So I watched that episode of Our Flag Means Death where Ed finds the bunny and thinks it's a wolf and thought, what if Remus was a wererabbit and Sirius had no idea? Anyways, have a drabble.

Here I Am (a rabbit-hearted boy)

Hogwarts Era. 654 words. Wererabbit Remus. G.

Remus' floppy ears twitch unhappily. He had been so careful—so careful not to let his friends see the monster he becomes every full moon. He thought he was sneaky, when he made his way out of the castle before dinner—after the other boys had already left for the Great Hall, but here is Sirius, standing above him with wide eyes. He'd seen the whole thing, the whole transformation—running into the clearing before Remus could even shout at him to stop. Before his body bent and twisted violently into a monster.  Remus' tiny body shakes in fear. Finally, after an impossibly long moment, Sirius seems to come back to himself. "R—Remus? Are you—you're a werewolf?"  …I'm a what now? 

"I thought maybe you were upset about Snape ruining your Potions final when you didn’t follow us down to dinner, so I came back to find you and saw you sneak out of the castle. I decided to  follow you, but I didn't think...Oh my God. You're so...so...cute."  Remus' nose twitches in a way that he thinks sufficiently expresses his shock and distaste. He’s not cute. He’s fearsome! An abomination! Sirius, unafraid, crouches down and strokes a gentle hand over the tawny fur on his back.  Okay, well Remus doesn't hate that.  Sirius scratches behind one floppy ear, and it makes Remus’ back foot twitch. Sirius smiles. "Are you a friend, wolf? Merlin, wait til I tell James about this! Our Moony—a real bloody werewolf!" and then as quickly as he’d appeared, he's gone, running off back toward the castle. It's just as well, Remus is dangerous like this. As much as he would love some company on the moons, one bite is all it would take and he could turn Sirius, too. He couldn't live with himself. Remus has just finished snacking on some grass, and is just about to hop into the underbrush to play chase with the rabbits of the Forest, when Sirius comes running back, this time with James in tow. Great. "See James! That's Remus, he's a werewolf!"  James, who is bent over trying to catch his breath, looks up at him like he's stupid. "That's a rabbit, Sirius." "No...I saw him transform—that’s Remus. He's a werewolf." "At best that's a wererabbit." He looks down at Remus, his face twisted in thought. "Sorry Remus, just a sec. Sirius—" he looks back up at the other boy, pinching the bridge of his nose. “—have you ever actually seen a rabbit before?" "Well, not precisely...Grimmauld is in the middle of London, not exactly teeming with rabbits and the like." "Babbity Rabbity? Surely you've read Babbity Rabbity at least." "I'm pretty sure Babbity Rabbity would never make it into the Black family library. Not macabre enough." James sighs. "Okay well, I’m telling you that's a rabbit." James points down at him, and Remus twitches his nose, hoping it conveys how tired he is.  Sirius stomps his feet, insistent. “But his last name is Lupin, not Lapin! He's Wolfie McWolf, not Bunny McRabbit!” “I’m pretty sure his name has nothing to do with which were-animal decided to take a chunk out of him, Sirius!” Remus tries to hop away while they’re fighting, but Sirius spots him and scoops him up into his arms. “Oh no you don’t! Come on Remus, I’ll sneak you back into the castle—get you something to munch on. What do rabbits eat, anyway? Hay? Flowers?”  Human flesh.  “They eat grass and, like, carrots. Good call though, better get him inside before an actual wolf spots him. Come on, Remus.” And that’s how Remus finds himself, a few hours later, in a soft bed, snuggled under the covers with Sirius’ hand gently resting on his furry back. He supposes being found out isn’t so bad, and if he wakes up in the morning—human again, Sirius spooning against his back, he thinks that might actually be even better.

McGonagall: Did you just give 10 points to Mr. Malfoy for being too handsome?

Snape: Get off your high horse. You play favourites too.

McGonagall: No one can accuse me of being partial towards anyone.

Snape: Oh really?

