Deamus: For anon.

You’re really not going to let me in, are you?” Seamus asked, his voice coloured with amusement. He couldn’t help the smirk that curled up the corners of his mouth as he leaned his head back against the bathroom door. Dean had dashed inside the moment he’d caught even a small glimpse of him, and from all he could tell, he was resting all his weight against the wood on the other side to he could keep him out.

“Definitely not.” Dean replied, and he sounded so indignant that Seamus had to laugh. He could only imagine how much that infuriated him. “It’s bad luck.”

“As far as I remember, it’s only bad luck for the groom to see the bride. I don’t think either of us is a bride.” He pointed out, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice.

“It still counts.” Dean insisted, and then paused. “Wait. Are you sitting on the floor?”

“…I might be.”

“You’ll get your tux dirty. Get up.”

Seamus glanced down at himself where he was crouched on the floor. As far as he could tell, it was still only the soles of his shoes that touched the carpet of the registry office. He would still be clean and fine to go down the aisle in a few minutes, he was pretty sure.

He grinned just thinking about it. He was going to get to marry Dean. By the end of the night, he would be Mr. Finnigan-Thomas. He could smush cake into his husband’s face and try (probably fail) to carry him over the threshold of their honeymoon suite.

He really couldn’t wait. All he wanted was to see Dean- they hadn’t spent much time together in the lead up to their wedding, too busy with planning. He missed him.

“Please can I see you?” He asked, in his best puppy dog, pleading tone of voice. For a moment, he thought Dean might cave. Then,

“Forget it, Finnigan.”

Perciver: Percy catches Oliver with Marcus Flint, for anagnorisismagenta.

Percy leaned- more like collapsed, really- heavily against the wall, his eyes wide and his hand over his mouth. It only took a few moments for Oliver to stagger out of the Prefects bathroom, hastily doing his belt back up. His hoodie was still pushed up, and his hands moved to tug it down next.

“I know,” He said, his voice rushed and breathless. “I know, we shouldn’t have done that there, I’m sorry, please don’t…”

If he said anything more than that, Percy didn’t really hear it. Walking in on his crush seemingly about to have sex with Marcus Flint had been the last thing he’d expected to happen when Oliver was made Quidditch captain and got access to the same bathrooms Percy did.

It made a sick sort of sense, he supposed. All the tension that must have been created by not only being on rival Quidditch teams, but rival captains in rival houses had to come out somehow, and really, what better way than this?

A half-hysterical laugh bubbled past the hand clamped over Percy’s mouth, and Oliver stopped in his pleading speech to give him a worried look.

“I just,” He began, and his voice came out far higher and squeakier than he really would have preferred. “I really can’t believe that you’re dating him.” It was a rather abrupt, harsh way to end all his private little fantasies of gathering his courage and asking Oliver out, going on secret little dates to Hogsmeade and cuddling in the corners of the library, good luck kisses before games.

“We’re not.” Oliver insisted, perhaps a little too quickly. “We just- fuck, sometimes, I suppose.”

Percy flushed. He liked the sound of vulgar words on Oliver’s lips, even if it went against all his good-little-boy, Prefect instincts. Most things about his attraction to Oliver did.

At least, he reasoned, he knew Oliver did like boys now. And he really wasn’t dating Marcus.

“I won’t report you.” He promised, and smiled behind his hand as Oliver breathed a sigh of relief.

Fremione: First date, first kiss, and ice skating, for anon.

“You’re getting the hang of this.” Hermione said gently, smiling fondly at the redheaded boy in front of her. Fred was gripping her hands so tightly his knuckles were white as they skated in a slow circle. He’d already fallen over more than he should have, and each time, Hermione had to try not to laugh so she wouldn’t harm his ego.

“Not really.” He muttered.

It was their first date, and in the middle of January, Hogwarts was frozen over. The lake was covered by a sheet of ice several inches thick, even the giant squid hidden beneath it as they skated over it. Fred, as it turned out, was not good with the ice skates that Hermione had conjured for them.

“Would you like to get off the ice?” She asked after a moment, and Fred nodded, seeming to breathe a sigh of relief.


