Black and White - Part 1

"Starving Artist"

It wasn't a term unfamiliar to Remus. After all, he was an artist and he did struggle to make end's meet. 

It was the same term his father tossed at him when Remus had wanted to go to London College of Art and Design instead of working at the autobody shop with his dad. 

"What's wrong with earning an honest living, Remus? Why can't you just do your hobby in your spare time?"

That's what really broke Remus' heart. Not believing in his talents, he understood. Remus hardly ever believed in himself anyway. Not wanting Remus to live a life of poverty, that made sense. Nobody wants their only child to struggle to put food on the table. But calling what Remus did a hobby? That was a blow to Remus' heart that he couldn't withstand.

Art had never been a hobby to Remus.

Remus didn't paint because it relaxed him, he didn't paint because he enjoyed it, he didn't paint because it was fun or entertaining. Remus painted because he had to. He painted because if he didn't, he felt incomplete, empty. Remus needed his art the same way he needed food and air. He thirsted for it, felt it tearing at his insides. Days where Remus didn't approach a canvas and pick up a brush were excruciating, he was left broken and starved. Remus' art was never his hobby, it was his everything.

Remus knew he'd never be allowed to pursue the life he needed while he lived at home, so he took a job, then another, then another, until he was able to afford the run-down basement flat that he lived in: a single room that was his and his alone. It was filled with canvases and easels, three or four works going simultaneously. Tubes of paint littered the ground, pallets and brushes scattered about amongst half filled jars of dirty water. There was a single bed pushed into the corner, covered entirely with books during the day. There was no kitchen, only a hotplate, a microwave, and a mini refrigerator that served its purpose well enough. Remus knew that this was the life he chose. He knew that this was the cost of following his heart. 

One particularly soggy London day, when the sky threatened to soak Remus' only pair of shoes to their very core, Remus returned to his flat after an excruciating shift at the cafe. He had been on his feet the entire time, serving coffee to wealthier people than him, smiling through his frustration. As Remus slipped off his sneakers, he reached into his pocket and grabbed the handful of change that made up his tips, tossing it into the jar that sat on the table by the door.

The jar was getting fuller by the day, but Remus knew it wasn't enough. It took his entire paycheck to be able to afford his flat and his food, so saving up his tips was all he could do to eventually pay for LCAD. 

Remus dragged himself over to his bed and flopped down beside a pile of art books that wobbled precariously from his movement. With a weary sigh, he kicked off his shoes and forced himself to sit up. Back against the wall, laptop on his thighs, Remus began the arduous task of looking for gallery shows and openings. He had promised himself to go to at least one opening a week, ideally more. The more gallery shows he went to, the more elbows he rubbed, the better the chance that he would meet somebody who could help kick start his career. 

Black and White

The name sounded familiar.

Grand Opening of Black and White

The opening was that evening.

Sirius Black, son the illustrious Orion and Walburga Black, is following in his parents' footsteps as a curator of magnificent works of beauty.

"My aim is to juxtapose the frailty of the human condition with the dichotomy of gender normative notions through an exploration of the boundaries of art, with a particular emphasis on the arbitrary line that exists between painting and sculpture."

Please join us for an unforgettable evening as Black reveals the first collection to be housed in the gallery: Foreshadow.

Gallery will be open from 6:00 PM - 8:00 PM. Wine and light refreshments will be served. 

Remus sniggered to himself at the ridiculous quote from Sirius Black that was included in the description. There were a lot of words not saying anything if particular importance. Leave it to a gallerist to come up with the longest string of nonsense possible. 

At least there would be food. Remus was grateful for the free refreshments; it meant not having to use what little money he had on dinner.

The artist grabbed his phone and checked the time before letting out a groan and rolling out of bed. He needed to change into presentable clothing before heading to the gallery, which was a half-hour walk from his home. There was no time to rest beforehand, he would have to make do with caffeine and resilience. 

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this little drabble that kind of just popped into my head! If this is something you think I should continue, let me know!

What! You definitely can't end it before they even meet!

another (hopefully) cute scene from that fic I’m working on: 

(@zodiacal-dust-and-curls YOUR QUEEN REFERENCE. UR WELC.)

A dozen Queen songs came on in a row and Sirius danced to all of them, praising James for accommodating him and forcing him to dance with Sirius to Don’t Stop Me Now. For only a moment, Remus had been waiting, watching with unconcealed adoration as Sirius, who only a few weeks before had violently recoiled at any physical contact, pulled James to his chest in some bizarre adaptation of a tango, he and James cheek to cheek, as the party goers cheered.

Cigarette between his teeth, Remus leaned his head back against the wall, blowing a chest full of smoke above the heads of those dancing in front of him. Just as the soft guitar of the next song plucked out over the speakers, Remus felt Sirius’ fingers slip into his.

Keep reading

Ummm would you happen to have a link to this fic? Or is it not written yet? This is beautiful

It’s a WIP! I’m DEFINITELY going to post when I finish it. But I do have other completed Wolfstar works here!

@mollymarymarie I just read this and I’m in love:

@captofthesswolfstar you are so right 😍😍😍!

Holy crap.  This is utterly gorgeous @mollymarymarie!!!

Happy Birthday to the lovely @curlyremus

I hope you're having a great day so far! You deserve the best! 💛💛

And I wrote something little for you, it's not very good and kinda short, sorry!

----

"Your eyes are beautiful."

Remus tore his gaze away from the book he was reading and looked at Sirius. They were both sitting on Remus' bed, doing homework.

"What?" he asked.

"Your eyes. They are beautiful," Sirius repeated.

Remus blinked in surprise, feeling his cheeks warm up under Sirius' intense gaze.

Sirius leaned closer, puffs of his warm breath falling over Remus' lips and Fuck! Remus forgot how to breath!

Adding to his crisis, Sirius brought up his hand to Remus' chin, raising Remus' head slightly so that they were at eye level.  

"They're like a shade of golden or amber, but also have green freckles," Sirius said "Also, they look like different shades in different lights."

Remus' eyes widened. When had Sirius noticed his eyes? And he was really close, so close that Remus couldn't even think straight. ('Well, he couldn't ever think straight around Sirius,' his mind supplied not so helpfully)

"Huh?" 'Wow, very coherent, Remus,' he scolded himself internally. His mind released another string of curse words as Sirius' gaze flickered down Remus' face, resting on his lips.

Remus could feel the control on his desire wavering. He would only have to lean a bit closer to press his lips to Sirius' and–  

Suddenly, the door flung open, making them jump. Remus rubbed the back of his neck nervously, heart beating wildly in his chest.

As James and Peter entered– talking enthusiastically about an idea for a prank– Remus stole a glance at Sirius. The other boy was looking down at the books, expressions thoughtful. "I gotta go," he said abruptly and left the dorm, leaving Remus sitting there, flustered and with an empty feeling in his chest.

