remus rambles

Imagine Teddy Lupin’s teachers looking at the list of upcoming students and being like,

“Oh, Lupin! Remus was a good student, despite what he may have gotten into with his friends, his son should be no real trouble!”

Now imagine eleven-year-old Teddy jumping off of the stool after being Sorted and his hair turning his House colors and everyone simultaneously remembers who his mother was

Can you believe Lily Evans turns 57 today??? I hope her grandkids wake her up with warm muffins and hot chocolate and I hope James gives her a good morning kiss and tells her she’s beautiful and she laughs and smiles at his wrinkles and I hope Harry twirls her round the kitchen whilst the radio plays tunes from the 70s and I hope Sirius and Remus come over for tea and joke about time flying and the grandkids surprise her with a gigantic cake and she slaps Sirius’ hand away when he tries to take the first slice and they both laugh and then the whole tables laughing and everyone’s happy and smiling as it should be

Write me another story

Write me a world where Love is to Love, not blood and quarreling and bitterness

Write me a world where a Godfather is worth more than an aunt who neither cares nor loves

Write a world with justice

Write me a world where someone stopped to listen to Sirius Black.

Write us a world where Mad-eye stood up for Sirius’ chance to defend himself because “it doesn’t matter how it looks, dammit, vigilance goes both ways, you watch your back against the people you fight with but you watch their backs too” where Minerva trusted her gut “I don’t know, Albus, remember those boys…” where Dumbledore used his political clout and paid attention and made a difference

Write me a world where there was time in the rejoicing of the aftermath of Voldemort’s defeat to stop and, not recoiling in horror from betrayal and murder and a decimated corpse, locking it up and throwing away the key, to take it and examine it and think for a second before destroying another life

Write me a world where a young man, terrified and heartbroken and completely lost, is handed a new world and a tiny human life as he walks out of Ministry security

Write me a world where a one-year-old laughs for the first time in a week when he sees his godfather, who comes for dinner every thursday night and throws him highest in the air - even higher than daddy - where is daddy - begins to whimper then laughs again when Sirius picks him out of Minerva’s arms

Write me a Deep Magic written into a stronger, stranger, older bond than DNA, a Dumbledore who sits his old pupil down in his office (with Snape - eyes red and face haggard - and Minerva and Flitwick standing behind) and sits down between them on the desk this child who wraps one tiny chubby hand around one of each of their fingers and grips tight; A Dumbledore who explains as best he can to an exhausted starving 21-year-old “Sirius, Harry’s mother gave her life for son… you are his Godfather and the one they both loved the most, will you love Harry like they did, will you protect him? Because I believe -” And a Sirius Black who cannot shut up (Sirius Black never could shut up), who blurts “YES yes of course please Dumbledore let me look after him, he’s mine now, its my job - I’m sorry I should have - my fault, it’s my (Minerva steps forward and lifts a hand towards his shoulder - he cannot stop saying my fault since it happened) - and, when Harry starts to whine again at the distress in his voice - “dear Merlin he’s soaking why has no-one changed him yet, I’m sorry, lil’ man -” (and Minerva lets the hand fall).

Write me a new visitor at the Weasleys’ that night, because “really, Sirius, you can’t keep him there now the place is freezing and trust me dearie I’ve got seven already one more bottle won’t make a difference now go and have a shower and NO I won’t hear of it you are STAYING THE NIGHT now look Bill dear, yes, he’s Harry, you’re right, no, a bit younger than Ron, I think, that’s right Sirius dear isn’t it, he’s…” but Sirius has already gone for a shower and the hot water rushes down his back like pure relief that finally, finally, here’s something like normality and finally, finally, he lets himself cry for his best friends, for his brother, for one more orphan in the world.

Write me a broken man with red eyes and a child who is only happy because he doesn’t understand, but a boiled egg is the best thing either of them could have possibly seen on that night.

Write me a Remus who appears in the middle of the chaos which is egg-and-soldiers-night at the Weasleys’ with a bang that sends the children shrieking and grabs his friend and hugs him tight “damn you damnyoudamnyoutohell Black don’t you ever ever do that to me again where’s Harry” and they both break down again and Molly scolds him for swearing and makes them a cup of tea and Arthur chases the children up to bed and they all sit down in the living room and take stock of this new world and try to tell themselves that now the children will grow up safe, that this is what Prongs and Lily were fighting for.

Write me a Minerva who goes to the Potters’ - and a Hagrid who absolutely insists on ‘helping her’ - and extracts what she can from the rubble and grim-facedly leaved the rest with the wizards who’ve come to begin the clearout and they bring Harry’s cot and blanket (miraculously, somehow, only just a little singed) to the Weasleys’ that very night. Write me a Sirius Black who holds a cup of tea (he never somehow found it in himself to tell Molly he really doesn’t care for tea) tight between his hands and begins to realise slowly (and it will be a slow, slow realisation, but eventually he will get there) that he’s not alone. Write me a Sirius who is exhausted and lost and angry and scared and sad and a room a little too full up of friends and family, and write me hope.

