exhaustedcatte

[exhaustedcatte]

Just Us.

Sirius watched as James tripped over hypothetical feet trying to catch Evans’ eye. He scoffed at the behaviour; while he enjoyed some friendly flirting, James was beyond ridiculous.

“Look at that twat, Wormy,” Sirius huffed, affectionate as ever, but still irritated.

When no response came, he looked up from his plate to find Peter drooling (slight exaggeration) over some poor bird behind him.

“Ugh,” Sirius recoiled with a bit more feeling than warranted.

“What’s got you so chipper?” Remus slid in beside him, earlier than usual, looking sleep rumpled but healthy; the new moon was a wonderful time.

“Look at these two idiots, salivating like slugs.”

Remus tutted fondly at the pair. “Leave them be, Padfoot, not everyone is charismatic like you.”

“Is that so?” He leered. This was becoming common occurrence, needling Remus into flirting back. “And that’s your opinion?”

“No,” Remus rolled his eyes, spreading butter on his crumpet, “but the grapevine insists on that particular character trait.”

“Spend time listening to what the grapevine says about me?”

For a second Remus faltered, unknowing that Sirius knew where Remus had heard it from, so he decided to just tell him.

He grinned, only slightly bitter that his friend had succumbed to the female population too (he didn’t really understand why, he pulled plenty himself).

“I heard about Pillai, you animal!”

Remus blushed under his golden skin. “Shut up.”

“Ow!” James spasmed wildly as a stinging hex was aimed his way and bumped into Peter, whose peas slid onto his lap.

“Hey!”

“Finite,” Sirius said lazily.

“Scourgify,” Remus waved his wand over Peter, while focused entirely on his breakfast. “Keep some senses on you, for fucks sake.”

“Not my fault!” James defended. Yes it was, there was no need to antagonise Lily, but James’ skull was thicker than a Kappa’s shell.

“Is too!” Peter said crossly, wiping the green from his trousers.

“You daft sods,” Remus mumbled fondly around the spoon lodged in his mouth.

“Looks like it’s just you and me,” Sirius sighed heavily, leaning onto him, “who are sane.”

“Just us,” Remus agreed.

“‘m leavin’!” James yelled. “Use the mirror if you need me!”

“Go away,” Sirius rolled his eyes good naturedly. “And please, for the love of Merlin, don’t natter on about your socks to Evans.”

“They’ve got moving snitches on them!”

“Just go, Prongs,” Remus laughed. “Try to relax and have fun, mate.”

“I would marry you, Moony, if not for Evans,” James put a hand on his heart, glancing at Sirius.

Sirius’ nostrils flared, and dramatically he said, “Get out!”

“So territorial,” James grinned, before he thundered down the staircase, missing Sirius’ jinx by a centimetre.

Silence cloaked the room as they stood amidst the clothes James had thrown out of his armoire.

Remus flopped back onto his bed, too lazy to retrieve his clothes from James’ pile; not like he cared, James had left for his date in Remus’ muggle band tee to show Lily he cared enough to learn or something.

“Where’d Wormtail go? The map isn’t here.”

“Who knows what he’s upto these days. Very secretive, our Wormy,” Sirius remarked, stepping around the clothing avalanche.

“Oh? Only him?” Remus sat up on his elbows, grinning shrewdly.

His uniform was unbuttoned down to his midriff, one flap untucked, and Sirius’ attention was rapt. “No,” he murmured. “Moony.”

“Yes?”

Remus stretched out his arm for Sirius to pillow his head on, which he did with a bright grin. They lay there in silence as he waited for Sirius to dredge the words out of his throat.

“‘s this alright then?” Sirius asked, rolling over to lay atop him, all bony elbows and knees. “Just you and me?”

This was still new, precious, fragile. James had probably guessed, but they hadn’t told anyone.

“Of course it is,” Remus assured, a kiss to his forehead. “Just us, Padfoot.”

Remus placed a bowl of rice and warm rajma in front of him.

Sirius wondered if he had once enjoyed this food if it made Remus stretch his wallet to prepare this for him.

“Here,” he said, pouring them both some whiskey on the rocks. “Sorry, I don’t own wine, this is easier to get drunk on.”

Sirius frowned slightly.

Remus filled the silence, misunderstanding Sirius’ hesitance, “I don’t drink that often, you know the wolf gets agitated.”

“You preferred beer,” he remembered suddenly.

Remus startled a bit. “Yeah, I–I still do.”

Sirius looked down at his plate, feeling a bit exposed and melancholic. His first proper meal in years, prepared by his, or who was once his, Moony.

