#snape >>> other men...

[pr3ttyb0ys-lvr]

HELLL YEAH

I just went clubbing

none of the men there could ever compare to you severus my boy my babygirl <3

[erinwantstowrite]

wait ur a hp fan??/pos

i have such a complicated relationship with the harry potter series because yes it did shape me as a person, yes it was my first book, yes it was my first fandom, yes i did start writing because of harry potter. but also i hate JKR and the message behind the series now that i'm an adult. harry didn't get the ending that he deserved, he didn't get a lesson worth living for

[grossdyke]

Fav marauders friendships?

james and sirius!!!! obviously!!!! best friends, soulmates AND a secret third thing. they’re genuinely so precious to me forever and ever and ever. teetering the line or platonic, codependant and two parts of a whole :,) you can’t love one without loving the other

regdora!!! but not the widely popular cottage core version or them. they’re autism4autism besties, absolute cunts, judgmental, barely look like they even like each other when they’re hanging out because they just sit quietly frowning. they’re very affectionate with each other tho, too. they’ll hold hands and people think they’re dating

bartydora!!!! the only person barty is nice to in public. like that meme ’ur so sweet’ ’sweet for u. rude to other.’ <— goes for both of them. pandora treats barty like her domesticated feral cat. they’re both deeply obsessed with each other. however i also think they should f nasty

marylily!! please dear god give lily girlfriends. she’s surrounded with annoying boys in canon and she’s still being hc’d as being the Girl Best Friend. i dont ship marylily, but i think their friendship is very sweet. it feels like a place where lily can finally relax and just be. i dont talk about them much, but i hc’s them as having a lot of issues in the early hogwarts year. mary thinks lily is a stuck up and a pick me, lily’s thinks mary is a know it all who wont give her a break. they’re very similar to me but the difference is that lily is always being praised and put on a pedestal (even if she didnt ask for it) whereas mary has to work twice as hard to get even an inch of the same praise. and lily doesn’t even want the praise, which drives mary insane and she thinks lily is ungrateful. so it takes a lot of years for them to form a friendship, and once they do i think of them as bffs for life <3

[honeyed-latte]

Im starting to see a pattern yall

[seriousbrat]

i don't believe in "defending" characters in general, just in discussing them objectively- bc imo characters don't have to be good flawless people in order for me to like them like why should I justify myself? they're all fake. but this goes double for male characters you will never catch me out here defending a man

[catgirljaneway]

I am a whole lesbian but older harry kim in timeless? 👀 i'd make an exception

[starwrittenfates]

Severus gets on better with women. He's not a very social person to begin with and doesn't have many friends, but he feels comfortable and at ease around women more than with men. This mostly stems from the fact that the only figures around him as a young child that were ever really kind to him were women – his mother, and eventually Lily. Most of the male figures in his life (mostly looking at Tobias, James Potter, Sirius Black, and Voldemort in particular) have made nothing but negative impacts on his life, only further setting this belief in him.

[danadiadea]

Voldemort considered using Levicorpus on unconsenting people for fun "torture". DEs about the same age as Marauders thought it's a great way to treat Muggles whom they don't consider people (even without taking off their underwear – with everything pointing to James actually doing that – or choking them simultaneously). Tells a lot about Remus "the enabler" Lupin, idk.

And does anon think that forcibly lifting the girl's skirt up is OK because she doesn't wear trousers?... Like a dress or robes still cover the lower part of one's body, how is removing them ANY better then removing trousers? This is clothes just as much!!! Removing it is stripping people down!

He didn't strip someone down to his underwear though. They wore robes.

"James whirled about: a second flash of light later, Snape was hanging upside-down in the air, his robes falling over his head to reveal skinny, pallid legs and a pair of greying underpants."

James didn't do anything to pull any trousers off because they were non existant. We know that levicorpus was an incredibly common, widely used spell at the time, a fad, is what I think Lupin called it. It sucks, sure, but it was no less than what anybody else was doing at the time.

HE LEFT HIM IN HIS UNDERWEAR, YOU IDIOT — IT’S IN THE BOOKS. JAMES LITERALLY SAYS ‘WHO WANTS ME TO TAKE SNAPE’S PANTS OFF?’ AND PANTS ARE ACTUAL UNDERWEAR I. FUCKING BEITTOSH ENGLISH. I CAN’T DEAL WITH THIS ANYMORE, WHY DO YOU ALL KEEP DENYING WHAT’S LITERALLY WRITTEN IN THE BOOK? IT’S IN THE FUCKING DAMN BOOK YOU’RE DEFENDING AND EXCUSING A GUY WHO STRIPPED HIS CLASSMATE FOR FUN YOU SICK.

[dinarosie]

Blaming Snape for creating Sectumsempra is like blaming a woman for carrying pepper spray in her bag for self-defense after being repeatedly harassed by a specific group of men. Can you really blame a victim for creating a weapon to protect themselves against their tormentors, while at the same time praising the Marauders' ingenuity for creating tools to spy on, stalk, and invade others' privacy purely for fun and bullying?

