#remus POV
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Flowers from 1970 (Wolfstar's version, Remus POV)
This fic is published on AO3, https://archiveofourown.org/works/52814023/chapters/133584535
Pairing: Remus Lupin x Sirius Black
Summary: Over the years Remus managed to save enough to buy a house on the old part of his town. Day after day he try to fight isolation and loneliness, until one afternoon. He discover he can use an old telephone to communicate with a boy, who goes by the nickname Padfoot and lives 50 years in the past.
This is an adaptation version of the original "Flowers from 1970" by @astronomika on Wattpad.
Some details may change, but the mail plot will be the same.
Remus POV.
Word count: ?
Chapters: 6/19
N.A: As I said at the beginning, this fic is being published on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/52814023/chapters/133584535
This post is a way to "publicize" it. The plan is to publish at least one chapter per week, it will depend on my pharmacology teacher and everything I have to study hahah.
#marauders#marauders era#remus lupin#sirius black#wolfstar#remus POV#remus work in a cafeteria#remus angst#alternate universe#flowers from 1970#long distance relationship#(very long)#major character death
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Remus’ beat up Converse scuffled along the wooden floor, his toes bumping into the rubber of Sirius’ Docs as they shuffled through the room. He laughed, grabbing Sirius around the waist tightly as they almost stumbled to the ground, Sirius gripping at Remus’ jumper for stability.
He lowered the other boy on to his bed, carefully laying him back. Sirius was in a fit of giggles, reaching back behind him to feel for his mattress.
“Come on.” Remus muttered, lifting one of Sirius’ legs to begin untying his laces, but found they were already undone. He slipped Sirius’ boot off his foot, “Lay down, Pads.”
“But I don’t want to lay down.” Sirius pouted, holding himself up on his elbows as Remus lifted Sirius’ bootless feet onto the bed. “I want to talk to you.”
“You can talk to me tomorrow.” Remus smiled, tugging the covers down from under Sirius to try and make him comfortable.
“But I want to talk to you now.” He said, and Remus tried his best not to blush, “Always want to talk to you, Moons.”
“You’re drunk.” Remus said instead, trying to sound as calm as his butterflies would let him. Sirius looks so pretty with wet lips, messy hair and big puppy dog eyes.
“Just a little bit.” Sirius giggled, pinching his fingers together, “Aren’t you?”
“Not nearly as much.” Remus smiled, pushing Sirius back enough to pull the covers over his stomach, they both know that’s a lie, “Someone had to be responsible, and we all know it certainly wasn’t going to be you.”
Sirius grinned that wonderful Sirius Black grin, “I have to disappoint my parents somehow, Moony.”
“Yes, getting sloshed in the Gryffindor common room is certainly the way to do it.”
“Glad you agree.” Sirius clicked his tongue, flopping down into his pillows with a heavy sigh, “Thanks for looking after me.”
“Of course, Padfoot.” Remus smiled, smoothing the covers over the other boys chest.
“You always look after me, Moony.” He whispered back.
Remus nodded, biting his lip, “Someone’s got too.”
“James has got too.” He mutters, “You just do.”
Remus shrugged, thanking the darkness of the room from concealing his blush right now. However, the milky glow of the moon drifting through the curtains was illuminating Sirius’ pale face, highlighting his pretty features and adding a twinkle in his eyes that Remus couldn’t look away from.
“Maybe it’s because I know how willing James is to bend to your rebellious will.” He says, sweeping a thick lock of dark curly hair from Sirius’ eye, “Maybe I just know the pair of you need a babysitter.”
Sirius smiled, his lips curling up in an embarrassed grin. Remus finds it positively adorable.
“Maybe you’re just an arsehole.” Sirius bites back, but there’s no harm to his words, it’s just the way they are. It makes Remus’ insides twist.
“Maybe you’re just a loose cannon.”
“Maybe you just like to watch me… just like everyone else.” He challenged.
“Maybe you’re just a cocky bastard.” Remus blushes furiously.
“Maybe you’re a possessive one?” Sirius says again, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you decided it was my bedtime right as Mary started to flirt.”
“I knew if I let you drink anymore you’d end up with your head in the toilet.” Remus says, petting Sirius on the chest gently, trying to lie with ease. “I didn’t want to have to monitor every drink you have tonight.”
“Okay, Remus.” Sirius hummed and closed his eyes, “If you say so.”
“Sleep it off, Black.” Remus smiles, stifling a nervous laugh.
“Don’t let the party get too wild without me, Lupin.” Sirius mutters.
“I’ll try my best.” He says, “Goodnight, Pads.”
“Night, Moons.”
But Remus doesn’t leave. He stands there for a moment, watching Sirius breathe, watching him as he drifts off to drunken sleep. He looks so peaceful there, so quiet. He truely is so beautiful, especially cast under moonlight like this.
Remus resists the urge to reach out and touch. He stops himself from drawing the tips of his fingers over the hills of Sirius’ cheekbones and the valley of his eyes, the ridge of his nose and the plush of his lips. He wants to map out the entirety of Sirius with his fingers, he wants to know how he feels. He wants to be able to lay in bed at night and know what it’s like to hold him.
He’s so pretty, so brilliant, so smart, so funny. And kind, and brave, and strong, and generous. He’s loyal beyond days, and softer than silk, and the way he makes Remus feel is immeasurable to anything else.
He truly is the brightest star in Remus’ sky. He’s the only star that matters. Anytime he looks to the sky, Remus’ eyes immediately find him there, in Canis Major. In his notebooks, in his stories, on his converse, on his satchel, on the backs of his hands and his wrists and his ankles, everywhere he can reach, Remus finds himself scribbling Sirius’ star.
He wants to lay down beside him, hold him close. He wants to breathe the same air as Sirius, feel the warmth radiating off his body. He wants to wrap his hand over the scar on Sirius’ hip, and press his forehead to his temple, to feel the soft tickle of Sirius’ long hair on his face, and the warm breath from his lips breathed between them.