Write me a Harry who smiles a big grin full of exactly three teeth at Kreacher and a Sirius who swallows hard and resolves that this joyful little person won’t grow up in a house full of hate like he did. Write me a master and house-elf who gradually gradually learn to tolerate each other, over many years and with many a bitten-back word.

Write me a Remus who comes over most nights and spends periods living with his friend and their boy, who helps, with Kreacher a bit (he knows what it’s like to be ignored and marginalized and shunned and if Kreacher knew what Remus really was who knows what he’d say, but there’s something between them nonetheless), with Harry more (here, Padfoot, let me read to him - oh Moony thank Merlin I swear one more time through ‘Percy and his bloody purple wand’ and I’ll” - “ok, shh, give him here, come on Harry-my-lad…” ) and with Sirius a lot. Write me friends who help each other heal, and get used to Muggles confusing them for a couple with a son, and the varied reactions and bizarre questions that entails, and when Remus’ mother finally quietly passes away, he moves in for real. Write me a Remus who insists that he cannot take his friend’s charity, and even with all James’ money in trust for Harry and for Sirius as his guardian and all the Black family fortune going to waste will not be convinced until Sirius reaches out and takes his friend’s hand in both of his and says Remus I need you here - and Remus scoffed because Sirius was always such a drama queen and it’s been long enough now that they can joke about this - but at the same time, it’s not quite a joke, and Remus doesn’t suggest leaving after that.

Write me every Sunday lunch at the Weasleys and Harry round to be babysat whenever Sirius has something to take care of or needs time to himself, and Molly trying to teach Sirius how to change a nappy and realising it’s completely unnecessary because who really thinks Lily Potter would have had Sirius hanging about in her house twice a week hyping up her boy and not making himself useful in the slightest, of course he’d have learnt how to change a nappy.

Write me a Minerva who comes by frequently and has Harry to tea at Hogwarts every so often when he gets a bit older, for James and Lily’s sake and to check that young Black isn’t raising too much of a ragamuffin - and for the most part, she and Molly and Remus between them manage a healthy level of manners in a fairly ordinary 6,8,11-year-old boy.

Write me a Harry and Ron who grow up together, an extra slim (but never skinny) dark-haired, pale (but never unhealthily so) brother to an unruly pack of seven, an overgrown garden to race toy brooms in, gnomes to be bitten by and a mother to scold all her children indiscriminately.

Write me a Sirius who comes to collect his godson in time to stay for tea and Molly who says “look there now Sirius!” and Sirius looks out and sees his boy - easy to spot out of among the five gingers fighting over a broom - break away from the group and jump and swing the old cleansweep under him before he hits the ground and zoom away around the treetops laughing “no hands Fred you gnome-end-sucker!” and Sirius feels something sharp clench in his heart because he looks so like James (and James is never ever going to do that stupid move ever again) so it’s grief, fresh as the first month, but also he is six, how can he already do that jump thing? so it’s also pride and, scariest of all he is six, that language - and he finds there are tears streaming down his cheeks and he can’t speak too well and Molly just sits him down and gives another of her interminable cups of tea (he doesn’t mind them so much now) and pats him on the shoulder, and he glances up and sees that there are tears in the corners of her eyes, too. But he drinks the tea and it passes and by the time the children come in complaining about something and clamouring for cake there’s no sign of anything amiss.

Write me a Harry who grows up with a godfather who makes mistakes, who cries and shakes some nights with flashbacks that overtake him, who never had good parents of his own and isn’t too sure what they look like exactly, but damned if he won’t do all that he can for his friend’s boy - and not even his friends’ boy, either, his boy, his Harry, because really, in the end, what is a godson but a son by another name, and what is blood but love? Write me a Harry who grew up with stories of his parents from anyone who would tell them, pictures around the house (Sirius wonders whether to black Peter out of them, but this house has had enough blacked-out faces, and that was the best part of his life, after all) and no real family, but plenty enough friends to be getting on with.

Write me parties at Christmas with the old Order and their children because if there’s one season Sirius will make an effort for its Christmas and Grimmuld Place is the best venue for things like this. Write me a house too big for just two lads, but more often than not it’s three, (eventually permanently three) and sometimes more, (Hagrid fills up a room himself, every so often in the holidays) and Sirius is never ever used to how much noise and life one 9-year-old boy can instill in the gloomiest of houses, and surely he never had this much energy? (On reflection, yes, he did, definitely, probably more).