McGonagall: Yes. I love Ms. Granger and all the non MS. Grangers equally.

Harry said, “I’m tired of us squabbling like cats—and I get the impression you are too. So can we agree to get along, or at least agree to disagree? Or would you at least tell me what it is you hate about me so much?”

Draco readjusted his stance. He stepped forward and set both feet firmly on the ground in front of Harry. “You want to know why I hate you?” he breathed viperously. “I hate you, Potter, because you can do no wrong according to Professor Dumbledore. I hate how that stupid scar of yours commands the crowds wherever you go—and I hate how you’re always the center of attention—and that you ever had the nerve to say no to me. I hate how bright and green your beautiful eyes are, and I hate the blank look on your face whenever you look at me like that…”

Stunned by the confusion of words he had just heard, Harry worked his mouth on a soundless question. When he recovered his voice, he managed to say, “Malfoy… what do my beautiful eyes have to do with anything?”

Real Sweet, But I Wish You Were Sober

Sirius is so Conan Gray coded and Remus is so gay for him. This is one of the biggest pieces I’ve ever done (backgrounds are my nemesis) but I’m proud that it’s done after a month (or two) of working on it on and off! Hope y’all enjoy and love it as much as I do 💕

Harry, being late for potion class, mumbling: Why does everything smell like Malfoy?

Ron, sightly lost: mate…

Hermione, quietly: Harry, todays lesson is amortentia…

Harry: Oh…

Draco, a row behind them, afraid that Harry just spilled their little secret by accident: Oh no!

AU where Remus turns on his first day as a Hogwarts Professor - either on the train ride or during the Start-of-Term Feast - because September first, 1993, WAS A FUCKING FULL MOON.

Imagine you've created a magical world where you can make up literally everything, and you don't need to do ANY research. And then you fail to consult a fucking calendar.

“Do you think Harry’s acting a bit weird?”

Ron did not look up from the essay he was failing to finish, but he did say, “No.”

Hermione nudged him with a foot. “I’m serious.”

Ron did look up this time, “Well, he’s not acting any weirder than normal,” he conceded.

“He’s not staring at Malfoy so much.”

This had Ron putting his quill down, eyebrows shooting up. “Bloody hell, what’s wrong with him?”

“That’s what has you concerned?” Hermione looked amused.

“Well, he’s Harry,” Ron explained. “He’s always acting a bit weird.”

“This is different,” Hermione stressed. “I think something might actually be wrong.”

“Nah,” Ginny declared, dropping down into the chair beside Ron. “There’s nothing wrong with Harry.”

“How would you know?” Ron demanded, watching his sister pull her own essay from her bag and spread it out on the table.

“Luna saw Myrtle and a crying Malfoy in the bathroom and Luna told Harry and now its a thing.”

“What’s a thing?” Ron demanded.

“Well he’s not worried about what Malfoy’s up to now, is he?” Ginny sighed. “Now he’s too worried about trying to save him.”

Ron and Hermione both let out identical sounds of exasperation, though Ron was the one to say, “I’m not being nice to Malfoy.”

“No even when they inevitably start shagging?” Ginny wondered.

Ron felt faintly sick. “Not even then,” he vowed.

Underrated Fanfic Friday!

Antinomian by @starsoforionwrites is so good! And such a rollercoaster! Seriously, AMAZING! This Draco is psychotically obsessed ("who did this to you") and Hermione doesn't know what's come over him. I LOVE IT!

The book starts to shift in tone as they enter the war and Draco struggles to grapple with his obsession, keep her safe, and stay alive.

I feel like this fic is severely underrated in my opinion ❤❤❤

Read it on AO3 HERE

XOXO - Tipp

Is that what it was? That terror, was it…love?

— Clarice Lispector, Ronald W. Sousa (translator), The Passion According to G.H.

NEVER FAR BEHIND (THOSE LIVID KNUCKLES) For @jilymicrofics's 2024 Jily Gift Exchange. Giftee: @reality-exodus Words: 742. Rating: E. Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence. Summary: To wrong Lily Evans is to face James Potter's wrath.