He aches to have him like that, to know him like that. He wants to kiss him. Now, yesterday, tomorrow, all the time. He watches the way his mouth moves when he talks, that grin is burned into his mind and he plays it on a loop every day. He wants to press his fingers along the pink plush skin, to feel how soft they would be, to tug at the skin and feel how it moves, to let go and watch it bounce back into place.
He wants to run his fingers along the ridge of Sirius’ teeth, to press his skin against the sharp of his canines until it hurts. He wants to feel the wet muscle of Sirius’ tongue press back against him, to feel his lips wrap around him. He wants…
He wants.
He wants to know what it feels like, just once, to have Sirius’ mouth pressed against his own. To have those delicate lips trace the expanse of Remus’ throat, to press kisses to his jaw and suck bruises into skin.
He wants Sirius everywhere. Needs him. It aches without him. It’s almost suffocating. Sirius Black is the air he needs to breathe but he’s denied of it.
It’s right there, right in front of him, but between them there’s glass. He can see him, hear him, know him, smell him, but he can never touch. Never have.
Remus is so very close, but Sirius is still too far away.
He sits on the edge of the bed, hands tucked between his knees and clamped tightly there so temptation doesn’t take. He’d just like to watch, just for a while, while they’re alone.
He’d like to listen to the sound of Sirius breathing, to watch his chest rise and fall. He wants to take in all his features, map out his curls and the way they shift and shine under moonlight.
Maybe he’ll draw him, tomorrow in the day. Remus often draws Sirius, watching him from the other side of the dorm, or from the sofa in the common room, in the stands of the quidditch pitch, under the big willow tree by the lake, between classes, in classes, after classes, whenever he can.
He has a sketchbook full of Sirius, each picture just as pretty as the other. He likes to trace his fingers over those and imagine what the real thing might feel like.
Remus resists the urge to lean down and kiss the place between his slender brows. He tells himself he can’t smooth his hand over Sirius’ cheek, sweep his hair behind his ear, kiss the tip of his pink nose or his drunk flushed cheeks. He can’t whisper how he loves him, or how pretty he looks, or how wonderful he is. He can’t do any of that, he won’t, but he can’t leave either. Not just yet.
Sirius peaks open one eye, “You’re still here.” His voice is thick and slurred, both from the drink and tiredness.
Remus feels his heart race, embarrassed he was caught, and yet so glad he stayed. Sirius’ voice is like music to his ears, no matter how groggy he sounds. Everything about Sirius is just so lovely to him.
“Just making sure you don’t die.” Remus says, daring a glance down at Sirius’ lips as his pink tongue darts out to wet them.
“I won’t die, Moons.”
“I know.” Remus whispers, struggling to tear his eyes away. Using all his strength, he does. He looks up to find Sirius staring at him, both eyes wide open as if he hadn’t just been on the brink of sleep. “Maybe I am a little protective over you after all.”
“Possessive.” Sirius corrected, “Thats the word I used.”
“Well, it’s not the one I used.” Remus murmured, his eyes flicking to Sirius’ pink lips again.
“You are, though. Aren’t you, Remus?” Sirius asked, eyes a little glassy as he blinked up at him.
“Protective?” Remus nodded, “Of course. You’re always getting yourself into trouble, even in your sleep.”
“Yes.” Sirius smiled, a knowing one at that, “But possessive, I mean. You’re possessive. You don’t like people touching what’s yours.”
“I suppose I did get quite angry with you when you went through my books.” Remus blushed, remembering just the other day when he found Sirius snooping. Too many pages of those books are tattooed with stars and sketches of the boy laying right in front of him.
“And when we steal your jumpers.” Sirius smiled.
“And my chocolate.” Remus added on.
“And your toothbrush.”
Remus laughed, “That’s different!”
“Still possessive.” Sirius mused, “You take claim of what’s yours.”
“I suppose I do.” Remus hummed.
“Do you think of me as yours, Remus?” Sirius whispered so silently it was almost missed.
Remus swallowed and couldn’t help the glance at Sirius’ lips, his eyes tracing over the entirety of the other boys face, “You’re my best friend, Sirius.”
Sirius nodded, closing his eyes and tapping his temple, “Give me a kiss then? James always does, can’t sleep right without one.”
Remus’ breath hitched in his throat, and he just looked at Sirius with widened eyes.
“Come on, Moons, you want me to sleep, yeah?” Sirius muttered, peaking an eye open to look at him, “You wouldn’t say no to me, would you?”
Remus laughed because they both knew how much of a lie that was. But with a smile he leant down and pressed a quick kiss to Sirius’ temple, marking the smooth skin beneath with his love.
“Sure, Padfoot, if you say so.” He whispered, his elbow pressing on the pillow beside Sirius’ head for stability. He stayed there for a moment, hovering over his best friend, not strong enough to move away just yet.
“Thanks, Moonbeam.” Sirius whispered, just as quiet as before, “Knew I could always count on you.”
“You can.” Remus whispered back, without a moment of hesitation, “Always.”
Sirius smiled and nodded, his eyes raking over Remus’ face. He felt a shiver trail up his spine, feeling Sirius’ fingertips walk up his arm. He stayed there, frozen, unable to tear his eyes from Sirius’ as the other boy let his fingers dance over Remus’ shoulder and up his neck.
His mouth felt suddenly dry, his heart in his throat, he only hoped Sirius wouldn’t be able to feel or hear it.
His fingers were soft, too soft, delicate and cold. They dragged over the skin by Remus’ mouth, up his cheek and over his eyebrow. They stopped at the top of his biggest scar, the one that slashes over his nose and half his face. Sirius licks his lips and lifts his eyes, watching his own fingers as they press there for a moment.