Again hiding her smile, Hermione led them away from the ice back into the snow that heavily caked the grass, vanishing the skates on her shoes with a flick of her wand. Pocketing it again, she tucked her hands under her armpits, shivering slightly.

“Are you cold?” Fred asked, tilting his head to the side slightly. After a pause, Hermione nodded, and he smiled faintly. “Come here.” He said, holding out his arms.

For a moment, Hermione considered hesitating. Then she simply stepped forwards into his arms, letting him hug her and warm her up. Compared to his younger brother, he wasn’t really a great deal taller than she was- they were almost eye to eye.

So it was natural and almost effortless when she kissed him, without even thinking about it. It just seemed the natural thing to do, with his lips so warm and inviting and close to hers, when she liked him so much.

He tasted like chocolate, she noticed, and she wondered what enchanted sweets he’d been testing out before they met for their date.

Drarry: Songfic to Come What May for anon.

There was a certain, blinding beauty in letting go. The both of them, unbeknownst to each each other, had spent so long grappling with their feelings, denying them, trying to pretend that things weren’t actually the way they were. Draco had his duty and his pride, and Harry had his morals and a deep, uncomfortable fear that before long the pale, blond boy was no longer going to be someone he could defend even to himself. With Voldemort’s return, there was so much to fear and worry about.

But things were better, now. Even if the future was uncertain and they couldn’t breathe a word about their relationship to everyone, things seemed perfect now that they had confessed their affections.

Harry cradled Draco’s face in his hands, pulling away from the kiss and just gazing into his eyes. He could have drowned, disappeared inside that kiss, but he wanted to look at him. He wanted to feel the way that his heart soared when he saw Draco, now that he had stopped trying to tell himself not to feel like that.

“I love you.” He said quietly, stroking his thumb over Draco’s high cheekbones. Draco responded with a smirk, but he turned his head to kiss Harry’s hand.

“I love you too.” He replied.

Harry wasn’t sure if it happened in that moment, or if that moment was simply when he became aware of it; but he knew, now, that he was trapped. He loved Draco with all of his being, from the bottom of his heart. No matter what the next few months would bring as storm clouds gathered over the wizarding world, he would go on loving Draco. Whatever he did, wherever it turned out his loyalties lay, Harry was under no illusions that he could ever stop.

He would love him until he died.

Wolfstar: Based on Banana Pancakes by Jack Johnson.

There was a storm brewing in the world, and a war on the horizon. Beyond the old lace curtains drawn across the windows, the glass was flecked with raindrops. The sky was grey with clouds, thunder rumbling somewhere far away.

Inside, that didn’t matter.

Inside was a tiny bedroom in an equally tiny flat, bed sheets with a sinfully low thread count messed up and thrown around, the pillows falling out of their crimson cases. It was the closed curtains and the closed door, creating an isolated little island that was all there own. It was the warmth from their bodies and the vague scent of sweat, overshadowed by the smell of baking and tea.

“I should get up.” Remus murmured, his voice slightly muffled where his face was half-hidden against Sirius’ bare chest. 

“No, you shouldn’t.” Sirius insisted, running his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair. There was a tray at his elbow, plates of mostly eaten pancakes balanced precariously beside a teapot and two mismatched cups. It was going to fall off at some point soon, but he couldn’t bring himself to care very much. He was determined to keep Remus exactly where he was- in bed, with him, away from work. They’d spent too much time apart lately.

“I have to go to work, Sirius.”

“Moony,” Sirius whined playfully, squeezing him tightly and kissing the top of his head. “Come on. I made you pancakes. One day off won’t hurt. Just stay with me.” He cupped Remus’ face in his hands, tilting his head up so he could meet his eyes; they were still tired, less sharp than usual to match the vague, sleepy smile on his face. It made his scars seem radically less severe. 

“I really shouldn’t.”

“You really should.” He protested. “You wake up too early every morning to go to work, I’m making you take a breather.”

“I’m still awake early.”

“That’s not the point.”

There was a storm brewing, but it couldn’t touch them in here.

Nuna: A pairing you don’t write a lot of, for anon.

Draco Malfoy may have robbed the Room of Requirement of any use it had ever had for  Dumbledore’s Army, but he could never completely take it away from those who knew about it.

