Latest Posts by scatteredbeans - Page 6

dudesss, babesss, sweethearts!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i neeeeed a wolfstar fic based on Yuri!!! on ICE plllllzzzz!!!!!

i mean just look, LOOK AT THIS-

AND THIS -

AAAHHH!!!

one of my classmates called me pretty, and that made me really happy. :)

another art block means another wolfstar 

honestly, you guys will be the death of me!!!!!! <33

stars, scars, and winning scores ☆ 

"Marianne had the sense that her real life was happening somewhere very far away, happening without her, and she didn’t know if she would ever find out where it was and become part of it. She had that feeling in school often, but it wasn’t accompanied by any specific images of what the real life might look or feel like. All she knew was that when it started, she wouldn’t need to imagine it anymore."

NORMAL PEOPLE, Sally Rooney

shit dudes, I relate to this feeling more than I probably should -

i’m losing it

nothing makes me cry like the embankment tube station voiceover story !!! nothing !!!!!!!

oh my god!!!! this is the sweeeteest!!!! i wish you and your family a very happy life <33

“May I?” “You may.”

i couldnt get through this without dissolving into a mess of tears every two seconds!

@greyeyedmonster-18 YOU ARE THE BEST, I hv said it before but I'll say it every time you create this...THIS - gawd even the word masterpiece seems like an understatement!

Fault Lines pt. 6

Read Fault Lines parts 1-5 here (links to part 5 but the rest are there)

(final installment. thank you all for following along with the pain.)

In which Remus and Sirius are divorced and raising harry and trying their very best.

--

December 1995

Sirius and Harry sat on the roof of Grimmauld Place, heating charm encircling their bodies alongside blankets that were thrown over their shoulders. Harry had a knit hat pulled over his head for good measure, hot butterbeer between them, as they talked into the open air about the past school year and upcoming holidays and of course, Remus, who had left hours ago on a date.

“Is this considered spying?” Harry asked

“No, we just happen to be on the roof, and if Remus happens to come back while we’re out there then…I call it coincidence.”

“I think he might call us nosy berks.” Harry grinned around the top of his cup, before taking a sip, clearly not caring whether or not Remus found them to be intrusive. After years of Remus insisting he keep his flat, despite not using it for 9 months out of the year, Sirius had finally worked out a situation that met both their needs: a guest house. The backyard of Grimmauld Place was spacious--Sirius and his brother and his cousins had gotten lost in it as children when they strayed from the path-- and there was room for an entire tiny house to be built. Sirius hired a magical contractor, Remus demanded he pay for part of it, and the rest was history, Remus moving into the house the summer after Harry’s third year. They both still had their own spaces. They both still had their own boundaries. Remus still asked before he came into Number 12, especially if it was later in the night, and Sirius knocked before going into Remus’ guest house. But it worked. Even if their view from the roof could see the house in the distance, a lamp left on shining through the windows and breaking up the darkness of the ground.

“I never thought Remus would be the one who was going on all the dates,” Harry added.

“Do you mind it?”

“No,” Harry shook his head, and paused “Hey, Sirius?”

“Hey, Harry?”

“Do you think Remus will marry again?”

“I hope so.”

“Do you? Want to get married again?” Harry asked turning his head in Sirius’ direction, green eyes catching starlight. Sirius reached a hand forward, almost impulsively, stroking Harry’s face lightly. Fifteen was older than fourteen, James’ jawline as Sirius remembered it making an appearance in Harry’s face; eyebrows filling in, a smile that no longer seemed too big for his face.

“Can I be straight with you?” Sirius asked

“I don’t know, can you?” Harry returned smartly and Sirius choked on the sip of his butterbeer he had taken at precisely the wrong moment, peels of laughter wafting into the night sky decorated by starlight and winter clouds.

“Your Dad would’ve loved that joke,” Sirius said once he finally had control over his breath and was sure he wasn’t going to fall to his death off the roof.

“Was he funny?”

“I don’t think he meant to be,” Sirius said, “He…we joked around a lot together, he was always the person I felt I could be the most ridiculous with but…I don’t know if people would’ve described him as funny. Your Mum though? Hysterical. She was really quick on her feet…she’d have me laughing so hard sometimes at her responses.”

“Like you?”

“She was better,” Sirius told him.

“You can be straight with me.”

“I didn’t really want to get married in the first place, love.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“So…why did you?”

Because it was never 50/50 in a relationship. Because there was always someone who gave more, and someone who took more. Because there was always someone who worked hard to keep things running smoothly, and the other sailed along for the ride. Because after everything that happened, marrying Remus felt like the least Sirius could do to make everything feel normal again.

“Remus wanted to.” Sirius told him simply, “And I love Remus. Always will, and I’d do anything for him. If he woke up tomorrow and said he wanted to marry me again, I’d probably do it.”

“Really?”

“It’s what…you do.” It’s what I do.

“I know you’ve told me…why…did you two end, do you think? You know, now that you’re older and wiser.”

“We were kids when we fell in love, Harry,” Sirius told him after considering for a moment, his hand still on Harry’s face, thumb stroking cheekbone. “We were…two kids just trying to hate ourselves a little less and saw each other and didn’t want to let go. We were young and…then there was a war and we were terrified all the time. When your parents died it was like this…scary, massive space that was left behind. And…we held onto each other because who else did we have? We started because we wanted to hate ourselves a little less and ended up hating each other a little bit more.”

“But…now?”

“I love Remus, you know. We love each other, even if we’re not together. I loved him even when I hated him and he’d tell you the same thing, I hope.”

“Do you think you’ll ever…find love again?”

“I think, that the love I have to offer is best given to you. And Remus.”

“I don’t want you to be lonely once I move out…”

Sirius gasped, “You’re moving out? What? When?”

Harry cracked a smile, “I just mean…eventually.”

“You can stay forever.”

“Don’t…you want another love? Isn’t that what…makes the world spin and all that stupid stuff?”

“I had that once, Harry. With Remus. It was…passionate and wild and…sometimes I think about the time we had in our little flat after graduation and the early days here at Number 12 and they’re so…beautiful. I had that kind of great love once. Some people might get more than one shot, but I…don’t think that's me. I think I am just supposed to have you.”

“Seems…unfair that I get all of it.”

“Nah.” Sirius said, “Why are you wondering?”

Harry paused for a long time and then broke eye contact to look at his feet, stretched out in front of him, “I mean there's…a girl. And…I might have snogged her before the hols and I’ve just been thinking about it. Love? I know that makes me a tosser but…”

Sirius grinned widely, watching as his godson fidgeted nervously as he revealed the information, “Well first things, was it a good snog?”

“I…think so.” Harry said and looked up again, “I told her she could write me over hols and she didn’t say no…so I feel like that’s a good sign, right?”

“Very good.” Sirius nudged Harry with his shoulder, “Second…your parents had the greatest love on this Earth. Your Dad would talk about your mother like she opened the sky and love was this big thing that could move mountains. I think you inherited that.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Sirius nodded, and then picked up his wand, waving it in a pattern in front of them, light appearing in the shape of two trees twisted around each other, “See these trees? How they’re wrapped around each other?” Harry nodded, “They can grow like that for a little bit, using each other for support, but eventually the branches get knotted and they knock leaves off one another because they’re too close and they stop growing,” Sirius waved his wand again, the trees unraveling into two separate ones, extending taller and he watched as Harry’s face lit up at the magic. Still a child in the way the little things expanded his mind. “But separate? Look what they can do. Sometimes they need to do that to grow. And I think…all relationships are about finding someone you can grow with.”

“That…” Harry smiled a little, “makes a lot of sense.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now tell me, who is--” but the sound of the back door of Number 12 opening and closing cut Sirius off, Remus’ form walking onto the path towards the guest house, looking upward to spot the two of them on the roof. “Welcome back, Moons!” shouted Sirius.

“Room for one more up there?” asked Remus back, his wand up to his throat to magnify his voice magically

“Depends, can you make the climb? You might hurt yourself!” Harry responded and Sirius laughed. He and Harry used the trellis on the side of the house, the same way Sirius had snuck out as a teenager, not bothering with magic or brooms. Remus apparated though, appearing next to Harry and nudging him for the cheek.

“I’m as fit as I ever was, thank you,” Remus said absorbing into Sirius’ warming charm.

“You’re just in time,” Sirius told him, “Harry was going to tell me every last detail about this girl he snogged.”

“Oh, Ms. Chang, wasn’t it? It was the talk of the staff room before the break,” Remus grinned back and Harry’s eyes went wide. Sirius laughed, taking his sip from his butterbeer as Harry proceeded to follow up with Remus about what the teachers all knew and how they found out, thinking this was all he could ever want. Thinking that there were no people more deserving of everything Sirius had to offer than his best friend and his kid.

--

May 1996

“It….seems you get full custody now,” Minister Fudge said carefully, examining the paperwork in front of him.

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“No, it just…is, Mr. Lupin,” he said signing on the line on the bottom of the page, “You are granted custody and all his possessions…there's a list here of things he wanted you to have. He left quite a lot to Mr. Harry James Potter, but of course, he stipulated that you manage the money and the estate until…” Fudge laughed, though it was hollow and empty like the air in the room. Like the cavities of Remus’ chest. “He is of age and passes his NEWT in Arithmancy and can look at the Black Estate ledger without getting a tension headache.”

“Sounds…like Sirius…” Remus mumbled, clenching his fists to keep his hands from shaking. Not even 36 and Sirius had thought about a will. So like him to be well-kept and organized, a tragedy turned into a political affair once there were massive amounts of money to be allocated. Sirius knew that though. Sirius…prepared for every emergency.

If disaster struck, there was a chance Sirius has already thought about it ten times over and had come up with a plan to get them out of it in three different ways. Flood or hell-fire or duels or a second plague and Sirius had prepared for it.

Except he didn’t prepare Remus for what it would feel like when he was no longer there. He didn’t leave behind a set of instructions for Remus to follow that included what to do when their fifteen-year-old kept waking up in the middle of the night screaming and calling his name or recipes for the fudge he made every Christmas or even how to be the person in the room who made everyone feel like they belonged.

Because Remus had never felt more out of place in his life.

Every space felt emptier now.

--

June 1996

“Normal” for their house had shifted drastically. Morphing from high thread count sheets to a thread barren blanket that was too short for a bed. Some days, it covered them just fine; most days…it left them cold and shaking, and worst of all Harry never knew which one it was going to be. He slept on the couch of Remus’ guest house, not strong enough to walk the several feet into the back door of his home. Not certain he’d be able to look at the empty kitchen chairs without falling to his knees and crying until tears dried out.

Normal--Sirius and Remus; Remus and Sirius-- was no more.

It was just Remus now and Harry found himself wishing for the days he spent as a child living out of a suitcase. Because even if it was hard, and Harry hated when he forgot his favorite pair of jeans in his dress, it meant that there were two places he could count on. It meant that eventually, the clothes would run out and Harry would return home and Sirius would be there.

Smiling.

Waiting.

With clean sheets.

And his favorite pair of jeans.

And two tattooed arms that wrapped around him tightly and made sure everything was okay.

It wasn’t okay.

--

“I want to leave,” Harry said one evening, pretending to eat dinner across from Remus. Both their plates were still full despite sitting there for nearly a half-hour. “I don’t think I can be here.”

“Okay.”

“Where do we go?”

I’m not sure anywhere is going to feel like home again.

“We…can figure that out. Wherever you want. Whatever you want.”

“It hurts too much to be here.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“I…he worked so hard to make sure that…this big house was good. He let me paint on the walls and…there's still a scribble in the sitting room…I feel bad leaving it behind but I can’t breathe here.”

“Me neither.”

“I think we need to start breathing again.”

Somehow.

“It’s yours, you know.” Remus told him, “Whenever you’re ready…it’ll be waiting for you.”

--

May 2003

Harry was surprised the house still recognized him, Grimmauld Place appearing as he approached the front door, magic searing through his palm as he touched the knob.

It was quiet. So unlike what he remembered from the house who built him. He remembered music playing. He remembered the way it smelled--spices and sandalwood, sometimes fresh mint, Sirius telling him it was relaxing and Harry would roll his eyes. His shoes made the floorboards creak, the house moaning at someone else's presence.

Do you belong here?