“It was your favourite recovery meal,” Remus said lightly, correctly guessing what he was thinking. Sirius had to remind himself that Remus had also known him like the back of his hand.

“Oh,” he croaked.

“Lily tried to make it once when you and James were down with flu,” Remus continued, gratuitously offering the story, “and she burnt the rice, so I’d been summoned to salvage it to my best efforts. You really did enjoy it, even if James was more critical of the consistency of the curry.”

Sirius cracked a smile imagining the scenario to little effect; he couldn’t remember the colour of the Potter kitchen, Lily’s laugh, James’ observations or anything beyond the details of the anecdote.

“James preferred it thick,” Remus said. “And spicy.”

“Oh?”

“You could not handle it,” he teased.

Sirius smiled humorously. “You toned it down for me this time?”

“‘course I did.”

“Thanks, Moony. Did… did you learn from James?”

“I only knew to cook Cawl and Bara birth… and you liked Effie’s cooking too much to leave behind when they shifted out of London.”

“You always made my Indian cravings?” he asked, trying to appear nonchalant.

“No,” Remus laughed a bit. “I’m not that good. We flooed to them when we were all– free, to eat his special Kerala porotta and beef curry or Lily’s favourite chapatti and aloo.”

His expression must’ve changed, because Remus’ mouth was pinched, making his scholarly moustache twitch.

“Sirius?”

He came to, a bit disoriented. “Sorry, there’s–there’re a few gaps in my memory.”

“We’ll fix that, Padfoot,” Remus said sadly.

We.

“Just you and me, eh Moony,” Sirius smiled weakly, recalling it was one of his favourite phrases.

“Just us,” Remus nodded vacantly. “Been just us for a while now.”

[exhaustedcatte]

a wrinkle in time

my first wolfstar ao3 work!

i hope you give this a read:) do let me know how you liked it!

[exhaustedcatte]

I love you. U are a GOD in writing.

I looove you too, my poetry goat😌🫶🏻

[exhaustedcatte]

remus: i cried all my tears before i turned ten so now i’m indifferent to most kinds of pain.

sirius: i was punished for crying, so i turned my tears into rage bc i couldn’t afford to breakdown in front of reg.

james: i don’t feel like i should cry bc my friends have it much worse than me, so i feel guilty when i do.

peter: i can’t cry bc i don’t drink enough water.

[exhaustedcatte]

You’re a Wizard.

Remus bit his cheek, the juvenile words “Detention, Prewett” died on the tip of his tongue.

No, he reminded himself harshly. That’s Fred and George Weasley. Not Fabian and Gideon.

I’m not a Prefect, I’m the bloody Professor, Remus grit his teeth.

Luna Lovegood floated into the room and Remus saw unwelcome visions, the present melting away to accommodate the past. Regulus Black was there, guiding Pandora when she was batting her lashes at Xenophilius Lovegood.

Draco Malfoy was an amusing mixture of Lucius and Narcissa. He stuck his nose up and raised one manicured brow like his mother, but his ugly words and prideful manners were all his father.

Remus laughed guilelessly, what was wrong with him. Fraternising with the enemy, Moony? A very familiar voice chirped in his head.

It hurt so bad.

Every time Hermione Granger raised her hand, to the chagrin of the rest of the class, Remus saw Lily Evans. Her fierce intelligence and determination a weapon to dismantle the prejudice faced by Muggleborns. Lily would’ve loved her.

He wiped his face with tired hands.

Honestly, Remus was never meant to survive this. He was simply unfortunate, unlucky. An anomaly.

Hah, now suffer.

There was Neville Longbottom, with ears that stuck out like his father and a shy smile to match his mother’s. I’ll watch over him now, Remus promised the smiling Alice and Frank in his memories, apologising for the years gone by.

Then there were the little things.

Snape always caused a spark of his old Marauder spirit to overtake his senses. It also brought forth very vivid sounds of two devils whispering into his ears. Potter and Black, always at the crime scene.

No, no. He batted that thought away before he could spiral.

Remus found himself shocked by the streaks of white in Minerva McGonagall’s hair, which 15 years ago that would’ve caused an uproar. Not even his own greying roots had caused him so much sadness.

His heart ached when he saw Madam Pomfrey pressing her knuckles into her strained back. How much had he missed while hiding from this wretched world?

But what struck a raw nerve was Harry Potter, of course.

The toad green of his eyes and the bird’s nest of his hair. It had been so long but all he could see in the young Potter boy was his friend. A friend who had betrayed him, but his friend nonetheless.