Alpha Fight

Whoops I wrote a superhero fic. Thanks again to @rowanisnever you are a beta god

Also someone please get the reference in the title I’m begging you

~~~~~

Sirius didn’t know where to go.

He couldn’t go home. Not right now, when everyone would be celebrating the capture of the Stag, surely to be tortured as a part of their festivities. He just couldn’t watch that. He couldn’t enjoy it like the others, only look away in horror.

There were days when he was proud to wear the name Alpha Star. Some dark part of him rejoiced when he saw people clear a path for him in a crowd, scuttling out of the way, making sure he got everything he wanted. It was nice to be respected.

But most days, he knew. He knew the world didn’t respect him. It feared him. It saw his strength and what he had done, what he had threatened to do, and cowered in fear.

He had been raised to covet that fear. The most powerful man in the world is he who people are most afraid of, his mother had always said. Perhaps that was true. Perhaps being a great super villain meant causing terror. But if that was true, he didn’t want to be great. He didn’t even want to be a villain.

His entire life had been spent in the dark. He knew its name, knew its power, knew its taste. It didn’t suit him.

The Black family was born in the dark. They didn’t know anything else. His parents and cousins spent their entire lives hating and raging and destroying because they didn’t know how not to.

For so long, a part of him had hoped otherwise, no matter how stupid the thought had been, that his family even had the capability to love, the ability to maybe one day change. And maybe then he would no longer have to keep up this villainous ruse that was slowly destroying him, ripping what was left of his soul into pieces, forcing him to act against every moral he had ever had.

Only today did he realize how foolish he had been.

His family had never loved anyone, not even each other. They had made that clear.

Regulus was dead. They could have saved him. And they didn’t. They didn’t even bother.

Their mission had been capture the Stag. He and Alpha Wolf had been messing with their plans for weeks, and the Blacks had information on where he would be.

Sirius should have known it was a trap. He should have known the minute he realized how easy it was, but the thought didn’t occur to him until it was too late.

Regulus had fallen to his doom because it was either him or the Stag, and Bellatrix and Narcissa had chosen their enemy over their cousin. His family had done nothing but watch.

Regulus was dead. His little brother was dead.

He wanted to scream. He had screamed, actually, in an alleyway. A few civilians had looked at him strangely before realizing who he was and backing away.

Everything felt empty. Broken. Rain beat down on him, leaving crystalline droplets on his skin and suit, but he didn’t even notice. He just kept walking aimlessly, in the opposite direction of HQ. HQ was supposed to be his home, but he had never felt more unwelcome.

Reggie. His little brother. Gone.

He hadn’t cried, though he desperately wanted to. There was only grief. An aching emptiness in his chest weighing him down, because his little brother, the only family he had ever seen actually having any good inside him, was dead.

Regulus would never smile again. That rare, sweet smile that lit up Sirius’ life had been wiped from the face of the Earth. He would never again hear his brother laugh, or watch as he let out his ear-splitting roar that set the ground shaking, or hold his hand through the hell that was their home.

A tear slipped down his cheek.

Sirius stumbled into a puddle, water sloshing into his shoes. He shivered, startled from his thoughts. Shit, he really needed to get inside.

But where to go? He had no friends, no colleagues he trusted enough not to slit his throat, and no family to speak of that wasn’t busy torturing a superhero. There was no place for him.

He glanced at his surroundings. Hogwarts Lane, read the sign for the road up ahead. The name rang a bell. He searched his memory, repeating the words to himself and questioning where he had heard that name before.

His personal files, back at Grimmauld Place. That’s where. Unlike his cousins, Sirius kept tabs in his room in HQ on every hero he had fought. He had all of their personal information, from residency to search history to favorite uncle.

Alpha Wolf, or Remus Lupin, currently lived at 1971 Hogwarts Lane. Alpha Wolf, the hero he had fought with more than any other. That wasn’t a coincidence. In fact, it was quite purposeful. Sirius would specifically draw out Alpha Wolf for a fight, just so he could talk with someone interesting and still keep up appearances with his family. Combat with Alpha Wolf was more enjoyable than with anyone else he had encountered, though the Stag and the Doe were close seconds.

Alpha Wolf undoubtedly hated him. That he was sure of. Yet the next thing he knew his feet took him strolling down Hogwarts Lane in the direction of his enemy’s house.

~~~~~

Remus was panicking. Full-on, giant-ball-of-nerves, jumping-at-every-tiny-noise, questioning-all-of-his-life-decisions panicking.

The Celestials had captured the Stag. James, his best friend, his brother, was being held captive by two insane super villains and their friends—or family, it was rather unclear—and likely being tortured, possibly to death. His chest constricted. Breathing was an effort.

The Doe had called him not ten minutes ago hyperventilating. He didn’t blame her. How could he, when he was in the same state? Lily had hated James for years, had criticized his methods, and now when she had finally started to consider her feelings for him, he was ripped away from her.

He needed to rescue James, but he didn’t even know where to start. No one who knew would give Alpha Wolf the location, and even then he had no way to get past the security. Fuck. He was in such deep shit.

He rested his elbows on his desk, rubbing his forehead. How the hell was he going to work out this one?

A sound caught his ears. Footsteps. There was someone in his room behind him, trying to be quiet. Unfortunately for them, they had forgotten to account for Remus’ heightened senses.

He whipped around and slammed the invader against the wall, hand at their throat. His other hand flicked on the light switch.

Even without the eye mask, Remus recognized the man instantly.

“Alpha Star,” he growled. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here.”

Alpha Star coughed. Remus loosened his grip slightly, but he didn’t take his weight off him.

“I know.” His voice was solemn. “I heard about the Stag.”

“Oh, so you weren’t a part of the capture?” That was news to him. He had assumed Alpha Star would love to hurt someone important to Remus. “You just really enjoyed hearing about his defeat then?”

“Please, I’m not here to fight.”

Remus gave him a look, incredulous. “We’re nemeses. We don’t get timeouts.”

“Just this once?”

Remus narrowed his eyes. There were so many warning bells going off in his head, yet Alpha Star looked sincere.

“Remus, please.”

His heart stopped. No one except for Stag, Doe, and Rat knew who he was. “How do you know my name? How did you even find this place?”

Alpha Star smirked. Remus fought back the urge to slap him.

“I have a file.” He started speaking in monotone, reading like a robot. “Remus Lupin, son of Hope and Lyall Lupin. Alias: Alpha Wolf. Former address: 1960 Mischief Lane. Birthday: March 10th. Former romantic relationships…” He trailed off. “Need I go on?”

Remus swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. “Please don’t.”

Alpha Star’s grin widened. “Trust me, if I was here to kill you, you would already be dead.”