The shape that the Room had taken for them was simple: simply painted cream walls, a simple pale carpet, a simple twin sized bed pushed into one corner. There were two of the, but they didn’t need anything bigger. With Neville curled up behind and around Luna’s small body, they neatly fit into the space intended only for one person. Her hands were balled up against his chest and her head tucked under his chin, and she simply lay there with his arms around her. One of his hands was on the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her blonde hair.

I need somewhere to be with her. I need somewhere to be with her. I need somewhere to be with her.

No one knew they were together, and it was Luna who didn’t want anyone to know. She had told Neville that in a quiet voice while they lay in that bed together; telling him that she wanted this to be theirs and theirs alone, something that no one could or would intrude on. She said she felt a lot better knowing that, for all the things she was teased about, the boy she had fallen in love with wouldn’t be one of them.

Neville had knelt on the floor in front of her bed and taken her hands in both of his, and kissed them. He kissed the back of her hands and each knuckle on her fingers, kissed their tips and the beds of her nails. He turned them over and kissed the china blue veins visible through her porcelain skin, and finally, he kissed her lips.

Jily: James being tortured.

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five)

St. Mungo’s did not have blinking lights or beeping machines like the Muggle hospitals Lily had been in. The constant click and whir of technology that was either life-saving or just there to keep the place heated was notable for its absence. But it was still a hospital.

Lily’s grandmother had died when she was nine. It had been a long and drawn-out kind of death, with bi-weekly visits to the hospital to see her, and when she finally passed away it had been almost a relief. The memories lingered long after though, fluorescent lights and the smell of bleach; the sense of melancholy that was almost tangible in a place where everyone was just waiting to die. She’d hated hospitals ever since.

There was only one visitor allowed into James’ room, and in any other situation Lily might have felt sorry for their friends being forced to wait outside while she sat at his bedside, gripping his hand so hard her knuckles were white. Her dislike of hospitals had stopped her from pursuing a career as a Healer, but she would not let it keep her from James’ side while he was unwell.

Even knowing now that he was going to live, looking at how pale and still he was in that bed made her feel ill. His eyes were moving, flickering beneath their closed lids, and Lily wanted so badly for them to flicker open so that she could talk to him. It was a horrible irony, that the only person who could make her feel better about James Potter’s condition was James Potter. She needed him with her- their baby needed him.

She’d thought he was going to die.

Lily brought James’ hand to her lips and kissed it, breathing in deeply and closing her eyes. 

“Please wake up soon.” She murmured.

Scorose: For anon.

“I still can’t believe you did this.” Rose said with a smile, taking a bite out of the chocolate-covered strawberry she held between her fingers. She was sprawled out across the crisp white bed sheets, enjoying how soft they were.

“Well, it’s your birthday. I thought you deserved something nice.” Scorpius said simply. He was sitting behind her, running his pale fingers through her red hair with a fond smile.

“It’s not my birthday yet.” She pointed out, licking juice off her lips as she gazed up at him.

“I know that, but you’ll be with your family when you actually do turn seventeen. We still needed to celebrate together.” He shrugged.

“And you thought that the best way would be to spend a night in a hotel? You just want to have sex, Scorpius Malfoy.” She nudged him playfully.

“Be that as it may,” Scorpius laughed, leaning over to kiss her forehead gently. “I also just wanted to treat you to something nice.” He shifted on the bed, sitting up again and reaching over to the bottle of champagne that rested on a silver tray on the nightstand, two sparkling clear glasses beside it. Muggle hotels were a lot classier than anything the Leaky Cauldron could ever have had to offer, apparently.

“Is that you saying that I can’t treat myself?” Rose challenged, confrontational as always when it remotely looked like her independence might be being questioned. Nevertheless, she took the champagne that her boyfriend poured out for her, and they clinked their glasses together and took a simultaneous sip.

“Of course not.” Scorpius replied finally, absently licking champagne from his lips where it had stuck. “I know your family have money, too, and I know you don’t need looking after. But I wanted to, just this once.”

Rose smiled thinly.

“I guess I can allow that.”