Write me a Dumbledore who watches and waits and prays - very un-wizardly habit, that, but he always had his eccentricities - and hopes. He hopes he is right and he hopes against hope that it will never be necessary to test his theories and Voldemort will never return and he hopes that nothing will change. He hopes that he was right to make the choices he did. But when Harry arrives at Hogwarts at the age of 11, healthy and happy and loved, with someone to hug him goodbye at the station and a friend to sit with on the carriage already and a “yes!” fistpump when the hat shouts “GRYFFINDOR!” which - though he will never ever know it, who is to tell him? - is exactly the same gesture his father made when he received the same sorting twenty years ago - when he sits down with a little bit of overawed wonder in the green eyes, which is exactly how his mother looked, and waves to Hagrid, and turns to speak to the bushy-brown-haired girl next to him because she looks even more scared than he feels and Remus told him he should look for someone who looks like that and say hello, and starts to tell her what he plans to write home to his godfather about, and what will she write to her parents, he knows they’ll be so excited to hear about all of this I mean LOOK at it, look at Hogwarts, isn’t this GREAT? (and the very tense Muggle-born girl is relaxed enough to listen to someone else for the first time since Neville introduced himself on the train) - Dumbledore smiles. He won’t know how his choices pan out, and he won’t know what the future holds - but right now (and Minerva, watching the Sorting but with a smile to spare for her young Harry James, so grown up, agrees) it seems like the best that could have been.

I was gonna do it I was gonna try n be quiet on this but I just can’t so here goes:

apologising for killing Snape is entirely unnecessary, he got the death he deserved, he was a racist, double-crossing abusive asshole who was only redeemable because he happened to love Harry’s mum, but that fcker wouldn’t have changed at all if Neville had been chosen by voldy and it’s honestly painful for me that people don’t get that - you don’t apologise for killing abusers I don’t care what acts of kindness they did cos they decided they were in the mood that day. Snape was an asshole and what’s more, his life as a double agent wasn’t exactly conducive to long term survival and he fkn knew that.

But u know who deserved exactly 0% of the shit he endured in his life and then died for fkn nothing??

SIRIUS

BLACK

I swear to God I am gonna be saying this every day for the rest of my life, Sirius Black DID NOTHING BUT CARE FOR THE POTTERS AND ALL HE GOT FOR IT WAS PUNISHED.

Sirius lived in an abusive household. He ran away and was raised by James and his family. Okay yeah he was a bit of an ass at school, but not once did he ever call lilly a mudblood. Not ONCE.

Sirius was the kind of man who learns animagi so he can look after his best friend. Sirius is the kind of man that lends his motorcycle to Hagrid to get Harry to safety in the knowledge he has been framed for the selling out of two people he loved most in the world. Sirius was the kind of man who wasted away in azkaban for 13 years dwelling on revenge, but the first thing he does when he gets out is check on the well being of his godson despite being the most wanted man in the country and lives off rats and God knows what else while he watches over harry at hogwarts. Sirius was the kind of man who even when revenge was right there, he put harry and remus’ safety first.

Sirius was the sort of man who lived off scraps (half of which he gave to buckbeak) in a cave just so he could help support harry while he was in 4th year and again he is doing all this at the risk of being caught and killed for a crime he did not commit.

Sirius risked everything wherever he could for so many people. Voldemort is back and security is tenfold?? He still sees harry off at the train. He gives up Grimauld place as hq for the Order. He let’s Molly boss him around on what’s best for Harry even tho she is in his fkn house and talkin about his fkn Godson. Sirius was the only person who listened to Harry in ootf when Harry was feeling isolated and dealing with ptsd.

And what does he get for all of that?? Killed by his shit of a cousin and there isn’t even a body for harry to bury.

so jk don’t u dare come at me. Don’t anyone dare come at me and try and tell me that Snape actually loved Harry because he loved lilly and didn’t deserve to die and that you’re sorry!!! because Sirius proved time and time again that he loved harry SELFLESSLY and jk murdered him for it and I will never forgive or forget so all u Snape stans can stfu

snape’s fictional, i don’t hate on him. i hate on everyone who is like him and by defending him, you are defending everyone who is like him.

(this was originally a caption on my ig fanacc because so many people kept bringing it up and attacking me for attacking snape, but i think i’ll put it up in here.)

“why do you keep hating on snape? he doesn’t deserve this! stop being so cruel! etc etc!”

yeah well have you ever considered the fact that snape is a FICTIONAL character who will never, ever be affected by all the “hate” he receives and that i dislike calling calling ppl out on the smallest things but since he isn’t real it’s actually FINE?? because he’ll never see it? because he won’t be crying himself to sleep? because he’s FICTIONAL and dead, too, if fictional ain’t enough.

and have you ever considered that by hating on this fictional character, i’m actually hating on every teacher that took advantage of their authority and tried to wreck me down like snape constantly attempted to do so with harry and hermione and neville and doubtlessly many others too??

