he’d throw confetti on her grave if it meant she was out of the picture. Sirius cared that he’d hurt her, Remus didn’t. 

Her lips pursed at his question but she didn’t answer, choosing to believe it was rhetorical. Playing house. That was all they’d ever done, really. She didn’t want to think about that now. It wasn’t about that anymore. Daisy was grateful when he let the thought die and moved on.

“A trip?” she echoed, peeking up at him through a heavy veil of lashes. “My parents will love that.” She laughed lightly, shaking her head. Her parents, her father in particular, had made it no secret that they weren’t thrilled with their only daughter dating a boy who was not only older than her, but had such a distinct bad boy vibe. They’d cautioned her against him multiple times but she refused to listen. In some ways, they were right. He did break her heart, but not for the reasons they’d imagined. 

“I don’t care where we go, just some place magical. And I mean that literally. I’ve only seen magic here in London and at school. And Hogsmeade, I guess. But there are all wizarding places like that elsewhere, too, right? Places where magic is the norm and no one expects you to hide? I want to go there. I want to live there,” she sighed. In some ways, she knew Sirius couldn’t understand why that was so important to her. He had grown up with magic. His parents were magical, his brother, he’d never had to live without it. For her, though, it was different. She’d spent more of her life without knowledge of magic than with it. Even now she was forced to pretend like it didn’t exist, forced to stifle it and tamp it down so that no one knew. It was exhausting. “Wherever we go, one of us ought to be able to speak the language, though.”

Times like these had him wondering if life had always been this complicated, or if it was just a part of growing up. The cliché of being another tortured youth on the precipice of adulthood set his teeth on edge, nausea curling in the pit of his stomach. There was a time when everything was black and white. You were good or you were wicked. Now…well, everything was blurring into a murky grey mess and there seemed little he could do beyond trusting his own instincts. It was like trying to unscramble an egg…just impossible. One calloused hand reached down, lacing their fingers together. They had sat like this so many times and yet there was something very different about them now. It superseded relationship politics, boiling down to two humans needing the comfort of one another. With Daisy, everything was simple. She knew him, perhaps better than anyone save the Marauders. The one and only secret he kept from her was Padfoot, but that was all part of a greater vow. Her words cut through his train of thought, bringing him back to the present. It seemed he was drifting away to somewhere else, a fantasy land of his own creation, far too often. It all started as a joke at school, his predilections for daydreaming. It had been this virtue that had gotten him through many of the lessons he’d endured beneath the cruel eye of his father, offering a pleasant reprieve from the teachings that often left him nauseated. Troubling though, that this world once again seemed so much more preferable to reality. “Yeah, your parents never were all that fond of me. It’s hard to appreciate someone this awesome,” a low chuckle, the arrogance once worn like a second skin now more of an act than anything else. “There’s this place in France I used to visit all the time when I was younger,” he murmured, hoping the quick diversion would prevent her from seeing through his false bravado like plate glass “I loved it there, lots of nature and this picturesque little town…added bonus being it’s close to Paris. I know how you love to shop. I can take care of the language provided you do the cooking, unless we were to get a hotel.” Fantasy or not, the idea of running away to Europe, at least until things settled down here, was growing in appeal. Fleeing the country was an act of pure cowardice, but if it meant keeping Daisy safe from all of the evils wont to do her harm here…well, it may be worthy of serious consideration. “Still have a little money saved up. Not much, but it’d tide us over until I got a job.”

[mugglenet]

Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course — exceptionally bright, in fact — but I don’t think we’ve ever had such a pair of troublemakers.

Minerva McGonagall, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

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(via mugglenet)