Pre-Wolfstar: Remus catching Sirius with Marlene for anon

His books clutched tightly to his chest, Remus made his way up the stairs to the dormitory. He had planned to stay late at the library, but in the end had lasted only an hour trying to study before he gave up. His mind was too busy with other things, whirling with black hair and cocky smiles and everything that was Sirius. When his infatuation was interfering with school, he knew it was going to far, but he couldn’t help it.

He balanced his books with one arm to open the dormitory door- and then immediately pulled it closed again, letting out a startled yelp he only hoped the wood would muffle.

He had known that his friends weren’t expecting him back until later. But he hadn’t known that would mean he was going to walk into the dormitory to find Sirius lying in bed on top of Marlene Mckinnon, the both of them barely closed with their limbs tangled and lips pressed hungrily together.

Remus leaned heavily against the door, exhaling shakily and casting his eyes skyward.

He knew why he was surprised- he had every right to be surprised. He’d known Marlene was interested in Sirius, but Sirius himself had never shown anything more than nonchalance and occasionally even vague distaste for his various female admirers- to the point where Remus had dared hope Sirius might like boys too. To suddenly walk in on that… it was definitely a shock.

But he didn’t know why it had felt like being punched suddenly in the gut. He still felt vaguely winded, like he couldn’t quite get his breath back. His mind was reeling, and if he’d been a less logical person he would have said his heart was hurting in his chest. He felt almost like he’d lost him, except Sirius had never been his to lose.

No matter what he’d hoped.

Madame Pomfrey: Thinking about similarities between Harry and Remus for anon

With nothing more to do for her latest charge but let him sleep of his injuries, Madame Pomfrey had little else to do but sit and think for a while, keeping one careful eye on the boy with messy black hair who lay in the bed.

She’d have thought that Harry Potter would have reminded her, if of anyone, of his father. True, they looked alike, but he made her think of somebody else too. 

There had been another boy like him, who had been in her care in the hospital wing so any times that he practically had his own bed by the time he was in the third year. She had developed a strange fondness for the both of them, trying to put them in the same bed each time just to make their stay a little more familiar and easy. A few weeks ago, she had realised with a start that she had been putting Harry in the same bed as the other boy, decades ago.

The difference was, she supposed, that Remus Lupin had never ended up in the hospital wing because of an idiotic thing he or someone around him had done, unlike Potter so frequently did. She’d felt a deep sympathy for Remus that she couldn’t quite muster for Harry, even knowing that he was a monster (but that was wrong to think, and she knew it). Remus hadn’t brought his injuries on himself and wasted her time, he had always been in need of her care just because the full moon ravaged his body beyond what he could repair himself.

But no matter their reasons for being there, and whether they had brought it on themselves or not, the fact remained that this was the second time she had a patient who’s second home seemed to be the hospital wing.

Perhaps Hogwarts was not as safe as they said.

(Pre) Tedtoire: Babysitting Lily, for anon.

“Aren’t you supposed to be good with babies?” Teddy asked, his tone coloured with amusement as he watched Victoire hold the squirming little girl at arm’s length. “You’ve got experience.”

“Am I?” She asked, glancing over at Teddy with one blonde eyebrow raised. Merlin, even her eyebrows were perfect. This girl was going to be the death of him. He was only just beginning to grow out of thinking all girls had cooties, and he already found her beautiful.

“Yeah.” He pointed out, tucking his knees up to his chest. “Dominique, and Louis.”

“I never babysat them.” Victoire protested. “I wasn’t old enough.” She didn’t feel old enough to be looking after Lily now, if she was honest; even if it was only for a few minutes while her grandmother went to the shops.

“You’re useless, especially for a girl.” Teddy shook his head despairingly. He immediately regretted it when Victoire leveled her gaze at him, her icy blue eyes as sharp as daggers. “I meant- I thought you were supposed to be good with kids? Give her here, you’re not holding her right.”

Gratefully, Victoire passed the baby over to Teddy, who cradled her in his arms and held her close against his chest. She watched with interest, peering at him through her blonde hair. She was only ten, but already the girls around her were starting to develop an interest in babies that she herself seemed to lack. They were icky, and she didn’t know what to do with them. Not the way Teddy apparently did.