(i’m sixteen now and none of my current teachers are assholes like snape was but i still think of my older ones and what some of them have said and i still wonder if it was my fault and if i did deserve it and if they were right. it’s been years and i still think about what i was told when i was only ten to thirteen. and my teachers never threatened to kill my pets and did half of the things snape did in his classroom, so i can’t even imagine what hermione and neville obviously went through later on when they were alone and had nothing to do but think)

anyways. and have you ever considered that by hating on snape i’m actually hating on every single boy who’s prejudiced against a group of people but still liked one girl from this group but NOT apparently enough for him to stop being a racist motherfucker??

and that yeah he maybe “liked” her but he still hated her because no matter what you say about his patronus and him dying to save the world and all that bullshit, it doesn’t matter. he didn’t like her. if you like someone, you don’t join a group who wants to kill them. if you like someone, you don’t call them a slur. especially a slur during the time of a war that revolved around it.

if you like someone who died because of you and left nothing behind but a baby who knew nothing of the truth, then you don’t just bully the child.

i’m not hating on snape specifically; he’s fictional. i’m hating on every person who is like snape.

“i was bullied and my crush friendzoned me and befriended my bullies!”

1. don’t say the word friendzone in front of me it’s disgusting and it’s just a way to attack people (girls specifically) for their right to say n o.

and

2. are you saying that you can relate to snape because you were bullied and your friend joined your bullies? are you sure that’s all?

bc it ain’t enough.

if you were racist and ready to kill people you were racist agains, and if you were literally ABUSIVE against children while you were an adult and in a place of authority over them, and if you called your friend a slur which was the reason behind why they left your ass in the first place, and if you outed someone just to expose them to the world and get them fired then

congrats, you ARE like snape and congrats, you need to get the fuck out of my blog because i don’t have any respect for intentionally abusive assholes and racist motherfuckers :) x

one day, frustrated at sirius’s distracting roughhousing and lack of consideration, remus lupin turns in his seat and shouts, “i told you to be quiet because some of us have exams tomorrow! i’m dead serious about this, so if you could please take your rioting elsewhere i’d appreciate it!” 

to remus’s dismay, sirius merely snickers, “dead sirius, huh? poor moony, struggling to study for exams he’s already prepared for,” and proceeds to repeat “dead sirius” exaggeratedly to the gryffindor common room at large. after a little while sulking over his arithmancy, remus good-naturedly gives in to the inevitable as usual, joining in the common room fun.

from then on, remus’s frequent, often inadvertent use of “i’m dead serious!” becomes the butt of many of sirius’s jokes. remus learns to use the phrase sparingly, but it still pops out unawares from time to time as remus scolds sirius in an angry or emotional state. fond as he is of padfoot, remus tries to dissuade sirius from his constant puns, but the amusingly annoying habit sticks.

nearly twenty years later, remus lupin finds himself back in hogwarts, not for class but for battle, not for learning or teaching but for spells roared in anger and fear, wand slashing violently, nearly a blur. lights flash, almost blinding him, and as remus falls, wand clattering down the stone corridor, he remembers one day many years ago filled with warmth and laughter and wordplay. smiling ever so slightly, remus lupin murmurs for the last time, “i’m dead, sirius”–and thus professor lupin’s last words are a shared joke, a fond memory, and an ironic twist of fate.

The Marauders actually kill me because, in the end, they were just four friends who wanted to be heroes and the world utterly tore them to pieces.

Like the majority of the fandom portrays them either as perfect gods or evil assholes, but why can’t we just accept that they were people, people with good points and bad, people who were flawed but tried to do the right thing, people who could’ve lived happily ever after if a war hadn’t come and ripped them to shreds?

Their story is so tragic because they were so real, like James, stupid loyal trusting James, is dead at the age of twenty-one because he trusts too much. Because even though he’s grown up in, and fought in, a war, a war that involves his schoolmates trying to kill him and even though he knows for a fact that someone close to him has been reporting on his movements, he still can’t even conceive that the people he loves would ever turn on him and it winds up getting his family killed. Fiction loves to tell us that trust and love and loyalty will save us and instead they were the one thing that completely undid James Potter.

Keep reading

As much as I’d like to believe that Remus and Sirius could come out while at Hogwarts, I don’t think it’s realistic for the time. Their relationship would be secret one. The subtle hand touches in the hall, the little glances in class, all of that was kept to a minimum so no one would know.

For Remus telling the Mauraders he was a werewolf was hard enough, but telling them he was bi? That was out of the question. Sirius had spent his entire life in a house of people who wouldn’t accept him for his personality. Imagine if they caught wind he was gay? He would be dead for sure.

Remus and Sirius never did tell anyone they loved each other. Their relationship was dates to Hogsmeade that didn’t really look like dates, just friends getting a butterbeer. Their relationship was homework in the library together just so they could kiss without James or Peter around. Their relationship was supposed to be eternal, but when does life ever listen to your wishes?

When the first war was over both men had changed. So much had happened that they were certain that even their relationship was nothing more than two boys with sexual frustration. The news that Sirius had betrayed the mauraders had killed Remus. He went emotionally numb because the man who killed James, Lily and Peter couldn’t be the same man who had kissed his scars at the end of the day or whispered sweet nothings into his ear when no one was looking. No, he supposed that man had died with the rest of his friends.

The months following Sirius’s escape from Azkaban were like a blur for Remus. He was much too preoccupied to think about Sirius. But Sirius? Oh he had time. He sat alone in the cave and on each full moon he would look at the sky and convince himself that the Remus Lupin he loved in secret all those years ago wasn’t a dream.

