blitheringmcgonagall

[blitheringmcgonagall]

Day 8:

The bottom bunk in James’ room was more comfortable than Sirius had remembered. Maybe it was because this time the bunk came with the certainty that he would never have to step foot in his mother’s house again, or because of how warm the home around him felt. Or maybe it was a combination of the two. In any case, he was certain that it was the safest he had felt in years. “Hey Sirius?” James’ voice was husky with sleep.

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

For a moment the room was silent, save for the sound of their breathing. Sirius swallowed, trying to blink back the water pooling in the corners of his eyes and steady his breath.

“Do you think you’ll stay long?”

“I don’t know.” Sirius’ voice cracked. He pursed his lips, trying not to sound weaker than he felt.

“Hey James?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“S’no problem,” James muttered, sounding half-asleep. “It’s what brothers do.”

I asked @writingblot if we could do a little collaboration, because I had been eying her writing work for a little while. She’d write up a small little dialogue between Sirius and a James and I’d make a comic of it. I’m not very good at comics but I wanted to challenge myself. I hope you like it!

(If you like the writing, definitely follow @writingblot for more!)

[blitheringmcgonagall]

The Discussion

“Remus,” Sirius said, very seriously. “We need to have a discussion.”

Remus froze halfway through buttering his toast, which then flipped off his knife and landed jam-side-down on the table, like a metaphor for his life. “Do we?” he asked, with the wary caution of a man who knew Sirius had once called a ‘discussion’ the time he and James debated whether a hippogriff could wear trousers.

“Yes,” Sirius said, pulling out the chair beside him like he was about to deliver a formal address to the Wizengamot. “It’s about us.”

Remus’s soul left his body. “There is no us,” he said too quickly.

Sirius arched an eyebrow. “Really. Because I have several memories of you gazing at me like I’m the last Chocolate Frog on earth.”

“I was probably just wondering why your shirt’s always unbuttoned,” Remus muttered.

“Lupin, I saw you write ‘Mrs. Black’ in the margins of your Arithmancy notes.”

“I was hexed.”

“Four times?”

“It was a powerful hex.”

Sirius leaned forward, elbow on the table, chin in his hand, looking far too pleased with himself for someone about to emotionally detonate Remus Lupin. “Look, I know you’re trying to ignore it, repress it, push it down so far it emerges somewhere in Australia, but—Moony—we like each other.”

Remus groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Couldn’t you just snog me out of nowhere like a normal person?”

“I could,” Sirius said thoughtfully, “but then you’d combust and flee the country.”

“I might still combust and flee the country,” Remus said, voice muffled.

“Then I’d have to follow you. We'd have to start a new life. We'd open a bookstore. You'd run the front; I'd drink wine and alphabetize things terribly—”

“That actually sounds kind of nice,” Remus admitted, lifting his head.

“I know,” Sirius said smugly. “That’s why we need to discuss it.”

Remus stared at him. “You want to discuss the hypothetical domestic bliss before we’ve even held hands?”

“Well, we could start with that.” Sirius reached across the table, took Remus’s hand gently, and grinned. “See? One step closer to owning a bookstore in exile.”

Remus looked down at their joined hands, a smile tugged the corner of his mouth. “Fine,” he muttered. “We’re discussing. I’m participating. See me participate.”

Sirius beamed. “Good. Because next on the agenda is the snogging schedule.”

Remus groaned again, but he didn’t pull his hand away. Not a chance.

@wolfstarmicrofic

[blitheringmcgonagall]

Why did Sirius chose the rat stabber 3000?

I’ve been having thoughts about why Sirius choses to hunt Peter with a knife.

So fundamentally, Sirius goes after Peter alone partly because he no longer believes in the wizarding ‘justice’ system (12 years of solitary confinement without a trial will do that to you). Yet he could have tried to get a wand but instead he wants to neutralise the threat of Peter with something physical as opposed to the distance based violence afforded by a wand (as the he killing curse doesn’t leave a mess).

This is a direct contrast to how Peter commits physical violence which always puts other people’s bodies between himself and danger. Peter murders 12 muggles in a brutal way and uses their deaths as a smokescreen under which to disappear( the fact they can cover it up with a gas explosion, shows what carnage it must have been). Even the act of cutting off his own finger, is still ultimately about creating distance. Just as his betrayal of Jily functions the same way — he snitches, and they die in his place, becoming the bodies that shield him from facing the consequences of his allegiance.