Harry walked through, using cleaning charms along the way, thinking of how Sirius would’ve hated the cobwebs hanging on the stair railing banisters and the dust clinging to picture frames of his parents in the hallway. Neither Remus nor Harry had been back to Number 12 since the day they moved out of the guest house all those years ago. He had cried on the driveway for an hour before taking the welcome mat that said wipe your paws as the only reminder of Sirius, everything else too painful to even touch. Remus had waited for him in the car, the two of them finding a nicer flat in no time at all, almost taking the first option they saw because anything was better than a guest house on your dead godfather's property. It had been a long set of years, filled with trying his best to move on in a world that had much less laughter and light in it.

Everything had gone dark for a little.

And Harry did his best to learn from Remus and Sirius's mistakes and tried not to cling to the first person who felt familiar. He did his very best to grow and learn, now expecting his first child with Ginny, who had come along years after Harry had found the shore again, and they needed a home.

Height marks carved into the threshold in the kitchen.

The desk where Harry used to do his homework in the library, a book left open from Christmas of 1995. An unintentional time capsule.

Harry took a breath as he approached the door at the end of the hallway on the first floor, pushing it open, immediately hit with the overwhelming sensation of Sirius and his study.

It felt like he should’ve been there. Standing behind his desk, because Sirius never worked sitting down, always moving around, using the walls and the entire space to craft his ideas and write his essays. As if a mind so big and so brilliant needed an entire room to organize everything clearly. The walls were bright violet. Harry remembered painting it with him. Pale blue shag carpet. A picture of the two of them on Sirius’ desk.

Harry sat down in the leather chair behind his godfather's desk, closing his eyes. If he stayed there long enough, maybe Sirius would just…appear. Like he had been tucked away, just out of sight, for years and he’d come around the corner with his comforting smile and loud laugh and say did you miss me?

Yes.

More than you could possibly know.

He opened the top draw of Sirius’ desk slowly, hands gravitating towards a simple black journal. Sirius wrote in one because his Dad had written in one.

I started after your Dad died, and he might have been onto something.

Harry wrote in one as well.

It felt wrong, but Harry opened the journal to a random page, his godfather’s neat cursive handwriting across the top of the yellowing paper, and his heart stopped.

February 1996

Remus and I. We had our time. I keep telling myself that no matter how…real it feels now when we’re alone in the sitting room, our time has passed. Our love was another century ago and we can’t go back.

I wish I could.

He tells me I'm the brave one but...not this time around. I fucked it up once already.

I would ask to try again if I thought he wanted to.

Right person.

Wrong time.

as @theresthesnitch already said, the tears are definitely back!!

gosh i love this so much-

Fault Lines pt. 5

Read Fault Lines parts 1-4 here (links to part 4 but everything else is there)

In which Remus and Sirius are divorced and raising harry and doing their very best.

(this one is about 5k and pretty mild.)

(one more installment to go after this.)

--

September 1st, 1991

The scarlet steam engine slowly disappeared from Sirius’ view as the tightness in his chest grew. He knew this day was coming, and it was so much worse than he imagined it. He had driven to the platform with Harry, his newly eleven-year-old reminding him so much of James as his mouth ran a mile a minute with questions, excitement in every word. Remus was beside Sirius in the passenger seat, and Sirius watched as the other man reached behind to put his hand on Harry’s leg to keep him from bouncing too much. Not that the movement bothered either of them, but because it was far more likely Harry would hit his head on the roof of the car and that would delay the trip to Hogwarts. Something about Remus’ touch could tether both of them so easily.

I’m so proud of you whispered into messy black hair.

I’ll send a lot of letters, I promise, can I go now said back, even though pre-teen arms were still wrapped around Sirius’ waist.

We love you

And then Harry was gone with the train and Sirius was fighting back tears he hadn’t expected, locked like a statue on the platform for several dozen minutes.

“This…is the worst day of my life, I think.” Sirius finally spoke, turning his head towards Remus who was standing next to him, lightweight cardigan thrown over a t-shirt, and worn loafers.

Remus’ eyes met his own somberly. Maybe it was the worst day of his life too. But then the corners of his mouth turned up in a wry half-smile, “James and Lily dying.”

“I think this is slightly worse.”

“Remember when we got divorced?”

“Oh, this is definitely worse than that.”

“We…also got married,” Remus said lightly and Sirius finally managed a tiny laugh, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Most of the other parents had already left the platform, Remus and Sirius standing there feeling like the only two people left on earth. The last time Sirius had felt that way had been November 1st, 1981 when everything went from bad to worse and he held onto Remus even as he was being taken away to Azkaban, fingertips touching until they couldn’t anymore. The tension between them had leveled out. Broken glass on the floor of their relationship--what they were calling co-parenting-- cleared away and they both remembered to put on shoes now before walking to avoid getting cut.

Conversations drifted back into being pleasant.

They both dropped their wands.

They had lived through one war by the skin of their teeth, they didn’t cause another with no one else to blame but themselves. A truce that felt similar to forgiveness.

“Harry leaving is still worse but…that may get precedent over James and Lily,” Sirius said lightly.

“I was thinking the same thing. It was so fucking hot that day. I was actually sweating the entire time. Really that should’ve been the sign.”

“The pianist rushed too. I swear you were running down the aisle towards me.”

“Quick and painless. Like pulling off a bandage.”

Sirius laughed again, looking down at his feet to scuff the toe of his black boots on the ground. “Thanks.”

Dark humor to brighten a dark situation and to keep Sirius from slipping away into the darkness as well.

“I just didn’t want you crying in public, that’d be embarrassing.”

“I know.”

“You want to go?”

“Not really,” Sirius shrugged thinking of his haunted house in London. Harry was gone and the ghosts would surely come back. “…you wouldn’t want to go get absolutely plastered, would you? Black out and forget this day ever happened?”

He waited for Remus to tell him he had work tomorrow. Hell, Sirius had work tomorrow and an entire day of taking notes on the wizarding world's legal system. But managing a hangover and focusing all of his energy on staying awake tomorrow seemed better than going home to emptiness.

“Two conditions.”

“Hm?

“You’re buying and we leave the pub by 4.”

Sirius grinned slowly, “Easy enough, Moons.”

--

November 1992

It had been ages since Remus had truly seen Sirius lose every ounce of composure and unleash every swear word under the sun at someone else. Parenthood and time had made Sirius think before rushing into situations and opening his mouth when there needn't be a response. It had been even longer since he had heard Sirius use his last name as influence and pressure to get something done, thinking back to Sirius arguing with the ministry on his behalf to amend a custody agreement.

My fucking vault funds half this place. You’ll do what I’m asking, Fudge.

Remus often wondered if roles were reversed if he would have it in him to move as strong and sure as Sirius did in the world, or if Remus would still pause and hesitate.

Remus stood in the hospital wing, wincing slightly as he listened to the conversation Sirius was having with Dumbledore and McGonagall in the hallway, barely behind a closed door while keeping an eye on Harry in the hospital bed. Their pre-teen looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there with his good hand over his face, the other arm wrapped and in a sling.

“His best intentions? Bullocks! My godson’s arm was turned into jelly and you call that the best of intentions? This man is responsible for teaching children? I want him fired. Immediately.” Sirius shouted from the hallway.

“Mr. Black, I understand you’re upset with the result but we simply cannot suspend a--” Professor McGonagall started, their former Head of House trying to reign in the thunderstorm that was Sirius Black. She had once been an expert at it, the only professor in all of Hogwarts able to get Sirius to stop talking with a single look; the only one who had perhaps taken the time to see the wounded insides of the eldest Black boy. Remus distinctly remembered Sirius giving her a hug at graduation and McGonagall wiping away a tear at something he had said to her.

“Like hell, you can’t,” Sirius said, “I will call a Board meeting right now and he will be voted out so quickly you won’t even be able to say “lemon drop”! I don’t want to have to go over your head and do that. I’d rather we come to an understanding right now.”

“Make. Him. Stop.” Harry muttered, looking wide-eyed at Remus, “He never does this.”

“Oh, you’re mad if you think I’m getting involved,” Remus told Harry, “You want me to go into the fire?”

“At this rate, he’s going to get Dumbledore sacked too for hiring Lockhart in the first place!” Harry pleaded, “It’s just a…broken arm.”

“He did vanish your bones, Harry.”

“It’s fine. If Lockhart's fired, Snape or something is going to cover the class and then I’ll have two periods of that greasy-git--”

“Hey, he is a professor.”

“Yeah, and a greasy-git. Two things can be true.”

Remus bit back a snort and raised an eyebrow, “You’ve been talking with your godfather too much.”

“So you call him Severus?”

“Let’s not go that far, love…” Remus paused to listen again, as Harry's grimace returned at the unmistakable sound of Sirius slipping into French every other word. “They don’t know French, Remus! Please, go do something before everyone's sacked!”

“Okay, okay, you’re right.” Remus held up his hands in defeat before walking out of the hospital wing towards the direction of the argument. Sirius was in the hallway, clad in a burgundy sweatshirt, his hair pulled back with a glittering gold scrunchy and Remus couldn’t help but find it impressive that Sirius was scolding two very well-respected educators within an inch of their life in such ridiculous attire.

“I assure you, Sirius, we are not taking this incident lightly,” Dumbledore spoke in his calm voice that Remus knew drove Sirius up a wall.

“So you have a three-strike system? Fucking idiot gets to--”

“He is a teacher, Mr. Black,” Professor McGonagall interrupted.

“Yeah, and a fucking idiot too. Two things can be true at once,” Sirius told her and Remus pinched the bridge of his nose at the familiarity of the dialogue. Too much time around his godfather had been right. “Is your plan just to hope that he doesn’t do something like this again? Or wait to see if he does something worse? I’m sorry, Albus, but that’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard and if you honestly believe that’s the best solution then you’re a fucking idiot--”

“Sirius,” Remus finally said, putting his hand on his ex-husband's shoulder, “You have made your point, very loud and clear. We get it.”

“So tell me why Lockhart isn’t packing his trunk?” Sirius folded his arms and looked at Remus, his jaw clenching in a way that was very seventeen and not thirty-two.

“Finding a replacement teacher in the middle of a school year is challenging, Mr. Black,” explained McGonnagal, her face looking relieved at the intervention.

“Remus can do it,” Sirius said immediately.

“I--what? Sirius, come on, be reasonable.”

“I am. You’ve been teaching for years now, he’s a private tutor, you know what you’re doing, you got a NEWT in Defense…Remus can do it.”

“I promise you, that isn’t necessary, he’s being belligerent,” Remus kept his hand on Sirius’ shoulder, as he looked at the faces of his former Headmaster and Head of House. It was just supposed to be an innocent game of Quidditch; there were plans to take Harry out to dinner for celebrating and even more plans that involved a joint and a bottle of wine at Grimmauld Place after. It had become their own tradition since Harry had been on the team. They hadn’t missed a game and they hadn’t missed an opportunity to rejoice in a victory or wallow in a loss with expensive alcohol. There had even been an occasion where Remus baked edibles, and he woke up the next morning in his pants sprawled out in Sirius’ sitting room couch. Of course, Sirius had made it to his bed that evening but had also decided to garden in the dead of night, his ex-husband absolutely horrified at the fig tree in the middle of the kitchen the next morning. Remus was still hopeful it would end that way, assuming Sirius could get control of his temper and also assuming Dumbledore and McGonnagal caved to his request of having Lockhart sacked.

Otherwise, there would be a Board meeting. Remus had no doubts about that.

“May we have until the end of term, Sirius?” asked Dumbledore.

“No, but I’ll give you two weeks.”

“I would take that, it’s only going to get worse,” Remus offered, “I’m not…going to accept the position but if you do need assistance with proctoring exams, I am more than happy to help, sir.” Sirius made a small noise in the back of his throat at the title. There was once a time all of them had thought Dumbledore to be the most powerful wizard they had met; the person who had all the answers. Remus wasn’t so sure anymore, holding onto the last kernel of faith, but Sirius had abandoned all of that somewhere in the middle of the war. Somewhere between getting refused a trial and thrown into prison at the hands of the other man even if it was just twenty-four hours. When Harry had been delivered to the doorstep of Lily’s sister without taking Remus into consideration.

“Thank you, Mr. Lupin.”