The Order of Pheonix’s revival meant one thing to Sirius. He had a lot of the one thing he had learned to dread. Free time. He never expected to confront Remus, but life doesn’t follow anyone’s plans. At the end of the day we are all human and we act purely on emotions sometimes.

Number twelve Grimmauld Place was empty except for the two older men. What started with a casual conversation about their past, soon escalated into Sirius yelling at Remus. He was upset, he was hurt, but most of all, he was lonely. Sirius finally cracked and broke down into tears, something he had never done before anyone. Remus held his tear stained face in his scarred hands and kissed away the tears. Each flutter of a kiss partnered with an apology moved closer to Sirius’s lips and when they finally kissed, when their lips finally met after all those years, they both felt young again.

A night of passion was all they were granted. Life wasn’t as simple as it was when they were still students. The repercussions of coming out would be much more deadly than those of when they were young. Or so they had convinced themselves.

They stayed as friends despite the fact that there was always that unspoken thing between them. But they weren’t children anymore this was for the best! Right?

When Sirius fell backwards in to the veil he saw his life flash before his eyes. He saw a young Moony tearful and scared in his embrace followed by an older Lupin who kissed Sirius in the living room of Grimmauld place only months before.

Lupin felt his whole world shatter as he watched Sirius fall. He held back Harry Potter because truthfully, it was the only thing holding him back too.

He learned to love another. He genuinely did love them and they taught him how to feel again. He almost told her about his first love and all the secrets of their relationship, but stopped himself. His love for Sirius was something special and tragic. He didn’t want to burden his wife with such a tale.

He thought of Sirius, his wife and his child in his last waking moments. He was greeted by Sirius when he entered the veil and he saw the same 16 year old boy he fell in love with.

So Sirius and Remus never do come out. Their relationship quite literally goes with them to the grave. They were born too early but just in time for each other. Behind that veil they had nothing to fear, so hand in hand, Sirius took them too their friends. For you see, they had quite a bit to catch up on.

Sirius Black
- Who smells like earth and cigarettes
- With an occasional scent of dog
- Who doesn’t own a single piece of clothing that is not ripped
- Who’s hair is always a mess
- Who lives in an old pair of Dr Martens
- Who despite Mrs Potter offering to get him new ones refuses to get rid of them because “they may be falling apart but it just adds personality”
- Who loves his motorbike
- Who can’t go a day without a cigarette
- But never seems to get caught having a quick one behind the quidditch stands
Sirius Black
- Who despite all his attempts cannot get that old dusty scent of the place he refuses to call home off of him
- Who used to scrub his skin raw trying to get rid of it and the bad memories it reminded him of
- Who cannot afford new clothes to replace the destroyed ones but it’s fine because “I’m a punk, Moony!”
- Who’s messy hair used to get him scolded as he was “not representing the black family name”
- Who received his docs from a person his very family are supposed to hate
- Who refuses to get rid of them for this special reason (but he would never tell anyone)
- Who’s smoking helps him think
- But also helps him clear of his head of his troubles
- Who’s name represents fear, death, grief and sadness
Sirius Black
- Who knows that that place is not anything to do with him anymore
- Who made himself an animagus to support one of his best friends
- Who refuses to discriminate against other people
- Because he knows what it can be like to be hurt and alone
- Who embraces his mess of hair as a sign of rebellion in his household and is now his proudest feature
Sirius Black
- Who has little dimples when he smiles
- Who eyes light up when talking about music and art
- Who has been taken in by one of his best friends families
- Who is loved and cared for by that family
- Who’s very cold but his hugs are warm and leave you with that same earthy scent
- Who’s lips taste like nicotine
- And kisses that burn like whisky
Sirius Black
- Who may still have his family name but no longer associates it with negativity
- The name Black represents strength and rebellion

Sirius Black.

James Potter buying Remus a packer and binder

James Potter going with Sirius to buy more fem clothes

James Potter learning to do hair really well from years of doing Sirius’ hair 

James Potter sitting with Remus for hours as he cries his eyes out from dysphoria 

James Potter always having chocolate on him just in case 

James Potter always knowing Sirius’ pronouns 

James Potter just being pure and lovely 

March 10th

When Remus Lupin was a child, he loved birthdays. He adored the presents, the parties, and the love, cheer and goodwill that abounded on such precious days. They were rare golden moments snatched from the greedy tendrils of time, and he treasured birthdays every time they rolled around, whether it was his or another’s special day. 

After Remus Lupin was bitten, every birthday was terrifying. It marked one more year of suffering, of full moons and howling and pain, signaling the passing toll of time with stinging finality. He cringed at the thought that another year of anguish lay ahead, of watching his ailing mother act cheerful for his sake, of seeing his father cradle his head in his hands when he thought Remus couldn’t see his sorrow, of the horrifying and unpredictable transformations that lay ahead. Perhaps this year was the year everything would go wrong, and he would wander too far and be hurt, or even worse, hurt someone else. Survival was a dangerous game, and birthdays only ushered him into its next, more sadistic round. 