And then they move, slowly tracing down the ridge of his scar. It feels almost wrong, having skin so soft touch something so marred and horrible. But the twinkle in Sirius’ eye and the delicate touch of his fingers make it feel like even the worst parts of Remus could be loved.
That’s Sirius Black for you; hope.
He closes his eyes, absorbing the way Sirius touches him. He’s so careful, mapping out the shape of Remus’ face like this, as if it’s something precious.
Sirius’ fingers reach the corner of Remus’ mouth, and he holds his breath. They creep across, the dainty pads pressing into dry, chapped skin, and they stop in the middle, right at the seam of his lips.
Remus squints his eyes shut tighter and does something reckless; he kisses the tips of Sirius’ fingers, quickly, just once.
Sirius retracts his hand and Remus opens his eyes. They stare at each other for a moment, completely silent in the dark.
“If you wanted to kiss me, Remus,” Sirius whispers, and all of a sudden Remus can’t breathe. His eyes widen and his heart thumps so hard he can feel it in his ears, “all you had to do was ask.”
His mouth is so dry, and if he could find the words to speak right now, Remus wouldn’t even be able to say them. But he can’t, he doesn’t know what to say. He never thought that was an option.
“What are we doing, Moony?” Sirius asks again, his eyes flicking all over Remus’ face, “You have to know I’d say yes.”
He certainly didn’t know that. Not at all.
He knows he’s startled, completely frozen, lips parted in shock and staring. After a moment, Sirius closes his eyes and smiles, letting out a happy sigh as he shakes his head.
“Oh, Moony.” He mutters, a hand reaching up, fingers sifting through Remus’ hair and gripping, “You’re hopeless.”
Remus doesn’t even have the time to feel himself react before he’s tugged down and kissing him.
He’s kissing Sirius Black.
It’s just for a moment, perfect, impossibly soft lips pressed to his own, moving with him harmoniously. Sirius tugs Remus away and blinks up at him with hazy eyes.
“Do you really mean it?” Remus asked, sounding more desperate than he ever had before.
“Have I ever lied to you, Remus?”
As far as Remus is concerned, he never has. So he kisses him again. Sirius tugs him into bed, kicking off his shoes just in time to be pulled under the covers. They lay there together, time completely stopped, and Remus gets to hold him in his arms, and it feels better than he ever could have imagined.
They kiss for what could be hours, but Remus can’t be sure. It’s almost as if time stilled for them, both here, tucked away behind the curtains of Sirius’ bed.
It’s there that Remus gets to trace the lines of Sirius’ face, to map him out under calloused fingers like he’s dreamed of doing for years. It’s there he gets to kiss him, and pour his love into every touch. It’s there he gets to wrap his palm around the scar on Sirius’ hip, and feel Sirius kiss the silver ridges on each of his scars.
It’s there, pressed closely to Sirius Black, sharing the same breath, that Remus finds his hope to be true. And it’s here, in his arms, that Sirius Black feels it too.
★ ★ ★
Merry Christmas Eve to those who celebrate! I don’t have much for Christmas written as I have been severely slumped and going through some summer depression which is rad, but I had this in my drafts so mwah here you are <3
I think we all need a gay werewolf boyfriend who’s utterly obsessed with us, *sighs* the struggle
yo yo yo idk where the fuxk this came from. It’s 1.30 am and i am sleep deprived but have it anyway.
This was meant to be significantly shorter, but as always, I get carried away. It’s inspired by the magnificent p4perback on tik tok, from this video they posted. Uhhhhh not much else to say, I’m just a sucker for heart eyes Moony.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed!! Please reblog and comments are always appreciated <333
If you wanna read more of my shit it’s all here :)
Sirius to Remus in this:
Me rn:
#why won’t you kiss me?#wolfstar#jay writes#remus lupin#sirius black#remus pov#ficlet#marauders#remus x sirius#fan fiction
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stayed up until 130am to finish this breathtaking wolfstar raising harry fic. i quietly cried through every page. it was so beautiful.
and now i have the urge to read more wolfstar raising harry but will they make me feel like this one?
my eyes itch.
@sarewolf
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As requested by @evbell, a Remus POV missing moment!
This really got away from me length-wise, and there are definitely more Remus scenes that I want to write, but here's the first one! It takes place mostly in the aftermath of Chapter 8, with one 1981 flashback.
The Haunting Hour
A Kindly Stopped for Me missing moment.
When Lily goes back to Privet Drive to confront the Dursleys, Remus reflects on the last time he saw that house, and thinks about the pain that he couldn't stop.
2,858 words! (Below the cut)
10 November, 1981
Remus swayed on his feet, glaring around the room as he steadied himself against the nearest table. The reception was unbearable to him. The miserable, quiet room…the hushed, clipped conversations…the sniffling and crying…
It was supposed to be a celebration of James’s life…but he would’ve fucking hated this…
Remus wove his way carefully around the other mourners, (Is that what he was now? A mourner? Merlin…) casting around for something to distract him — for someone to be angry at. But there was nothing, no one, they were all gone. He pushed past a group of crying strangers (what the fuck did they have to be sad about) and ground to a stop in front of McGonagall. There was an urgent question on his lips, a question he could no longer avoid. There was only one person in the world Remus wanted to see just then, and he needed to see him now.
McGonagall didn’t seem happy about it, but she gave him the address. There was pity in her eyes as she did so, and Remus didn’t linger to hear what she had to say.
He Apparated to the street she’d indicated, his stomach roiling in protest when he arrived. Apparating before a full moon was always a risk. Apparating while five whiskeys in was downright idiotic. He leaned heavily against the garden gate, swallowing back the waves of nausea that pulsed through him. When he was certain he wasn’t going to vomit into the chrysanthemums, he lurched forward towards his destination, pounding his fist against the front door.
A stern-faced blonde woman answered it sometime later. Petunia, Remus realized, though she didn’t look a bloody thing like Lily. Her lip curled in disgust when she took in the state of Remus’s frayed dress robes.