What kind of ridiculous logic is that?!

[the-muppet-joker]

Greetings, Homosapians.

My name? Heh. Don't be so coy.

Kermit. Croaker. Joker. Clown Prince of Crime. Bro Strider. The Original Adam. Vriska Serket. I am a man of many names, so keep up unless you want to be schooled by myself or my league of dedicated followers. Mess with Croaker Nation if you dare. Don't ask me about my Pro Nouns unless you want me to roll my eyes at you and kick you. HARD. I train my kicks for hours every day, so bones WILL be broken.

♤♡◇♧

DNI:

Other Kermit/Joker kintypes

People who frequently post about Dennys (I have Dennys trauma. Genuinely fuck all of you Dennys enjoyers! Toxic.)

Anyone who kins Gonzo or Batman. Fuck you, Batsy... *voice drops to a low growl* And double fuck you, Gonzo.

Protestants. (Self Explanatory)

Klance shippers-- annoying.

Brennan Lee Mulligan apologists.

People under 21, just a personal preference, please respect it

Anyone who engages with Harry Potter-- fuck terfs and fuck JKR!

Snape apologists

Anyone who violates my previous DNI. DO YOUR OWN RESEARCH AND RESPECT MY BOUNDARIES. It is not my job to do emotional labor for you and tell you what those boundaries are. Be respectful and figure it out.

One exception to my previous DNI, however: Women may interact with my blog. You see, I have been reading a webcomic called Homestuck and awakened a Vriska kintype in the process. It has made me realize how close minded I have been and that hating an entire gender based on shallow stereotypes is reductive and harmful.

Men DNI. I am an advocate for the feminist movement and have made it my sworn duty to destroy those who oppose it.

Good Omens fans. Y'all are annoying.

Tumblr user Strange Aeons. DO NOT INTERACT or I will get you with my sword. Consider yourself warned.

As for those of you who are afraid of seeing what real darkness and depravity looks like? Heh........

Run While You Can.

[my-castles-crumbling]

liar - January 6 - wolfstar and platonic moonwater - @black-brothers-microfic - word count: 235

"-HOW FUCKING DARE YOU EVEN INSINUATE-"

"-IT'S NOT INSINUATING IF IT'S TRUE, YOU WANKER, I-"

"-TAKES ONE TO KNOW ONE, YOU UTTER BUFFOON, I DON'T KNOW HOW REMUS EVEN DEALS WITH-"

"-DON'T YOU DARE BRING MY MOONY INTO THIS, I-"

"Yes, yes, don't bring Moony into this," Remus grumbled, stepping out of his and Sirius's bedroom into the hallway where Regulus and Sirius were currently screaming in each others' faces. "He's trying to sleep."

Two stunningly enraged pair of eyes turned to face him.

"Remus, tell Sirius-"

"NO! Moony, tell my arse of a brother-"

"One at a time," Remus rolled his eyes. Then, he pointed at Regulus. "You first."

"Ha!" Regulus said, all-but poking his tongue out at his brother. "Sirius said that he's the best of all of us at casting hexes, but that's obviously not true."

"It is!" Sirius retorted, crossing his arms. "You've seen me hex Snape! You know!"

But Remus was absolutely done dealing with the squabbling of two grown adults. "You're both liars," he said simply. "I'm the best at throwing hexes. And I'd be glad to remind you by cursing the two of you into next week if you wake me up again. Okay?"

Both men shut their mouths and gave matching pouts.

"Yes, Remus," they both said, frowning.

But as Remus began to retreat into his room again, he swore he heard Regulus hiss, "He started it!"

[threecatsinacoat]

harry being the numer one snape supporter canonically, founding the club of "Snape did nothing wrong" must be a hell of a karma for james. imagine being on the other side, where snape just arrived, and now his son is naming one of his children after severus.

"did you heard that? one of the two bravest men he ever knew"

"shut up snivellus"

[wizzard890]

Warner Brothers would absolutely not be remaking Harry Potter as a prestige television series if it wasn't for the persistent popularity of the Marauders fandom.

Sure, companies dip back into IP all the time, but Harry Potter has had mixed success over the past ten years: popular video game, disastrous Fantastic Beasts movies, pandemic-successful stage show -- this isn't a sure bet, particularly if you're hoping to capture new fans, not just feed aging millennials.

Luckily for the bottom line, there is a thriving Harry Potter adjacent fandom, one that's only ballooned in popularity as the books proper have receded from popular culture. Studios often do algorithmic calculations to estimate popularity/risk/audience and oh boy, do young people fucking love Marauder shit. It's bled into BookTok, back into the related dark academia subculture (which Harry Potter arguably helped create in the first place); it pulls in fans who aren't familiar with the books, who instead consider specific fanworks canonical. They love the setting; anything to enrich the locale where Remus and James and Snape and Lily and Peter and Sirius have adventures. What better way to monetize that interest than stretching each book into a ten episode season of prestige television? If J.K. Rowling's creative control didn't expressly forbid anything beyond straight adaptation of the book, I'm sure WB would be developing a prequel as we speak.