“See?” He said, flashing her a gap-toothed smile. “Easy peasy.” He let one of his fingers hover over Lily’s face, and she giggled, waving her chubby fists.

“You’re incredible.” Victoire said, her eyes wide in awe- not only did Teddy know how to hold the baby, he could make her laugh too.

“I know.” Teddy beamed. His hair seemed to have gotten several shades more vibrant blue in the past few minutes, knowing that he’d impressed Victoire. As far as his young mind was concerned, he was well on his way to his first girlfriend.

(Wolfstar. I don’t care what, First kiss, proposal, smut, whatever, just please Wolfstar. For anon, as proof that you should never ever give me creative control unless you want horrible angst.)

Remus Lupin looked around at the girls in his year at Hogwarts, and thought them stupid. They seemed to spend their entire lives chasing after boys who cared so little about them- in much the same way that James did for Lily, really, but it seemed somehow more pitiful. He watched them give their hearts away only to have their beloveds break them into pieces on the ground- not from cruelty, but from simple apathy. They weren’t loved back, and they never would be; and it simply broke them.

Remus, privately, vowed to have a relationship that would only ever be like the one his parents had. A strong couple who adored one another equally, and could get through almost anything just through the sheer love they had for each other.

Then in fifth year, he fell in love with Sirius Black.

He knew Sirius loved him, but he also knew that love was purely platonic and would never be anything else at all. They talked all the time, and Remus would smile and listen and respond and love Sirius so deeply and wholly that he thought he would break in two from the sheer force of it.

He didn’t want to love Sirius. Things would be so much easier if Remus didn’t have to hide this infernal affection from everyone, if he could meet a nice boy to go out with. He’d tried to date other people, convinced himself he loved them, but he didn’t. It was Sirius, and Sirius alone. He could never love anyone else.

Remus loved Sirius like a dying thing in the dark, lying perfectly still in the midnight gloom and listening to his breath. He loved him hopelessly, endlessly, painfully, and saw no way out of it. He wrote love letters in spiralling handwriting and never found the courage to send them, simply tying them up with metres of string. He lied to himself every hour of the day. He insisted that he was fine with things how they were, that if he could not love Sirius as a lover he would love him as a friend, and that would be fine.

Love made a liar of him, and such was the power of his passion that he didn’t care at all.

Hinny: Going to a Muggle playpark, and James goes missing.

Albus and Lily had been so delighted by the mechanics of the seesaw that they hadn’t noticed James was missing for far too long, and they were both tearing themselves apart with guilt over it.

A small part of Ginny, as she and Harry frantically combed through the undergrowth with Albus and Lily at their sides, wanted to blame Harry. He was the one that had suggested taking them to a Muggle play park, as a small experience that he could match to his own childhood (although it was considerably more pleasant for their children than lonely visits with the Dursleys had been for him). But no, she knew when she thought about it sensibly that it wasn’t his fault at all. It was both of theirs, for being too distracted with the younger two; and it was, undeniably, James’ as well. He acted out a lot, it was just in his nature. If he’d seen a dog or an interesting bug, of course he’d have ran off to follow it.

“Mum!” Lily cried out suddenly, pointing to a section of thick trees. Ginny whirled around, her hand unconsciously tightening around her youngest son’s as she looked to where her daughter had pointed. Harry was already moving, running towards the small shape crouching near to the ground, poking at something with a stick. By the time Ginny caught up to him, he already had his arms around James and his face buried in his hair.

“Don’t you ever do that again.” Harry murmured, squeezing his eldest child tightly. “Merlin, James, we were so scared. Don’t wander off like that without saying anything.”

“Sorry, Dad.” James seemed… surprised, if anything. Even as the oldest, he still had that quality of childish innocence where he didn’t understand what he had done wrong. Ginny just shook her head, trying to regain her breath and flooded with relief that James really was alright.

Drastoria: Noticing things at a party, for anon.

Draco had come to the party determined not to notice anything about Astoria Greengrass. She was too- much, he felt. She made his knees weak and his stomach flutter, and he disliked how small and unimportant she made him feel. It had made him determined to ignore her, for as long as he lived, but so far it was not something he had had much success in that night. She was impossible to ignore.

