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out-of-context-fics · 1 year

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- Step & Repeat by TheresTheSnitch

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out-of-context-fics · 1 year

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- Step & Repeat by TheresTheSnitch

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out-of-context-fics · 1 year

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- Step & Repeat by TheresTheSnitch

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out-of-context-fics · 1 year

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- Step & Repeat by TheresTheSnitch

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out-of-context-fics · 1 year

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- Step & Repeat by TheresTheSnitch

#ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #ao3fic #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #marauders #modern au #celebrity au #fake dating trope

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out-of-context-fics · 1 year

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Honest

"I know what you did." It was a statement, 5 words that could hurt any marriage.

"Sorry what, Pads?" Remus looked up from the mountain of papers that were littered on his desk.

"I'm gonna need you to be honest with me, Remus." He took a step into his husband's study "If you care about us. You will tell me the tru-"

"I did it."

The silence that followed was deafening. The faint ticks of the analog clock on the wall filling the room, TICK TICK TICK. Both men, looked at each other. Not daring to say a word.

TICK TICK TICK

"MERLIN BALLS, MOONS!"

"I'm sorr-"

"No, I don't care for your excuses." Sirius paused "Just… Christmas is tomorrow"

"I know"

"Well, someone is gonna have to apparate to Brussels to get more of Effie's favorite chocolates, and it is not going to be me"

@wolfstarmicrofic

#wolfstarmicrofic #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #ao3 fanfic #ao3

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out-of-context-fics · 1 year

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Raid

Stepping through the front door of their flat, Remus felt certain that it had been the subject of a raid. Every cupboard door, drawer and storage box was thrown open, the contents strewn across the surfaces.

He listened out for signs of another body in the flat and, hearing a rustling from his and Sirius’ bedroom, cast a wandless, wordless silencio before cautiously moving towards it.

From the ajar door, he could see Sirius manically upturning every nook and cranny he could get his slender fingers into.

“Sirius? What are you doing?”

Sirius spun around, his face paling as he backed himself against their dresser.

“Remus! You aren’t supposed to be back yet.”

.

@wolfstarmicrofic

#screaming /pos #wolfstarmicrofic #raid #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #wolfstar microfic

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out-of-context-fics · 1 year

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Part 1 out of 8 for @hanukkahwolfstarweek First night: Menorah lighting Word prompts: Light, eyes, candle Also on: AO3

Sirius does not like holidays.

The December ones, especially so.

Everything around the dark, gloomy flat is always lit up with colours, highlighting even further how their house is nothing but varying shades of grey and black. Christmas is always all about green and red, standing out even more against the white snow covering the cold streets of muggle London, old men dressed as Santa roaming the streets, kids giggling loudly as parents pull them away from stands of candies.

Hanukkah is always somewhere around that time - sometimes a whole month before it, sometimes only a week - Sirius is not sure how that works, he knows it has something to do with the lunar calendar but he never bothered to learn that, not seeing the point in any of it. Regulus tried explaining it to him on several occasions, blabbering something about the positions of the moon and the solar system, but gave up after being brushed off every single time.

On the first night of Hanukkah they usually go to the Manor, where Cygnus and Druella make a big deal out of lighting the first candle of the Hannukiah.

It always starts out nicely - or rather, in a poor attempt at pretending that nothing is wrong - but it quickly escalates into a string of unfortunate events and unpleasant conversations that he would rather not be a part of.

Bellatrix is trying to spill hot oil on everyone around her (he isn’t sure if that’s purposeful or not), Narcissa is squealing like she is being cut open with a knife when Andromeda tries to shove a generous piece of sfenj covered with sugar powder into her mouth, screaming something about being on a diet and the high amount of carbs in fried sweets.

Sirius tries to kick Bellatrix under the table with his foot when she’s about to spill the entire contents of the jug onto Regulus, but ends up hitting him instead, causing the younger to drop the candle he’s holding, the flames immediately latching onto the thin fabric of the tablecloth.

Cygnus hurries to pull out his wand, putting out the spreading fire quickly, and Walburga snarls something under her breath in his direction, snapping at Sirius to get up from the table and go outside.