J.K. Rowling is, of course, an executive producer, and WB's creative team has signaled that they will be working with her closely.

I truly think this is the most significant negative impact of a single fandom on the real world since The Last Jedi wars radicalized a generation of young men. We're looking at a potential total revitalization of Rowling in popular culture, unfathomable amounts of money in her pocket, complete creative control and publicity, associated bumps for the Harry Potter theme park, all of it.

Many people in the fandom understand that they're walking a line by engaging with Harry Potter at all, to such an extent that it's good form to make a point of not buying Harry Potter merch. That drives me a little bit crazy. Okay, you've repudiated the desire to own a Hufflepuff Scarf. In this age of studios watching fandoms, of total breakdown of the creator/audience divide, does that really matter? You've withheld your purchasing power, but kept the IP thriving.

And the thing that gets me is that Marauders fandom is so barely Harry Potter, so tangentially related, that they could have taken their flanderized headcanons and written their own books, or applied them to literally any other boarding school setting! There are maybe four chapters that cover the young lives of Harry Potter's Dad's Friends, and in all of them the characters are lightly sketched at best. No one would even accuse you of plagiarism for taking these characters and doing something else with them, they're essentially walk-on roles. Instead we have an active and growing fandom, where Sirus/Remus moved from being the eighth most popular ship on Ao3 to the SECOND, in the space of a single year. That's with no new books, new movies, no external bump of any kind from the IP.

And okay, sure, did this fandom sign a check to J.K. Rowling? No, that would be Casey Bloys and the rest of the clowns at HBO. But at this point, aren't we splitting hairs?

Like sorry, if I have to hear about the revolutionary queer power of pure, old-school fandom as something that exists without financial incentive, a community that can cause real and tangible changes in the media that gets produced, then you have to allow that those real and tangible changes can be for the worse.

[z3tabytez]

Accidentally deleted this post but it feels impossible to find a harry potter fic that’s actually a harry potter character fic(ESPECIALLY harry) It’s all either straight up smut or some random OC or background character from other fanfics. Feels like all the magic has literally just been sapped out of fan fiction. Why am i seeing Matteo and Lorenzo on another characters tag it’s so annoying.

I shouldn’t have to scroll 10 times just to find a fic of the character that i’m looking for because it’s filled of smut of a character from another persons story.

It feels like people are only in it for hot men, especially when all they care about is fan casts. Where’s the passion!!!? Where’s the appreciation towards the actual actors?!

also marauders fans nobody likes it when you use snape tags in your fics.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Over and Over Again

Remus Lupin x Muggle!Reader

Summary: The legend of soulmates and the myth of endless lives tied to one another permanently was once a myth you don't believe. Until you met Remus Lupin.

WC: 4k

CW: Angst no comfort- The reader and Remus's depiction crosses gender and species lines. Hogwarts Legacy reference. Animal death and blood- so much death-

The pub smelled of stale beer and cigarette smoke, the kind of scent that lingered in the wood and clung to the air, no matter how many windows were cracked open. The low hum of music played from an old jukebox in the corner, the neon glow of its lights flickering with age.

It was familiar, comforting in a way that only a Muggle pub on a Friday night could be.

You spun your drink in your hands, watching the ice swirl lazily in your glass as Lily Evans leaned against the table beside you. She looked radiant as always, her fiery red hair gleaming under the dim lights.

“I swear,” She promised for the fifth time. “You're going to love them. Just… be nice to Peter, and for the love of Merlin, don’t ask Sirius about his family.”

You frowned. “For the love of Merlin?”

Lily’s lip twitched.. “Ah- Just… an expression. The boys use it a lot.”

You raised an eyebrow but let it go. Lily had always been a little odd, but she was your odd, your best friend since childhood.

She had been gone for the last few years, tucked away in that mysterious boarding school she never let you visit. Every time she came back to visit, she seemed… different. Like she was carrying secrets she could never fully explain.

Tonight was the first time she was introducing you to her boyfriend- James- and his friends. You had spent years watching her fall out of the abusive cycle of friendship she harbored with Severus Snape- you almost felt bad for him. If only he'd grown up too.

You had, in equal turn, been berated with letters about the slimeball that was James Potter. Just to see her ink blots lighten and her words becoming more fond when it came to his name- you were excited to meet him.

You took another sip of your drink, then looked up as the door to the pub swung open.

A burst of laughter and energy filled the pub as a group of four young men stepped inside, shaking off the damp chill of the London evening.

You saw James first, instantly recognizing him from the photos Lily had shown you. He was all messy hair and glasses, grinning like he owned the world- but the way his gaze immediately sought out Lily made your heart warm.