“Hello,” he told her, his voice hoarse, but polite. “Are you…Petunia Dursley?”
“Yes,” the woman said curtly. She didn’t sound anything like Lily either.
“Right,” Remus said. “Well, er—you don’t know me.” His words were slurred, even to his own ears, but he persisted. “My name’s Remus. Remus Lupin. I’m a friend of—of Lily’s…”
Petunia’s eyes narrowed slightly at the sound of her sister’s name. There was a strange expression on her face…an emotion he couldn’t identify, though she didn’t look friendly.
“What do you want?” she said sharply.
Remus swallowed. He wondered vaguely if he should say something to her about Lily…apologize for what happened, tell her she was going to wake up….that it was going to be okay…but he decided against it. Merlin knew he hated when those same platitudes were directed at him.
“I was just wondering…” he rasped. “…if I could see Harry.”
Petunia visibly stiffened. Her stony stare turned, if possible, even more unpleasant — bordering on vicious. “No,” she snapped. “You most certainly may not…”
“Please,” Remus said quickly, swaying again on his feet. “Lily and James are — were — are…my best friends…I won’t…I just want—”
“I don’t care what you want,” Petunia hissed. “The answer is no.”
She moved to close the door, but Remus grabbed it, holding it open as if his life depended on it. He was trembling uncontrollably…black spots dancing at the corners of his vision. It was the day before the full moon, and his body was already waging war against itself…If he couldn’t see Harry today…
“Please,” he choked, unable or unwilling to keep the tears from returning. They burned in his eyes…prickled against his cheeks…reveling in his weakness… “He’s all I’ve got left…you have to — to underst—he’s…they all were…I just…please let me see him…”
But Petunia’s hateful look didn’t waver. “You’re not welcome in this house,” she spat. “My family will have nothing to do with your sort.”
Remus stumbled backward, his arms dropping to his sides. There was a flash of victory in Petunia’s eyes.
“Leave,” she snarled. “Now. Before I phone the police.”
The door slammed shut, and Remus ambled away, moving stiffly as though in a trance.
Your sort, she’d said, not welcome. She knew he was a werewolf. He didn’t know how, but she knew. Had Lily told her? It didn’t seem possible. But it didn’t matter, he supposed. It wasn’t like he could just go sit by her bedside and squeeze her hand and say Lily, did you tell your estranged sister my deepest, darkest secret?
A laugh escaped his lips at that, a hollow, bitter, delirious sound. He stumbled farther from the Dursleys’ house, lifting his head just in time to see a woman down the pavement stop to look at him — a worried frown forming on her face as she reached for her small daughter’s hand and guided her across the street.
Smart of you, Remus thought acerbically, run away from the vicious monster. He laughed humorlessly again, reaching absently for the flask he’d stowed in his pocket. There wasn’t much left — he’d drank most of it at the funeral — and he drained what was left of it in one long gulp, shivering violently as the liquor burned through him.
He made it only a short distance away before he finally collapsed, curling in on himself on some unknown Muggle’s front lawn. Maybe it’s for the best, he thought hazily, while he drifted closer and closer towards unconsciousness. I’m no good for Harry, anyway.
* * *
2 July, 1995
“More whiskey?”
Remus started, tearing his eyes back to Sirius. He hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I’d best not.”
Sirius nodded grimly, topping off his own glass before twisting the cap back onto the bottle. “Thought she’d be back by now,” he murmured, raising his glass slowly to his lips.
“I did too,” said Remus, his eyes drifting back to the front door — as though Lily would come bursting back through it any minute.
“Still think we should’ve gone with her.”
“She didn’t want us to,” Remus pointed out, still staring at the door.
“She’s not exactly in her right mind, Moony,” Sirius countered lowly, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “Not that I blame her, obviously. James only just died, far as she’s concerned. But…still…” He drained the rest of his drink. “She shouldn’t deal with this alone.”
“It’s her sister,” Remus said tightly, turning back to the table and pushing aside his empty glass. “We have to just…do what Lily wants right now. Whatever she wants…”
He could feel Sirius staring at him as he lifted his hands up to rub his eyes — his slow breaths rattling painfully against his ribcage while he focused on the feel of the table beneath his elbows…the cold of his hands as he dragged them through his hair. Anything to push away the drowning feeling, the widening pit of guilt that lashed inside him with each intruding thought of what Lily had gone to confront.
But try as he might, he couldn’t shake the echo of Sirius’s words from slipping back into his mind, haunting him, over and over, with the realization of his greatest failure.
I think his childhood might’ve been like mine, Sirius had said. And Remus knew what that meant, they all knew what that meant. That Harry had been mistreated, abused perhaps, by the very people that Remus had left him with…all those years ago…when he’d shut down instead of stepping up.
The memory of his one and only trip to Privet Drive played through his mind once more, spinning like a dusty film reel, and Remus flexed his fingers — resisting the urge to reach for the bottle he knew could offer only temporary comfort.
He glanced at the door again, swallowing down a growing lump. What would’ve happened, he thought, if he’d ignored Petunia that day? What would he have found, if he’d shoved his way into the house, refused to leave until he set his eyes on Harry?
The hypotheticals dug in, shouting back at Remus in different variations that all seemed to add up to you failed Harry, you failed James, you failed Lily.
The thoughts grew louder, louder, louder, undaunted by Remus’s fruitless attempts to quash him. And just when he thought they were going to bury him once more, the door banged open, and they were interrupted.
Remus turned, heart dropping to his stomach at the sight of Lily. She stalked into the room, storming past Remus to settle at the far end of the table, where she snatched up the abandoned bottle of firewhiskey and downed the rest of it in one breath.
Remus stood up, watching her warily as she drank. She’d obviously been in a fight. Her right hand was swollen and bruised, red marks shining on the swells of her knuckles. Her face was splotchy and puffy from crying, though her eyes blazed with a level of fury he’d never seen there before — not even at the height of the war.