“I’ll be in touch in two weeks,” Sirius’ tone was brisk, and without an ounce of respect, grey eyes focused on the retreating backs of Dumbledore and McGonagall, robes trailing on the ground.

“Feel better?” Remus asked, catching Sirius’ gaze in his own, and Sirius rolled his eyes. “No, no, please tell me. Did that make you feel good?"

“Okay, I…might have lost my cool.”

“Might have?” laughed Remus, and Sirius cracked a smile running his hand over his hair and taking out the gold scrunchy, putting it on his wrist, “I think you just taught Harry at least three new swear-words.”

“Did…did I not put a silencing charm up?”

“No.”

“Fuck.”

“Sirius.”

Sirius’ smiled grew, after taking a moment to look mildly ashamed as he reflected on all the words he had spoken, “On the positive, I think I also got you a job?”

“Impulse control is at a zero sometimes, I swear, Sirius..."

“His arm had no bones, Remus! None! Nothing I said was untrue and I stand by that.” Sirius said pointedly, “Now do I…wish…I had been able to calmly state my dissatisfaction? Sure. But…I think I was effective.”

Remus shook his head, “Some things don’t change, hm?”

“So you disagree with what I said?” Sirius asked, “You think he’s a perfectly competent man and I was being too harsh?”

“Oh, no, I think he is also a…what did you say, oh, yeah, fucking idiot, but that doesn’t mean I’d advertise it.”

“I did it for both of us. I believe that is what one calls, taking one for the team.”

Remus laughed again, finally moving his hand from Sirius’ shoulder to pat the side of his face, “Hothead.”

“Yeah. I know. Take it up with my mother.”

“And you’ll have a word with your godson about being respectful and--”

“YOU HAVE TO GIVE A WRITTEN APOLOGY, SIRIUS. AN APOLOGY TO ME FOR BEING EMBARASSING!” shouted Harry from his hospital bed and Sirius laughed even louder, the anger that was once there evaporating into thin air.

“Kid is so lucky. One of us is going to teach at Hogwarts, and the other one is on The Board of Governors and causes scenes in hallways…” Sirius mused, “Of the things we’ve done, James and Lily would be most proud of this moment.”

“You definitely gave Lily a run for her money with that dressing down…”

--

March 1993

“Cheers to the youngest seeker of the century and a winning game!” Sirius raised his glass of whiskey up to Remus’ butterbeer, the two of them sat at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade after another Gryffindor victory. Remus had been mortified when Sirius had imposed the idea of him teaching at Hogwarts upon Dumbledore and McGonagall, but when a letter came two weeks later asking if he would be interested in the position, Remus was surprised at how inspired he felt.

Teaching at Hogwarts had always been the dream. It had been Remus’ favorite place as a kid. It had been where Remus had fallen in love with magic and the idea of teaching in the first place. And even if the position had been offered to him the pressure of a persistent and furious Sirius Black who had more money and influence than he knew what to do with, Remus was nevertheless willing to take the meeting.

This was the shake he had been waiting for. The wake-up call.

The change that he needed to get him out of the routines that he had set up, and the rut he had unconsciously gotten himself in despite trying to put himself out there. Accepting the position had forced him to move; had forced him out of his carefully curated comfort zone; had made space for him to grow and it only took a week of teaching for him to floo to Grimmauld Place and say thank you with his arms around Sirius.

Remus was grateful more often now. Making up for the years he hadn't said it at all.

“Cheers,” Remus responded, taking a sip out of the bottle, taking in his surroundings. A few of the other professors not on duty were trickling in as well, Remus giving them nods in greeting as they walked in.

“So now that you’re on the other side of the equation, is Snape still as big of an asshole? Do you put spiders in his porridge in the morning?”

“That’s childish, Sirius.” Remus told him, “But there was one day I kept charming a pebble to lodge itself in his shoes because he kept interrupting my lesson with un-urgent matters.”

Sirius laughed, a few of the professors looking in Remus’ direction at the sound of joyful thunder, “You always had the best ideas.”

“The best part was he couldn’t point fingers at me without sounding insane.” Remus grinned, taking another sip, “It’s…nice having…colleagues though.”

“Is that what you’re calling them?”

“What?”

“Who’s the one you keep making eyes at?”

Remus choked, a little, and Sirius grinned mischievously, “I don’t…I am not making eyes,” Remus told him, though as he was speaking his eyes were very much trailing over to the other staff table. Professor Andre Babbling had been appointed the new Professor for Ancient Runes at the start of this year, joining the rounds of younger faculty at Hogwarts. A few years ahead of Remus in school, in Ravenclaw, Professor Andre Babbling was definitely easy on the eyes with his dark skin and brown eyes that caught morning sunlight just right at the staff table. Remus had stuck with pleasantries initially when he sat at the staff table his first month of teaching and tried not to escort himself to the hospital wing for heart failure when Babbling smiled at him and a flush blossomed over his entire body.

He had always been a fucking fool for a smile and Babbling happened to have a dimple which made matters much worse.

But Babbling turned out to be talkative and passionate about a subject Remus had found dry while taking it, though he was incredibly thankful for the NEWT he deemed useless because it gave him a leg to stand on. Remus could pretend to be interested in something if it meant he could be in close proximity of a smile and a dimple and brown eyes and long, lean forearm muscles that poked out from under his robes. In fact, Remus could pretend to do a lot of things if it meant that someone was looking at him again the way Babbling did.

No one had looked at Remus like he was made of something special since Sirius. He had tried--random dates and meetings at coffee shops ending in calling cabs and making up excuses to leave early and wishing them away to the opposite end of the world so Remus could avoid them entirely--but none of them burned Remus alive with desire or possibility. Babbling looked at Remus like he was a divine entity, and Remus didn’t want him to stop. He missed what it felt like to be the center of someone else's world, and he missed what it felt like to look across a room and know someone else would be looking back.

“I mean, I can always make a show and turned around and look and guess myself, if--”

“No, please don’t do that,” Remus said, his hand shooting out to keep Sirius from turning obviously over his shoulder, “It’s…the Runes professor. The one next to Sinastra?”

Sirius hummed, “You always had good taste.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I wasn’t, I was referring to that bloke before me, what was his name…Cresswell? He was handsome too, in an odd sort of way. With the blonde hair and all.” Sirius shrugged, “So what's your plan?”

“Plan?”

“He’s making eyes back. The chemistry is palpable.”

“I cannot believe you’re instigating this.”

“It’s one of my better qualities.” Sirius took a sip of his whiskey, “You should go sit over there.”

“W-what? No, I…I can’t.”

“Why not? You work here. You can join their lunch table or whatever, you’re cool enough.”

“I…what…about you?”

“I’ll finish my drink and be on my way. Don’t worry about me.”

“Sirius, really, it’s okay, I don’t--” but Sirius rolled his eyes, tossing back the rest of his whiskey, and stood up from the bar, putting several galleons on the counter for their check. There was no bitterness in grey eyes; not a drop of resentment or fear that Remus was moving on after years of holding on to a golden safety net of consistency. For better and for worse, Sirius was his last connection to familiarity. One more step and all that was gone.

It was terrifying. And exhilarating.

Is this how Sirius lived his life? On the edge of becoming all the time?

“I’ll see you next time, Remus. Let me know how it goes, yeah?”

“I…just…what do I say?”

“Maybe start with Hi? And then…end with I am very well hung.” Sirius teased giving Remus a wink and a cheeky grin.

“You’re…impossible,” Remus muttered but Sirius just gave him a wave and walked out of the Three Broomsticks, going to find his motorcycle that was parked in the village. Remus took another sip from his butterbeer and a deeper breath to steel his nerves.

He took the final step, the solid ground falling out from underneath his feet and he grabbed a helmet, ready for a crash landing as his eyes connected with deep brown ones from across the room once more.

--

June 1993

“Did you know Remus has a boyfriend?” asked Harry almost as soon as he got in the car, no longer on the platform and in a safe place. Remus had would be at Hogwarts for a little longer, finishing up grading and end-of-term exams.

“I…heard rumors.”

“What does that mean?” Harry asked, a scowl on his face as he buckled his seatbelt and Sirius raised his eyebrows at the gruffness of the response.

“It means of the things that is better for us not to talk about in extensive detail, dating is one of them and I have only heard whispers in passing of this boyfriend,” Sirius explained putting the key into the ignition.

“Yeah, well, it’s another teacher. At Hogwarts.”

“I know.”

“It’s weird.”

“Him dating or the teacher part?”

“The teacher part…” Harry shifted in his seat, slouching down further and Sirius smiled a little as he backed out of the car park. Thirteen was around the corner and was apparent in every inch of Harry’s demeanor. “I dunno. It’s different.”

“Have you talked with him about it?”

“He talked with me about it…so, I guess.”

But there was a reason Harry had chosen him for this conversation.

“I’m listening, kid.”

“Not a kid…”

“You’re my kid and I love you.”

Harry softened, at the phrase, apparently never too old and mature to hear those three words. “It’s…is he all of a sudden going to start coming to Christmas? Or when I turn thirteen is…he going to be there? Or if we all go to a Quidditch match, will you get another ticket for him?” he asked in rapid succession, “I know you see people but they don’t exactly stick around and you’ve never had me meet them. And…Remus did? Sort of? Or I already kind of knew Professor Babbling from around school. I’m just not sure what to make of it.”

“Love, I think these are questions you can ask Remus.”

“I’m asking you.”

“If…I buy tickets to a match, I’ll ask you who you want there. You don’t even have to bring me if you don’t want. I’ll buy the tickets and let you go with Bill Weasley as your responsible guardian.”

“The twins? They’re older.”

“Not a chance,” Sirius grinned, “And…it’s your birthday party, you get to decide who is there. And as for Christmas dinner at The Weasleys…that might be up to Remus, or… whoever extends the invitations, but…our holiday can still be just for us if that's what you want.”

“I don’t want to make Remus sad if…I dunno.”

“I promise, we can take it, Harry.”

--

December 1993

“Is…he always like that?” asked Andre, walking with Remus outside into the winter snow, just outside Grimmauld Place. His dark eyelashes had snowflakes clinging to them, the magical drive disappearing as they got closer to the street where there was a portkey he could take back to his flat. Remus had wanted him to meet Harry outside of school. Remus wanted him to meet Sirius at all, the two of them only saying hello in passing prior to dinner that evening when Sirius would call on the mirror or be in Remus' office at Hogwarts for tea on the weekends.

“Who Harry? He’s thirteen. I think he’ll be like that until he’s eighteen or so say the adolescent development books. Teenagers shouldn’t be a surprise to you.”

“Not Harry. He was…how I expected him to be.”

“...Sirius?”

“Your ex.” Andre confirmed, “Is he always like that?”

“I…think you have to be more specific,” Remus said, brows furrowing as he tried to think of infractions or tears Sirius might have caused throughout the evening. He had set the table for Remus; he made polite conversation and told appropriate stories to Andre about them back in Hogwarts; he had kept Harry in check, intervening with a light touch on Harry’s shoulder or asking their teenager for help with someone minor just so Harry could have a break from meeting my parent’s new boyfriend when his ex-husband was in the room. Remus actually had every intention of rushing back inside and expressing endless gratitude for Sirius, unable to comprehend that the evening had gone so well when he had been tossing and turning about it for days. It seemed so silly to have lost sleep over it now.

“I don’t know. He’s just…kind of a lot? Does he always offer to take your plate? Or…did he offer to make dessert for this evening or did you ask him to? Playing music you liked? All the stories and asking me questions--the eye contact was…was that an intimidation thing or is he just like that?”

Remus stared for a moment before laughing at the absurdity of Sirius’ eye contact ever being intimidating. Thinking that if Sirius had wanted to ruin the evening, he very well could have and it wouldn’t have been with eye contact. Laughter was apparently the wrong response, Andre’s hand pulling from Remus’s instantly.

“You’re..you’re serious?”

“I don’t like you laughing at me. I just had dinner with your ex-husband and you’re laughing?”

“It’s just Sirius,” Remus explained, “That’s just…the allure of Sirius Black. I promise it wears off.”

“It seems to me like he’s still into you.”

Remus had to clear his throat violently to keep from laughing again, “Andre…I know how Sirius looks on the outside. But…that’s just what he does.”