So the choice of a knife is in response to this. Sirius is making a deliberate statement that he’s not like Peter. He’s not going to put someone else in the way or risk a spell going awry (because a knife is precise). And Sirius is going to get up close (breath to breath), not just because he wants the blood, but because he wants to collapse the distance between them. Because unlike Peter, Sirius is not going to hide behind someone else’s body or let the violence spiral out and catch the wrong person, and he’s not going to flinch from what needs to be done or pass the burden onto someone else; if there’s a price, he’s going to pay it in full, and if someone’s going to make Peter answer for what he did, it’s going to be him, with his own hands.

Also more broadly, Sirius consistently does his own dirty work because when something matters to him, when it’s tied up in loyalty or grief or conviction, he needs to be the one to see it through.

I have some half formed thoughts about dogs getting up close to bite, but that’s for another time perhaps.

[blitheringmcgonagall]

Ship: Tedromeda | Rating: T | No Archive Warnings Apply

New chapter is up! And I have a pretty graphic for it now.

In her final year at Hogwarts, Andromeda finds herself torn between what is expected of her and what she believes to be right. Her cousin was just Sorted into Gryffindor, she might have feelings for a Muggle-born, and she has serious doubts about the things her family taught her as a child. Meanwhile, her parents are pressuring her to find a suitable husband, while war is brewing beyond the castle's walls. The choices Andromeda makes now will change the course of her life forever.

Read it here or start from chapter one

[blitheringmcgonagall]

Anddd another fanart from the fic

(A song for the end of the world)

I’m honestly just obsessed atm and who knew zombie apocalypses would be so fun to draw💀

[blitheringmcgonagall]

Little zombie apocalypse AU fanart:)

Fic: A song for the end of the world by wannabelilybriscoe

(It’s AMAZINGG)

[blitheringmcgonagall]

huge shout out to this little kid for writing my favorite poem

[blitheringmcgonagall]

Jily wrist kiss please 🙏 😘

Here u go~

[blitheringmcgonagall]

Hey Moony Lovers the time is finally here!!

🌙 Sign up and claim your prompt here

🌙 See the full list of prompts here

🌙 Snippets are being posted every day! Find them all here

🌙 And find the guidebook to the fest here

Remember: 🌙 Prompts can be claimed up to five times! (three fanfic and two fanart claims) 🌙 Collaborations are welcome! If you are both using the same medium it will count as one claim, if one of you is a writer and the other an artist it will count as two claims (one for art and one for writing) 🌙 You can claim a second prompt after your first work has been submitted 🌙 Claims will be open all the way up until 29.06.25

[blitheringmcgonagall]

Hi, everyone!

Prompting for Padfoot Fest 2025 is officially open from today (June 7th) until June 22nd. You can leave a prompt by clicking this link:

Before you proceed, here are a few reminders:

All ships and all eras are welcome, including gen fic (no ship).

You can submit as many prompts as you’d like, but each new prompt must be submitted separately. Submitting prompts does not mean you have to claim one later.

This fest includes mature subjects, so participants are responsible for managing their own experiences within the fest. This also applies to viewing the uncensored prompts list.

While other characters can be included, Sirius Black must be the main focus of the stories or art pieces.

We, the mods of the fest, strongly adhere to the principles of “don’t like, don’t read”, “YKINMKATO”, and “ship and let ship”. We will not tolerate any form of kink shaming, ship shaming, harassment, hate speech, or bigotry.

For more rules and FAQ, you can check this document:

You can check out the 2025 prompts as they’re being sent here: 

If you have any questions, please send us a message here or on our email: padfootfest@gmail.com

[blitheringmcgonagall]

Sirius, after making a new friend, making his way from azkaban to the UK

[blitheringmcgonagall]

Poa sirius deserves more attention. Stimky emaciated boy. His best friend is a cat. Nearly kills harry twice when he checks in on him bc he's kinda scary. For some reason chokes harry. Still manages to get Harry's undivided devotion in 30min. Same with lupin. Ends up having big chunks bitten out of him by a werewolf, his soul nearly eaten twice. Immediately starts owling harry

[blitheringmcgonagall]

How Does This All Work?