She turned slightly, moving towards the kitchen cupboard, and Remus saw that there was a mark on her neck…a spot where bruises were beginning to form. There was a dark patch in her hair, at the back, and though it was hard to tell with her hair color, Remus was sure that it was blood.
Sirius spoke first, voice tight and strained. “What happened?” he demanded. “What’d they do to you?”
Lily was rummaging through the cupboard, pushing bottles carelessly aside in what was no doubt a desperate hunt for more liquor.
“Nothing,” she said tensely.
Sirius glanced at Remus, eyes wild, and Remus held up a cautionary hand…stepping closer to where Lily was still rummaging. “Lily,” he said gently, carefully. “Your head is bleeding. Can you tell us how that happened?”
Lily’s hand shot up, prodding at the blood. Then she lowered it slowly, studying the red on her palm for several moments before she let out a derisive snort and moved over to the sink, flicking the tap on to wash it off. “It’s not mine,” she said matter-of-factly, her voice strangely emotionless. “Vernon’s. I head-butted him. Broke his nose, maybe.”
Remus glanced briefly at Sirius, who returned his look with raised eyebrows. “Okay,” he said very slowly. “Why did you…”
“It might’ve had something to do with the fact that he was trying to choke me.”
Sirius breathed in sharply, stepping towards her. “That fucking—”
Remus grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “What happened?” he asked slowly, patiently.
Lily found what she was looking for in the cabinet underneath the sink. She straightened up, twisting open a bottle of elf-made wine. As Remus and Sirius watched in uneasy silence, she found a wineglass and filled it to the brim — draining its contents in two breaths. Then she filled it again, lifted it back to her lips.
“Lily,” Remus uttered cautiously. “If you tell us what happened…maybe we could help.”
There was a brief silence, an intake of breath, and then—
Smash.
Remus flinched, stepping back slightly as the wineglass shattered in the sink where Lily had thrown it, burgundy liquid and razor-sharp edges ricocheting outwards from the impact. Lily leaned against the counter, breathing heavily while she pinched the bridge of her nose. “You can’t fucking help,” she snapped.
Remus swallowed. “Lily—”
She rounded on him, red-rimmed eyes burning. “Can you go back in time? Take my son away from those abusive fucking animals?”
Remus didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. It was as if the air had just been sucked out of his lungs forever.
Lily nodded jerkily at his silence. “That’s what I thought.”
She shoved past him, storming back up the stairs without a backwards glance.
The kitchen was still in her absence, frozen in the wake of her pain. A line of red wine spilled over the edge of the sink, streaking down towards the floor. Sirius stood, transfixed, eyes glued to the shattered glass. And whether he was thinking of the horrors of Privet Drive or Grimmauld Place, Remus wasn’t sure, but he knew that his friend was lost in thought — haunted by dark thoughts of a childhood untimely stolen.
Remus turned away, forcing his aching bones into action as he moved to follow Lily.
* * *
Her door was locked when Remus got there, and he heard no sound from the other side. He knocked gently. “Lily?”
No answer.
He knocked again.
No answer.
“Lily,” he called out, leaning his forehead against the cold wood. “I just need to know that you’re okay.”
His plea was met with the distinct click of the door unlocking. No sound followed, and Remus grit his teeth, pushing the door carefully open.
He found Lily in the adjourning bathroom, leaning over the sink and siphoning Vernon’s blood out of her hair with her wand. Judging from the clearness of her knuckles and the absence of swelling, Remus guessed that she had healed her hand already.
He stood quietly for a moment, watching the lines of blood as they circled the drain. “Can I help with that?”
She shook her head, stubborn as ever, and Remus nodded in resignation, leaning against the doorway. He watched her in silence, weighing all the words he couldn’t bring himself to say, (I failed you, I failed you all, I’m sorry) and the questions he could not begin to ask (Do you still trust me? Can I still be here? Do you want me to leave?).
He waited for her to shout at him, to turn him away, to demand to know where he was all those years…all those years when he wasn’t strong enough to be there for Harry. But instead, she just turned to him, a hint of reluctance on her face as she gestured to the bruises forming on her neck.
“Do you remember the bruise-clearing charm? I forgot the incantation.” She bit her lip, the anger wavering from her eyes when she looked at the mirror. “I don’t want Harry to see these.”
Remus nodded, drawing his own wand from his pocket, and stepped closer to her. He brushed it carefully against her skin, muttering the spell he knew for clearing simple bruises. It worked instantly, and Lily breathed a soft sigh of relief when the marks vanished.
“Thanks,” she murmured, somewhat begrudgingly.
“Don’t mention it.”
There was another silence. Lily turned away from him, crossing her arms and staring down at the floor. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she muttered eventually. “What happened tonight — the Dursleys — I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay,” Remus answered her, slipping his wand carefully back into his pocket. “You don’t…have to.”
There was another silence. Another awful, dreadful, impenetrable silence. It was fucking awful, Remus thought, to finally have his friend back after all these years and be so hopelessly, tragically terrible at talking to her. Sirius would be better at this, he knew, if it wasn’t hitting so close to bloody home for him.
Remus shifted, stepping back to lean against the door frame again. He felt his jaw tighten into its usual mask, his mind working on overdrive to ignore the fact that she didn’t want to talk to him…didn’t want to look at him…
An old, familiar thought blossomed at the back of his mind, flickering incessantly the more he tried to drown it.
The thought that maybe she would be better off without him.
He needed to test the waters…to find out if she regretted inviting him here, if she wanted him to leave…
“Can I…” he cleared his throat, straightening up. “Can I go with you tomorrow? To pick up Harry?”
She looked up quickly, her eyes softening just a touch as they settled into his. She studied him, possibly weighing her words, then nodded — very slightly. “Yeah,” she said. “Of course.”