“Takes care of you?”

“You have to understand we have a lot of history and we have a kid together. Of course, he’s going to take care of me but it’s not like we’re super crazy close and have a bunch of inside jokes and…”

“But you do.”

They did.

“Okay…so we do. That doesn’t mean--”

“Remus, I fancy you quite a lot. I’d like to spend more time getting to know Harry and spending time with you. I just can’t see where I fit into this if he’s in the picture.”

“We’re co-parents Andre. He has to have a place in my life.”

“You’re not just co-parents. You’re best friends. And…I don’t know if I can stick around if your best friend is him.”

“It’s not a competition. It’s not…I have love to give to both of you. It’s not either-or.”

“I guess I don’t see it that way.”

What they don’t tell you when you stand at an altar with someone, holding onto their hands and watching eyes mist up with emotion is that when it all ends, you’ll spend the rest of your life comparing people to them. Unintentionally, but it happens. Remus did it with Andre, making lists of qualities that mimicked Sirius’ thinking Merlin, I have a type; making a contrasting list of qualities that couldn’t be more different and seeing which one he preferred. He stared back at Andre and the hands that were now hidden away in coat pockets.

Funny how history could repeat itself.

I don’t know how to make it fit anymore. I don’t know if we fit anymore.

--

Harry was in his bedroom, running upstairs as soon as Remus and his guest had walked out the front door, leaving Sirius to clean up the kitchen on his own. He left the pie and bottle of wine out, pouring a glass for Remus whenever he walked back in while he got his own glass of whiskey.

Remus had his arm around someone new, and Remus was happy for it. The golden hour light that Remus had radiated in their teenage years-- the light that Sirius had fallen for in the first place-- had returned with a vengeance, with the arrival of a man who was well-read and just as dry. Professor Babbling was growing flowers in the places Sirius had just made holes. Remus’s garden had flourished after all the years spent watering it with heartache and nurturing it with his own delicate hands, and Sirius was glad for it.

Sirius jumped up onto the counter, piece of pie in hand and he heard the front door open and close, followed by footsteps. Remus walked in looking crestfallen, his arms wrapped around his body. Coat still on, hands slightly blue.

Sirius put his fork down and tilted his head, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Remus said simply looking up to meet Sirius’ eyes.

“Alright?”

“I just broke up with my boyfriend after…I thought tonight went surprisingly well.”

Sirius made to get off the counter but Remus held his hands out. A nonverbal signal not to come any closer. He stayed where he was.

“I…thought it went well too.”

“You’re too much,” Remus told him.

“What?”

“That’s what he said. That you were too much. You…did too much for me. You...made dessert? And…” Remus looked down at his feet, mismatched socks on the tile floor, “You don’t even know you’re doing it, but you do it, and…I forget how brightly you can burn sometimes because I’ve gotten used to it. And I think about how lucky I am to be in a position where I’m just used to reaping the benefits of all the shit you do, all the time, but you’re too much, Sirius.”

Voices from his past crept into his memory; ones that sounded more like his mother and father than he cared to admit.

You take up too much space.

You’re too loud. Be quiet, Sirius.

Don’t ask so many questions. Speak when you’re spoken to.

You’re a headache, Sirius.

Get out my sight, Sirius.

One that sounded like the shell of Remus when their marriage had gone on way too long and neither of them could see a way out. Before the counseling. Before admitting defeat.

Just stop, Sirius. I don’t need you to do things for me anymore.

You can’t fix everything.

“I’m…sorry.” Sirius told him, “I…I can take a step back, Remus. I won’t be here, next time? Make myself scarce. You didn’t need to…you should be with him. It’s my fault."

Sirius always admitted fault first. Willing to take the fall for someone else's sins after an easy life of never having to be accountable for his own. Privileged, arrogant, Sirius Black. He could take it.

It could be his fault. Even if it wasn’t.

He could dig the grave. Even if he knew there was only space for him in there.

Ice the bruises to make the swelling go down faster.

Bandage Remus’s fist and even his boyfriends. Heal the scrapes and the cuts and let them take another swing. Remus had always been worth the hurt.

It could be his fault. Sirius was too much, after all. He had been told that before. It wasn’t anything new.

Remus shook his head, picking at his nails. Sirius wanted to stand up and put his hands over Remus's to stop the movement. But he stayed. “We’re…not in love anymore, you and I. We’re not, and I don’t want to be either. But…I don’t think I can go on in this life without you. The bloke who I can sit with at a table and say what I’m thinking. I’ll take that over another brush with love.”

Sirius would too.

Every time.

ok hun i hold you and your BEAUTIFUL WORDS and poor little harry responsible for THIS torrential downpour!!!!

Fault Lines pt. 3

Fault Lines 1- read here

Fault Lines 2- read here

In which Remus and Sirius get divorced and are raising Harry and just doing their very best.

--

February 1990

“Moony, I’m stuck again!” Harry turned over his shoulder from where he was working on maths homework from the tiny desk in the corner of Remus’ flat. Remus had set it up next to his own tiny desk, usually opting to do homework alongside Harry during the week, or at the very least read so his kid wasn’t alone in his misery. Sometimes, Remus even enjoyed it, though he was sure Harry would disagree. Although the shift had been challenging to get used to, the amended custody agreement that allowed Remus and Sirius to switch off month by month was actually proving to be better. They both got more uninterrupted time. Harry was no longer living out of a suitcase and trying to remember to bring his toiletries from one place to another. There were fewer checklists and worklists and just more time. Harry had two sets of clothes, two sets of shampoo, two sets of books, and toys.

Two parents.

Income was stable and Remus finally felt his feet were on the ground after years of floating in uncertainty and uncharted territory.

Remus stood up from the couch and walked towards Harry, not feeling entirely confident he would be able to unstick Harry from the horrors of primary school maths. And what made it worse was Harry being excellent at the subject, and Harry enjoying the subject after spending the first 4 years of his schooling learning maths with Sirius during the week. Remus of all people knew how exciting and captivating Sirius could make a subject sound when he was motivated to do so; when Sirius was interested and engaged, there was nothing quite so blinding. Remus had gotten a NEWT in Astronomy for that reason alone, and even now could go out and look at the stars on the street and hear Sirius’ voice reciting constellation longitudes and latitudes in the back of his mind.

“Okay…let’s…see here.”

“It’s another mixed fraction, and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, but I just keep getting a messier fraction and that’s not right. And then we have to add them but I can’t because I do the first part wrong and then the whole thing is wrong,” Harry looked up at him from behind round glasses, as Remus leaned over his shoulder.

It might as well have been Greek. Remus couldn’t remember a damn thing from his own muggle schooling and even then, maths wasn’t his strongest subject.

“Do…you have a text for this, Harry?”

“It’s at school. We were just given worksheets.”

“Okay…” Remus looked at it again and then back at Harry, “I…am not the person who should help you with this. Why don’t you take a break while I get Sirius over here, hm?”

“Can a break include those chocolate cupcakes in the cupboard?”

Remus smiled, kissing Harry on top of his hair quickly before he could escape from the chair, “As long as you save one for me.”

Harry pumped a fist into the air before getting out of the chair and walking the short distance to the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards. His flat had been thrown together with, pieces collected from different shops and yard stales when he stumbled across them. A grandmother's lap on the end table; kitchen chairs that were already broken in with gaudy plaid cushion covers; the rug that tied the space together in shades of burnt orange and brown that just needed some extra love to become brand new. It wasn't glamorous. But it felt right. Remus went to the end table in his small sitting room, grabbing the two-way mirror Sirius had given him when the time between visits had gotten longer. It wasn’t uncommon for Harry to fall asleep talking with his godfather.

“Sirius!” Remus said into the mirror and waited a few moments, the unmistakable sound of classic rock heard in the distance before Sirius’ face appeared. It hurt to admit it, but Sirius looked happier than he had looked in years. Sirius laughed more now, and Remus wasn’t sure if he could attribute the newfound lightness to healing from grief or a marriage that he never wanted. There were some days Remus still put on his wedding ring. Checking to see if it still fit? Checking to see if it was still right to leave it off? Sirius hadn’t touched his since the day they left the ministry, papers signed, tattooed hands now covered with other jewelry. The jewelry Sirius had slowly stopped wearing once the wedding ring went on and a kid was put into his hands.

“Hey Moons, how’s it going?”

“I hope I’m not interrupting a party?” Remus asked, watching out of the corner of his eye as Harry shoved a whole chocolate cupcake into his mouth, “Oi! Make sure you chew that at least 50 times, I’m not prepared to do the Heimlich this evening.”

“Mfffhmmmp!” Harry nodded, exaggerating his chewing for Remus’ benefit.

“Party for one,” Sirius responded, “Do I need to come give an etiquette lesson? I’m sure there’s a book around here somewhere.”

“No, but it would be great if you could come give some help on fractions.”

“Mixed fractions!” Harry said, coming to where Remus was standing, chocolate hanging on the corners of his mouth. Remus angled the mirror down to Harry’s level so he could see Sirius’ face.

Sirius gasped, “Mixed fractions? Those are the best kind.”

“And we’re adding them,” Harry told him, “I think Moony was asleep during maths…”

“Might be right,” Remus laughed and looked back at his ex-husband who had put down a glass of wine he was holding, the music quieting. “Would you mind?”

“I’ll be over. But--”

“But?”

“Do I need to bring my own chocolate-whatever or will I have to lick it off of my godson's face?”

“Gross!” Harry exclaimed, though he started wiping his face with his sleeve, “There’s three left, so you don’t even have to fight over it.”

“Imagine that.” Sirius laughed, “I’ll be over in a bit. Floo alright?”

“Floo’s alright.”

--

August 1990

Sirius attributed it to his namesake that he always had a particular affinity towards the sun. Towards the sky. But particularly, he was certain there was nothing that couldn’t be fixed by enough sunshine, and he was inclined to believe that theory after returning to Number 12 after spending the day at the seaside with Harry and Remus. The water was calm and clear. Remus read on the beach under an umbrella while he and Harry jumped over waves. Sirius loved when Harry was a baby, all soft and giggling; easy to hold and warm against his chest. Sirius also loved when Harry was a toddler and was full of curious questions and too much energy. But there was a special joy Sirius was discovering in having a ten-year-old who now understood how games worked, and Sirius didn’t have to go easy on him while throwing a disc. Sirius could still pick Harry up but didn’t have to be nearly as gentle and he loved listening to Harry’s loud laughter every time he chucked him back into the water. They stayed out there all day, watching the sunset on the sea from a muggle seafood restaurant, and as a result, Harry had passed out in the car on the way home, sunbathed and exhausted.

Sirius also realized that ten was still small enough to be carried up the stairs and tucked into bed after stumbling to get into pajamas. Still young enough to want a hug from both of them before falling asleep.

“I don’t think he’s gone to bed this willingly since he was five…” Remus commented, smiling softly as they walked back to the threshold of Number 12 where all their bags had been dropped in favor of getting a child up the stairs. Harry’s suitcase for the month was still there, Sirius thinking that there wasn’t a better way to start the month and the last few weeks of summer with his kid.

“And he’ll deny it too.” Sirius laughed, “Want to stay for a second? I think I have lemon bars left in the fridge…”

“Well, when you tempt me like that…” Remus said gesturing toward the kitchen.

It was comfortable, as Remus went into the cabinets to fill classes of water and Sirius went to pull out the lemon bars. Harry wasn’t living out suitcases anymore and Remus had stopped feeling like an unwelcomed guest in Sirius’ home. Though, that was probably because Sirius had stopped treating him as one. They had open-door policies during their months, and Sirius found that he would go over to Remus’ flat for dinner sometimes on a random Monday, or meet them in the park on Sunday, at Harry’s request. If Sirius was taking Harry to a Quidditch game, Remus was always invited, even if he usually declined. If Remus was taking Harry to see a special exhibit at the History museum, Sirius was invited (and he definitely declined).

“What’s all this?” Remus asked as Sirius finished cutting out the squares from the tin and plating them.

“What’s all--oh. That. Where’d you find that?”

“I’m nosy and looked through your post,” Remus said inclining his head towards the small table at the edge of the counter that had always held the post.