Remus wasn’t sure he was convinced, but he backed away nonetheless. He had defeated Alpha Star before, he could do it again.

None of this was making sense. A super villain was in his bedroom, and they were… chatting?

“Fine. You’re not here to kill me,” Remus conceded. He moved into a defensive stance. “We’re still arch nemeses. We fight. It’s what we do.”

Alpha Star sighed. “Okay, I understand that, but what if we… didn’t? What if we just… I don’t know… hugged instead?”

It was official. One of them had gone insane. Remus had yet to decide who it was.

“I. What.”

They were enemies. What the hell.

“Why do we have to fight? Neither of us want to!”

“What, so instead of fighting from now on we just cuddle?” This was absurd.

“Uh. Umm.”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re enemies. I should be trying to kill you right now.”

“But why?” There was an edge to his voice. “Why do we have to be enemies?”

“Because you tried to bomb the Golden Gate Bridge!”

“I see your point. But at the same time… you don’t know the full story.”

“You would have killed hundreds!”

Alpha Star’s eyes darted around, scrambling for words. “But… I didn’t.”

“Because I stopped you!” That day had been terrifying—working to disarm a bomb while also trying to capture him.

Alpha Star nodded. “And it was easy, wasn’t it?”

That… was actually true. The bomb had been surprisingly easy to disarm, and Alpha Star had barely put up a fight, though he still managed to get away. Come to think of it, it had been far too easy. “What are you saying?”

He spoke slowly, careful to choose his words. “I’m not saying anything. Only that you’re a master at foiling my plans.”

Remus thought it through. He had never once had a real problem defeating Alpha Star, even though he was objectively more powerful than any of the other Celestials. Had he actually been helping Remus the whole time?

He looked towards Alpha Star, the unspoken question in his eyes.

Alpha Star just smiled. A small, pained smile.

“Fine,” he sighed. “No fighting. Why did you come here?” That part still made no sense.

“I lost my brother today.” He paused, an emotion Remus couldn’t read scrawled across his face. “My family could have saved him.”

A small, sympathetic part of Remus’ heart broke for him. He knew what it was like to lose family. Friends. He knew how it broke a person, forced them to desperate measures.

Still. Alpha Star was his nemesis. He wasn’t so sure about this whole hugging concept. But perhaps, if what his enemy said was true, then he could be helpful…

“Fine. You get your hug. On two conditions.”

Alpha Star perked up almost imperceptibly.

“One. You tell me your name.”

His answer was instantaneous. “Sirius Black.”

Sirius. So that’s where the super villain name came from.

“And two. You lost your brother today.”

Remus looked into Sirius’ eyes to make sure he had his full attention. This would be no easy feat, and he needed to be sure Sirius was entirely with him.

“You’re going to help me get mine back.”

yessss!!!!! I loved editing this!!!! Superheroes + wolfstar + Eli’s writing?? Mmmmmmmmmwah perfection!!!!

“…Don’t you remember?” Remus’ eyebrows drew together and a flush spread across his cheeks. “Last May, I think. You took me out into the hallway, and…”

And this was it, Sirius thought. This was his chance to say no, I was drunk, I have no idea what you’re talking about, then laugh. 

(Even though he did remember. It was May third, there had been a quidditch game earlier in the day that he secured Gryffindor a place in the finals. Seven or eight of them had converged in the damp grass under the stars between the main building and the smaller wing for classrooms. James had firewhisky, Marlene had this dark green wine that tasted like rubbing alcohol and flowers, and none of them had the foresight to bring glasses so they had to pass the bottles around and drink straight from them. People partnered off and disappeared as the night past; when nobody was left but Remus, Sirius, Lily, and James, the latter had not very discreetly forced Remus and Sirius from the premises. Sirius had grabbed the top of Remus’ sweater and kissed him so hard his face hurt. Remus had used a surprising amount of enthusiasm and teeth to kiss back. He tasted like firewhisky, and the inside of his mouth burned Sirius’ throat, but his eyes were clear; Sirius had been a little bit giddy and blurry but in truth that was more a result of Remus’ tongue in his mouth than any alcohol. They had broken apart and went up to their room and talked like it hadn’t happened. Remus had held Sirius’ hand, though, when he grabbed it.)

But then–if he feigned confusion, if he acted like the good, pretty, straight boy he was supposed to be–at least it would be over, nothing would pass between them anymore, no what-if looks in the hallways or maybe-purposeful hands brushing against each other or semi-concerned questions from James if he’s gay. (Sirius hadn’t been gay for anyone, besides Remus. Did it still count? Who would he ask, anyway?)

And maybe, in a month or a year or two years, Sirius would stop thinking about it. It being Remus, it being that kiss, it being the overwhelming feeling that he was in love for the first time and couldn’t be stopped. It being brown eyes flecked with gold and something darker, being stupid curls that were even more reluctant to lie flat than James’, being white-silver scars and unabashed frowns used as not-sparingly as smiles. It being the shivers that ran down Sirius’ spine and up his neck just thinking about him, not in a sexual way, either, just thinking about smiles and side comments and shut up, Sirius written on a crumpled-up parchment thrown at Sirius’ chest in the middle of Charms. 

And maybe he would stop counting the smiles, the laughs, the (happy) tears he could cause for the boy who hadn’t had enough. (The happy tears were his proudest; he’d done it twice and would maybe never stop thinking about it, ever, kiss or no kiss.) (Remus was pretty even when he cried, even if he covered his face and refused to acknowledge it was happening even as tears pooled in his eyes.)

Maybe his heart would stop breaking when he thought about the bandages, the shaking hands, the nightmares, the sweaters that made him sometimes look shrunken and small. (He didn’t think it would. His heart had been breaking since second year.) (Had he fancied Remus in second year? He didn’t think so…)

But. “I remember it,” Sirius said, and he ignored the maybes, the not-so-blissful ignorance and forgetting that he was unlikely to ever get, anyway. He didn’t want to forget, even if he couldn’t have it, even if he would be in an almost agony forever.

“And?” The question floated in the air between them, even though neither of them had asked it. And? And do you want it again? And did it make you rethink everything you thought you had known about kissing, about other people, about boys who steal your breath who are also your best friends? 

“I remember it. I think about it all the fucking time, Moony.”

“Shit. Me too,” Remus said. 

“Really?”

“Of the four of us, who do you think is worst in bed?” 

Sirius presses the lid of his firewhisky to his lips, but doesn’t drink. At the sound of the question, he and James share a glance and grin.

“Peter,” they say in unison, laughing. 

“Hey, I do okay!” Peter objects. He takes a swig from his bottle and adds “but yeah, fair.” 

A moment of quiet settles over the four men as they lounge on the floor around  Jame’s living room, a couple take out boxes and empty firewhisky bottles littered around them. Remus loves nights like these, the ones where none of them have anywhere else to be. 