See a prompt you like? Go for it! Canon or AU. It’s all up to you! @ us in your creation to be reblogged! You don’t have to stick to the theme.

Limit your pieces to 1K words or less. For longer inspired fics tag @jilymicro-oops in your post!

FAQ | PREVIOUS PROMPTS | AO3 COLLECTION

For any additional questions, feel free to DM one of the mods @charmsandtealeaves , @annabtg or @eastwindmlk ! You can contact them for an invite to the community discord as well!

[blitheringmcgonagall]

god please take all of my mutuals' suffering, double it and give it to donald trump

[blitheringmcgonagall]

Gotta Have Faith (a Terrible Stripper!Remus AU)

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,182

Hello, welcome to the stupidest thing I've ever written. This one-shot is inspired by @backuploveinterest's headcanons post, where we both agreed that the only universe where Remus would be a stripper is one where he's terrible at it. Fortunately for him, club owner Sirius doesn't seem to realize that.

Read on AO3

Sirius Black, proprietor of Godric’s Hollow, prides himself on the fact that he runs a classy establishment. Positioned as an upscale gentlethems club, Godric’s Hollow appears frequently on lists of best queer venues in the city, and is a popular tourist destination. Celebrated for the renovated Victorian house-cum-club’s campy Gothic style, its come-as-you-are atmosphere, high-production-value shows that blend striptease with theatrical burlesque techniques, and avant-garde kink nights, Sirius likes to think of his club as a jeweled broach on the city’s lapel and he, the leather trouser and corset-wearing jewler. 

And it’s a good, honest business. He pays his entertainers, servers, kitchen staff, and security staff fair wages. The kitchen is clean and well-kept, and abides by all health and safety codes. Most importantly, Sirius has a zero-tolerance policy for harassment of any kind towards his employees. 

Again, he must stress: he runs a classy establishment.

So, it is highly inappropriate that he now finds himself openly perving on the new dancer. But how could anyone expect him not to?

It all started a week ago…

One Week Earlier

When the sad, soggy man appears on Godric’s Hollow’s doorstep asking for a job, Sirius assumes he’s lost. He looks more like a struggling professor than someone who works in the adult performance industry. Tortoise shell glasses sit perched on his long nose, and he wears a pilled brown cardigan with a hole in the sleeve, a pair of ill-fitting corduroy trousers that only go down to his ankles, and—oh, dear—sagging, mismatched socks. 

Needless to say, the man is an absolute smokeshow.

“Hello. I’m Remus Lupin?” That’s how the man introduces himself. Like he isn’t sure, and he hopes Sirius will confirm it for him.

As it turns out, Sirius is almost right in his assessment. The man is, in actuality, a struggling graduate student who, due to unforeseen budget cuts at the university, has lost the funding for his dissertation and now finds himself in desperate need of income.

At first, Remus asks Sirius if he needs any help with the club’s books. Sirius informs him that he already has a very competent accountant on payroll. Then, he asks Sirius if he needs anyone to help work the front desk. But Sirius also informs him that he staffs a great front-of-house team, with enough people on rotation to cover vacations and sick days. In what appears to be a fit of desperation, Remus offers to scrub the club’s toilets, to which Sirius has to regretfully tell him that he already has a very efficient cleaning team.

“Well, I’m sorry to bother you, then,” Remus Lupin says with a pathetic slump of his shoulders, his whole gangly body going limp like a defeated marionette.

As the man turns to go, Sirius feels a sudden pang of sympathy and, underneath it, the frustration of a burning curiosity left unsatisfied. But then the man turns, and Sirius’s heart soars.

“People perform at this club, right?”

Hang on. Is he being funny?

“Yeah, mate.” 

“What kind of performances? Like, tricks?” 

“One of the girls does an upside-down strip tease while suspended ten feet in the air, if that’s what you mean.”

A rapid-fire series of expressions passes over Remus Lupin’s face. First, confusion. Then, horror. Then, oddly, resignation.

Sirius snorts. “It’s mostly dancing.” 

Remus looks deeply relieved. “Oh! Dancing! I can do that.”

Sirius raises a sceptical eyebrow. “You can dance?” 

Now, Remus huffs, looking a bit offended. Sirius suddenly feels a bit hot around the collar. 