“Appreciate the candor, Moons…” Sirius put the small plate in front of an empty seat on the kitchen table, noticing Remus bringing the pieces of letters over with him as he sat down. “I’ve…been considering taking a few…courses at the Ministry.”

“This looks like more than considering. It says you're enrolled and--”

Sirius reached across the table, pulling the letter from Remus’ hands whose only response was a cheeky grin, “That’s illegal you know, going through people’s post.”

“Seems like you would know. Has a nice ring to it, I think, Sirius Black, Esquire. Is that what they’d called you?” Remus cut off a piece of the lemon bar with his fork, innocently taking a bite.

“You’re terrible.”

“You’ve told me that a few times before.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and cut off a piece of his own dessert, “Harry starts Hogwarts in…well, too soon. I can’t believe it, really. I wanted to stay home because I know James would have and even when we were together, it was just better with someone at home.” Remus nodded, considering his words, “But…he won’t need someone at home anymore, and I figured I should find something to do. Other than…drinking and going on joy rides.”

“Law? Really?”

“I don’t know if you know this, but I’ve gotten very familiar with Ministry legal procedures these past 10 years,” he said and Remus laughed, “So much of it is bullshit, and I don’t know…thought maybe I would try to put my posh last name to good use and try to…change some of it. It’s stupid, really, but it gets me out of the house.”

Remus smiled, “I think…I think that’s great, Sirius.”

“You don’t need to placate me. It’s just a passing idea, I don’t know if I’m going to start…”

“No, I mean it, I think it’s great.” Remus told him, “And..uh..these are also very good. Thank you.”

“I’ll send some home with you. I can always make more.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

"So...law. Politics. Really?"

"Stop sounding so surprised."

"No, I'm just wondering what all the years of disappointing your family were for if you were just going to end up here," Remus said dryly, smiling around another bite, and Sirius laughed.

"You're right. Should I go find my mother's portrait in the attic?"

"I'm sure she'd love a visit. Pleasant woman."

--

Harry woke up the next morning half in his bed, a foot sticking out of cool linen sheets, and the feeling of sun still on his face. But more importantly, was the feeling of Christmas Morning in his stomach. The butterflies--the dragons-- flapping their wings because your body knew what was in store for the day. Harry knew. Because he had gone to bed and both Remus and Sirius were there.

Because Harry had tiptoed out of his room after being tucked in, to get a glass of water and had heard them laughing in the kitchen. And it was late. He didn’t get his water, not wanting to interrupt Remus and Sirius, rushing back to his room with a smile on his face in eager anticipation of the morning. He tried not to run downstairs because he had fallen a few times doing that and a bruised knee was not going to ruin the day, but he still walked quickly. Two at a time.

He expected to walk through and see Sirius and Remus there. Maybe they would have coffee out. Or Sirius would’ve made something special and Remus would be at the table smiling that smile that made him look younger and maybe Sirius would be hugging Remus the way he hugged everyone that made them feel so safe and so cared about. And it would be perfect.

Harry tried not to let his face fall when he walked into the kitchen and only saw Sirius.

Because that was still good. Sirius was the best. Sirius was his favorite person. Sirius always smiled when he saw Harry and Sirius always let Harry pick his breakfast and would usually go flying with him in the afternoons. But he liked Sirius and Remus best.

“Morning, love. Sleep okay?”

“I don’t even remember falling asleep I was so tired.”

“Yeah, you’re getting heavy too. Practically dragged you up the stairs last night…” Sirius teased as Harry sat down in front of him, Sirius kissing his hand before reaching across the table to put on Harry’s cheek.

“Nuh-uh! You’re just old, maybe.”

“Oh, cheeky, I see. So you don’t want breakfast? I was feeling in a chocolate chip mood this morning and made a bread if--”

Sirius had some superpowers that Harry sometimes wondered where he got them from. If like muggle comic books, Sirius was bitten by a spider, and instead of being able to sling webs, he had the ability to read minds, even if Harry had been away.

“I take it back, I take it back! You’re not a day over…er…t-tw-en--twenty?”

Sirius laughed standing up, “Nice save.”

Harry watched from the table as Sirius magically got out plates for them, cutting the bread by hand.

I used to think that the best way was with magic, but I’ve learned that…somethings are just better by hand. The old-fashioned way. You’ll see.

“Hey, Sirius?”

“Hey, Harry?”

“Where’s Remus?” he asked finally. Maybe Remus was still asleep, just upstairs. Or he was in the next room over. Any moment he would come around the corner. Maybe they should wait to eat the chocolate bread because he would like it too. Maybe he and Sirius would go outside in the morning like they used to when Harry was little so that Remus could sleep, and eventually, Remus would appear in the backyard, with his cup of coffee and sweater no matter the temperature.

“Hopefully at his home, and by the time…I would guess he’s sleeping.”

“How come he’s not here?”

Sirius set the plates on the table and sat down once more, “...Why…well he doesn’t live here. You know that. It was nice he spent the day with us yesterday but he went home.”

But he was here! I heard you! Harry wanted to scream already until one of them finally heard.

He was here and now he’s not.

That’s unfair!

He swallowed, “I just thought he might…be here? Like maybe he stayed...”

“Oh, sorry. We can write him today if you’d like.”

“No…it’s okay,” Harry said quietly, looking back down. The Christmas Morning feeling had faded with his appetite, butterflies turned to ashes in the blink of an eye. He picked at the fruit on his plate with his fork, unwilling to look up, the colors blurring in front of him as his eyes filled with hot tears. He tried to push them down, shake them away because it was too early to be crying and he had no reason to be.

Remus didn’t live with them.

He did. When Harry was a baby and everything wasn’t so hard.

And now he didn’t.

And that was that.

And that was the way it had been for years.

There was no reason for tears when this was just how it was.

Harry sniffed, reaching a hand up quickly, hoping Sirius didn’t see him do it.

“Harry, babe, what’s all this? Hey, look at me,” Sirius said gently, one of his big hands coming underneath Harry’s chin, lifting it upward. “Talk to me, please?”

“I…heard you talking last night,” Harry managed, his lip quivering as he spoke, “Like you used to? I just…you’ve been getting along more and I just thought that…”

It sounded so stupid now, saying it out loud.

Harry didn’t have to finish his sentence before Sirius realized where he was going, hating that he was so transparent.

Elastic heart.

Sirius sighed softly, “I’m sorry if yesterday was confusing for you, Harry. We’re...just really trying hard to be friends. We don't mean to send you crossed-signals about that."

“So you’re not getting back together?” Harry asked in a voice so small, it didn’t even sound like it came from him.

“I’m sorry.” Answer enough.

“Don’t you love him?”

“Yeah, I do. I always will. He’s Remus.”

“Then why can’t you be together?”

Sirius paused for a very long time, a thumb running across Harry’s cheek, wiping away tears that couldn’t be stopped.

Torrential downpour.

“Sometimes…it takes more than love to make things work, Harry.”

A heart comprised of too many rubber bands formed into a ball finally snapped, one by one, until there was nothing left.

“Hey, come here,” Sirius said, pushing his chair away from the table. Ten was probably too big to crawl into your godfather's arms. Ten was probably too big to be crying at the table uncontrollably too. But Harry did both, letting Sirius pull him into his lap, and he felt Sirius' arms wrap around him tightly.

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t really either.”

“But...what about my Mum? And Dad? They died because they loved me?”

“They did. They loved you so much.” That wasn’t enough. They're not here either. “We love you too, you know that? Both me and Remus. And none of this--”

“Is my fault, I know…” Sirius kissed him on the top of his head, pulling away just enough so he could look at Harry in the face. “I..”

“What are you thinking about?”

“I…just thought it would be nice if we all lived together again. Kinda got my hopes up…” he trailed off, his arm still around Sirius, not wanting to let go just yet.

“I know the feeling,” Sirius offered him a sad sort of smile, “Do…should we go have breakfast outside instead? I don’t know much, but I do know there…are few things that just a little bit of sun can’t fix.”

Did you take Remus outside when you asked him to leave? Did you take Remus outside in the sun to keep him from leaving?

Harry learned two things that day.

Love couldn’t save a single person.

And the combination of Sirius and the sun couldn’t fix everything.

This is his home and I’m just a vacation.

.

.

this line broke me-

(my sis is literally singing 'hold back the river' as if it isnt completely out of my control already)

Fault Lines pt. 2

Fault Lines pt 1 here

In which Remus and Sirius are divorced and doing their best while also raising Harry.

(about 3k)

--

July 1987

Remus stayed behind to help clean up after the birthday party, their newly seven-year-old slowly losing steam minute by minute and heading for a sugar crash, judging by the quieting sounds from the sitting room.

“You were better with the mess this year…” Remus commented absently, putting paper plates into a large trash bag as Sirius stored the leftovers, magic moving around him to wipe off the counters.

“I’ve been…working on it.” Sirius replied, smiling a little over his shoulder, “But, in all fairness, seven-year-olds are better at mess control than six-year-olds…and this year the theme wasn’t Sandcastles.” Remus couldn’t help but smile back, thinking about Harry’s birthday last year. The first birthday after separating where they both tried to compensate and acquiesced to every ask their six-year-old had, including turning the backyard of Number 12 into a makeshift beach. Remus had stayed to help clean last year as well, watching as Sirius cleaned the floor free of sandy shoe prints three separate times. He also watched the whole party as Sirius made a mental list of the sticky doorknobs, spills in the kitchen, his smile never faltering and his voice never changing. As if nothing was bothering him in the slightest. Sirius always knew how to put on a good show, even when their relationship was pulling apart at the seams, and Remus’ would have to fight down tears in public spaces. Sirius could hold it together. Sirius could smile and say thank you, expert at lying between his teeth.

Part of Remus always circled back to wondering if that’s what started the rip in the first place. But the other part knew that there was no longer time for pointing fingers and it just was now.

“Still going to wash the floors tomorrow?”

“Shite, I'm washing them tonight after Harry goes to bed."

Remus laughed softly, the last of the used paper cups going into the trash bag as well. Sirius let out a contented sigh, eyes scanning the kitchen with a look that clearly said this will have to do, before extending a piece of cake in Remus’s direction.

“I already had some,” Remus told him, shaking his head.

“The tiniest slice. Even though I told you there was plenty. You deserve a proper one.” Remus accepted the slice, still unsure of when he should excuse himself to leave, thinking there should really be a book on this sort of thing. He noticed Sirius had his own piece in his hand as he jumped to sit on top of the counter, finally relaxing for the first time all day. Sirius was always the last to eat. Sirius always made sure everyone else got some before he did and on party days, focused more on Harry having a good time than remembering to eat himself. “Cheers, Moony."

“Cheers.”

Filling the gaps hadn’t gotten easier. Neither had dropping Harry off after the weekend, or leaving Number 12 on the rare occasions he had stayed for dinner, though he had found the courage to stay a few times now. It seemed unfair that Remus had to choose between loving his apartment and the way it felt to not be tiptoeing around arguments and his family. Though, if you asked Sirius, and Remus had, he felt it was unfair Remus got to be the one who left. Sirius felt it unfair he had to be the one who sat with the memories because his house was the one Harry felt comfortable in. Another show. Make sure someone else is comfortable before addressing what you need.

Remus sometimes wondered if his own selfishness was what caused Sirius to start pulling at the existing rip in the first place.

Did I push you away?

Did you ever love me or did you just want to make me happy?

Usually, Sirius was the one who took the step to make the palatable silence between them feel less awkward; less jarring. Remus noticed that in addition to not minding mess nearly as much, Sirius had also stopped doing that. Sirius had stopped doing a lot of things for Remus when he realized he didn't have to anymore.

Some days Remus missed it. He had admittedly grown accustomed to a life with someone who catered to him. Not just financially. But Remus missed coming home from work to dishes that were already done, waking up to a kid who was already dressed for the day, to favorite desserts and thoughtful notes left on bathroom mirrors. He missed having someone who always corrected baristas when they got his order wrong. Remus had drunk a lot of incorrect coffee since being separated.

Did I ever say thank you? How many times did I roll my eyes instead?

“It’s…the sun is going down.” Remus tried, around a mouthful of chocolate cake, wincing as he heard the sentence leave his mouth.

“It happens every day,” Sirius replied, raising an eyebrow in amusement, “You know…we used to be good at talking to one another. We used to be friends.”