As Remus Lupin entered Hogwarts, he came prepared to be lonely and afraid. To his great astonishment and sheer delight, a trio of silly Gryffindor boys insisted on making a fuss about his birthday, conducting the whole house in the happy birthday song at breakfast and showering him with presents and pranks alike. All day (and all night and all year, really) they made horrible puns and paraded him around from class to class to the bemusement of their professors and glee of the student body. Every year they repeated the ridiculous tradition, joined often by Lily and other fun loving friends, and though Remus rolled his eyes every time there was no mistaking the utter joy in his brilliant smiles. 

When Remus Lupin turned 22 years old, he watched, exhausted, as the clock chimed in the new day. Turning to the picture frames filled with madly grinning and waving figures that liberally adorned his otherwise shabby and empty flat, he smiled wistfully. That year, Remus had no cake or celebration or companions.

Happy 57th Birthday, Remus John Lupin. 

Quick headcannon (whilst on the train) home I might write one day:

There were thousands of rumours going around Hogwarts that accused Sirius of being a “man-whore”, and how he had slept with nearly every girl and boy in the castle. It was a renown fact that he just couldn’t keep it in his pants! There were even rumours of a few pregnancy scares!!

The truth was that Sirius had never actually slept with any of the people that had said they had.

In fact, he never slept with anyone at all - he hadn’t even kissed anyone!

Only James knew that, though, and swore to keep it secret. The only reason Sirius never rebuked the claims was because that was how a Pureblooded heir was “supposed” to act - take what they want, use it, then discarded it when you’re bored with it.

Remus, who had always had a crush on his friend, thought that Sirius would never look his way, or that he would always be comparing Remus to the other people he had been with if they ever *did* get together, so he decided to try and move on by having a few flings here and there. Around 10 of them in total.

During a game of The Marauders special truth or dare (with veritaserum) in their dorm room in seventh year, James and Peter got black out drunk leaving only Sirius and Remus, both happily tipsy, playing the game.

Sirius answered truth and Remus asked “how many people have you slept with?” immediately.

Sirius stuttered and tried not to answer, but because of the potion in his system he blurted out “none”. Remus was in shock and thought the potion hadn’t worked until Sirius heavily sighed and hid his face behind his hands.

He quickly spilled how they were all lies and how none of them had happened and how he had never even kissed anyone because no one wanted to be with him, they just wanted him because of his name and how none of them will even try to know him as Sirius, only as the Black Heir.

During his ramblings, Remus scooted over to him, pulled his hands away from his face and cupped his cheek, and pulled him in for a sweet, but deep, kiss.

Sirius was in shock and didn’t know what was happening. His best mate was kissing him! His Moony! The boy he’s had a crush on since third year! He was kissing him! This was his first kiss! Oh god, is this a pity kiss?

Remus pulled back with a bright smile and pushed their foreheads together, whispering how he had wanted to do that for years.

Sirius is flabagasted but elated at the same time, and practically tackled Remus to the ground to share their second, third, tenth, and fortieth kiss.

And all the while, James and Peter were obliviously snoring away in their drunken slumber.

Slight Background: So basically Remus and (”so and so”) dated back in their last year at Hogwarts until just after the First Wizarding War and after the death of James and Lily he was terribly grief-stricken and angry because of Sirius’ (Peters) betrayal. He started to push everyone away including (”so and so”) until she just left. She went to the muggle world and basically became a failing artist and junkie. Remus’ story line basically follows the set/canon one. Now fourteen years later Remus has come to speak with her.

(Note; obviously not entirely canon, and sorry if its not the most well written) 

______________________________________________________________

1981 was the last time I saw her.
Now here I was in muggle london standing across the road staring up at the flat she was said to be living in hesitant to go across and knock on her door, fearing another rejection. I crossed the road narrowly avoiding a taxi and came to the door, it was chipped and looked like the hinges wouldnt last much longer. There was a column of buzzers one for each flat with a scribbled name next to each although many had peeled off and the majority of buzzers appeared to be busted, I ran my finger down each one scanning the remaining list of names before reaching hers and I gulped before hesitantly pressing down on it. As I waited I looked around, the building was detoriating and there were patches of black from pollution but overall it could have been much worse and it gave me a sense of hope. There were movements on other side that I could see through the foggy glass on the door, the sound of an annoyed sigh and muttering of words as the door clicked and was opened.

“Hello?…”

There she was. 14 years later and here she was before me.