I know you, he pursed his lips to prevent screaming that when he was addressed as Professor Lupin and not Unc’e Moo’y. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t the one who could get Prongslet to burp or take a nap anymore. He was the weird, mismatched man for a teacher.

You know Harry doesn’t think of you like that. Ah, Lily, wise as always.

The James in Harry Potter stuck out like a sore thumb, much like his hair, when he whizzed across the quidditch pitch with innate talent, when he couldn’t hold back his tongue while talking to Snape, when he faffed about in lessons. But it pained more to see Harry stand up for his friends, like his father had always done, and when he went searching for trouble despite being explicitly warned against it.

Oh, how I miss you Prongs.

He sat back in his chair, creaky and hard as it was. There was only one person he hadn’t found in his students.

Remus closed his eyes.

Sirius Black grinned at him from behind his eyelids. Miss me, Moony?

[exhaustedcatte]

I just read every single one of your works on Tumblr and I'm absolutely obsessed to say the least <3

Love love love your writing!!

icb i woke up to smth this kind omg😭 thank you so much!! this is the sweetest thing, i’m so grateful<3 i hope you have a lovely day💗

[exhaustedcatte]

Happy Moony Day!

Lily Evans brandished her camcorder. Her father had shelled out a big sum after she’d gotten the wizard equivalent of an A* in her OWLs for her to buy whatever she wished.

“That a camera, Evans?” Sirius Black asked, prodding the lens with inky fingers.

“Don’t dirty it!” she snapped. “Yes, it’s a camera.”

“Ooh, Moony’s is differ–”

“That’s because I can record videos on here, Black.”

The portrait swung open, screaming garishly at—oh, it was Potter. She shared the Speared Knight’s sentiments. He was walking towards Sirius, sweaty from Quidditch but still in the sweat-soaked uniform. Couldn’t he shower in the stalls like everyone else? No, he had to parade his lean arms in the tight uniform. Yuck.

“–record for his birthday?”

“What was that?”

Sirius looked back, saw James taking two stairs at a time to their dorm. Watched Lily’s eyes tracking him and grinned.

“Alright,” she cleared her throat. “What is Remus to you Marauders?”

“Uncouth little bastard, he is! I got detention for the tickling hex he used on Flitwick, y’know?” Sirius said cheerfully. James shoved him. Peter lurched over the arm on Sirius’ left. Why they insisted on smushing themselves in one sofa, she didn’t want to know.

“What Mr Padfoot means to say,” James cut in pointedly, “is that Moony, my dear Moonman, is the sparkling Brains behind some–”

Peter coughed. Sirius slapped his back heartily.

James glared at the pair, “–most of our elaborate pranks. Padfoot and I haven’t got the patience, Pete too, but you know our Remus, he has the patience of ten saints. He’s our devious schemer.”

Lily hid a smile behind the flipped out screen of her camera. “He’s the people’s favourite though.”

“Ours too,” Sirius said matter-of-factly. James and Peter made googly-eyes at him, and Sirius scoffed, ears blushing.

Lily was cursed with ample curiosity, which was clawing up her throat.

“Peter?”

Peter scratched his chin. “Moony is like the Backbone. He’s the the framework of our group. He’s not like Prongs, he can’t make everyone talk about their problems–”

“Aw,” James cooed loudly. “God knows he doesn’t discuss his own problems,” Sirius muttered.

“–and he isn’t everyone’s problem like Padfoot,” Peter grinned at Sirius’ hand-on-chest-betrayed face. “Moony helps you appreciate silence. He knows when to prod, when to hold back. And he also guides us through schoolwork even if he’s busy.”

Lily knew Peter meant himself in that misleading blanket statement but neither James nor Sirius corrected him. She found herself a bit touched.

“He’s amazing. He’s so steady and dependable, like. So generous too, I’d have died in our dorm two weeks into first year if not for him, actually.”

“Oh yes, we brewed that–” James’ eyes glinted with nostalgia.

Lily interjected immediately, “Sirius?”

“He’s our favourite,” he said, but his eyes were too clear, cheeks too pink.

They crowded the frame messily, “Happy birthday Moony! We love you!”

Sirius approached her later that evening when the common room was sparse. “Mind doing my bit solo?”

Lily shrugged, interested. “Sure.” She got it ready and pointed the lens at Sirius’ handsome face.

“Moony is the bravest person in Gryffindor.”

She’d heard this before. She’s not sure why it is, but she knew the three of them agreed on this unanimously.

“I know he’s the brain and the bones, but he’s also the Heart. James could just as easily be the Bones, I could be the Brain,” Sirius winked. “But we’re both too much of twats to be the Heart, Pete also. But Remus is–he’s so Good.”