He noticed the way that her dress caught the light as it shimmered, and he wondered what material it was. It looked like velvet, in a deep moss green colour. He noticed the way that the thin straps around her upper arms seemed rich against her creamy skin, the swell of her breasts that the sweetheart necklace failed to cover. He noticed how the fabric hugged her figure tightly at the waist before relaxing, outlining the smooth curves of her hips and then running down to pool at her feet.

He noticed the deft grip her fingers had on her glass of red wine; relaxed, a picture of elegance and decorum. He noticed the flush that the alcohol had left on her cheeks.

He noticed how vibrantly green her eyes were, a few shades lighter than her dress, and the smoky shadow that outlined them. He noticed the rich crimson colour her lips had been painted, a perfect pout. He noticed the blunt line of her black bangs, casting a shadow over her face that made him think of mysteries.

He noticed the bright white of her teeth as she smiled, the tinkling, bell-like sound of her laugh when it drifted to his ears like music across the room.

He noticed how she would brush off any suitors who came to her, her eyes glinting whenever she would occasionally glance over to where he leaned against a wall, isolated in a corner.

He noticed how his heart sped up when their eyes met, how his guts would twist and turn uncomfortably and his face would heat up.

Draco could only think of two words:

Oh, fuck.

Remadora: Sirius comforts Tonks after Remus dies, for anon.

Sirius found her curled up in one of the nooks and crannies always scattered around old houses like Grimmauld Place. She wasn’t crying, like he’d been expecting her to be, but it was clear that she had been- her eyes were red-rimmed and watery, her hair lank and mousy. Even her eyes had gone dull, a shade between brown and grey that was almost colourless. 

Sirius had been lost for words since they’d gotten the news, so he just squeezed himself in beside her, and put an arm around her shoulders. Tonks turned her head to hide her face against him with a muffled sob.

“I miss him.” She breathed.

“Me, too.” Sirius murmured, his hand methodically stroking up and down his cousin’s back. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, even now that days had passed- Remus alone, bleeding and dying all by himself in a skin that wasn’t even really his. Dying as something he hated, beyond all help and away from the people that loved him. 

He drew a deep, shuddering breath, and squeezed Tonks close. When she’d started crying for Remus, at first, he’d yelled at her. He’d shouted that Remus hadn’t even been hers to lose, he was his, his last remaining friend, who was she to believe she had any right to mourn him?

His head was clearer, now, clear enough for him to want to comfort her. She was younger than he was; she didn’t have as much experience with loss. And she’d loved Remus. He knew she had. It was just a shame that she’d never gotten the chance to tell him. He couldn’t imagine how that felt, grieving for all of the lost possibilities as well as for the person who had already existed.

Tears brimmed up in his eyes again, and Sirius hid his face in Tonks’ hair. He was lost without Remus, as much as she was, but he had to be there for her. There was nothing else left to do.

Wolfstar: Albus asking them how to come out, for Isa.

Albus shifted uncomfortably where he sat at the kitchen table, his hands curling and uncurling around the mug of tea that Remus had made for him when he arrived on their doorstep. Sirius sat across from him while his husband pottered around in Albus’ periphery, washing dishes.

“I never came out to my parents,” Sirius was saying, drumming his fingers absently on the tabletop. “They disowned me before I got a chance.” He leaned back in his chair, looking over his shoulder. “You did, right, Moony?”

“Only because they’d already figured it out. I was just confirming it.” He replied without looking up from the sink. Sirius turned his attention back to Albus, who still looked pale and awkward.

“Does that mean you can’t help me?” He asked. He was tired, more than he could say, of having to constantly hide who he was from his parents. Even if he was single, had never had a boyfriend in his life, he just wanted them to know who he was. It didn’t feel like he was being honest, hiding it as long as he had.

“No,” Sirius said, scratching absently at the scruffy stubble on his cheek. “Just that we can’t tell you exactly how we did it. I guess you’ve just got to find the right time and then- come out with it. Or make it interesting.” He smiled, his eyes glittering. “Jump out of the cupboard and throw glitter at them, or something.”