Then there was Sirius Black, effortlessly handsome, carrying himself with the swagger of someone who knew he could have anyone he wanted, but still acted like he was above it all. His dark leather jacket and roguish smirk screamed trouble.

Beside him was Peter Pettigrew, shorter than the rest, with darting eyes and an almost nervous energy, like he was waiting for something to go wrong.

And then there was the fourth boy- no- man.

The second your eyes landed on him, it was like the entire world narrowed.

Remus Lupin.

He was quieter than the others, his posture a little more reserved. He wasn’t as flashy as James or Sirius but something was still there.

Something in the way he held himself- not quite shying away, but not fully stepping into the spotlight either. His soft sandy blonde hair was slightly tousled, as if he had run his hands through it too many times. His face was lean, cheekbones sharp beneath tanned skin, marred by faint scars that ran across his features. But it was his eyes that caught you.

Warm, golden-brown, and filled with something ancient, something tired, something achingly familiar. Your stomach flipped.

Lily’s voice jolted you from whatever spell had momentarily trapped you.

“Come on,” She squeaked, tugging you forward with a grin. “Let me introduce you.”

Your legs felt unsteady as you followed her through the crowded pub, weaving between groups of laughing strangers. The boys turned as you approached, James immediately scooping Lily into a hug and pressing a kiss to her temple. You barely registered it.

Your focus was on Remus, who was watching you with the strangest look you'd ever seen.

Somewhere between horror and intrigue.

Lily cleared her throat, oblivious to the strange, charged silence between you and Remus.

“Alright, boys,” she said, grinning. “This is her.”

James turned away from Lily just long enough to flash you a charming, lopsided smile. “The infamous childhood best friend!” He declared. “Blimey, I was starting to think you were just a legend.”

You let out a short laugh. “Well, I assure you, I’m very real.”

Sirius tilted his head, appraising you. “We’ll see about that,” he mused, then smirked. “The real question is- are you cool enough to be seen with us?”

“Oh, definitely not,” You deadpanned. “I’m a disgrace to all things cool.”

James barked out a laugh. “I like her!”

Lily rolled her eyes but was smiling.

Meanwhile, Remus hadn’t moved.

He was still looking at you, his expression unreadable. His eyes- those deep, golden eyes- seemed locked onto you, as if he was trying to piece something together, trying to solve something that had no answer.

You met his gaze.

“Remus.” He whispered and you muttered your own name back to him without a second thought. And he smiled, lifted his hand-

The moment your fingers brushed as you shook his hand- it happened.

A bolt of pure, electric familiarity shot through your body, rattling every bone in your frame. The pub melted away, the noise, the people, the dim glow of the jukebox- everything faded into a swirl of golden light and rushing wind.

The world around you vanished. The dim pub, the chatter, the clinking of glasses- all of it was swallowed by the sudden rush of something else. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the rustling of leaves, the whisper of wind through tall golden grass. The scent of fresh earth, sun-warmed fields, and damp fur filled your senses.

And then, you were there…

You were small, swift, your body light as you darted between the tall stalks of wheat. A fox, red-furred and wild, your sharp nose twitching as you ran through the fields.

And behind you, paws pounding against the earth, was him.

A hound.

Lanky, golden-furred, and young, still growing into his paws. His ears flopped when he ran, tongue lolling as he chased after you, barking playfully.

He was supposed to hunt you. But instead, he chased you.

Every day, when his master wasn’t looking, he sneaked away from the farmhouse, bounding over the hills to find you. Together, you would race through the fields, rolling in the wildflowers, playing until the sun dipped below the trees.

Free, weightless. Soft fur against rough wheat and playfully snapping jaws. Then- Pain. Sharp, sudden pain.

A snapping sound- cold metal clamping down around your hind leg. A trap.

You yelped, twisting, trying to free yourself, but it was tight, unrelenting. The more you pulled, the more it bit into your flesh, blood staining the grass beneath you.

And he- your hound- panicked.

He barked wildly, circling you, nudging you with his nose. He tried to paw at the trap, but he was just a dog- he couldn’t undo his master’s cruel work.

You whimpered, eyes wide, pleading. He threw his head back and howled, loud and desperate, as if somehow, that would bring help.

And help did come. But not the kind he wanted. The farmer arrived. Gun in hand.

The hound whimpered, barking frantically, placing himself between you and his master. But he was a dog. And a dog’s loyalty belonged to its owner. Even when his heart was breaking.

The farmer raised his rifle.

A deafening bang-

Darkness.

The darkness faded, but you didn’t wake up in the pub.

Instead, you were staring at your own reflection in a gilded mirror.

A face- not quite your own, but one you knew belonged to you.

Your hair was woven into delicate braids, strands of pearls threaded through like drops of moonlight. A soft silk gown pooled around you, its fabric cool against your skin. The weight of a crown sat heavy atop your head, a reminder of your fate- one you had never chosen, one you had never wanted.

And behind you- fingers grazing your bare shoulder as they fastened a necklace-

Was her.