“Remus…” a shocked whisper

When she said my name all those schoolboy feelings came flooding back to me. That summer by the lake with friends, reading in silence in eachothers company in the privacy of a little tower nook. I felt nervous and my knees shook lightly suddenly I was awkward like my seventeen year old self had been all those years ago when our eyes had met over a neat row of hogwarts library books, when we had met at midnight at the same row during those sweet months sharing those moments which I could never speak about to anyone. She hadnt changed much, she had become skinnier much skinnier and her shoulder blades protruded oddly in the threadbare dressing gown haphazardly tied loosely around her waist and her cheeks were slightly more hollowed than they had been but she looked more or less the same. The eyes were still blue and alive exactly as I remembered, like oceans and like an explorer I always wondered what went on deep inside. 

I just nodded, I didnt know what to say to her. It had been seventeen years since we last saw one another. Fourteen years since she left me in our shared flat with no answers and a broken heart. I don’t think there was anything I could have said.

“C-come in” her voice was quiet and she moved out of the way, pulling the door open for me

“Thank you” I was also quiet as I put down my umbrella and stepped in
I followed her up the stairs to her flat, we didn’t say anything to each other. She entered and went straight to the corner where there was counters and cupboards to make up a little kitchen area. The place was quite empty; there was a small table and two chairs to the right of the kitchen area and then the living room which didn’t have a sofa and doubled as a bedroom with a mattress and messy bedding, she didn’t have a television or radio or anything just a record player which spun and filled the room with music from The Clash (an old favourite of mine which she had been the one to introduce me to). Various mugs, sketchbooks and reading books littered the room here and there reminiscent of her corner of the Ravenclaw dormitory she had stayed in during her Hogwarts years and later it would be the state of the flat we shared.

“Your cleanliness doesn’t seemed to have changed” I said

She awkwardly giggled “you think so”

She moved around the little space quietly as she made tea, there was an air of awkwardness between us but I would have been more surprised if there was not.

“Sit down” she emerged with two more mugs

I waited for her to take a seat in one of the chairs before I did, careful not to invade her space too quickly. She took a cigarette from the packet resting on the table and lit it up before pushing the pack in my direction as an offering to take one.
“I’ve managed to quit since we last saw each other”

She glanced up at me for a split second, for the first time since I came here because she knew what I meant. 

“Some of us aren’t so lucky with that” she took a drag and looked back down, crossing one leg over the over. 

There was a minutes pause before anything else was said
“How did you find me?” She questioned, folding her arms over her slip

“I asked around, contacted old friends”

“Why?”

“I wanted to see you” I fiddled with my thumbs around the mug in front of me

“It’s been fourteen years, Remus” she took another drag “What could you possibly want with me?”

“Answers.”

She froze before tapping some ash in to the ash tray and sighing “OK”

I had prepared a list of questions far before this meeting, from the night she left and as time passed more and more were produced and now in this moment I didn’t know where to start.

“Why did you leave?” I decided that would be the best

Another drag and a pause.
I waited.

“I didn’t know what else to do”

“Stayed.” My bitterness was apparent in my tone “I was already in pieces”

“I know” She sounded ashamed “You were deeply traumatised by what happened, you were angry and upset. You’d shout and cry and wake up in the middle of the night”

“Understandably I would!” I half-shouted, the bitterness being replaced with a mixture of sadness and anger

She squeaked slightly and looked up at me again “I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t handle it I couldn’t, it drained me” she sounded choked up “You didn’t seem to want my comfort, you pushed me away from you and I tried I really did but you just kept pushing me”

No reply.

“And then I just left.”

We had argued a lot more after what happened to James and Lily. I was angry at Sirius for not protecting them like he was supposed to, I was angry at him for giving away their whereabouts to Voldemort, for killing Peter (before it was revealed that it was Peter himself who faked everything). I was in a constant state of depression, grieving my losses and the anger and resentment that I had inside me but was not able to be directed at those whom it was supposed to be so it was let out upon her. Who tried desperately to calm me, to comfort me, to understand. But in return I caused her to run away.

“Are you only now realising?” she sniffed and took another drag, trying to disguise everything with a barrier of monotone as best as she could

“I had pondered it”

She nodded like she understood.

Another pause.

“Did you still love me?” I had to ask

She smiled slightly “Of course I did” a hint of stating-the-obvious was in her tone “I never stopped loving you.”

I watched her intently as she continued, the heat from the tea warming my hands

“You were everything to me, my first love” she looked down “My only love”

She was met with silence

“I suppose it means nothing to you now” She nodded at the ring on my finger
“No, that’s not true” They did mean something.

She was not entirely right, these words although they did not have the affect I imagined they did do something. I pictured that my heart would beat faster, that it would feel like the rain outside had stopped and been replaced with the sun, that maybe…possibly all my old feelings would return and get rid of the negative ones that I still harboured that I had forced to the back of my mind. But it was not that way.

The rain still hit the window violently and the sky was still dark with overcast. And in this bare flat we still sat with a warm mug and that air of awkwardness.

“I never stopped loving you, still haven’t stopped but its different now” I said

She nodded again

“We are not who we used to be, time has changed us both and with it our feelings”

Pause.