Remus nodded, breathing out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
And then, to his surprise, Lily lurched forward — wrapping her arms around him and burying her face against his chest. Remus’s mind went blank. He blinked slowly, lifting his arms up sluggishly to hug her back.
“My sister,” she whispered, shaky voice muffled by his robes. “My own fucking sister.”
Remus swallowed, lifting a hand to gently stroke her hair. “I know…I’m so sorry.”
She took a long, slow, quivering breath, her grip momentarily tightening around his back. Then, without warning, she pushed back and away from him — striding around him back into the bedroom. Remus turned, heart sinking, and watched her climb into the bed and pull the covers over herself.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said shakily, in a clear dismissal — her face hidden from view as she burrowed it into one of Walburga’s old pillows.
Remus took his cue to exit, lingering for just a moment in the doorway to her room. “It’s going to be alright, Lily,” he said — as much to reassure himself as to reassure her. “We’ll just…take it day by day.”
She didn’t respond, merely burrowing herself deeper under the covers. Remus swallowed hard, stepped out into the corridor, and closed her door behind him.
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Remus was walking towards the restaurant where all his friends were celebrating Dorcas’s birthday, and stopped in his tracks.
Through the open door of the building next door, someone was sweeping. Someone he thought- no, he definitely - recognized. The bartender he met once, spoken to for maybe five minutes, and never stopped thinking about.
•
“We just ran out of the beer you wanted, but what else do you like?” and a smile to knock you over if you weren’t careful, making up for the disappointment instantly.
“Something lighter, maybe?” Remus caught his breath enough to answer.
“We can do that! Have you tried the pils?” How does he smile like that? Like galaxies and constellations distilled just for you? He had not tried the pils.
“No? Ok, let’s do that one. Now I’m just about to clock out, but if you hate it, talk to the bartender over there. Tell her Sirius sent you, and that he promised you a beer you’ll actually like.” What about something else Remus would actually like?
The man- Sirius- kept smiling, poured the beer, and was gone. Remus was torn, between wishing he had stayed for longer and wanting him to get off his shift on time. Even though he got to leave work, it would have been nice to chat for a bit. Remus kept himself from wondering too much about what (and who) he would be going home to. The pils, of course, was great.
•
And there he was, Sirius, the man Remus could not stop thinking about. Halfway across town and eight months later. Sweeping, door propped open with a stool, humming to himself, looking as gorgeous as Remus had pictured.
He paused to consider. Remus was very nearly late to his good friend’s birthday dinner, but he was sure she would understand. Dorcas would do anything for a movie moment, she could hardly blame him foe this. Remus steeled himself, walking through the open door.
“Hey, thanks for coming in, but we actually closed a little bit ago-“ Sirius’ words stopped as he grinned. “Oh, hey, you look familiar. Do I know you?”
Not yet, Remus thought, and grinned back. But soon.
#wolfstar#remus x sirius#remus pov#this is based on a convo i had w someone at work the other day#i was like that would be a real good meetcute#marauders au
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One of these days
Remus thinks himself to be quite a perceptive person, and how could he not? When you're trying to hide a part of yourself, live with a secret in plain sight, you're bound to become good at reading people. Just in case somebody realises, looks at him suspisciously, perhaps figures out what he is.
It happened to him already during his second year at Hogwarts. Luckily, it all turned out well, even better than he could've hoped for.
Remus cares about his friends, he really does, but he wishes James and Sirius would get their heads out of their arses already.
For two smart, brilliant blokes, they can be surprisingly thick when it comes to love.
It's in the way they look at each other when the other one isn't paying attention. Remus recognises the admiration and genuine affection in James' eyes when Sirius does wandless magic so effortlessly or says something sarcastic that's both an insult and a compliment. Remus also notices how Sirius can't stop staring at James when he's talking animatedly about a Quidditch match, or when he walks around the boys' dormitory half naked after a shower, taking his time getting dressed.
It's in the way James whispers something to Sirius in class, and a faint smile forms on Sirius' lips.
It's in the way they both carry their mirrors with them so they can always talk to each other if they're not in the same place.
It's in the way Remus knows that Sirius and James go running to the forest outside of full moon, just the two of them, and return to the Gryffindor tower late at night with leaves and twigs in their hair, cheeks red, eyes sparkling with delight.
It's in the way Sirius sometimes tiptoes to James' bed in the middle of the night. Nobody ever talks about it, it's just something that happens.
Remus knows about them, has perhaps always known.
He didn't acknowledge it until he unintentionally saw through parted curtains James lying in bed with Sirius, stroking his hair, giving him his full attention, care.
Love.
It's not Remus' place to say anything about it. As far as he knows, Sirius and James still think that's normal behaviour between best friends.
One of these days, though, Remus thinks he might have to share his observations with them.
#prongsfoot#it's late and i'm soft for this#remus pov#james potter#sirius black#remus lupin#my drabbles#hp drabble#my writing
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Marauder FM (WIP/12809 words) by @hollyivydruzy
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
modern AU, non-magic AU
Summary:
“You're listening to Marauder FM! Up to no good since 1971.” Sirius' pre-recorded and sultry tones purred into Remus' headphones.
"The only station where you can wake up with Black…” James began.
"Take me to lunch…” Dorcas' smooth tones followed on.
“And still go home to Potter,” Sirius finished. For a few seconds only the jaunty jingle in the background could be heard before raucous laughter broke out between the three of them.
“Oh god,” James spluttered between gasps. “Please tell me they're not going to use that.”
Or - the story of Remus Lupin trying against all odds, to remain professional in the face of utter madness.
Comment:
Currently there's only the first chapter online but I already love this fic! Remus being annoyed at Sirius before they even meet is always wonderful, and I love the London setting with everyone working at the radio station and all the fun and chaos that comes along with that, I can't wait to see where the story goes!