“Sirius.” Remus said, his voice edging on sharpness as he finally turned around to look at Albus sympathetically. “Please take it seriously.” He wiped his hands on a nearby dishtowel, his eyes soft. “Albus, you’ll be fine. Just tell them, I promise that neither of your parents will mind. They’re both good people.”

“And they’ve put up with us all these years.” Sirius pointed out, resting his hand over Remus’ when he placed it on his shoulder.

Albus nodded shakily, his gaze going to the tender touch of their hands and wondering if one day, he could have that. “I guess you’re right.”

Remadora: Tonks is seriously injured, for anon.

“She should be able to go to a proper hospital.” Remus muttered. His head was bowed, his eyes dark as gazed at the frail figure on the bed. In her comatose state, the bright violet had been leeched out of her hair, replaced by a mousy brown. He wondered if that would be her natural hair colour if she wasn’t what she was, if Metamorphmagi even had ‘natural’ hair colours since they could change them so easily. “Not holed up here in Grimmauld place.”

“The Healers would start asking questions, and it’d end up being a mess of trouble for the Order.” Sirius pointed out from where he was curled in an armchair in the corner. Remus’ chair had been pulled up close to the bed, and he sat straight up in it; at odds with Sirius’ more relaxed posture. There was, however, still a steely glint of concern in his grey-green eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with her that we can’t treat by ourselves, here.”

“I’m still worried.” Remus insisted, wringing his hands. His best friend sat up a little straighter in his chair. 

“More so than I am? Really? She's my cousin, Remus.”

A faint blush coloured Remus’ lined face, and he looked away from Sirius, his eyes settling again on Tonks.

“She is- she is a young girl who has been hurt, badly. Of course I’m worried. It would be inhuman not to be.” He knew he was lying through his teeth, but his feelings for Tonks were not something he wanted to talk to Sirius about. They were not something he wanted to talk to anybody about. 

“Mhm.” Sirius did not seem convinced, leaning back in the chair with his arms folded over his chest. “If you say so.”

Remus simply sighed, choosing to ignore the jibe and focus instead on Tonks. He had always disliked when novels described ill and dead girls as beautiful- it seemed dehumanizing. But he couldn’t deny how beautiful she was now, her face pale and pretty and restful despite the gash that marred her cheek. Her lips looked pursed, almost expectantly so.

He wanted to kiss her, but she was unconscious. It would have been an awful thing to do. So he simply sat, and waited for her to wake up.

Wolfstar: Midnight picnic by the lake, for anon.

“I don’t believe you.”

After knowing Sirius for as long as he had- and after being intimately familiar with him for a portion of that time- Remus didn’t think it was possible to be unaware of the fact that his boyfriend was possibly one of the greatest drama queens of all time. He was one for grand, sweeping gestures and ridiculously sappy lines, even if he couldn’t always get them out without laughing at himself.

So he wasn’t entirely sure why he was surprised by this. Having a crumpled note slipped into his hand when they passed in the corridors wasn’t a very unusual occurrence, and he didn’t know why he didn’t expect what he found when he responded to the written instructions to sneak out at midnight and come and find Sirius by the lake.

Sirius had spread a plaid blanket across the grass, a jar of bluebell fire planted in the middle so that there was actually some light around other than the shining stars and the silvery moon. At the edge of the blanket was a wicker picnic basket, which Sirius sat beside, his legs crossed, hair artfully mussed, holding a wineglass. Full of Butterbeer.

It was like something out of a romance novel, and not even a particularly good one. Despite himself, the corners of Remus’ lips trembled with the urge to smile. He walked over to sit down on the blanket opposite Sirius, folding his long legs underneath him.

“Come on, Moony,” Sirius grinned wolfishly, flashing teeth before he took a sip from the absurd wineglass. “You know you like it.” With his free hand, he gestured vaguely at the grounds, the night sky. “It’s the epitome of romance! The stars, the beautiful view, the moonlight on the lake… The dashing, heartrendingly handsome young lovers…”

“Please be quiet.” Remus laughed slightly, edging close enough to Sirius that he could press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. “I like it, Sirius. I do.”