“Sirius,” he says after a minute passes, lips curling up. He lifts his gaze to the other men, who look somewhat baffled and amused. Sirius raises an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry mate, but I’m great in bed,” he says. 

“No way,” Remus says confidently, shaking his head. “Too pretty. The expectations are too high. I doubt you’re able to live up to them.” 

A snort comes from James while Peter seems to consider this. Sirius watches Remus carefully, calculating his expression. Remus takes a sip of his drink.

“Watch it, Moony. I might have to prove you wrong,” Sirius says. 

It takes everything for Remus not to choke on his drink as Sirius’ words reach his ears and shoot south. He plays it cool, lowering the bottle with only slightly shaky fingers and meeting Sirius’ curious face.

“Is that a promise?” He challenges. He watches alarm flash over Sirius’ face before he gets a hold of himself, running a hand through his hair in a way that makes Remus’ stomach flip.

“You gonna hold me to it?” He asks. Remus watches the way Sirius’ eyes travel down the length of his body as he says this and swallows. He’s about to answer when a third voice interrupts; its James.

“Peter and I would just like you both to know that we are still very much present in this room right now.” 

Remus and Sirius break their gaze immediately, Remus’ cheeks pinking at reminder of other company. The four men look at each other, then look away. 

my moon sets sooner than yours

meet sirius, a very famous singer, and his secret boyfriend no one but his friends know about, remus. it’s long distance but they make it work and get to spend their long breaks together.

Have a Drarry Muggle AU. I may decide to write more and make this a longer, multi chaptered fic - let me know!

Beach House

When Harry pulls up in the driveway, Draco is ready. He sprints towards the car, wrenching open the door and flinging himself inside, his bag awkwardly crammed up against his knees. “Go go go go,” he pants, jamming his feet into his shoes. “Drive!”

To his credit, Harry doesn’t question him, merely guns the engine and speeds off, Draco’s house fading into the distance. With a grunt, Draco shoves his bag underneath his seat, managing to get his feet up so he could tie his shoelaces. He knows he probably looks horrendous, like he’s just walked through a cyclone, but he really doesn’t care.

Beside him, Harry raises an eyebrow. “You’re in a hurry.”

Draco grunts. “Parents.”

“Oh.” Harry looks over, one hand finding Draco’s. “You good?”

“Yeah.” Draco shrugs. “Assholes as usual. The usual shit. ‘You can’t be an artist! Why don’t you try football?’ Blah blah blah blah.”

Harry frowns. “You sure you’re okay - “

“I’m fine.” Draco gives him a small smile. “It’s summer. They can’t stop me. Besides, I’ve been looking forwards to this for weeks.”

Harry looks like he’s about to press the point, but Draco hastily changes the subject. “Who are we picking up first? Pansy?”

“Nah.” Harry takes a sharp left, trees and houses wizzing by the windows. “Blaise. Cause Pansy takes forever to get ready. We’ll grab him, then pick her up on the way to the beach.” He pauses. “Actually, you should probably text her now. Tell her I’ll be over in ten.”

Draco nods, digging his phone out of his pocket. Picking u up. Be at ur house in 10.

K, came Pansy’s reply, and Draco grins. “No way she’ll be out in 10.”

“When is she ever?” Harry rolls his eyes. “I swear, how long does it take her to put on her fucking eyeshadow for God’s sakes?”

Draco laughs, leaning back in his chair. It was late afternoon, sunlight streaming through the windows, making everything seem golden. The air was warm, smelling like leaves and plants and growing things, the sky clear above him. It was the perfect day, and Draco feels himself itch for his sketch pad.

“What are you thinking about?”

Draco looks over, his brows raised. “Sorry?”

Harry laughs. “You have your ‘I’m thinking’ face on.”

“I do not have an ‘I’m thinking’ face - “

Harry nods. “Yep. Your eyes go all dreamy and glassy and you bite your lip like this - “

Draco flips him off, and Harry smirks. “Fine tosser. I’m thinking about how bloody hot your car is.”

Harry frowns. “Yeah, I can’t get the bloody roof to open for some reason.” He bangs the console with his fist. “Damn thing is stuck.”

“Your car is a piece of junk.” Draco pokes at the buttons, grimacing at the cracking noise they made as he pressed them. “I’m surprised it’s gotten you this far.”

“Asshole,” Harry says. “I happen to be the only one of us who can drive - “

“Gays can’t drive.” Draco gives him a wink. “And you’re bi, so don’t even.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but remains silent as they pull up at Blaise’s house. “Call him will you?”

Draco sighs, raising his phone. He dials Blaise, fiddling with the handle of the door as he did. “Oi - “

“Yes yes, I see the car. Calm your tits, Malfoy.”

“Screw off,” Draco says, hanging up. He shrugs. “Should be out soon.”

The door opens, Blaise strutting down the driveway. He was dressed perfectly as usual, and Draco sighs as he rolls down the window. “Hey Zabini. Going to a fashion show?”

“Fuck off,” Blaise mumbles. He throws himself in the backseat, kicking his legs up behind the chair. “Least I don’t look like I crawled out of the dumpster.”

“Hey!” Draco says. “That’s not nice to say Harry looks like he’s crawled out of the dumpster!”

Harry swats him, and he laughs. “We can’t all be models like you, Blaise.”

“True,” Blaise mutters as Harry pulls out of the driveway. “I’m one of a kind.”

Harry snorts. “Why, so humble today Blaise.”

“I’m always humble.” Blaise kicks Draco’s seat. “We getting Pansy?”

Draco nods. “I told her we were coming in 10.”

“No fucking way she’s going to be out in 10.” Blaise scoffs. “This is Pansy we’re talking about.”

“I texted her 30 minutes ago so…” Draco trails off. “Hopefully she’s out.”

“It’s so fucking hot in here.” Blaise bangs his head on the window. “Where’s the air con?”

Harry jabs at the controls again. “Useless thing is broken. I can’t roll the roof down.”

“Fuck.” Blaise kicks the back of Draco’s seat again. “It’s too hot.”

“That’s because I’m in the car,” mutters Draco, and Harry laughs.

They pull up at Pansy’s house after 10 minutes, Draco texting her again. We’re here.

Blaise snorts. Get ur fat ass out here pans.

10 minutes, she writes back, and Harry groans. “10 minutes. It’s always 10 minutes. Last time she said that - “

“Waiting in the car for 1 fucking hour.” Blaise scowls at his phone. “Can we leave without her?”

“I wish,” mutters Draco, and Harry sighs. “Okay. We give her 15 minutes.”

25 minutes later, Pansy breezed our, carrying a huge bag in her hands. “Hey guys,” she chirps, sliding into the car next to Blaise. “Ready for our 5 days of epic fun?”