“Yeah, how’d we do that?”

“I…think we would just…think things and then say them out loud.”

“Okay.”

“So...how are you?”

“You know…still pretty lousy most days actually, but today was good.” Remus finished, already bracing himself for Sirius to return with an answer that would add insult to injury. Already bracing for I’m just fine; I’m enjoying being single again; We get on swimmingly without you.

“Me too.”

--

June 1988

“I don’t understand why you’re still insisting you play by their stupid rules, Remus! He’s your kid just as much as he is mine. I know it, you know it, they’re just--”

“Because I can’t afford to break the rules, Sirius! How is that going to look?”

“If you do I’ll just--”

“And I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. This isn’t something your piles of money and last name can just--”

“It is actually. You’re so fucking stubborn…”

“And you’re not?”

“Just…” Sirius made a small noise of frustration in the back of his throat as he continued packing a trunk for Harry for the month. Their kid was spending the afternoon with Andromeda, giving the two of them time to work out any particulars and argue without the fear of their almost eight-year-old overhearing. Aside from losing his best friend in the divorce and the hangovers he endured coping with the fall-out when Harry was with Remus for the weekend, trying not to argue in front of Harry had been the hardest part. Sirius was always so proud at Hogwarts and the years following that he and Remus rarely argued. They rarely fought.

Love is the easiest thing in the world. He had said. And maybe somewhere Sirius still believed that because he didn’t love Remus any less now that he had an apartment across town and a whole life that Sirius didn’t get a play-by-play of. Love could be easy. Relationships weren’t though, and it was more common now that they would meet up while Harry was at school to calmly argue at coffee shops. Public places to settle disagreements, where they both had to keep their heads, never wanting to cause a scene, and not wanting to move backward. Because the first months had been full of name-calling and shouting matches that left both of the high and dry and bleeding out. Remus waved the white flag first.

“It’s been over two years at this point. You have a job and a flat and a car that I’m sure you drive very cautiously in. You've taken him to Healer check-ups, you've been on time to meetings... Just let me appeal--”

“It is not your job to intervene, Sirius.”

“Like hell it’s not!”

“Why are you arguing with me about this? All it means is you get Harry less.”

“I know.”

“You lose.”

“Has it occurred to you that I don’t want to win? I don’t want to win this one because that means Harry loses. He’s the one caught in the middle of this,” Sirius told him, hastily throwing socks into the trunk, not bothering to count how many there were or if they were matched properly, “And he’s the one who is missing out on spending time with you because the adults just couldn’t keep their shit together. That’s bullocks.”

Remus smiled softly, “You’re not folding his pants? This is a very messy trunk.”

“Shut up.”

“Sirius, come on, don't--”

“No, I mean it, shut up for one second,” Sirius said taking a breath as he closed the dresser drawer, flicking his wrist so the pants and socks would organize themselves in the trunk. Even though he knew it would be ruined the second Harry unpacked at Remus’s and that when Harry came back at the end of the month, it would be haphazardly thrown in. This was the second summer they had done this. This was the second summer Sirius would spend all of June alone in his big empty house, crossing off days on the calendar until his kid came back and the walls of Number 12 could be filled with laughter instead of ghosts. They had both agreed to this arrangement, but that didn’t stop the frown appearing on Remus’ face when he dropped Harry off the last day of June a year ago. It didn’t stop Sirius from looking out the window of Grimmauld Place a half-hour later to see Remus still parked there, tears running down his face.

I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make this about me. It’s just…hard. This is his home and I’m just a vacation.

But Remus didn’t hear the times Harry started calling for him and then had to stop himself mid-sentence. And Remus wasn’t around the first week of July where Harry couldn’t stop talking about the park near Remus’s flat and the time they had ice cream for dinner. Remus wasn’t there for all the bedtimes Sirius tried to read the book Harry had been reading with Remus only to be told you’re doing it wrong and it’s okay, I’ll just wait. Sirius didn’t want either of them to be a vacation destination--he wanted Harry to have roots in two places.

Point A.

Point B.

So no matter what happened, Harry would always have two clear places to go.

“This isn’t about money,” Sirius started, once the blood in his brain had settled and he could think straight, “Maybe at first it was…and I think if you take a second think about it, you’ll admit that you weren’t ready to have a five-year-old staying with you for an extended period of time when you first moved either…”

Remus chewed his lower lip for a moment, “No, you’re right. I wasn’t.”

“But it’s not anymore. It’s not about…I’m not just throwing money at you, Remus.”

“The galleons in Harry’s trunk say differently.”

“It’s pocket money!”

“He’s eight, how big do you think his pockets are?” Remus asked but there was no heat to his question. It was the same tone and same expression that Remus used to wear when Sirius would go overboard with baby clothes or toys.

“So I’m…indulgent. Okay? I admit that. But maybe you can admit you’re being stubborn about this? Harry deserves more than every other weekend with you. And to be honest, you know I can’t read and his books are getting more and more words in them.”

“You can read…” Remus smiled a little and sighed, “What is admitting it going to do? We signed a contract.”

“Contracts can be amended.”

“To what?”

“What do you want?” Sirius asked, though he already knew what the answer would be. All the time. So he’s mine. Usually with ex-boyfriends, you could go the rest of your life and never hear their name again. It was much harder to move on when the ex was your husband and his name came out of your child's mouth every other breath. “I mean, obviously we can’t…the all together under one roof thing isn’t going to work. So, what do you want to do? Just tell me and I’ll be down at the ministry and I won’t leave until--”

“I don’t know how many times I need to tell you that I don’t need you to fight for me anymore.” Remus told him, eyebrows knitting together, “That’s not your job anymore.”

“It’s always my job.”

“No. You aren’t just going to sweep in and handle this for me but--”

“For fucks sake, Re--”

“Let me finish, would you?” and Sirius crossed his arms, the trunk long forgotten as he stared at his ex-husband expectantly, “You don’t get to handle this. Because it is not a you situation. It’s a we situation. So we can go handle it together.”

We.

Maybe there was a different version of us to be found.

“I can work with that.” Remus rolled his eyes at the response as Sirius walked to Harry’s closet, going through t-shirts, trying to remember which ones were his favorite to wear at the moment. Blue.

“Hot head…”

“Stubborn arse.”

--

December 1989

“I don’t think there are enough presents here,” Remus mused looking around at the towering boxes of gifts on the floor. It was after midnight, and as usual most of the gift wrapping was left until the last minute, Remus sitting in the parlor of Number 12 with Sirius a bottle of firewhiskey between them. It would’ve taken less time had they both not wanted to have at least two very stiff drinks following Christmas Eve dinner at the Weasleys before starting wrapping. The first hour after Harry went to bed was spent recounting the evening, a back-and-forth occurring between the two of them that had been pushed aside years ago. Like a double-trapeze artist act at the circus that had retired and came back around for a farewell tour, Remus still remembered how to counter quick remarks from Sirius. And for the first time in such a long, long, time, had been thankful to have Sirius next to him at the Weasley’s dinner table while he bit his tongue and they shared looks that no one else understood.

Dusting off the cobwebs of a foreign language both of them had forgotten to practice. Tongues were clumsy around the words, pronunciation a bit off, but a conversation could be had nonetheless.

“Kid is spoiled.” Sirius returned, “James and Lily would hate this. Christmas is about love, not about presents, Sirius," he finished in an impression of James that Remus hadn't heard in quite some time.

“He was such a bloody tosser sometimes,” Remus smiled around the rim of his glass, “Tell us all it’s not about presents and it’s about a feeling but you know he’d be the first one writing us about what he got from his parents.”

Sirius laughed, “Like it was a contest too. We get it, Prongs, you had a good childhood. No need to rub it in our faces. I remember one year, I think I had gotten a set of dress socks from my parents…this whole new, expensive wardrobe, and a magical planner to help me organize my classes. James writes me with Pads, I got a new broom and my Mum made my favorite cookies! Honestly, more--”

“Jealous of the cookies, right? Mrs. Potter’s were the best.”

“They were…”

“You make them pretty well too,” Remus told him, taking a sip of his drink. The fireplace crackled quietly, warmth enveloping the both of them. “You think they’d be upset?”

“About what?”

“Us?”

“I…can’t think about that.” Sirius told him, “I do sometimes and it gets way too dark up there," he said tapping the side of his skull with a tattooed finger, "and…it’s better I don’t. I think…they’d just want Harry to be happy and taken care of…and if we’re happy too, even better. But not required."

"Like a side effect?"

"Yeah, something like that."

Remus looked up from the amber liquid in his glass to meet Sirius’ eyes from across the room. The same dark curls, as thick as it was at seventeen. The same lopsided smile that Remus fell hook, line, and sinker for. Except now he was 29 and Remus wasn’t falling, wasn’t hurting, wasn’t anything but glad to be able to sit in a room with his best friend without wanting to claw his eyes out or play the blame game.

“You…you know…what I realized?” Remus asked, Sirius’ eyes meeting his own.

“Hm?”

The ache is gone.

“I don’t think we’ve been in a room this long together in…years. And…the funny thing is, I’m still looking forward to being here tomorrow. I don’t even want to pretend I’m going to the lav when I’m actually smoking out the window.”

“I knew you were doing that…”

“You never said anything.”

“Yeah, because that’d be very hypocritical of me when I say I need to go to check the wards when I’m actually smoking.” Remus laughed, Sirius’ smile catching the firelight as he spoke again, “It was rough waters there for a little bit, Moons…but, I think we did alright.”

“Yeah.”

“Except, you know…James and Lils would really hate that we’re still smoking.”

ok but damiano and victoria are ze PUR-FECT sirius and marlene!

i mean just LOOK AT THAT-

wooooooooooooooooooooooow

This is so beautiful and took a lot of patience!!! ✊

YAY WE HAVE A BONUS HERE, GUYSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!

@greyeyedmonster-18 thank you thank you thank you SO MUCH, you absolutely amazing human!!!!!!!!!!!

ten reasons (to go to michigan): bonus

authors note and chapter below the cut. thanks for loving this little au so much.

--

read the fic here

notes: it is short, and thats largely because i could easily get carried away, drumming up countless scenarios of their little life together for the time being.

my #brand is kind of sort of love stories. and my mission statement is always this idea of...love comes with an asterisk of like "it doesn't always work this way". one of the biggest messages of ten reasons was for remus to learn how much of himself he had given away in a previous relationship, so much so that the only place he had to go at the beginning of the fic with a drop of familiarity was his childhood town. and you can see this with his speech in particular, how hesitant he is to give anything of himself away. and at the end of the fic, even though he's being brave and starting this relationship for real (and starting it the same way he started his first one that ended so poorly), he also knows this time around more of himself and more of what belongs to him.

he has an apartment of his own. he has a successful book that he is allowed to be proud of. he has the upper peninsula. he knows which friends he can count on (and one of them happens to be Marlene). so yes, it was a love story...but it also wasn't. at the end of the fic, remus knows this time around if it all goes to shit, he'll be okay.

(we could also say the same for sirius, who's last serious relationship was when he was high all the time and wasn't himself. its a love story...but its also not.)

without further ado...

--

“Harry, let’s go!” Sirius said down the hall, “Your butt needs to be out that door in 10 minutes!”

“Telling me when I need to leave doesn’t help me go any faster!” Harry shouted back and Remus sipped his coffee at the table across from Regulus, both of them used to the morning hurricane that was Sirius trying to get a fourteen, going on fifteen-year-old out the door in a timely fashion, neither of them offering any help. In fact, most mornings, Regulus was content to make Sirius’ job harder with dry comments, occasionally sticking out a foot from underneath the table to see if Sirius would trip over it in the hurry. Remus was always impressed that Sirius managed to dodge it, and managed to get Regulus back later in the day. Remus had witnessed Regulus fall to the ground due to an assault from his brother more than a few times. Despite how early they were, and that Remus could’ve stayed in Sirius’s room, he found it easier to get up with the rest of the house, realizing that once Harry was out the door, the morning slowed down significantly and Sirius made a better cup of coffee than he ever could.

It never got old though.

The morning dance of Sirius packing a lunch (though these days it also consisted of giving Harry a wad of cash and hoping for the best); of Harry stumbling down the hall still half-asleep with his backpack over his shoulder; the banter and the reminders for the day.