There is a limit to how many times they can retell the same old tale of the Maccabees and Judas the Wizard, somehow managing to tie the story of the revolt against the Greeks with the modern-day resistance of the pure-blood class against the tainted blood being pushed onto them, so eventually the conversation starts straying off into directions Sirius would rather much avoid.

They mention the names of his classmates, glancing over to check his reaction and raise an eyebrow when he offers not much more than a grunt in response, pick at his grades, compare their current schedule to the way it used to be ‘back in the day’, until Sirius is anything if not happy to take up his mother on the excuse to leave the table.

So no, Sirius does not like holidays.

Until Remus Lupin, that is.

There is nothing about him that gives it away at first.

Sirius always assumed that if he was ever to meet someone like himself, from the same background as his family, they would at least look similar - curly black hair, thicker facial features, a hint of an accent with some rolling r’s that the elder members in his family still let seep through on occasion.

Remus looks nothing like that - his hair is a soft shade of light brown, the tips of the longer locks almost a golden blonde when the sun touches them during daylight, and his eyes are a warm hazel, ranging anywhere from green, to a golden orange, to brown, depending on the lighting and his surroundings, almost like the forest, shedding its leaves throughout the seasons.

He looks soft and gentle on the outside, drawing Sirius in with the warm smiles he offers and the calmness of his voice when he speaks during class, but there is something else that Sirius can spot, something recognisable and a bit damaged that he thinks people like James and Peter can not see, the rough edges and the sharp flinches, brows pulled together that make him shut down when certain topics are approached that nobody but Sirius seems to notice.

He is so very different, fascinating and enigmatic like a puzzle, and still - there are some things he notices. The small details. It feels distantly familiar, but he can not quite put his finger on it.

It’s the way Remus strays away from certain dishes on the table, politely turning down any dairy desserts after a meal with meat, the way he sometimes opens his books from the right side instead of the left, the way he seems so comfortable using both hands when writing.

Sirius wants to ask, but he’s too scared of making a fool of himself. He wouldn’t have been today, and he’s sure that neither would Remus, but they are merely kids back then, both of them having grown completely isolated from the outside world, only now learning to explore and accept it, so it’s only natural.

He’s convinced he’s just making it up in his head, projecting his own habits onto people around him in a desperate attempt to find something familiar, until something happens during a Potions class that makes it all click into place.

Sirius curses silently under his breath when he distractedly reaches over, causing one of the empty vials on his desk to fall over. It hits the floor, shattering to small pieces across the pavement.

The apology is already on his lips when he bends over to pick the shatters of glass up with his wand before anybody in class accidentally steps on them, but then Remus blurts out something next to him.

“Mazal tov.”

Sirius freezes mid motion. He looks up, blinking blankly at the other boy, who seems to only realise what he just said once Sirius looks up at him.

“Sorry,” Remus says quietly, “it’s just, uh-- it’s something we say at home,” he explains, almost apologetically, his cheeks a little flushed with embarrassment. “Ignore it.”

He bends over to help him pick up the shards, pulling them together into one spot with his wand, but Sirius’ mind is still stuck on the familiar set of words.

“Like at a wedding,” he says before he can stop himself.

It’s Remus’ turn to freeze, warm hazel eyes darting up to look at him in surprise.

“What?”

“Mazal tov,” Sirius repeats, firmer. “When a glass breaks. Like at a wedding.”

Remus is looking at him like he just grew an additional pair of eyes on his forehead.

“Yeah, like at a wedding,” he repeats slowly. He gives Sirius a quick once-over, like he’s seeing him for the first time. “How do you know?”

Sirius’ lips tug up into a smile. “We say that too.”

It’s the first time Sirius says “we” without hesitation, the first time he suddenly does not feel ashamed to associate himself with his family’s background and traditions. The first time his roots give him something to connect with other people over and not be pushed away for it.

A month later, when it’s time to light the Hannukiah, it’s the first time in his life that he’s really looking forward to it.

The lighting of the first candle thankfully falls on a Sunday eve, when they don’t have any classes or practise, and once they are done with dinner Sirius looks up from his plate on the table, meeting Remus’ gaze across from him, and he can see the silent invitation in his eyes without any words being uttered between them.