“If I want to.” 

“Have you danced before?” 

“Of course.” 

“Where?” 

“Erm, all sorts of places. School, my mate’s birthday, my mum’s church social—"

“I mean erotic dancing. Have you ever danced at a club before?”

The soggy man starts as though Sirius just jumpscared him. 

“Oh. Ah.” Remus reaches up to fidget with his glasses and only succeeds in knocking them askew. “You know. Here or there.” 

Sirius regards the man in disbelief. He’s surely lying. 

Only…

Sirius takes in the sexy, hunched figure before him, and he wonders. What might be hiding under all that cotton and wool blend? Because despite his meek appearance, Sirius can’t ignore the raw sexual power rolling off him in heady waves. Could he be a wolf in sheep’s clothing? 

“Alright then. Show me.”

Remus looks horrified again. “Now?” 

Sirius shrugs, giving him a lazy smile.

“Sure. We won’t open for another five hours. The stage is free. You can just freestyle a bit, or if you have a particular routine, you can do that.”

Remus gulps audibly, drawing Sirius’s attention to the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down on his long neck. Sirius decides he would like to bite that neck.

“Do I need to take my clothes off?”

Sirius suppresses a laugh at how adorably earnest the man seems.

“Not right now, unless you want to. But this is an adult entertainment club, so, you know, at some point, at least partial nudity sort of comes with the territory.”

“Right. Of course.”

Remus looks a bit cross-eyed as he processes this apparent revelation. Cute, Sirius thinks, really bloody cute. Whether or not this man is really an erotic dancer, Sirius wants a private show. Although he feels a bit bad for the guy. He seems in over his head, and Sirius begins to wonder if perhaps he’s made a mistake.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Sirius says bluntly.

But Remus quickly shakes his head. “No, no, I can dance. Nakedly. Love to be naked whilst dancing, in fact. Nothing like letting it all air out while you samba.”

Sirius raises his eyebrows. “You samba?”

“....Well, not really. At all.”

“Oh.”

Remus coughs into his fist, glancing around as though wondering who did it. “Shall we do this, then?”

Sirius gives the man another appraising look from head to toe. A nerd he may be, but damn if it isn’t working for him. 

“Yeah, alright. This way.”

Sirius leads him to the club’s dining room, which houses the main stage. Remus clambers up onto the stage in a jumble of limbs while Sirius strides over to the sound board.

“What song should I play for you?”

A long pause follows. Sirius turns to look at Remus, finding the man looking a bit constipated.

“Erm. Um. ‘Safety Dance?’”

Sirius barks a laugh. But Remus just stands there, waiting.

“Oh. You’re serious?”

Remus’s face turns very red.

“Or, ah, a different song–”

The poor thing looks about ready to bolt off the stage, and Sirius can’t have that. Something is telling Sirius to keep this man here for as long as possible. He holds his hands up placatingly. 

“No, it’s alright! Go on, then, show me what you’ve got.”

Sirius turns to his computer and searches for the song. Something about Remus Lupin is throwing him off his usual game. Fucking Men Without Hats? What’s his angle? Is he really a dancer, or is he just pulling Sirius’s leg? Maybe he should just put a stop to this whole charade and ask the man to dinner instead. Hell, maybe Sirius should dance for him. He’s very good at it, after all, and it would definitely be fun for both of them—

But then the music starts, and Sirius realizes just how wrong he was to doubt Remus Lupin.

Because as the lanky man starts bobbing his head and shuffling in place, moving his skinny hips from side to side, Sirius can see that Remus Lupin isn’t just a dancer.

He is a God.

Back in the Present

As Sirius waits for Remus to take the stage for his inaugural dance, he feels inexplicably nervous. 

It’s a full house tonight. A full room of people, waiting to see Remus on stage. The thought gnaws at him, and he’s unable to shake it. In a matter of minutes, all of these people will be gawking at Remus as he dances and undresses on stage. 

Sitting next to Sirius at the round table situated front and centre to the stage is James, his lifelong best friend and now business partner. Sitting on James’s other side is Lily, his other lifelong friend/business partner/James’s lovely wife. Now that James and Lily have a spawn at home to care for, they leave most of the club’s day-to-day management to Sirius. But when Sirius had enthusiastically described the new dancer he’d hired to them (tall, leggy, effortlessly sensual), James and Lily had agreed they must be there to see his first performance. They’d even decided to make a whole night of it, finding a sitter for Harry, dressing up all nice, popping a bottle of champagne.