Harry groans. “Don’t call it that.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Pansy snaps. “I was going to call it out 4-way orgy, but I decided not to.”

“Thank God,” Blaise mutters, and Pansy flips him off. She rolls her eyes. “Why is it so bloody hot in here?”

“Roof won’t roll down,” Harry says. “The button won’t press.”

Pansy leans over, jamming her finger into the controls. “That won’t work - “ Draco starts, then stops as she slams her fist against the dashboard. “Pans, you’ll break the fucking car…”

“Zip it Malfoy,” Pansy replies, slamming her hand against it again. With a self-satisfied smirk, she sits back down, raising her eyebrows as the roof slowly buzzed open. “Kiss my ass.”

“Already tried that. Turned me off girls permanently,” Blaise mutters. Pansy huffs. “My ass is extraordinary. There’s this one girl named Granger who I’ve been getting on with, and I swear she can suck me off - “

Harry bangs the steering wheel, the horn going off with a loud honk. “I actually know Hermione and I’d prefer if we don’t talk about her sucking you off Pans?”

Pansy winks, sticking her bottom lip out. “Fine. Be like that.”

Draco just sighs, placing his feet on the dashboard. The wind was fierce, now that the roof of the car was down, whipping his hair around his face. He glances over at Harry, his dark hair and green eyes, the lines of his jaw and his fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. The familiar itch takes over, charcoal and ink on paper, and Draco’s remainder of 1 year ago.

Sitting on the roof, hiding from his parents, sketchbooks filled with drawings of the boy with green eyes. Hundreds of them, sketches and paintings and watercolors, because even then Draco couldn’t stop himself.

He’s jolted out of his thoughts by Harry again. “Thinking about me?”

Draco turns away, hoping Harry couldn’t see his blush. “Thinking about art school, actually. Or applying for it.”

“Parents still won’t let you?” Blaise asks, and Draco lets out a bitter laugh. “As if they would ever let me. Manipulative bastards, both of them.”

“Assholes,” Harry mutters, and Draco shrugs. “Whatever. That’s not the issue.” He takes a deep breath, staring up at the sky, willing the tears not to flow, for his eyes to stay dry. “They want me gone. They say I’m hanging out with the wrong people, that they are corrupting me into thinking I want to be an artist. They want….” He falters. “They want to send me to some bloody school in Norway.”

He senses Harry stiffening in the seat next to his fingers going white on the steering wheel. He winces, looking down, anywhere but Harry’s face. Behind him, Pansy swears. “Shit. Fucking Norway?”

“Fucking Norway,” Draco replied, and Pansy swears again. “What the hell?”

“Bastards.” Blaise shakes his head. “What a load of goddamn bastards.”

“When?” Harry’s voice is quiet, and it makes Draco want to cry. He swallows, hard. “Start of next year. This is supposed to be my last summer.”

“Do you want to go to Norway?” Harry’s deadly serious, fingers white-knuckled on the wheel. His biting his lip, peeling away at the flesh with his teeth, blood starting to well at the cracks and Draco shakes his head. “No. God no, I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you guys.”

“I can kill them.” Pansy locks eyes with him. “I could kill them. You could come and live with me.”

Draco laughs, his eyes filling up with tears. He blinks them away rapidly, coughing to clear his throat. “Thanks for the offer, Pans. I… I don’t really want to talk about it any more.”

Blaise nods. “Yeah. We’ll enjoy these 5 days. Figure the rest out later.”

Harry gives a tiny nod, one hand reaching out to grasp Draco’s. “Right. Let’s enjoy the beach first.”

“The beach,” Pansy grumbles. “All this sand up your crevices.”

“Lovely, Pans,” Blaise mutters, and despite himself, Draco laughs.

They finally pull in to a small cottage, on a cliff overlooking the waves. Harry parks the car, climbs out. “We’re here!”

“Finally,” Pansy chirps. She stands, stretches her arms above her head, then winks. “Okay. I’ll unpack?”

“Nah.” Harry shakes his head. “I’ll bring everything in. You two make food or something.”

“Sounds fair,” Blaise says, grabbing the bag with all the groceries. He stalks up to the door, yelling over his shoulder, “Where are the goddamn keys?”

Draco finds them in Harry’s bag, tossing them to Blaise, who winks as he unlocks the door. He and Pansy skip inside, kicking it shut behind them.

Draco takes a deep breath. He can hear the waves, crashing over each other, rolling and tumbling and mixing into the sand. The wind pulls at his skin, soft tendrils on his face and he grimaces. “Harry - “

Harry just shakes his head, grabbing him and shoving him against the door of the car, presses his mouth to Draco’s.

They stay like that for ages, Draco’s hands on Harry’s waist, the edge of the handle digging into his hip. The sound of the ocean fills his head, deep and distant, his lips moving against Harry’s.

They’ve done this so many times that they knew each other perfectly, knew every line and fold, every movement before they started. Draco lets his head fall back, his mouth open, drowning in the emerald sea of Harry’s eyes.

When they pull apart, they are both panting, Draco licking his swollen lips. He raises an eyebrow at Harry. “What was that for?”

Harry looks down. “I - “

“You tell me what you’re thinking, and I’ll tell you what I’m thinking.” The words fall out of Draco’s mouth in a clumsy heap. He winces. “I mean. If you want to…”

Harry just sighs. “I’m thinking that I don’t want you to go. To Norway, I mean. I’m thinking that it’s far and cold and I’ll be so fucking lonely and I know you will too. I’m thinking that 10 months is a goddamn long time to be away from you, and that I don’t know how I’ll survive not being able to see your face. I’m thinking that I’ll miss you, from your smart ass comments to your drawings.” He runs his hands through his hair. “What about you?”

He wishes he could draw it, show what he meant on a piece of paper. Eyes and embraces and falling stars, chocolate and marshmallows, the fizz of soda on your tongue. Wind and hands and lips on your hair, a hundreds kisses to hide the bruises, all the trappings of a simple summer together. Ink, two boys together, so close their shadows merged into one, blood dripping from hands onto a concrete floor.

He looks up. “I wish I could draw it. What I’m thinking, I mean.”

“What are you thinking,” Harry asks. “What are you thinking?”

“I…” Draco trails off. He glances, over Harry’s shoulder, to the ocean and the sand and the cottage. When he looks back, his voice is firm. “I’m thinking that I love you.”

JOIN A CULT — give back — start mattering

Remus squints through the sun at the side of the dumpster as he brushes his hands off idly on the front if his apron, the recycling knocking together in a tumble of bottles and cans where Remus flung them. The sign is stark, white, scrawled in cursive and pasted on like a graffiti tag, and a web address at the bottom reads as ridiculous as anything: sugarbones.org.