“I’m here, I’m going, it’s fine,” Harry said, emerging from his bedroom, his shoes already on, but his school tie undone and the blazer over his arm.

“Seven minutes,” Sirius said, “You remember which train to take?”

“Yes, I’ve been doing it for months now.”

“Homework?”

“Packed,” Harry said, grabbing a bar from the pantry and an orange from the counter that went into his backpack as well. “Coffee?”

“You’re small enough, kid.”

“That was uncalled for. I’m growing,” Harry scowled and Sirius shrugged “I am! Tell him!” He looked at the table for help.

“I’m not telling him anything,” Regulus said, his hands wrapped around his own cup of coffee as he eyed his nephew, “But I am telling you that over my dead body are you walking out the door looking like you’ve rolled out of bed.”

“I mean, I did,” and Remus snorted at the reply. There was something so refreshing about getting to know a teenager and having them as part of his life. No punches were ever pulled, no stone of opportunity for back-talk and sass unturned. But Harry was kind like Sirius, in the way he held doors open for others when they went out together; the way it was always thank you and please when he meant it. The way he stopped what he was doing to listen if he thought it was important.

“I’m not above tucking in your shirt for you, Harry,” Reg put down his coffee, “Fix yourself, please.”

“Sirius said I have five minutes!”

“Four now,” Sirius said and Harry sighed, dropping his backpack to the ground in a huff, Remus smiling silently over his cup of coffee. The adjustment to private school uniforms was one of Harry’s biggest complaints. Though from the rest of what he had observed, and been told from Sirius, the smaller class sizes and the available sports teams were worth it. Harry had friends. Harry had a girlfriend. Harry was no longer the kid whose parents died so he moved, and was just another kid. “And it’s only two if it’s the subway, but I’m always happy to drive and can cut the time in half”

“You shouldn’t brag about that,” Remus said under his breath, Sirius hearing and giving him a wink.

“No one wears the uniform right…” muttered Harry, tucking in his shirt, trying to keep still as Sirius knotted the tie around his neck.

“Well, no one isn’t my nephew so,” Regulus shrugged, “Sorry about it.”

“Can you divorce your relatives? Can I sign a petition for an Uncle who isn't such a--"

"Shhh, it's too early, it's too early," Sirius's voice masked the undoubtedly unpleasant thing Harry was saying to Regulus, the man not entirely able to conceal his smile.

“Shame,” Harry pulled a face at Regulus, and Regulus returned it, the comments all said without bite behind them. Harry picked his bag up again. “Can I go? Anything else? Should I curtsy? Spitshine my shoes really quick?”

“Your shoes are fine, actually.” Regulus commented, “Would love the curtsy though, let me get my phone out so I can have it on video.” Harry ignored his uncle, turning back to Sirius who had caught his face in his hands. The same way they always did before Harry left for the day.

“Text me when you get to school, I love you so much, don’t get caught kissing in the halls again, babe.”

“I know the rules, babe. Love you, babe.” Harry rolled his eyes, Sirius still managing to kiss him on the side of the head before he walked out the door entirely, “Bye Reg, Bye Remus!”

Remus gave a wave. Thinking back to the mornings where Harry didn't acknowledge his existence at the table until after 10am. As if he wanted to pretend his godfather wasn't in a relationship serious enough that warranted sleepovers. Thinking back to the time Harry had cornered Remus by the shared bathroom and sized him up.

I like you. But if you hurt him, I will leave terrible public reviews on your book and drag your name through the mud. Don't underestimate the power of a teenager with a smartphone. Yeah?

As far as Remus knew, he was still holding up his end of the bargain.

Once the door shut, Sirius let out a breath, running a hand over his hair to tie it up.

“That’s an Olympic sport, I think. And I’d medal in it,” he said, walking over to Remus for the first time that day to wrap his arms around his shoulders. Sirius was always up first, and by the time Remus made it to the kitchen, the day at the races was on and consisted of lunch making and double-checking for permission slips and schedules for sports practices. Remus didn’t mind waiting for the morning kisses though. They always came.

Long gone were the days he once sat wondering if affection would come before the nighttime. Before substances and loneliness. Long gone were the days someone reached for Remus because he was there and not because they wanted to.

“Were you really going to let him walk out the door looking like that?”

“Careful, your snob is showing, Reg,” Sirius replied from where he had gone to fix his own cup of coffee, the scent of Sirius’s shampoo lingering somewhere around Remus’s shoulder. Only a few feet away and Remus already missed the weight of arms on his shoulders.

“I’m serious.”

“If you want to be the one who wakes him up after he shuts off his alarm, and makes sure he doesn’t leave his brain in his bedroom with his homework every morning, by all means. I will gladly take over and make sure his shirt’s tucked in before he leaves the house. Drinking coffee leisurely at the table.”

“How else would you get the gold then?” Regulus asked, sharing a smart look with Remus. Sirius came over to join them, immediately taking Remus’s hand and putting it at the back of his neck, Remus’s fingers running along black curls. Sirius’s eyes met his, a soft smile crossing his lips as he picked up his coffee mug.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Morning.”

It wasn’t every night that they spent together, and it wasn’t every morning either, phone calls and text messages bridging the gap between time spent underneath sheets, bodies wrapped around each other like trees grown together. It wasn’t every day they spent together, Remus having his own schedule that was being steadily filled out by meetings and interviews for book podcasts, the rush of finishing first returning quickly when his name stayed on top of the Best Seller list for months.

There was no resentment when Remus was gone. Just Tupperware of Remus’s favorite cookies tucked away into his suitcase to find for later. Just embarrassing Welcome Home signs at the airport. Just long kisses in airports, like they do in all the movies. Just daily reminders of what he was coming back to.

Miss you.

Proud of you.

I love you.

My novelist.

There was no insecurity (well...less insecurity) when Sirius was absent during lacrosse playoffs or what Remus learned was called installation week and Sirius would be at the studio for days at a time with his phone on Do Not Disturb mode, only coming up for air for childcare. Remus left the reminders on those days.

I hope you’re still getting sleep.

Harry is welcome at my apartment if you need more time. I don't know anything about teenagers but I have a television and a full pantry.

Friday take-out is on me

I love you

No matter what, they always came back together. Words dissolved into each other's arms and they caught up on the hours, the day, sometimes the week; hands just thankful to be touching once more, eager to feel warm skin again.

It wasn’t perfect, though Remus thought some days that this painfully realistic Hallmark movie that involved sleepless nights, lingering drug habits, grief, crippling anxiety, and a teenager who told the truth no matter what, was still light years better than the faux-fairytale he was in for his twenties. Remus was still repairing trust in others after being badly burned. Sirius was still learning to ask for help instead of burning out.

It wasn’t happy ever after, because that simply didn’t exist, as much as Remus would look at Sirius on his bad days and see a knight in shining armor.

But it was happy.

It was happy.

WOLFSTAR>>>>>>>>>>>>

<33

I’m not an expert on hands but drawing mittens and awkward pentagons help me draw hands… Also, having a mirror/table mirror on your desk and taking pictures of your hands with your phone really helps a lot too!

i hv always imagined (since the oh-so-overwhelming epiphany) what it would be like to just say the words...just say it out loud to my parents. i really felt it when sirius said, "i didn't know being gay was an option."

I felt that. i have been in denial of my sexuality for a very long time, so being able to say this rn, it feels good.

Broken Things

(when an anon asks for a bi-harry coming out moment...you write a bi-harry coming out moment to his two gay dads. I'm not sure if this is angsty enough but...'tis here.)

cw: for sexual identity exploration; coming out questions...teen angst about identity?

Because up until his fourth year at Hogwarts, Harry hadn't even thought about being gay. Because he took one look at Cho Chang and his head exploded, his tongue getting tied up in what would be the perfect thing to say and falling short every time. He found himself staring at long jet black hair, wondering if it would feel as silky as it looked and wondering if he would ever get to know her well enough to find out. But...

But then there was Cedric Diggory. The boy with the soft brown curls and wide smile who once smiled at Harry and his head exploded a second time. Cedric and Cho could've gathered around the grounds with tiny brooms and a dustpan, picking up the remnants of Harry's skull as he muddled through blushes and heart palpitations every time Cedric so much as breathed in his direction.

--

Okay.

Sirius was gay. Harry knew Sirius was gay. Because Harry had been born, and Sirius was there, with Remus, who was his boyfriend, which could've been enough information. But then Harry grew up with Sirius and Remus. Remus was also gay. And Harry knew this too.

Sirius and Remus. Together. They were together. They were married, though Harry was barely four when they got married and only remembered from pictures what the day could've been like. In the backyard of Grimmauld Place. Remus said that Sirius really outdid himself and Sirius said he'd do it again in a cardboard box.

Sirius had a husband, and Sirius was gay. Remus was his husband and Remus was gay. Harry knew this. But he didn't...

he didn't know much else about the...being part.

Because up until his fourth year at Hogwarts, Harry hadn't even thought about being gay. Because he took one look at Cho Chang and his head exploded, his tongue getting tied up in what would be the perfect thing to say and falling short every time. He found himself staring at long jet black hair, wondering if it would feel as silky as it looked and wondering if he would ever get to know her well enough to find out. But...

But then there was Cedric Diggory. The boy with the soft brown curls and wide smile who once smiled at Harry and his head exploded a second time. Cedric and Cho could've gathered around the grounds with tiny brooms and a dustpan, picking up the remnants of Harry's skull as he muddled through blushes and heart palpitations every time Cedric so much as breathed in his direction. And it wasn't like Harry was counting the breaths, because that would be insane, (but it had been twice) and Harry left both conversations wiping his hands on his school trousers, hoping his face didn't give away just how truly enamored he was.

And that was the trouble.

The trouble was...he didn't think he was gay.

The trouble was...he might be gay.

The trouble was he didn't know how to think or feel about either thing and instead spent nights lying awake in bed, especially as winter holidays approached knowing his attentive godfather would surely pick up on something. Remus already had noticed the crease in Harry's eyebrows when they met for Sunday tea at school, asking Everything okay? enough times for Harry to start avoiding tea altogether. Home from school for the holidays, Harry waited until Remus had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room in front of the fireplace--as he usually did when the school bells stopped ringing and Remus got to indulge in just as much sleep as he wanted-- and he was alone with Sirius in the library. A record player turning softly in the background, a tea tray on the table, though it had hot cocoa instead.

Harry swallowed, feeling uncomfortable on the couch, even though that was usually his favorite place to sit; maybe it was his skin he wanted to crawl out of this time. "...Hey Sirius?"

"Hey, Harry?"

"So..the rule about me asking you any question is still okay...right?

Any question except the ones about your crushes on boys. And crushes on girls.

Keep that to yourself.

It's teenager stuff and it'll...pass. You don't even know what you're feeling.

"Always," Sirius said and sat up from his lounging position in an armchair so he could look at Harry, giving him his full attention. Grey eyes met his own across the table and Harry squirmed for the briefest of moments.

It's Sirius. He loves you. Always. You know this.

Don't you?

"When...when did you know you were gay?"

Harry expected a question in return, fingers gripping the knees of his jeans in preparation.

Why are you asking me that? What made you think of that? Who asked you to ask me that? You should mind your own--

Stop it.

"Which version would you like?"

"What?"

"There's the real version, and there's the version I tell people I've come out to throughout the years that's...more...dignified."

"...Can I...have both?"

Sirius grinned, "For you, anything," he said simply and Harry already felt better, though his fingers still found absent threads on his clothing, on the couch, picking to avoid looking fully at Sirius. "For a very long time, I didn't know being gay was an option. It hadn't occurred to me. My family was traditional and sex wasn't something we spoke about. Marriage and...procreation was all about maintaining blood purity, carrying the Black line and not...about pleasure or...anything." Sirius started, and Harry found himself sitting up a little straighter, his hands slowing their picking as he listened to his godfather, his answer already unexpected, "I didn't know any different until I was shown it could be different and that was at Hogwarts through...hands-on experience."

"I don't need to know those bits, thanks."

He laughed, "Abridged version. I didn't...really realize until I was about fifteen or so that I liked men. I just assumed I had to like women and thought that...I was just too broken and damaged and defective to enjoy being with them. But... you know, from what I'd been raised in, pleasure didn't matter."