All to see Remus dance. On stage. In his underpants. Because this is a gentlethem’s club and Remus is an erotic dancer who works here. 

With narrowed eyes, Sirius surveys the room. It’s full of the usual mixed bag of people—suited up businessmen, wide-eyed tourists, bohemians dressed in kink costumes, and a few tables back, a hen party. From the sound of it, that group is drunk. 

Lily leans in to speak to him. “Why is Mary glaring at you?” 

Sirius follows her gaze to where Mary is standing in the stage wings, staring daggers at him. 

“Ah. We had an argument over the direction of Remus’s performance.” 

“You’re normally on the same page,” James muses. “What happened?” 

Sirius bristles at the memory. Mary is Godric Hollow’s stage manager, and a good one at that. Her ability to run a tight ship combined with her keen eye for the aesthetic, the dramatic, and the sensual, has resulted in many memorable performances on their hallowed stage. For the most part, Sirius stays out of her way so she can do her thing. 

So, he’s found it utterly incomprehensible when she told Sirius that Remus shouldn’t perform. At first, he’d laughed. Good one, Mary. Only, she hadn’t laughed. 

“You’ve got to be taking the piss, Sirius.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what mean.” 

“I can assure you, I don’t.”

She’d gesture—rather violently, if you ask him—towards the stage, where Remus was in the middle of a rehearsal. He had one hand on the back of his head, wiggling his body while he reached around behind him with his other hand and tried to grasp his foot in what Sirius could only assume was some sexy approximation of the funky chicken. 

“Fuck me,” Sirius had groaned, biting his lip. 

Mary had stared at him wide-eyed. 

“He’s awful!” 

Sirius’s eyes had snapped to her in an instant. 

“How dare you!”

“Sirius, he’s clearly never danced in his life. He actually looks like he’s in pain.”

“Are you blind? It’s called natural talent.”

“It’s called no talent!” 

He’d gasped in anger, and Mary had proclaimed that she couldn’t work with Remus because there simply wasn’t anything to work with, and Sirius had told her she could go home, then, if she wasn’t up to doing her job, and she’d stormed off, cursing spectacularly, while a very startled Remus had stopped dancing mid hip-thrust.  

“She was having an off day, if you ask me. Making all sorts of ridiculous suggestions. Very unlike her.” 

James and Lily exchange a curious look. 

Their conversation is interrupted by the lights in the dining room and a spotlight shining on the stage. Marlene’s Godric Hollow’s host for the evening, struts onto the stage in a pair of towering stiletto heels. 

“Good evening, ladies and gentlethem. Tonight, we have a special treat for you. You’re about to witness our new dancer’s virgin performance on this stage. Hang on to your rosaries and prepare to atone for your sins. Without further ado, please welcome Father Lupin!”

She struts off the stage, and the music begins—the solemn chords of an organ. 

When Remus Lupin walks onto the stage for his first dance in front of a crowd, Sirius knows he’s done for. 

They’ve gone for a priest theme for Remus’s routine. It’s been hell for Sirius. The moment Remus had walked out onto the stage during rehearsal, wearing a long white papal cloak and a clerical collar around his long neck, right where Sirius would like to grip with his hand, Sirius had known he was a goner. He’d had to physically stop himself from dropping to his knees and purring, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned” before going to town on that beanpole. 

But, of course, that would be wildly inappropriate. Sirius is a consummate professional, and this is a classy establishment. So, instead, he’d excused himself to deal with his urges professionally in the bathroom.

Now, in front of all these gawking people, Remus shuffles to the middle of the stage. He stands there, adjusting his cloak for a second and wincing against the stage lights. 

“Hello, everyone,” he says, waving at the crowd. 

Someone in the audience coughs. With a look of bewilderment, Lily raises a hand and waves back. 

Then, the organs are replaced by guitar and a driving drumbeat as the song picks up, and George Michael starts to sing. 