Your Lupin.

But not as you knew him.

A woman, dressed in modest, elegant gowns, a lady-in-waiting, her golden-brown eyes lowered in the practiced deference of a servant.

But she was not just a servant.

She was your dearest friend. She was your first love.

She was the one who walked with you through moonlit gardens, whispering stories of ancient myths. The one who pressed flowers into the pages of your books, so that when you opened them, they smelled like spring.

She was the one you could never have.

Not in the way you wanted. Not in the way that made your chest ache, that made your fingers tremble when they brushed against hers, that made your heart scream for a different fate.

Not in the way that had offended your betrothed.

Not in the way that would get you both killed.

You turned in your chair, reaching for her.

Her fingers lingered at the nape of your neck, hesitant, uncertain, as if she wanted to stay there forever- but knew she could not.

She met your gaze in the mirror when you looked back.

Golden-brown eyes, filled with longing and sorrow.

She knew, too.

She had always known.

You swallowed against the lump rising in your throat. The distant sound of shouting, the clang of metal, the burning of the city below- it was getting louder.

“…Do you ever wish we could leave?” You whispered.

Her breath caught. A hesitation.

“…Every day,” She admitted. And your heart broke for her. For yourself.

For the life that could never be.

The chaos below grew closer- the sound of swords clashing, boots pounding up the castle steps. They were coming.

There was no time. No future. No way out.

Your fingers lifted, brushing against her cheek. Soft. Warm. Alive.

She sucked in a sharp breath, her lips parting slightly, her eyes flickering with fear, with need, with desperation-

And then you kissed her.

Not a soft thing. Not a hesitant thing.

But something urgent, something burning, something filled with the desperation of two lovers who knew they were out of time.

A kiss of fury, of grief, of love too big to be contained in a world too small for it.

She pulled you closer, her fingers digging into the silk of your gown, holding you, clutching you, clinging to you like she could tether herself to this moment, to you-

Then-

The doors burst open.

The room filled with shouting, with the gleam of blades, with the iron grip of soldiers as they stormed forward, tearing you apart.

You screamed, struggling against them, fighting, kicking, clawing, biting-

But your fate had already been sealed.

You saw her, your Lupin, your love, your heart, struggling, screaming your name, reaching for you-

And then- A soldier’s blade pierced your chest.

Cold. Sharp.

The world lurched, twisted- And then-

Darkness.

London was a city of smoke and gold. It was filth and grandeur, a place where the rich dined beneath glittering chandeliers while the poor shivered in the streets below.

And in the middle of it all- between the gas lamps and cobblestone alleys, between the choking smog and the perfume of wealth- you ran.

Your boots hit the pavement with a quiet rhythm, quick and light, barely making a sound as you weaved through the bustling crowds of Westminster Market. Your coat was patched and thin, your gloves fingerless, your stomach empty.

But that didn’t matter.

Because in your pocket, you now held a gold pocket watch.

Your lips curled in triumph. It was a beautiful thing- heavy, shining, the kind that belonged to someone important. Someone who wouldn’t even miss it.

Or so you thought.

Because just as you turned the corner into a shadowed alley, a hand closed around your wrist. Your breath caught.

Your instincts screamed at you to run, to fight, to flee-

But then you looked up. And your world shifted.

Him.

A man, tall and fine-boned, wrapped in an elegant dark coat. His hair was soft brown, windswept, his golden-hazel eyes piercing in the dim light. He was young, maybe only a few years older than you, but there was something about him that felt older- as if he had lived a hundred years before this moment.

And despite catching you red-handed, his expression wasn’t one of anger. No.

It was curiosity.

Amusement, even.

His grip loosened, just slightly. “You’re quick,” He panted, voice smooth as silk, his accent refined.

“Not quick enough, but still. Impressive.”

You swallowed, heart pounding against your ribs. “Let go of me.”

“You stole from me,” He pointed out.

You smirked. “You can afford it.”

He actually laughed at that, low and warm, before slowly prying his pocket watch from your fingers. But he didn’t let go of you. Instead, he tilted his head, studying you, like he was trying to place you. Like he had seen you before.

“…What’s your name?” He asked, softer now.

You hesitated. Giving your name was dangerous in your line of work. But something about him- something familiar, something achingly familiar- made you whisper it anyway. His lips parted slightly, his grip on your wrist faltering.

And then- he whispered his own name.

A strange, unspoken recognition passed between you.

Like a secret. Like a memory half-forgotten.

Weeks Passed.

And somehow, against all reason, you kept finding him.

Or perhaps, he kept finding you. He was wealthy, but he was not cruel. A scholar, an artist, a man who saw the world in soft strokes of poetry and charcoal sketches.

And despite your differences- a boy from the slums and a gentleman of high society- you kept returning to him. Perhaps because he never treated you like a criminal.

He treated you like something else entirely. Something important.

Something he was afraid of losing.

One night, beneath the glow of gas lamps, you let him trace the lines of your face with careful fingers.