#wolfstar#fic rec#wolfstar fanfic#remus lupin#sirius black#marauder FM#hollyivydruzy#wip#modern AU#radio AU#muggle AU#non-magic AU#Sirius: famous#enemies to friends to lovers#past drug addiction#implied/referenced drug use#fluff#remus pov#injury recovery#slow burn#camden#sirius: bi#remus: gay#marauders
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Summary:
Remus Lupin and Sirius Black have a tight friendship, some may say a little too tight. Remus and Sirius get jealous when either of them is with somebody else, but what does that mean?
“Of course I’m ready.” He laughs and flashes his bright teeth, looking purple in the multi changing lights. “You’ll be my side, right Moons?”
“‘Course.” Remus takes a sip of his drink, looking around the room. Sirius does the same before grabbing his face. He laughs, dimples around his lips.
“You’ve got a little,” He doesn’t finish his sentence and wipes around Remus’ lips with the pad of his thumb. The whole world slows for a second, and only resumes when he takes his hands away from Remus’ shocked face. “All better.” He swallows and nods. “Um, you all good, Moon? You’ve gone all…” He gestures around Remus’ face.
“Fine, Pads. M’fine.”
find it on AO3 here
#fic name: when the party's over#when the party's over#chapter one: brooklyn baby#1975#sirius black#remus lupin#remus POV#contains:#wolfstar#jegulus#rosekiller#marylily#light angst#im sorry#remus hating himself tbh#bowie tho#im excited#regulus and james#prongieboy
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When the Wolf Comes Home (2640 words) by earlybloomingparentheses / @ebp-brain
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Quote:
That afternoon, Remus has to explain to Harry what the Dementor's Kiss is, and to tell him that Sirius Black will receive it if, when, he is caught. When Remus thinks of Sirius Black and kissing, in the infinitesimal moment before rotting skin and death-scabbed mouths bloom evilly before his eyes, he can still smell cigarettes, comfortably unpleasant, and feel warm close breath on his lips.
Comment/Summary:
This was an incredibly beautifully written fic, like everything earlybloomingparentheses writes. The fic follows Remus' POV during PoA (up until right before the Lie Low at Lupins era starts), and explores his feelings and actions in such a wonderfully painful and beautiful way.
#remus lupin#wolfstar#wolfstar fic#fic rec#wolfstar fanfiction#sirius black#albus dumbledore#harry potter#when the wolf comes home#earlybloomingparentheses#angst#pain#ex lovers#poa#remus pov
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For my love @squintclover
Filling my @wolfstarbingo2022 prompt fear of rejection
A poem inspired by Remus’ POV in the beautiful fic One Step from Grace
(Also on AO3 here)
Darling,
Let me be the calm in your storm.
It won’t make me love you any less.
.
I want to rediscover the beauty
Of the world around me
With you by my side,
Rediscover it through your beautiful eyes,
Awash myself in your joy.
.
Darling,
Let me hold you steady.
It won’t make me love you any less.
.
When you said trusted me,
And held my hand,
I’ve never felt such hope before.
Sometimes I think,
Just having your trust is enough.
.
Darling,
Let me be your safe thrill.
It won’t make me love you any less.
.
Our nights of secret touches
And secret smiles;
You make me brave.
I live off the look in your eyes
When you touch me.
.
Darling,
I’ll be patient, I’ll be here waiting.
It won’t make me love you any less.
.
Darling,
Let me love you,
And I’ll let you love me in return.
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“How was France?” Remus asks rifling through a stack of 70s classics. Sirius is studying the back of Sticky Fingers by the Rolling Stones and makes a non-committal sound in response. Remus clears his throat.
“Did you learn anything?”
“What? Oh yeah – top marks,” Sirius rolls his eyes and Remus can’t tell whether he’s joking or not. One of Sirius’ most infuriating qualities is his ability to pick up anything and be good at it.
“Right,” Remus thumbs through another stack and holds up an ABBA record, which makes Sirius snort. He snatches it up and turns it over. “James’ birthday?”
“That was in March.”
“Yeah well, I missed it.”
You missed mine, too, he thinks to remind him. Didn’t even manage a phone call – the memory feels a bit like plunging into ice water, but if Sirius remembers he doesn’t show it. He is crouching now, staring intently into a milk crate of old CDs, and the silence hangs thick and stretchy in between them, Remus’ heart beating uncomfortably in his chest. He brings a hand up to his sternum and bites his lip, starting when Sirius’ head pops up from the other side of the table, “alright?”
Remus only nods.
“At least tell me about the pastries then,” it seems like a safe bet. No school, no parents, no missed birthdays, no unreturned phone calls…
Sirius rattles on about some bakery he found that he’d thought was the best until he’d stumbled across some hole in the wall at the opposite end of town, how he’d tried to order iced coffee every other day and been laughed out of all the cafés on his street. He rattles on about the artwork and the architecture and the pompous accents and the party scene – about how his mom was livid when he ran into his uncle Alphard on the street one day “literally in the middle of the street. Isn’t that nuts?”
Remus only half listens, watching Sirius speak with emphatic gestures and something hard behind his eyes that he can’t quite place.
Young Blood on ao3
#wolfstar fanfic#wolfstar fc#ao3#ao3 writer#wolfstar#remus POV#my work#marauders fanfiction#Harry Potter fanfiction#AU#muggle au
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A snippet
The night is warm and muggy, the grass wet beneath his feet. He sniffs the air. Pack. They are near. The outline of the stag is visible on the horizon. The black one runs closer, lunging forward. His tail darts back and forth in anticipation; he barks. This is play. He chases after him to the forest’s edge. He knows he should not enter, but that is on two legs, and he is no man. He fears nothing in the darkness. They crash deeper on through the brush.
The black one has disappeared. A man has taken his place. He can smell his fear, hear the rabbit-quick tempo of his heartbeat. The man knows he is in peril, but it is too late. Two legs will not carry him far.