Above him the sound of the cicadas whirring from the trees stretching up into the ink-blue sky wavers a bit when a breeze, hot and stiff like a bored sigh, shuffs through the branches and adds the skitter of leaves to the summer noise. Distantly, a bird cackles with the glitchy rattle of his song from atop a powerline. Summer sits thick over the day so far like a slathered layer of butter, and with the back of his wrist Remus pushes hair back from his forehead already beginning to pinprick with sweat.

Huh. Maybe he should join a cult.

Back in the diner kitchen, Remus glances up when Lily sweeps in to pin two more order tickets to his station. “I think I’m going to join a cult,” he calls out of the clatter of dishware.

“Blood cult or money cult?” Lily reties her ponytail with an artful twist of her wrists as though discussing the weather. Remus shrugs.

“I dunno, is there a difference?”

Lily pins her bangs back onto her forehead, looking pensive for a moment. “Probably? Let me know which one you pick though, I need a hobby. Are you coming to Mary’s thing tonight?”

Setting the side of his spatula to an impressive pile of scrambling eggs on his griddle, Remus makes a noncommittal sound. “I’ll try, but I might not make it.”

Lily scoffs and leans on the lower shelf of Remus’ plating station. She fixes him with a purposeful look through the gap in its tiers and leans in further when Remus flicks his eyes back down to the grill top. “Seriously, Remus? You never hang out anymore.”

“I have—other stuff going on!” He insists without looking back up, cracking another egg with a sizzle to match the one over-easy deviation from everyone’s incessant preference for scrambled on Lily’s fresh orders. This guy knows what’s good, Remus thinks idly at the back of his mind still sort of waking up.

“Like what?”

“Stuff.”

“‘Getting high and beating off all evening’ stuff?”

Remus ignores the way Lily’s accurate guess makes him blush and makes her burst with laughter. “Yeah, well, besides,” he says over Lily, “Mary isn’t my biggest fan.”

“She’s only that way because she’s trying to fuck you.” Lily rolls her eyes and shakes her head to herself, and Remus snorts.

“All the more reason not to go.”

“Lily, table 6!”

Lily looks over her shoulder before glancing back at Remus just as Remus plates part of the scrambled mass and a pile of corned beef and slides it onto the shelf between him and Lily. He dings the little serving bell for good measure, making Lily flinch and cuss at him with a little swat of her notepad. “Order up,” Remus supplies unnecessarily with a winsome grin.

“Fuck you,” Lily growls with a grin.

The rest of the morning shift at Hogsmeadow Diner goes as normal as it ever does, and by 12:00 noon Remus is pulling his rattly little car into the space outside his house. The grass out front is hurting for a clip but Remus is loathe to fix his lawnmower, so he shuffs through ankle-high grasses dotted with dandelions and seeding pods to get to his front porch. He gathers up the three empty beer bottles from last night, spent in the mute comfort of insobriety as he stared up at the stars and silently wished for a bit of a change in this dusty little life of his, before tromping in through the front door and shutting it behind him. The cool middle-dark of drawn shades is a welcome shift away from the day’s incessant boil—July in east Texas, fuck the entire concept broadly and with vigor—and Remus drops the bottles into the plastic recycle bin in his kitchen before plopping down onto his couch.

He lights up, as Lily had accidentally suggested, within ten minutes.

Once he feels his regular high hit, Remus casts out for his laptop before finding it wedged between the couch cushions where he’d left it the other day. He thumbs at the edge of one of the many peeling stickers artfully plastered to it, ATX BIKE BOYS, a relic of cycling and college and all the days behind him that didn’t feel like such a chore before life hit him like a fucking truck. Remus doesn’t dwell on it though—thankfully, for the past four years, pot has helped him coast past that bullshit instead of spiraling down into it.

Yeah. Maybe a cult would be a good idea. Start over with some new people, maybe even a higher purpose? Maybe it will be a sex cult. Remus hadn’t even thought about that type. That could be…exciting? He flips open the computer and deftly, immediately, ignoring the notification emails from his loan broker for yet another day, types that silly URL into the address bar: sugarbones.org.

The page loads slowly on his questionable network signal, but once it loads nontheless Remus makes a curious sound out loud as he scrolls through it. It’s not a cult, it’s a portfolio page for an artist. An artist, Remus finds on the ‘About’ page, who certainly looks the part of a sex cult.

The first thing Remus’ brain latches onto is Hair. Long, black hair, down just past the artist’s shoulders, ruffled and wavy and looking very soft. Remus idly runs his fingertips together on his left hand, imagining how soft it might be. The last guy he hooked up with, a closet case from Craigslist who used a stupid codename—something like Major, or Sergant, had a supremely unsatisfying crew cut. Remus has always had a thing for longer hair, and he isn’t surprised to find his interest beginning to prickle sharply under his skin as he stares at this person.

An angular tattoo is visible at the side of the artist’s neck, disappearing into the collar of a black v-neck shirt, and Remus tries not to imagine how nice one of those corded arms might feel hooked benignly over the height of his neck. He bites down on his lip and shifts his hips. Shit. He hasn’t even opened his Favorites folder, and he’s already halfway there on his own just from a photo of some stranger with a weird sense of humor to their advertising.

Well. Could be worse. It could have actually been a cult.

Remus’ uninhibited resolve is finally broken by spending just a second too long staring at the grey intensity of the artist’s eyes, and he scrolls down to read about whether or not this is a person or a god incarnate right as his palm finds its way to the front of his jeans.

Sirius Black is an illustrator, designer, and printmaker who grew up on the outskirts of the Mojave Desert. His work concentrates on nature and repurposing, as well as taking inspiration from his decaying urban surroundings.

For booking information and contact for inquiries, click >>HERE<<

Remus Lupin is irredeemably high, idly stroking himself through his pants, and clicking on the link to pop open his email browser without a second thought. Alright—maybe it would have been less of an issue if it had been a cult.

The email Remus drums up, one-handed, is ridiculous and yet strangely endearing at once:

Hello, Sirius,

My name is Remus Lupin and I found your website on the side of a dumpster expecting a cult. I’m only kind of disappointed it wasn’t real.

I’m curious if you’d like to meet in person and discuss the merits of starting a real cult? You can pick the type, I’m pretty in the dark about that stuff. Apparently we could make a ton of money if we play our cards right!

I’m going to be 100% honest, I’m really high right now and I get it if you delete this message immediately. I won’t take it personally.

Bye, sorry,

—Remus

He blinks a few times at his typing reticle and, finding it a satisfactory encapsulation of everything he’s feeling in the moment, hits ‘Send’ with a tidy little tap of his finger.