READ ON AO3 OR UNDER THE CUT

What smiting would be just? What punishment befitting of the crime? The Defendant would undoubtedly plead guilty. But hear me, oh Mighty One, and take pity—it was all for love.

It was all-consuming. That quickening of the heart; that swell of an ocean between the ears, within the skull; that hot heaving rage clawing at the ribcage, demanding to be set free—Stravinsky's Rite of Spring reaching crescendo. Nails biting into anxious palms—that desperate bid for self-control.... And then, like the snap of a tendon, that oh-so-sweet release, when fist melded with face to the sickening—the thrilling—Stravinsky!—symphony of cracking bone. Then the wash of calm. All before the faint scream of the Defended and the groans of the vermillion mouth cut through the glorious haze, and the guilt and the fear rushed forth with the realisation of what you had done. It hit you somewhere deep, somewhere dark, dank, as if you yourself had just met the hand of Man.

James, swallowing the rising tide of emotion, abandoned the crumpled suggestion of Quentin Trollope (the Victim) and focused instead on the reason for his presence in the cold corridor, the motivation behind his mind-numbing fury.

Lily wasn’t far away. She was sitting, spine straight as a lightning rod, with her back pressed into the raw stone wall behind him, trembling, grey school cardigan fallen—wrenched—off one shoulder, knees slumped forward and nearly fused from the pressure of the contortion, while her feet splayed out on either side of her: the unsteady limbs of a newborn foal. Her eyes, wide with terror, were trained on James. A single file of blood had made its steady way from the corner of her pink parted mouth to the cusp of her pale pointed chin. Flooding down from a steadily burning torch immediately above, Heavenly light cast a perfect amber nimbus over her messy titian head like a beautifully tragic saint. James nearly choked.

He was with her in an instant, his eyes searching hers for hurt, for pardon. His thumb messily brushed away the trickle of blood, achieving only a grotesque smear across her jaw. A lump lodged itself in his throat. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice hard gravel.

Lily nodded wordlessly, head threatening to fall limp in the security of his hands, which cupped her jaw ever so tenderly.

In the centre of the flagstone floor, Quentin stirred. His usually neat, presently dishevelled, bowl cut was fair and thin; it wobbled as he did. Gazing down at his own hot blood, cupped in his quaking hand, his face split into a deranged grin: ear-to-ear with all teeth bared. He laughed once, twice, then, without looking up from the winey liquid now carving its way down his wrist, rasped: “You motherfucker. I think you broke it.” He laughed again—loud gasps of glee. An entire minute elapsed, then, upon discerning that it would garner no response, he fell deathly silent, and settled the pair with a cold hard stare. “You can’t protect her forever.”

James slowly hauled Lily up so they were both standing, her arms flung around his shoulders.

“You hear me?”

“Just fuck off, Trollope,” spat James as he guided Lily down the corridor, without giving the pathetic lump the dignity of turning his head to address him.

Now spitting frothy blood like a rabid dog, Quentin stuffily shouted: “Just you wait, Potter! I’ll get her eventually and you know it. I’ll kill that jumped-up little Mudblood.”

James paused, unlooped Lily’s arms from his neck and his from her waist. “Wait here.”

“James—”

“Wait. Here.”

A few long strides took him right back down the corridor from whence he came. As he reached Quentin’s hunched spine, the boy-puddle, who had been probing his swelling nose, stilled. He chuckled and threw a manic smile over his bony shoulder. Sneered: “Back for more?”

James shrugged. “You could say that.” Then, with all the presence of mind of someone intending to inflict true harm and the force of knuckles hardened from years of rigorous training, struck the pinched sparrow-like face square in the nose. Where before there had been a crunch, there was now a squelch. James came away from Quentin Trollope’s unconscious form splattered with ruby, which he vanished as quickly as it had come, before reuptaking his hold on a swaying Lily and, pressing the softest of kisses to her tear-stained cheekbone, helped her down the corridor.