He lunges forward, pinning the man down. The breath leaves his lungs, ribs crack under his weight. The iron tang of blood reaches his nostrils, the scent overwhelms him. There is no air left for the man to scream. Teeth find flesh and sinew and bone –
***
Remus awoke in a cold sweat to a darkened compartment, nauseous with fear. There was no attack. None of it was real.
I’m not alone, he realized, as his eyes began to adjust. James was across in front of him; the rest he didn't recognize. The gentle sway of the train had stilled. Why had they stopped? A wave of cold dread washed over him as the dream began to make sense.
“Quiet,” he rasped. “Everyone stay where you are.”
He conjured a flickering blue flame with a wave of his palm, a talisman of warmth and protection for the holder; a light in the darkness for the rest. This should not be happening, he thought angrily. They’re only children. The compartment door began to slide open, skeletal fingers wrapped around its edges. Remus stood to meet the visitor, placing himself as an obstacle between it and the rest of the compartment.
The creature was close enough that Remus could smell its putrid breath, like meat long spoiled. A cloak was drawn over the place where a face should be. In an almost primal way, he was more afraid of what existed under that hood than anything else he had ever encountered. Memories of overwhelming grief threatened to break to the surface. Of gnashing teeth and torn flesh, of shaking hands holding a telephone receiver, of a godless man praying for a different outcome, of a throat screamed raw.
Remus took a long, slow breath through his mouth to both steady himself and avoid the stench of foul air.
“None of us are hiding Sirius black under our cloaks. Go.”
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blue.
People often made that mistake didn't they? Always assumed you were as fierce in your grief as in your joys. But that's not true, at least not then. You were a double-edged knife, sharpened so brutally, so carelessly, but sharpened so that you were jagged and cracked, dangerous to the touch (we all got hurt on occasion and I'd let you cut me as many times as you wanted, heaven knows I can take it). They all thought you were made of diamond, but it was ice, cold, searing, beautiful ice, hidden under a crimson, velvet, sheath (that's all they see, but they don't see you, how much they miss)- so soft to the touch, so magnificent, so lovely (they didn't know it was stained by your blood, sweat and tears, taken forcefully from you, oh how I would do anything to steal it back for you, I'd do absolutely anything for you). The sheath never fell off often but when it did it was ripped mercilessly from you, grazing your rough edges, it was like tearing off your skin (I saw you, I saw how it hurt, I wish you had never been hurt, because I saw everything and couldn't help and that hurt most of all, I swear I tried, I tried so hard, could I have tried harder?) It made you feel naked, unprotected, susceptible to all the pains you faced and faced again and again. It made you feel like her. You saw her still, in the mirror, you forgot that she's not you, she will never be you, but you forgot and so you screamed and you cried but then you stopped, and stared and the silence crept in. You stopped, and you stared and all you saw was the garish scars on her skinny arms, mirroring yours, her silk gown, probably still hanging in a moth infested wardrobe back there (where else would it be, except hidden from sight), back where you will never go again, not even for him, ruined most likely but there, her small, stockinged feet, stuffed into the most awful sparkly shoes, you'd never wear them now, even if they still fit (or maybe you would, who knows?). You saw her carved out of diamond, sparkling, glittering and perfect (oh but you don't see darling, she will never be as perfect as you). And indeed, it wasn't diamond out of which she was sculpted but ice, ice which was melting (the only thing you still share). You don't share anything else though. She was a doll, kept behind glass, you were a storm, a brilliant snowstorm, a force of nature, one to be reckoned with. But oh my love you too were so cold, so, delicate, so blue.
#remus lupin#sirius black#james potter#peter pettigrew#yeah you probably had no clue that this was about them#it isn't obvious#i dont blame you#wolfstar#sirius angst#remus x sirius#marauders#marauders era#mwpp#mwpp era#the marauders#dead gay wizards#rizzmus lupin strikes again#remus pov#lots of really obscure references#and a shit ton of metaphors that are like really bad#and a bit of character switching peppered in there to confuse you#just a bit#write write write
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I'll be on denial for at least a little while
What about the plans we made?
The Wizarding World's gone wild watching death eatars on trial
While they hide their green-eyed kid away...
Now all my friends are missing... again...
'Cause that's what happens when you fall...
Extract of Billie Eilish's song "TV", altered to fit the marauders canon storyline. Honestly the whole song really give me remus lupin post halloween 1981 vibes and its really sad but i kinda love that
#marauders#harry potter#marauders angst#lyric change#remus lupin#remus pov#sorta#sobbing#i have made myself cry again#wolfstar
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Chapter 2 is up! I'm working with the amazing @neondomino for round 2!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/41451876
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For my @wolfstarbingo2022 square for "roleplay" (play act, role play, close enough...)
Inspired by on the fic The Hollow by @wolfpants
Also on AO3 here
We meet, again and again
That night,
In our shared grief.
/
Our shared grief,
With so many similarities,
As we each play act through each other’s bodies.
/
Our shared grief,
So starkly different,
In that final meeting of the night,
When I reach for you to offer the comfort
I will never have.
The hope;
He will come back, he will;
Hope that is long gone for me.
/
I’ve got you, I say.
I’ve got you, you whisper to me.
/
You love him, you say,
“And he knows it.”
But he just left.
/
He’ll come back.
/
I was left too.
I loved him too.
He can’t come back to me,
Except as a ghost that haunts my body.
A ghost that I feel closer to losing everyday.
A ghost this night brought back to me,
If only temporarily,
If only to fill the gaping hole in my chest,
To let me breathe for one single moment.
/
You just left.
I loved you and you
Left.
I have nothing left of you.
/
You’ll never come back.
#my poetry#wolfstarbingo2022#past wolfstar#grief and loss#draco/remus#remus pov#remus lupin#sirius black#draco malfoy#angst
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