I guess it would be nice if I could touch your body

I know not everybody has got a body like you

“Faith” is a bit of a cliché, but Sirius reasons it’s corny enough to cross over into camp. At least, that’s what he’d insisted to Mary. Besides, the song is a classic for a reason. It has a great beat. 

A beat that Remus is currently dancing in between, or sort of around. Adjacent to. Certainly not in time with it. But it’s working for him. It’s unpredictable, like the rest of him. He has his arms raised above his head and he’s doing a repetitive sort of swaying, jerking motion, the cloak billowing around him. It has the effect of making him look like one of those wacky wavy inflatable arm-waving tube men that you see outside of car dealerships. 

One of the girls in the hen party whistles. 

“Take your clothes off!”

Sirius stares sharply at the group, seething. 

Look away! he wants to yell at all of them, Do not behold him with your unworthy eyes!

But that’s not the sort of thing the owner of this very adult entertainment club would say to its patrons. So, he crosses his arms tightly and grits his teeth. 

“You alright?” Lily asks. 

“Tch. Just keeping an eye on that group. If that girl heckles again, she’s out on her arse–-” 

But like a moth to a flame, Sirius’s attention is drawn back to the embodiment of carnal desire on the stage who, without preamble or build up, whips off his cloak. Only, he’s struggling with the top button, yanking at it and choking himself in the process. 

“Geh—” he says as he gives the cloak a particularly hard yank. The force of his yank sends him stumbling precariously towards the edge of the stage. James jumps to his feet, arms outstretched, ready to catch him, but Remus catches himself at the last minute, finally managing to whip the cloak off. He tosses it off the stage and onto James, covering him like a ghost costume. Lily wheezes with laughter.

Sirius pays them no mind. He’s too distracted by the feast laid out before him. Underneath the cloak, Remus is wearing nothing but a glittery gold speedo and the clerical collar. His body is thin, bordering on scrawny, and pointy, like a secy scarescrow. When he moves, his limbs seem to billow, as though he’s on the brink of being swept away by a breeze. 

Remus scans the crowd through squinted eyes, clearly missing his glasses, then points to one of the businessmen sitting near the stage. The man throws his hands up like he’s being held at gunpoint. Wide-eyed and startled, like he isn’t the one doing it, Remus crooks his finger at the man, jerking his head to beckon him onto stage. The man shakes his head vigorously. 

“I’m good right here, mate!”

Sirius burns with jealousy.

Brushing off the man’s idiotic rejection, Remus does a little twirl to show off the goods and then, suddenly, drops to the ground in a low squat, his knees cracking so loudly on the way down that they can be heard over the music. He winces and braces on his knees to push himself back up to standing. 

Sirius despises the way the crowd is watching him, mouths gaping and eyes wide. Clearly none of them have ever witnessed such a creature before. 

Shaking his stiff legs, Remus turns, hands on his hips, and eyes the pole in the middle of the stage. 

“Oh no,” Lily mutters, “I think he’s planning on using that.”

Oh no, indeed. Remus is about to climb that pole, his long limbs on full display, laying himself out like a sexy shish kabob at a barbeque. Sirius won’t be able to endure all these hungry-eyed people drooling over Remus. 

Rearing back, Remus takes a running jump at the pole, and ends up sort of dangling limply from it. He scrabbles for a moment, sweat beading on his forehead, before wrapping his long legs around the pole and rather obscenely inching his way up it. George Michael sings on valiantly about having faith. 

“Who hired this guy?” someone in the crowd calls. 

Sirius is on his feet in an instant.

“You watch your mouth!” he snarls in the direction of the voice. “You don’t deserve to look at him!”

“He sucks!”

“I’ll fight you right now,” Sirius roars, pointing a threatening finger—but movement in his peripheral vision catches his attention.

He turns to the stage again, just as Remus loses his grip on the pole. The girls in the hen party scream.

Before he can even think, Sirius surges forward, leaping onto the stage just in time to catch Remus mid-fall. They crash to the ground in a heap. 

With a groan, Remus rolls over so he’s half on top of Sirius. 

“Y-you saved me.”

“Yeah,” Sirius wheezes dazedly. Looking down at him, haloed by the stage lights, Remus looks like an angel.

“Mr. Black, you’ve been nothing but kind to me, which is why I have to be honest with you. I am not an erotic dancer. I think, perhaps, this is the wrong job for me.”