They murmur the blessing in a hushed whisper as they light it back at their dorm, and place it on the inside ledge of their window, bright and shining for any eyes outside to see.

“Happy Hannukah,” Remus whispers to him, lips tugging into a shy smile as his eyes dart over to look at him.

And for the first time Sirius can say that yes, it’s definitely going to be a happy one.

#cute cute cute cute #omg #love this sm #ao3 link #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #wolfstar #hanukkah wolfstar week 2022 #wolfstar hannukah week

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out-of-context-fics · 1 year

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its just you and i (here under the mistletoe)

(holiday sirius black/kingsley shacklebolt)

It was safer outside, quieter. Was it possible to love parties and hate them at the same time?

Kingsley's cheeks hurt from smiling all night long, his throat felt raw from all the talking above the music playing in the grand ballroom at the ministry. Everyone wanted an opportunity to speak with the Minister outside the context of an office; everybody had an idea or a elevator pitch to hand out, more comfortable now that there was mulled wine and champagne free of charge. As amusing as it was to sit in a room of sloshed politicians, pink in the face and slurring together arguments, even Kingsley had his limits.

An expert at ditching security detail.

An expert at having another glass of red wine behind the bushes, ignoring his fathers voice in the back of his mind.

One glass of wine, my son. No one wants to be the one who the rumors are about after a holiday party. Especially the Minister.

Kingsley chuckled to himself, adjusting the cuffs of his robes, and righting a ring on his finger as he watched the party from the outside. The decorators had taken the liberty of planting mistletoe around the party, and as the evening got later, everyone in attendance had stopped taking such care to avoid door thresholds. Bathesda from the second floor seemed to be on a timer of sorts, walking through entrances and exits every hour or so, kissing whoever was closest. A young witch from the fourth floor-- an assistant of sorts-- had yet to go to the bathroom because the mistletoe was in its path, not wanting to burn bridges before they had a chance to be built in a world of politics.

A twisted sort of sense of humor that Kingsley didn't mind, smiling around the rim of his wine glass before taking a sip, when the side door opened. The volume of the music from inside increased momentarily, alongside a whoosh of warm air flooding the small outdoor area, and a bright smile that almost made Kingsley choke.

Perhaps his father was right that one glass of wine was plenty.

"Oh, hello, Minister," Sirius Black greeted. A tone that was the perfect hybrid of casual and polite. Arrogant and charming. "You're not hiding are you?"

"Now, why would I be hiding?"

"Rumor has it Flemming from the fifth floor brought a change of clothes..." Sirius grinned, lopsided smile catching the gold lights hanging from the outside of the building.

"What would he possibly be changing into?"

"Hence the hiding."

"I see. Then I'll stay out here a moment longer."

"No doubt he'll put on an encore for you, Minister..." Sirius said lightly, and Kingsley shook his head.

In a sea of dress robes, Sirius had shown up to the holiday party in a white sweater with wonky-silver snowflakes and the phrase "Holidays" embroidered onto it. In a sea of posh wool coats, Sirius had a leather jacket thrown over his shoulder, and curls that fell over his dark eyebrows and tattoos up the back of his neck. In a space full of people who, like Kingsley, had been fighting tooth and nail and climbing political ladders for years, Sirius had shown up out of the blue a year and a half ago-- after everyone had assumed he was missing or dead the way no one had heard or seen Sirius Black since the end of the war--and taken the world of Ministry Politics by storm.

Smart. Bright. New how to play the game after being raised with Purebloods, and never forgetting how much he had grown away from ancient ideals.

Sirius Black was a hurricane of a human.

And Kingsley happened to love storms.

"Not enjoying the party?" Kingsley asked.

"What's not to like about classical music and sloshed ministry officials?" Sirius returned wryly, pulling something that looked like a compact mirror out of his jacket.

"Favorite composer?"

"Haydn."

"You're full of surprises."