"Why would you think that? That...you were broken?" Harry asked, eyebrows knitting together. Sirius was his favorite person in the world--he looked at his godfather and saw easy confidence and brilliance that he hoped to reach someday--how could he ever look at himself and think he was anything less than whole?

"I..." Sirius paused for the first time, a sort of pain passing through his features briefly, "Thought a lot of unkind things about myself when I was a teenager. But, when I got to Hogwarts, as I got older, there were some students who were queer, that...I kind of saw myself in. Remus showed me David Bowie and Queen and I actually found out my Uncle-- Alphard, remember? I've talked about him?" and Harry nodded, "He was gay. I didn't find out until after receiving his share of the Black estate though. Point is...I was overjoyed the first time I kissed a boy and liked it, and I realized I wasn't the broken thing. That...I didn't have to like women."

You are not the broken thing. You are not defective.

"It brought its own set of challenges of course but...I was much happier with myself after coming to that conclusion."

"..You said there's another version?"

"Oh. Yeah," Sirius grinned widely, his grey eyes twinkling, "There was a seventh-year. Ravenclaw Quidditch player by the name of Porter Turpin. And at the beginning of fifth year, I took one look at his arse in his uniform trousers and that really...confirmed my suspicions."

"Did you snog him?" Harry asked through laughter and the acid that was still lingering in the pit of his stomach.

"Oh, you want to know now?"

"Well yeah, now it's important."

"We did snog, quite proud of myself for that one." Sirius said, leaning forward onto his knees to catch Harry's gaze from across the room, "Anything else?"

What if I can't decide? What happens then? Did someone forget to flip a switch one way or the other? I'm somewhere in the middle of off and on and the lights keep flickering.

Broken. Shorting out.

"No."

--

Getting Remus alone was harder, Harry not realizing how much Remus and Sirius actually spent together until trying to get them apart. Harry could remember when he was younger pulling faces at the kisses they shared in the middle of the kitchen, or the way he would sometimes find them wrapped up in each other on the sofa. Or when they would share a single glass of wine at the Weasleys for dinner, taking turns taking sips like a well-choreographed routine, never understanding why they couldn't just have their own. But as he got older, he saw the morning embraces and the way Remus's head would fall on Sirius's shoulder in the evening and Harry couldn't look away.

What was it like to find your other half? What was it like to know who your other half was going to be?

Harry was able to get Remus alone, up in their bedroom, as he put away laundry into the dresser. Harry had been given his own basket to put away (which was presently being ignored, but a sexual identity crisis took precedent over folding t-shirts), and had taken a small detour, sitting on the foot of their big bed as Remus opened drawers by magic.

"D'you...want me to pair the socks?"

"You're offering?"

"I'm sitting here is all..."

"Be my guest, Harry." He said, folding a pair of jeans not so carefully. Harry grabbed a sock from the pile, going through the combination of patterns and sizes to find its missing side.

"...Remus?"

"Hm?"

Remus loves you too. You know this.

...Don't you?

"When...did you...when did you know you were gay?"

"Oh, well..." Remus paused to think in the center of the room, "I don't think there was one defining moment...I think I always knew I was gay."

Harry had to stifle a sigh, wondering what it must be like to grow up knowing everything there was to know about yourself. Remus always knew he wanted to be a professor too.

"Yeah but...did you ever think that maybe you weren't?"

"Love," Remus smiled softly, "I shared a dormitory with Sirius. I stood absolutely no chance at ever thinking I was anything but."

"But....what if that was just Sirius. Can't you like a person? Not...their...like it...doesn't have to be..." Harry fumbled awkwardly, sock tumbling out of his hand and onto the floor. He bent forward off the bed to retrieve it, blood rushing to his head and deciding that was much better than trying to articulate how am I supposed to know I'm gay or if I just really like Cedric as a friend who I barely talk to and only see in hallways, who happens to have dimples and curls and smells nice?

Remus let magic take the rest of the pants and put them into the drawer, not caring if a leg got caught and that it didn't close perfectly, coming to sit next to Harry on the bed, "When I was younger, I didn't have the words to explain being best friends with a boy in my neighborhood. I just had really big feelings. And then..eventually, I got words, and unfortunately, most of them were swear words--" Harry snorted, "But some describing once too. And the same big feelings I had when I was younger were still there when I was 12 and then 15 and then...now? And it wasn't just around Sirius. It was...around muggle boys I met during summer holidays, and every time I got a copy of Rolling Stone magazine."

Harry thought of the extra time he spent looking at Quidditch Mag. The intense heat at the back of his neck when he flipped to a page with Viktor Krum. Harry knew the big feeling well.

"So...what did you do? About...?"

"I'm afraid I'm rather boring, Harry. There was no Great Goblin Crusade moment in my coming out story... when a girl would ask me to Hogsmeade, I'd just tell her I wasn't interested and that was it. My friends knew, my parents knew...that's all that mattered to me."

"Hm."

Harry felt Remus's long fingers run over his hair, "Anything else?"

But what if I am interested? How am I supposed to respond? Can I have both? Will you love me all the same?

"No."

--

It had been days since speaking with both Remus and Sirius, nights spent tossing and turning, days spent in a fog as a flurry of faces and features clouded his mind.

Oliver Wood's broad shoulders, he noticed those.

Cho's silken hair; her white smile, he noticed too.

Cedric's light eyes, caught in hallways.

Parvati was pretty, gold jewelry on her fingers. He couldn't help but glance at Angelina's long legs during Quidditch practice.

He liked both. He wanted both.

Heart hammering in his chest in cadence with his feet down the wooden floorboards of the hallway, rushing until he reached Remus and Sirius' room, and knocked before entering. Not caring if he was fourteen, almost fifteen, and too old to be doing this; not caring if they were awake or sleeping or if he made too much noise, Harry climbed into bed, taking the empty spot next to Sirius, the spot that was vacant because his godfather always slept close to Remus.

Sirius rolled over, eyes half-open, Remus stirring beneath him, "Harry?"

"Hi," he said meekly, drawing his legs up underneath his chin, and wrapping his arms around himself as Remus and Sirius both sat up.

"What's going on? Is everything okay?" Remus asked, his voice scratchy, flicking his wrist to turn on the bedside lamp.

"I don't know."

"Hey, hey," Sirius said, warm hand connecting with his face, sensing the change in emotion faster than Harry could even start to comprehend it. He was too old to be in their bed, he was too old to be crying.

What if I'm the broken thing?

"My love," Sirius said, "What's all this now?"

"I don't know." Harry managed, looking at Sirius's face, "I...I...think I might be gay."

"Okay."

"And...and...also not gay? I...don't know. I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't...I thought if I just asked you both when you knew, that I would know. But...all it did was make me more confused because obviously, I know you...you're gay, and...other people aren't and...I'm not? but I am? and...I-I-I-I don't know."

"There's nothing wrong with you," Sirius told him gently, pulling him into his chest, and Harry clung to the fabric of Sirius's shirt like a life vest "Absolutely nothing."

He felt Remus's hand on his back, rubbing in slow circles the way he always did. Harry could remember being much younger, Remus bringing him into his arms after every skinned knee, rhythmic patterns on his back slowing tears in seconds.

"It's...called bisexual," Remus explained, his voice soothing, calm, and steady, "If...you...like both. You can like both. More than one. You can fancy girls... and you can fancy boys."

"But--"

"You can like both. Or neither or everything," Remus continued, "And you're also fourteen and...can keep figuring this out."

"I..." Harry released a breath into Sirius's chest, Remus's words washing over him, washing away worry and the ache in his bones that wouldn't subside. Sirius's words echoed in his mind: i didn't know being gay was an option. Harry didn't know either. "I...It's okay?"

"Mhmm," Sirius said, "It's okay. It's great, even. We love you, no matter what."

"There is nothing in this world you could do that would make us stop loving you, Harry James," Remus added, giving enough space between the two of them for Harry to crawl into. He had told himself the last time he slept in their bed at thirteen was going to be the last time. And the time before that at 11 before his first day at Hogwarts. But this time was going to be his last...even if it was the safest place he could imagine being. Settled between his two pillars of strength, quieting all fears with a simple i love you.

you can keep figuring it out.

you can like both. or neither. or everything.

bisexual.

a new word settling on the roof of his mouth, eager to make itself at home.

"...Even...even if I'm straight?" He asked, his arms circled around one of Sirius's, head sharing Remus's pillow.

Sirius laughed, kissing Harry on the top of his head, as Remus flicked his wrist, the room going dark once more. "Even then. Especially then."

-

<33

who else is gay for hp gals? 🙋‍♀️

What We Pretend We Can't See - gyzym

this was my first ever drarry fic and i was BUH-LOWN!!!!!

it so happened that i woke up last tuesday morning and well decided to ship drarry (without any context or literally any idea where to start)

and im trulyyy thankful to the tumblr community especially @onbeinganangel you have been a truee angel, thank you <33

im just so grateful for the fact that this was my first drarry fic!!! IT IS AWESOME...!

and draco is a mood.

i repeat -

DRACO IS A MOOD.

thats all :))

Mia’s Marauders Fanon Fact of the Day:

We Stan Hope Lupin.

There’s been a lot of debate over which of Remus’ parents were the muggle and which the witch/wizard, but we all agree that Hope was an absolute legend.

Personally I prefer to think of her as the muggle, and Lyall as the wizard, but it differs from person to person.

Lots of people also have the headcanon that Lyall worked for the ministry and did something to piss off Greyback, and that’s why Remus got bitten (as payback).

I like to think that Effie (who is also a boss bitch), Hope and Minnie would get together and have tea and talk about the boys, but that’s just me lol.

What do you think?

- Mia

yeaaaaaaah absolutely, idk much abt the last part, never thought abt it that way tbh but yeaah definitely, why not!!!!!

and i do agree with the fact that hope was a muggle and the entire lyall working for ministry theory.....abt the greyback part - i kinda like the genius mskingbean's take on that one, yk in atyd????!

so that's that.

thaaaanx for the update :))

ooooooh my goshhhhhhhh this is the pRETTIEST!!!!!

Kinktober 2021 — Collar

Because long haired!Draco and himbo!Harry is a major mood

there were times where i went down the rabbit hole of hating chemistry because i couldnt understand it or not being able to understand it because i hated it so fucking much!

the bottom line is i hate chemistry too!

I fucking hate chemistry.

omgggg thank you so muchh!!!!!!!! THIS IS HUGEE!!!!!!!! THANK YOUU :)

you are amAzing!!!! <33

hiiiiii

so umm i dont know how to put this in a better way, but i woke up this morning and decided to ship drarry. The problem is i have absolutely no idea or im absolutely new to this drarry fandom, so any recs as to how or which fic i should start with and stuff???

plzzzz it would really be a HUGE help!!! i spent an hour on google abt this and im still clueless :3

hey hey! welcome aboard!

i’m not super great at recs (a combination of exceptionally bad memory + just generally not being super eloquent about why i like fics) BUT i can definitely point you in the right direction for this!

@sitp-recs is invaluable for recs in the drarry fandom! she has a VERY HANDY drarry for beginners little series separated into different genres and tropes, which is a great starting point!

if you’re looking for more people to follow (i find the best way to get fic recs is following more of the community so more of it ends up on my dash), here’s a very thorough list of reccers in the fandom with their many lists!

i also see you’re a fellow marauders era fan so i’ve got a feeling you may be an angst reader like me 👀 if you want recs for specific tropes or themes, i am more than happy to chat if you want to slide into my DMs!

have lots and lots of fun 🤩 welcome to the wonderful little world of drarry!

just.....just lOoK at tHAt....... :) <33

Don't you just love Zayn Malik?

but oh that 2%!

I am genuinely, about 98% sure, that I will never experience true, permanent happiness.

he’s a fictional character to you, i know him personally

damn, i feeelll.....*gasp*....oLd!!!!!

So I decided to look up what songs are turning 10 this year and I'm very *dabs* old and upset

so i just kinda realized (now, after all these years) the scene where draco is supposed to kill dumbledore and snape is like pushes him away, dumbledore says a weak "please"! i just realised it was a permission, a permission for snape to go ahead and do the deed!

FUCK-!

<333

“I love you guys” - (2021)

Them.