“You keep looking at me like you know me,” you murmured. His lips parted, breath shallow.

“…Maybe I do.”

And then, before either of you could think- You kissed him. The world tilted, time stretched thin between you, and for a moment, it felt like something had finally fallen into place.

Like this had happened before.

Like it had happened a thousand times before.

But fate, cruel as always, was waiting. Because London was not kind to men like you. It was not kind to pickpockets caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was not kind to a street thief who had stolen more than just coins and watches- who had stolen the heart of a man who should never have looked his way.

You never saw it coming.

One moment, you were running through the streets, laughing, alive- and the next, the constables had you by the collar, dragging you through the mud.

You never had the chance to say goodbye.

They didn’t let him see you before the sentencing. But he was there when they dragged you to the gallows.

And as the noose was slipped around your throat, you searched the crowd- desperate, desperate to find him.

And you did.

His face was pale, his hands clenched into fists, his golden-brown eyes filled with helpless horror. You had seen that look before.

The executioner read your crimes. You kept your eyes on Remus.

And in that final moment- As the platform dropped beneath your feet- As the world fell away- As you left him behind.

You thought you heard him scream.

Then, darkness.

Then- you were back home, in Feldcroft. The sun setting outside the small cottage, casting warm, golden light across the wooden floors. The air smelled of burning wood and herbs, a familiar scent- one that had lingered in your childhood.

And you?

You were at the table, a book in hand, curled up in your favorite chair. The world was quiet. Peaceful. But then-

Hands suddenly gripped your shoulders.

You gasped, nearly dropping your book- only to be met with a familiar grin, a familiar laugh, full of mischief and warmth.

“Sebastian!” You scolded, playfully swatting at him. “You scared me half to death!”

He only grinned wider, stepping back before tossing something small into your hands. A shrivelfig.

“For you,” he said with a wink. “It’ll make you stronger, you know.”

Before you could reply, another hand snatched it away.

“Absolutely not,” Solomon Sallow’s stern voice cut through the air. Your uncle gave Sebastian a look of pure warning, his eyes sharp with disapproval. “She doesn’t need you sneaking around with magic. She needs rest. A shrivel Fig cannot reverse a curse.”

Sebastian scoffed, his jaw tightening. “She needs more than just rest, Uncle. If we’d just-”

Your heart clenched. You had heard this argument a hundred times before.

Sebastian’s obsession with finding a cure.

Solomon’s desperate attempts to keep him away from dark magic.

And you- caught in the middle, growing weaker by the day.

A sudden wave of pain shot through you. You winced, gripping the table, your breath hitching. Immediately, Sebastian was at your side, one hand on your shoulder, concern darkening his features.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, voice urgent. “Are you alright?”

Solomon tensed, his gaze hardening. “Do you see what I mean, boy?”

Sebastian’s eyes flashed with anger. “I wouldn’t-”. But Solomon was already dragging him toward the door.

“Enough,” He snapped. “Outside. Now.”

Sebastian gritted his teeth but followed. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving the house in silence.

You exhaled shakily, closing your eyes.

And then- A presence. Someone still here. You opened your eyes-

And met his.

Remus. From Sebastian’s letters.

He was watching you from across the room, hesitation written in every tense line of his body. He hadn’t followed them outside. He had stayed.

Slowly, he stepped forward, then knelt down beside your chair. His golden-brown eyes, warm and steady, studied you, searching for something.

He reached out- then hesitated.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re alright,” He said softly.

The words unraveled you.

No one ever said it. No one ever acknowledged the truth- that you were dying. That it was okay. That you could be seen in the smallest of moments and the shortest of times- without needing to be fixed.

Sebastian fought against it.

Solomon ignored it.

But he saw it.

And somehow, that made it real. You swallowed hard. “I’m not pretending.”

He gave you a look, one that said he didn’t believe you.

Then, without another word- he sat beside you. And that was all.

At first, he was just a friend.

Sebastian had introduced him- a quiet but sharp-witted student, someone with more patience than most.

Someone who- unlike Sebastian- believed that saving you meant more than just breaking every rule. And yet, despite his caution, he couldn’t seem to stay away.

He would sit with you during your worst days, reading aloud from books when you were too weak to lift them yourself.

He would walk with you through Feldcroft, letting you lean against him when the world became too much.

And when Sebastian grew more reckless, diving further into dark magic, forbidden spells, anything that might bring you back from the brink-

Remus fought to hold him back.

But it wasn’t enough. Sebastian went too far. The darkness took root.

And even when he destroyed Solomon, even when he sacrificed everything- It still wasn’t enough.

But for Remus, no. For Remus it was enough. To sit by you, by the fire. To listen to you talk in your final moments. Your uncle gone and your brother lost to his mind.

He reached out and placed a hand over yours. And when your fingers interlocked, he sighed. Staring at the fire, until your fingers loosened around his hand.

Until, darkness.