"It's part of the game. Never let them know what you'll do next..." Sirius said, tapping tattooed fingers against the compact, Kingsleys eyes following the ink and watching it disappear under the cuffs of his sweater. Olive skin, grey eyes, dark hair. Kingsley picked up his wine against to cover-up the way his mouth had gone dry. "I'll let you you continue hiding, Minister--"

"No, it's alright, I really should be going inside. Keep the patio warm, Black--" Kingsley crossed the few paces, trying to beat Sirius through the threshold of the door, but Sirius's arm extended, hitting Kingsley across the hips.

"Sorry," Sirius said, though his eyes betrayed his statement, the way they slowly scanned Kingsley from the toes of his black dress shoes to the collar of his burgundy robes.

Sorry my arse.

"Watch your step, Minister," Sirius said, looking upward and Kingsley followed his gaze to the mistletoe that had moved above the threshold, Sirius stopping the two of them before they crossed at the same time. "Wouldn't want to make a scene."

Kingsley watched as Sirius walked through the threshold alone, disappearing back into the party. Paces behind him Kingsley did the same, walking through people attempting to shake his hand yet again, to find a third glass of wine.

--

Kingsley sent his security detail home early as he waited for his car to be brought for him, hands in the pockets of his coat, listening to the crack of guests apparating away one by one. Flemmings had dressed up like a muggle version of Santa Claus, camera flashes in every direction; two of the more senior members of the Wizengamot had fallen asleep, glasses of mead in their hands. And then there was Sirius, who Kingsley had spent the rest of the party eyeing across the ballroom. Unable to stop thinking about the forearm that had landed in front of his hips, or how Sirius Black was the most interesting thing about the world of politics since the magical creature legislative reform had been introduced.

And there he was again, head titled back on the outskirts of the pavement blowing smoke into the air.

Into the hurricane.

Kingsley took a step closer, "I have to ask..." Sirius lowered his head and turned towards Kingsley, instinctively dropping the cigarette and stamping it out with his black boot.

"I wasn't smoking."

Kingsley raised his eyebrows in amusement at the moment of small panic that Sirius had admitted. "No?"

"Nope, you're seeing things Minister," Sirius nodded quickly, "I don't smoke. Bad habit...nasty things and the like...you had a question Minister?"

"Well, now I have several..." Kingsley mused.

"Mm, sorry, only one."

"What is the explanation for your sweater?" Kingsley asked, gesturing to the white knit material that pulled across Sirius's torso. Up close, the writing was shaky, as if written by a child.

Sirius grinned widely, looking down at his stomach before meeting Kingsley's eyes again. All the lights in the ballroom and the stars in the sky couldn't compare with the joy and brightness radiating off Sirius in that moment, and Kingsley's heart stalled. "It's a holiday sweater. Do you like it? My kid made it. It was a project in primary school, some end-of-the-year craft--weird schooling, right? Muggles. When I was eight, I was learning Latin, and piano, not...the art of decorating a sweater."

"A...holiday sweater," Kingsley repeated slowly, looking at the snowflakes and the word HOLIDAY again. "Funny."

"That's Harry. Funniest kid in the world...I couldn't think of a more...holiday occasion to wear it. Should I tell him the Minister of Magic wants one as well?"

"I wouldn't want to infringe on his busy schedule..."

"He would stay up all night making you one...hell, he's been up all night anyway."

"Harry can take his time. I'm...glad to hear he's doing well. It sounds?"

"If I didn't know better, I would think you were trying to get into my good graces with this small talk, Minister."

"Good thing you know better," Kingsley countered, and Sirius laughed again. "Except for one thing."

"What's that now?"

"You can't usurp the rules of mistletoe. It's bad luck," Kingsley said, swallowing pride and nerves and the flutters of his heart and taking a step closer to Sirius. One hand under Sirius's jaw-- light stubble, fingers hitting the tattoo on the back of his neck--the other just on the waistband of Sirius's trousers before kissing him softly on the mouth.

Just one.

Kingsley had a feeling kissing Sirius would be just like the glasses of wine.

One wouldn't be enough.

#this is so cute omg #sirius black #kingsley shacklebolt #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3fic #ao3 link

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out-of-context-fics · 2 years

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