PROMPT: I have this notion of Harry chasing after Hermione when Ron (or someone else) upset her and following her up into the girls dorms. Something he should NOT be able to do. It turns out that no student of the opposite gender should be able to get into one of the gender designated dorms. It turns out upon investigation, that Harry and Hermione have been using accidental magic to visit each other’s dorms. And because the castle A) ships them super hard and B) recognizes they currently have no intention to do anything inappropriate it allows it. ALT Approach: It’s the accidental magic of their burgeoning soul bond?

It Can't Be Helped (9752 words) by moongnome Rating: Not Rated Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin post-prank, marauders era Summary: The swallow of Sirius' throat is distracting. Everything about him is distracting. His dark, curling hair, his clear eyes, his skin, his wrists, his collarbone slipping out from the open neck of his shirt. Remus hates him. He aches with hating him.   After The Prank, Remus knows he will never forgive Sirius. Sirius, to his credit, makes this very difficult.

Comment: This fic had everything I want from a post-prank fic: angst, mutual pining, an angry Remus and miserable Sirius, declarations of love and slow, reluctant forgiveness.

Marauders Era

Hogwarts Era

Next Gen Era

Meme through the ages; Marauders Era // Hogwarts Era // Next Gen Era

Art and Fic by winterwells

Muggle-Born Chapter 24 posted on AO3!

Draco makes good use of Potter’s invisibility cloak :)

Each panel gets cuter and cuter. Fast-developing teens at the top.

I wrote a ficlet

Late Night Meetings

For the prompt: Careless From @drarrymicrofic Rated: G

When Dumbledore had given him his father's cloak back, the last thing he'd expected to use it for was sneaking into the Slytherin common rooms at night to watch the Black Lake through the murky, stained windows with Draco. Dark, eerie shapes kept drifting by, giving him the impression that whatever it was was circling around them, looking for a way in. He shivered and pressed closer to Draco, as one of the black masses drifted closer, giving him a better view of what he thought was one of the Giant Squid's tentacles. Draco was half asleep, his eyelids drooping heavily, as he fought to keep his head upright. Harry thought he could spend hours down here like this, tucked up in Draco's arms, swaddled in his invisibility cloak. No one ever noticed that he was here. Even on the rare occassion when Goyle noticed that Draco wasn't in bed; he had never seemed to realize that they were both only a few feet away. The view had long since lost its enamor for Draco, but Harry couldn't get enough of it. So, this is where they spent most of their nights, curled up on the floor, watching the strange fish in the lake swim past. He knew he was growing careless, as he was beginning to spend far too long down here. Ron was starting to notice that he wasn't in bed, and he wasn't nearly as dimwitted as Goyle. Even if he hadn't figured it out yet; Harry knew Ron was bound to. As much as he wanted to stay right where he was, he knew he needed to head back. If he waited much longer, he'd risk someone waking and seeing his empty bed. Neville always seemed to wake at random hours of the night; he could only hope that it was too dark for him to see anything when he did. "Draco." He whispered, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible. "I've got to go." Draco startled, his eyes flying open. "Huh. Oh. Right." He pressed a quick kiss against his cheek, lingering for a moment, before he pulled away, taking his invisibility cloak with him. "Love you." Draco smiled, staring at the vacant space where Harry was standing. "Love you." He stood standing there for another few moments, staring at Draco. He didn't want to leave. His bed was boring, Draco was much more interesting and warm. But Draco was already getting up and heading back to his dorm, assuming Harry had left. He watched until he couldn't see him any longer and then turned and made the long walk back to his common room. Luckily, Filch was nowhere to be found, nor was Mrs. Norris, so he made it back without a hitch. He even managed to avoid Peeves, who was floating around and looking for stragglers to tell on. When he finally collapsed into his bed, he fell asleep with the comforting thought that he would be seeing Draco again tomorrow.