The Pub, 1978

The world slammed back into place. The scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke filled your lungs, the dim glow of the jukebox flickered in your peripheral vision. Laughter and conversation hummed around you. The wood beneath your fingers was real. Solid. Present.

But your body? Your mind? You had been somewhere else.

Across from you, Remus was shaking.

His breath came quick, his golden-brown eyes blown wide- not with confusion, but recognition. His hand still hovered where it had just brushed against yours, his fingers trembling like they had touched something far more than skin.

Something ancient.

Something inevitable.

You knew him.

Not just from this pub. Not just from this life. You knew him from a hundred lifetimes ago. From the fox and the hound. From the princess and her lady-in-waiting. From the thief and the gentleman. From Feldcroft. From every time you had found him- and every time you had lost him.

And now?

Now you were back.

His lips parted slightly, a breathless sound escaping, like he wanted to say something- like he didn’t know what he could possibly say.

You swallowed, heart pounding, the weight of a thousand lives pressing against your ribs.

“Remus,” You echoed again.

His fingers curled into a fist. His entire body tensed. And then, just as you saw him understand, just as his expression shifted, just as the words I remember nearly fell from his lips-

The door to the pub slammed open.

The moment shattered.

And then?

He did nothing.

Because what could he do?

What could you do?

Say it out loud? Confess to an impossible truth? Tell him that you had died in his arms over and over again?

That this time- this life- he had to stop it?

So you didn’t say anything.

You just sat there. Staring at each other.

Breathing.

And for now, that had to be enough.