Sirius wholeheartedly disagrees, but he can’t deny the relief that washes over him. He rolls out from under Remus and gets to his feet, offering the other man a hand to help him up. 

“Is this you tendering your resignation, Remus?” 

Remus nods mournfully. “I’m afraid so.” 

With a thrill, Sirius grabs Remus by the waist and yanks him flush against him. 

“Then I must have you. Now.”

Remus gulps audibly. 

“Yep. Sounds good.” 

Sirius grins manically and calls over his shoulder at the gawking spectators, “Alright, folks, get out! Show’s over.” 

“We have five more sets lined up,” Mary deadpans from the wings. 

“Whatever.” 

Sirius crooks a finger through Remus’s clerical collar, pulling him off the stage. 

“Nobody bother us for the rest of the night.” 

It’s time for Sirius’s private confessional.

[blitheringmcgonagall]

Please forgive me for ranting, but...I am so tired of AI. Just so tired. I don't want Microsoft Copilot, or Google Gemini, or Meta AI, or whatever other energy-sucking, water-wasting, mediocrity-spewing LLM is currently being thrust upon me. I just want to be left alone to create in peace.

[blitheringmcgonagall]

"Snitching twit!" Euphemia shouted as Fleamont pulled her out of the classroom, just as Walburga was about to shout back her own string of insults to the other girl.

As the potions door shut behind them, Euphemia pushed Fleamont's hand off her and folded her arms as he stood firmly in the way of the door.

"Move, Monty."

"I get she's horrible, but you can't pick a fight with her-"

"Well, I can."

"I mean", he lowered his voice slightly, "She does dark magic, it wouldn't be a fair fight, and you could end up severely injured."

Euphemia grinned, "Are you trying to protect me, Potter?" She laughed for a moment before glancing at his attempt to be stern, "I know, okay? But I'm not going to let her do whatever she wants just because she's... evil. Just because someone's more powerful doesn't mean my only option is to lie down and take it."

Fleamont nodded in thought, before letting out a groan and stumbling forwards as the potions door opened into his back.

Minerva popped out, slinging an arm around Euphemia, "Do you want me to sic the suits of armour on her?"

"Do you even know how to do that?" Fleamont asked.

Minerva ignored him, "By the way, she's convinced the professor to give you a months detention for throwing your cauldron at her, I did try to defend you, I told him it clearly was not harmful in anyway, if it was then we'd all be smiling and having a wonderful time whilst Black was in the hospital wing, but he just gave me a detention for saying that."

Euphemia laughed, hugging Minerva tightly, "Merlin, I hate Walburga Black."

▪︎

"James is a good, wonderful, kind person, unlike your spawn."

Walburga gasped, turning to Dumbledore in fury, "How dare you let her get away with saying such things about a member of the noble and most ancient house of Black?"

Euphemia snorted, "Noble?"

"Please", Dumbledore interrupted the two, "Young Potter has already received detention for intentionally harming Mr Black, and Mr Black has been reprimanded and warned to not use such language at Hogwarts again. I, and their head of houses has already seen this as a fitting punishment."

"My son did nothing wrong!" Walburga yelled.

"If you mean Sirius", Euphemia shrugged, "Then sure-"

"I meant Regulus", She hissed, glaring at Euphemia, "Still just as immature, I see."

"Still just as much a twit, I see."

Walburga bit her tongue, muttering under her breath about blood traitors, and turned back to Dumbledore, "The Gryffindor head of house is extremely biased on the matter, being best friends with the parents of that horrid boy."

Dumbledore smiled, "I assure you, Minerva is capable of remaining impartial on such matters. She takes her job seriously."

"She stole and swapped mine, and the rest of slytherins wands around minutes before our practical owl exam!"

"Teenagers", Dumbledore shook his head, fondly, "Now, your visit has been pleasant, but I'm afraid there is nothing to be done about this incident, they've been reprimanded and assured us they won't do anything of the sort again. So if that is it-"

"Thank you, Dumbledore", Euphemia turned to Walburga, "I'll tell Sirius you say hello."

"You impish, sanctimonious-"

"Goodbye, Wally."

Euphemia closed the door of Dumbledore's office behind her, spotting Fleamont waiting outside with James and Sirius by his side.

"Merlin, I still hate Walburga Black."