Two hours later, after sliding off his jeans to get down to brass tacks and after a few more hits, Remus almost forgets to glance at his inbox again. It isn’t until he stands up for a glass of water that he almost upends his laptop, and when catch it awkwardly clicks his window back to his email page Remus sees one new message that, for once, doesn’t seem to have anything to do with banking. He forgets to read the sender on the newest message and almost chokes on his tongue when he opens it up:

Howdy, Remus—

A cult, you say? Sounds like a plan. I could use the extra cash. Could be fun ;)

Would that by chance be the dumpster by Hogsmeadow Diner? If I’m remembering correctly I got shat on by a grackle when I was posting that one. Must be good luck.

Here, shoot me a text message at my number below. I try to keep this account clear for art chatter, and this new enterprise sounds promising.

—s

P.s. might want to keep your photo out of your email signature in the future, hot stuff, you never know what kind of pervs are lurking on 1234 Internet Street. xx

Remus stares, unblinking, for several long seconds at the reply. Holy shit. Nevermind the fact that he’s continually forgotten to change his email signature back from the stupid little foray into a woodworking business he tried starting three years ago, but Hot Artist replied to him.

“What the fuck,” Remus asks to his empty little house. The eaves respond by creaking very slightly, and another warbling burst of birdsong slips in through Remus’ windows. The heights of the season continue on around outside, and Remus stares at his computer screen while contemplating the merits of packing another bowl to shut up his very-suddenly racing and riotous thoughts.

It‘a about to be, he senses with a tug in his stomach, a very interesting latter half of summer indeed.

@chromat1cs  This is fabulous!  I need like 100k more by tomorrow alright?  

But I’m a Teacher!

This one is written for @ame-reflets-dans-l-eau, this isn’t exactly what you were talking about last night, but close?

Modern AU

•

•

•

•John Lupin falls into a coma after a car accident. 

•His company doesn’t know about it, the public doesn’t know about it. It’s all being kept under wraps. 

•The reason why is because the board of directors was close to overthrowing him before the accident. His family worries that if they find him indisposed that they would go through with it. 

•His estranged son, Remus, takes his spot as acting chair. 

•Remus J. Lupin, 33 years old. He’s youthful and handsome, he cleans up well, he’s smart as a whip. 

•He’s a teacher and doesn’t have a clue on what he’s doing.

•Enter Sirius Black, 34. 

• The attraction between the two is instant.

•Sirius was once the Scion to the Black family fortune before taking his family down from the inside. (They were all extremely crooked and were overall bad for the environment).

•Sirius is hired by Lily, Mr. Lupin’s personal assistant, to train him on how to act the part. 

•Sirius knows what he’s doing. He pretends to be Remus’ bodyguard in order to maintain closeness to keep Remus on top of everything.

•Running a multimillion dollar company is the hardest thing Remus has done in his life. 

•He’s good at the politics, but he hates it.

•As he, Sirius, and Lily bumble their way through this, they start to unravel a darker and more sinister part at play. 

•The car accident that almost killed John Lupin was in no way an accident. 

•Tom Riddle hired someone to kill Lupin off in order to takeover the company.

•Bellatrix Lestrange.

•It’s also revealed that Remus’ best friend, Peter, was hired in order to keep an eye on Remus should he ever attempt to contact his father again.

•At the same time, a lower level accountant named James Potter uncovers an embezzlement scheme that leaves the company nearly bankrupt. 

•Sirius and Remus develop a closer bond as they make their way through the fray and madness of it all. 

•Remus, Sirius, James and Lily attempt to keep everything running as smoothly as possible despite the fact that the funds are running out, and there’s potential of a hostile takeover, while at the same time hoping that John Lupin wakes up.

@whom-ping-willow do we get the ending!??????

@yumenouveau this is utter perfection!  I need more please, like 150k on my desk by tomorrow, alright??  

Remus & the Dog Boy

Fairytale AU

•

•

•

It was the storm that woke him. Large bouts of lightening dancing across the sky followed by deafening booms of thunder. Storms were always louder in the countryside.

Remus gasped and sat up, startled. His parents were in the city visiting his sickly great-grandmother for the season, which left him alone in their cottage. It wasn’t as if he could get into much trouble, being in the middle of nowhere. They grew their own produce and he had his books as company and his part-time job at the deli in town. Town was a half hour bike ride away.

His room was flashed with bright light and Remus rolled out of bed, rubbing his face. He was a serious boy, and at sixteen behaved more like an eighty-year-old man than a teenager. He had large brown eyes, his nose was a little long and his chin a little weak, his mouth was wide and full and was almost out of place until he smiled. His smile could rival the brightness of the sun. His hair was the color of toffee and curled around his ears and across his forehead. He was tall, and lanky. Awkward still with long limbs. But Remus was unapologetically himself.

He rubbed at his face and sighed. There was no use attempting to go back to sleep now. Throwing his long legs over the side of the bed, he stood and stretched. His alarm clock read 02:55. Perfect.

Remus yawned and moseyed over to his bedroom window, throwing the curtains to watch the rain hit the glass with a violent force that had him worried that the window itself might shatter. He vaguely wished his mom was there but shook the notion. He was sixteen, not a baby!

Still, thunder storms were scary.

A movement by the shed caught his eye and Remus squinted to get a better look.

It was the same black dog that had been following him all week, huddled pathetically in itself, attempting to stave off the water.

The dog had come out of nowhere. One day Remus suddenly had a bear of a mutt following him to work and school and back home. It was a friendly beast, and touch starved since it allowed all the towns children to pet it. Remus’ mother had laughed once she realized that the animal was nearly harmless (“but still be careful, you never know if it’ll turn and it’s quite large Rem, love.”).

His father had been feeding it and had even given the dog a flea bath and a collar.

And now the daft animal hadn’t even attempted to find shelter from the storm.

“I’m going to regret this,” Remus said to no one. His mother would be livid if she ever found out that he let a dog into their house.

He put his wellies on and a poncho before heading out of his room and towards the back door. The storm was getting worse. He grabbed a few towels from the mudroom to have ready. Surely if he allowed the dog to stay strictly in the mudroom then it’d be okay. At least until the rain was over.

“Dog!” Remus yelled as soon as he opened the back door. Although his voice was lost in the wind. He was already soaked through and he hadn’t even stepped outside. The animal seemed to have heard him, perking up. “Dog! Come here!”

Like a bullet, the dog was suddenly inside the mudroom, shaking off and wetting Remus even further.

“Ah!” Remus shrieked. “Stop! I have towels! Stop!”

He closed the door behind him forcefully and locked it. Although he wasn’t sure from what, his family’s home was the only one around for nearly five miles. Opting to keep the poncho on, Remus opened one of the towels and began to dry the dog. Its fur was cold, and Remus could imagine that it wasn’t comfortable.

“Why didn’t you go find shelter? It’s lucky that I woke up and saw you,” Remus muttered as he finally removed his poncho and wellies, and then felt silly about it. The dog didn’t know what he was saying, despite it having intelligent eyes.