Because in every life before, you had never feared the darkness. Just the loss.

~~~

The Great Hall buzzed with conversation. The sorting ceremony had ended, students were chatting excitedly, the feast had just begun. Plates were piled high, goblets filled with pumpkin juice.

Across the room, Teddy Lupin laughed, running a hand through his hair, which shifted colors between turquoise and soft brown as he spoke. His friends chuckled at something he said, shoulders bumping together, the easy comfort of a childhood spent side by side.

Then-

A hand brushed against his.

His laughter stilled.

The world tilted.

It was nothing.

A casual moment, an accidental touch. A transfer student- someone new, someone unfamiliar- reaching across the table to pass a plate of pastries.

But the second their fingers touched-

A jolt.

Something cold and distant- like the echo of a dream he couldn’t quite recall.

Teddy’s fingers twitched. His breath hitched. The transfer student blinked, eyes flickering to his face, lips parting slightly, as if they had felt it too- as if they knew.

Teddy swallowed. His heart pounded.

And then-

He pulled his hand away.

Just a little too fast. Just a little too tense.

His friends didn’t notice. The conversation continued around them. But the transfer student frowned, staring down at their hand for a moment too long, brows furrowing, like they had just remembered something they weren’t supposed to.

Teddy flexed his fingers beneath the table.

His mind whispered something.

Something about foxes and hounds.

Something about princesses and Ladies.

Something about picked pockets.

Something about darkened pubs and stolen moments.

Something about a name.

A name that felt like his and not his, all at once.

The world lurched- but just for a second.

And then?

The moment passed.

Teddy shook his head, forced a smile, and reached for his goblet like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn’t just felt the weight of every life before this one.

Like he hadn’t just remembered exactly what came next.

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[bettymylove]

yours

when you can't deny the tension between you and your rival what happens?

pairing: theo nott x reader

content: 18+ mdni, spanking, choking, graphic kissing, p in v, unprotected sex, oral(female receiving).

"Correct, Mr. Nott, five points to Slytherin" your professor had said for the third time in a row and you were practically seething, it was idiotic. You were sure he had devised a trick to give the right answers to tick you off.

The whole class stayed quiet, everyone knew about the fiery hatred you both possessed for each other and the rivalry that came with it.

"State one side effect of pepperup potion?" Snape had stated in a voice that made it clear he wanted nothing to do with what he was currently engaged in.

You knew this one, it had clicked in your brain, clearly showing on your face, the first words were out of your mouth until someone interrupted you midway and that delightful someone was known as Theodore Nott.

You had never given a reason for him to hate you, but you faced the repercussions of it. As a way of pure childish revenge, you had begun hating him too, although you had not one reason to do so.

Soon the class had finished and you were released from being in a state of complete anger. Theo however couldn't stand the sight of you being happy and thus began speaking. "Is our y/n jealous I'm better at potions than her?" he laughed while saying it and he was laughing after it and you being the bigger person decided to ignore it.

It had been the last class of the week and you were ready to be enamored in the weekend party life of an average Hogwarts student.

You were not much for it before, but you had taken a liking to it ever since you realized the only way to forget about Theo and his perfect little face was to get as drunk as a skunk.

Wearing the tightest dress you own was the social expectation, and you obeyed it, and after all you did like the way you looked, fixing your hair just before leaving to make sure it was perfect in every way.

Reaching the common room, you could feel the bass of the music in the pits of your stomach. Going straight for the bar, you picked up a drink, sipping on it while looking around for possible men who could end up in your sheets.

However, your eyes found a sight you decided you weren't fond of looking at, Theodore Nott sticking his tongue down some random Slytherin who by the looks of it was one year below you.

Soon the bass of the music wasn't the only thing you could feel in your stomach, a fiery feeling accompanied it which only grew when Theo met your eyes and winked. That cheeky bastard.

Another rivalry although this time quite different from the one that took place in the classroom earlier that day began. Your eyes landed on Lorenzo Berkshire, and you knew that he would go perfectly with your devious little plan.

He was an acquaintance you had talked to before and you enjoyed his company so it was not completely bad, but you couldn't help yourself from wishing it was someone else.

Quickly reaching his side at the bar you ask for another drink, the same one you had before, and downed it in one go. "Enzo, don't you want to dance with me?"

He laughed a breathy laugh and then tilted his head, "Theo will kill me if I do that" and you tilted your face in the same direction as his letting out a scoff, of course he was ruining your chance with any man you counted to be suitable.

"But I guess a little taste of heaven won't hurt right?" he said after a long pause and you pulled him to the dance floor facing Theo.

An unspoken challenge began between you two, he danced with the girl in his arms as you danced with Enzo. He kissed her, and you tilted your face back so you could capture his lips, although you could see from your not-so-closed eyes that he had stopped and so did you.

Grinding your hips on Enzo, Theo's face had become remarkably red and this time instead of locking eyes with you, he locked it with him and silently told him to go away with a slight tilt of his head and he obeyed.

You whined at the loss of contact and more on the thought that you would lose in the silent battle. However, something else happened before you could think about what happened.

Theo had joined you in dancing, putting his hand on your waist, swaying to the beat until he spun you and when you stopped you crashed right into his chest, not moving you took three deep breaths to calm yourself down. one, two, three.

That so didn't work, you were still flushed and you were entirely sure you could hear his heart beating giving you some kind of reassurance that you weren't the only one feeling like this, like how you weren't supposed to.

Soon, you both locked eyes, and it must have been a while until you blinked, which prompted him to do the same. A sigh left your mouth when his hand was just above your ass. You needed more, and you were fairly certain he was ready to give you whatever you needed.

You joined both your foreheads, lips just about to touch. You wanted him to make the first move, to do something. He tilted his head back and let out a loud groan and you thought that you misunderstood him but soon both of his calloused hands found your cheeks pulling you in.

The most awaited moment of your life had finally come, his lips made you feel like you were an angel who was being given an award for being good.

Soon his mouth opened and his tongue probed at your lips and you granted him entrance, doing the same to him. Forgetting the surroundings you both were in, all you could think about was the man who was in front of you.

"You're even better than I imagined" he broke the silence finally speaking his first words to you that night. You laughed at first, "you dreamed about me?" he nodded tilting his head once more, "Desperately so".

Soon the second kiss broke too, and you were invited by him to his dorm, to which you said yes, after all that happened your body couldn't think about saying no.

His hand found your neck as soon as you entered the room, pinned against the door. The hand pressing harder, and you loved every moment of it.

While kissing you had reached his bed, and you sat on top of him not breaking the kiss. Your kisses trailed downwards to his neck, while he groaned.

Flipping you over, so you were under him he attacked you neck, sucking and nibbling on it, so you were sure it would leave marks.

The dress you had on was abandoned along with your bra, and his shirt and pants were gone as well, you were now laying on the edge of the bed, while Theo was down on his knees.

His tongue entered you and you simultaneously entered heaven, his tongue forming a figure eight in your insides while his nose was repeatedly bumped your clit.

It wasn't long before you came, and it also wasn't long before you were thrown on the bed. Your ass in the air while his hands held yours in a tight grip, which had started to redden.

You could feel the tip of his cock brushing against your clit when he asked the question, "Are you sure?" and you said yes.

Slowly, you could feel yourself enveloping him inch by inch until he was all inside you, getting used to the feeling of the slight burn along with the great amount of pleasure you gave him the consent to move.

He started with low thrusts going slowly, which then soon turned to having your face buried in the pillow while getting completely fucked out.

His other hand reached down to your ass slapping it, rubbing it, and then repeating the action. His hand left yours and you grabbed the headboard with your now free hands. He was using his free hand to collect your hair and pull it back which he let go and replaced the hair with your neck pulling you back up to engage you in a kiss.

"Dear god save me, I'm gonna come" you screamed and moaned on the verge of your release. "Even begging satan won't help now," he said in a low voice near your ear, which gave you goosebumps all over.

You had finally reached the euphoric stage, but Theo wasn't stopping, still giving continuous thrusts, until he slowly pulled out and released all over your ass marking you as his.

Laying down, he pulled close to him taking the help of his covers to engulf you both. "You were made for me, weren't you darling?" he said to you while you found a comfortable position to lie in. Kissing his lips you agreed with his statement, "always been yours".