“She must be lucky” She smiled slightly and pushed her loose hair behind her ear

The smile was the first one I had seen in our time together that day, I never realised how much I missed it. It was a different smile to one I knew though, the one I knew was electric but this one was sad masked with happiness. When she pushed her hair back the sleeve on her dressing gown slid down revealing holes running down her arms on the trail of veins that could be seen through her pale skin. It was only then that I found that I could see in to those deep oceans of hers. through the seas of mystery that had left me speechless and thinking as a young boy, In this moment I could truly see her.

She was a broken woman.
And as much as I wanted it, she couldn’t be fixed.

“Did you ever see Robert again?”

“Hiliard?”

I nodded

“No, never again. Not since before the war ended” She took a sip and a drag

“I will be honest, before I heard and came here I thought I’d find you living with him”  

“Why is that?” She giggled

“Well I wasn’t the only boy completely smitten with you” I smiled

“Oh please, he was my friend”

“That may be true but he wanted to be more and he hated me, I don’t think he ever forgave me either, for ‘stealing his girl’” I chuckled

“He’s one of the people I never managed to forget, he was always such a sweetheart”

“I wonder what happened to him”

She shrugged

We were met with that silence again as we thought of all our old friends from school and the horrible fates some of them met. One that always came to mind after James and Lily was poor Marlene Mckinnon, the witty Scottish blonde who was one of Lily Evans’ best friends and subsequently became a best friend of ours. Peter was utterly devoted to her during our school years but never really managed to find the right words to express his feelings, they never really did get together in the end. She was murdered along with her entire family during the war, Peter was never the same after that. Then there was Dorcas Meadowes, Lily’s other best friend who was quieter than Marlene but twice as witty when she did say something, she met the same fate as the McKinnons.

I vaguely recall the previously mentioned summer by the lake; All of us with our arms draped over our girls, except Peter who didn’t quite have the courage, laughing and joking. James and Lily who had started to bond and finally realise the feelings they shared would stand by the edge of the lake playfully arguing with each other about who had the most knowledge of the magical creatures within not realising that we all noticed the hand holding and sneaked cheek kisses. Sirius and Marlene would have stripped out of their uniforms and been in the water up to their hips splashing and flirting with one another through jokes and would occasionally crawl out and sit on the rocks lining the bank where Sirius would pull her close laughing and she would giggle with a big smile and rest her head on his shoulder. Peter and Dorcas would sit cross-legged with a short distance between them, making casual conversation as they were friends but there was always that tension between them, they would distract themselves with the goings on of their other friends and neither would make the first move despite Dorcas’ not-so subtle hints and Peters awkward attempts at flirting. Then there would be me and her, who would have taken a spot on the grass under a tree not too far away from the river bank and the perfect distance between everyone. We would lie in a ’T’ shape with her resting her head on my stomach and me leaning against the tree trunk. I would hold a book in one hand and she would be holding my other, fiddling with my fingers lazily. Sometimes she would playfully push the book out of my hand and I would chuckle as she climbed on top of me smiling, the electric smile. That was my favourite summer, James and Lily finally stopped bickering, Dorcas and Peter were spending time together, Sirius and Marlene were so in love with each other and I, I was just so happy to be living in those moments. We were all young and in love with futures ahead of us before we grew up, before the war.
“Did you ever see Peter or Sirius again? I heard he went on the run after Azkaban” She fiddled with a lose thread

“Sirius is dead.” there was nothing more I could say

She glanced at me before quickly looking down at her tea “I-I’m sorry, I know that you were angry with him after what happen-”

“He was innocent.” She needed to know the truth

More silence before she continued “oh…once again I’m sorry…” She didn’t want to look at me “What happened?”

“He was protecting his God-son, Harry from the death eaters”

She nodded “He was a good man, despite what he’s been accused of”

I sipped my tea quietly and she smoked her cigarette slowly, breathing in the smoke and savouring its comfort. “I miss school, you know” she finally said, lighting another

“I do too” I sipped

“You don’t realise how easy things are then” she sighed “You take those years for granted”

“The war took its toll on all of us, hurt us all in some way”

“Some more than others”

I nodded “I think its time I left” I finished the last of the tea and stood

She stood also and took the mugs to the sink before joining me by the door “It’s been nice seeing you again Remus" 

"You too” I smiled halfheartedly 

She opened the door and held it for me. Before stepping out I turned back to her.

“Do you think if the war hadn’t happened, we would have ended up together in the end?” I asked

She looked at me, deep in the eyes. Her oceans dancing “Maybe”

I smiled, and so did she. That electric smile. The one I knew. 

I left, I didn’t need to ask anymore questions or hold that grudge. We were all affected by that war, by the losses and the suffering. We were broken people trying to move on from that bad place, I had my wife  now I didn’t need the memories that used to torment me, yes I still held her close in my heart but you never truly stop loving someone, not the way we loved.
And so I left that flat not with the image of a broken woman struggling to find stability in the world, but a hopeful one. Not with the images of those markings in her arms and nights of desperation to be held even by strangers. No
I left with the memory of that electric smile, the one that I knew.