Said eyes were watching Remus with interest. Bright blue almost gray, and its fur was a midnight black that was a little shaggy. It really was a bear of a dog, and when on its hind legs, it’s paws could rest comfortably on Remus’ shoulders, its head came up to just under his nose.

It licked its nose and then licked Remus’ cheek.

“Oi!” Remus wiped at his face, “none of that, I don’t need gratitude for doing something kind. You looked pathetic out there. Do you want some food? I think we have leftover chicken, that’s what Da feeds you, yeah?”

The dog, of course, remained silent.

Remus sighed. His parents had only been gone a week and he was already lonely.

After feeding the dog and lighting a low fire in the hearth to ensure that both dried quicker and stayed warm. Remus draped across the couch, facing the fire. The dog placed its head down on its paws and stared up at him until Remus couldn’t help but fall asleep.

-=-=-=-

He woke up to hot panting against his shoulder, and soft fur nuzzling his arm.

“Ugh,” Remus groaned, bringing a hand up to pet the dogs head. “I suppose we need a name for you. ‘Dog’ isn’t original.”

The nuzzling intensified. It was nice. Even with the smell of dog permeating the air.

The sun had barely risen, but the rain was still coming down, causing everything to appear murky. It wasn’t as intense as during the night, but it causes Remus to be lethargic.

“They say that when the sun is out during the rain, a witch is getting married. Do you believe that Grimm?” Remus asked, and then wrinkled his nose the same time the dog woofed slowly in disagreement. “Blackie? Bear? Midnight?”

They were all perfectly acceptable dog names, but each one earned a negative woof.

Remus yawned and sat up, forcing the dog to place its head on his lap. He pets between its ears lazily. It was Sunday, the deli was closed, and he had nowhere to be. And it was raining. “Something smarter for you, hm? You’re a smart dog. And your black as night, but your eyes are like stars.”

The dog’s ears perked up.

“Dog and stars. Dog star. Oh! Canis Minor? Canis Major? Canis? Sirius?”

The puff of smoke smelled of lavender and caused Remus to shriek. The dog that had been there, with its large head on his lap, was now a boy.

Shaggy black hair framed his beautiful face, large bright blue eyes that were almost gray, pale skin that seemed to glow. He had sharp cheekbones, and a square jaw. Aristocratic features fierce.

The boy stared at Remus with wide eyes and shirked away from him, standing on long legs and staring down at his hands in shock.

He was naked. Not a blemish on his lovely body. And Remus tried not to follow the trail of dark hair from the boy’s navel downwards.

“Who the fuck are you!?” Remus demanded, jumping to his feet and realizing that the boy was shorter than him by quite a few inches. He came up to Remus’ nose.

“You,” The boy’s voice was a croak. He coughed, shoulders hunching forward, and hands pressed against his chest. He then cleared his throat and stood up straight, hands resting by his sides and body bared. “Remus, you did it!”

His voice was deep, smooth as velvet and soothing.

Logically Remus knew that this boy was the dog. He knew that something that he couldn’t quite explain or understand just happened. But he couldn’t grasp it. “What are you?”

“I’m your familiar, Sirius.” The boy introduced, a tentative smile on his handsome face. “I’ve been cursed in the body of a dog for nearly two years. Only you were ever able to break it. You’re a witch, Remus.”

“What?”

Someone We Used to Know - Part 3

(This is a Marauders Era AU about what might have changed if Sirius was expelled after the Prank. Here’s Part 1 and Part 2)

Dumbledore comes down to the hospital wing to personally assure Remus that Snape has been sworn to silence and no one else will find out about Remus’s condition. Remus uses the opportunity to beg Dumbledore to reconsider Sirius’s expulsion. The headmaster looks genuinely pained as he shakes his head.

The rules, in this case, are clear.

Sirius endangered multiple lives for the sake of a prank.

Expulsion was the only possible punishment.

The next few days are bad.

Rumors spread like fiendfyre. Remus overhears a dozen different theories and stories about what really happened. They rang from the utterly absurd (Sirius found and opened the legendary Chamber of Secrets) to almost uncomfortably close to the truth (a prank gone very, very wrong).

It’s a wonder James isn’t expelled as well. He picks fights with anyone who so much as says Sirius’s name in the wrong tone.

He breaks Snape’s nose and his own hand after he hears the Slytherin crowing proudly about being involved in Sirius’s expulsion. Snape gives back as good as he gets though, and they both wind up with detention every weekend for the rest of the year. James also has a new curse scar across his ribs from something nasty and dark Snape used, but Madam Pomfrey didn’t set Snape’s nose quite right before she healed it, so now it’s large and crooked.

In contrast, Remus sinks into himself. He barely speaks, never sleeps, hardly eats, and falls behind on his schoolwork for the first time in his life.

If James is looking for someone to hurt to take away his pain, Remus is hurting himself to keep feeling that pain.

It’s Peter who saves them both.

Arguably, of all the relationships between the four of them, the bond between Peter and Sirius had probably been the weakest. Despite that, they had been brothers. Marauders. He’s distraught too, but he doesn’t want to see the friends he has left destroy themselves as well.

Peter turns everyone’s hair purple.

As far as pranks go, it’s nowhere near their best. It’s the sort of thing they would have done back in second year, third at the latest. However, Peter organizes the whole thing himself, brewing the potion, sneaking into the kitchens, spiking all the drinks (even the teachers’).

The detention he gets for it is all worth it when James and Remus both laugh for the first time since Sirius has been gone.

*

They try to write to Sirius. Of course they do.

The letters are a chaotic jumble of emotions and thoughts and pleas. Honestly, they’re probably completely incomprehensible.

Remus, James, and Peter send at least one letter a day, usually more.

Not one single owl ever returns with a reply though.

Then, at the end of the month, just a few days after James’s thoroughly morose birthday, Regulus Black tracks down the three of them in the library.

He upends a sack full of letters onto the table where James, Peter, and Remus are studying for their Astronomy O.W.L.

Recognizing his own handwriting, Remus picks one up. It’s addressed to Sirius, and it’s unopened. They all are.

“Stop sending letters,” Regulus snaps. “He’s not there.”

He turns on his heel to leave, but James catches him roughly by the arm.

“What do you mean he’s not there?” James demands. There’s a hysterical edge to his voice. “Where is Sirius if he’s not at home?”

Regulus looks away, and Remus realizes that, despite the stubborn set of his chin and his perfect posture, Regulus is trembling from head to foot. The envelope in Remus’s hands crinkles loudly as his fingers tighten on its edges.

“I don’t know,” Regulus says quietly. “My parents…they said he ran away the night after they took him home.”

“And you believe them?” James asks, incredulous.

Regulus refuses to meet any of their eyes.

“I don’t know,” he admits.