Lily was shocked at the sincerity in Black’s voice. “Oh?”

“He’s been through a lot, our Moony, but as tender as our human hearts are, as much as they bruise, he just keeps on doing, fighting. He’s gentle in a way I haven’t learnt, kind in a way James has tried to emulate, hardworking in a way Peter tries to copy.

“Remus is my very core. He’s most of what’s good about me,” Sirius said.

She didn’t know if he realised the change from Our to My. She didn’t comment.

“James is my brother and Peter’s friendship is means everything, but Remus is a Very Important person to me,” he said quietly. “We love him so dearly.”

Lily offered an encouraging nod.

Sirius looked at the camera, no, behind it, and beamed. “Happy birthday Moony, be happy always.”

Remus walked into the frame, and Lily’s camera shook. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

It takes strength to be gentle and kind – The Smiths

[exhaustedcatte]

Marauders Code

“We’ve got each other’s backs, no matter what,” the four wizards chanted as they performed a blood-binding oath illegally in their dormitory.

Remus was sent straight into McGonagall’s office, where she stared at him from behind her eyeglasses.

“Mister Lupin,” she raised a brow. “Sit, please.”

He sat, weary and suddenly tired of everything that had happened.

McGonagall exhaled sharply. “What’s this about you breaking a nose, then?”

Remus lifted his left shoulder listlessly, “He was being a dic– berk to Sirius and. Well. Yeah.”

He didn’t disclose that the three boys had spent the morning cheering up Sirius after the awful, long winded howler he’d gotten from home. And just when the boy had begun to laugh, that stupid fucking idiot Yaxley had come and rained over their progress.

But Remus’ pre-moon jitters had slithered down his arm, which shot out at the older boy’s nose, breaking it upon contact.

In the four years his friends had known him, Remus’d always been mild and patient. It helped his self-esteem to be something other than a monster, but exceptions, he’d come to learn, had to be made. Quite like Sirius Black.

James and Peter had stared at him with pure admiration and Sirius gaped at him with wide, grateful eyes.

“S’alright,” he’d said awkwardly when he retrieved his arm, unscathed, from a yowling Yaxley’s face. “Worth a detention.”

“Damn right!” James hollered, tackling Remus carefully, aware of his pre-moon pains, despite his excitement.

“Moony,” Peter breathed, “You’re brill!”

Remus offered a half smile as he followed a prefect down to McGonagall’s office.

That was fourth year.

In fifth year, Sirius was the one who was laden with detention.

He’d been skidding down the stairs using a dandy charm that him and Remus had been practising for a prank.

Sirius slid down the marble steps directly into a gossip session.

“He’s such a peacock,” one of them groaned.

“Gosh, I know! And did you see how he kept babying Pettigrew in Transfig? Like he’s some kind of genius, what a git!”

Sirius frowned. Peter? James was the one who partnered with—oh.

He listened closer, sneaking up on them from behind. And of course. Evans, MacDonald, McKinnon, Fortescue.

“Potter’s inflated ego–”

James had been assisting Peter with the lesson, one that Peter had read up on with Remus but while Remus had succeeded in his second try, Peter was struggling in his twenty second.

He was reassuring a boy who needed to be reminded that sometimes things take time and that was quite alright. That it didn’t speak to your intelligence or your capabilities. These girls, who hated James purely because he was smarter than them (okay, so Sirius knew James could be a right twat, but not this time), could go straight to hell.

Sirius grinned.

He followed them behind a Disillusionment charm that he’d perfected over the winter-break at Hogwarts and spelled every staircase they took to bring them back to the same hallway. After several attempts of them running away but landing right in front of the same charms classroom, he gave in and appeared in front of their frazzled beings.

“That’ll teach you not to speak on what you don’t know,” he said coldly.

Needless to say, McGonagall was furious at him for making them skip class and gave him a week of scrubbing trophies in Filch’s office. They became fast friends after that incident though, so no harm done.

James was running late.

He had to take notes for Remus, who was lying stock still in the infirmary, Skele-gro working on his bones. Sirius was keeping watch, having dropped Herbogy in their sixth year; he had Os in every subject, he could drop anything he wished.

James dashed into the Greenhouses right behind Sprout, barely squeezing in as the glass doors slid shut. Peter waved from their spot in the corner.

Their lesson was not very fun since they were with the know-it-alls. Ravenclaws were either amiable, or they had claws.

“You’d think he’d handle plants better, with how much he eats them,” Billy whatsit sneered at Peter.

Peter wilted like his Aconite. James felt fury rise in his throat.

“Gluttony,” one girl simpered cruelly.

“Look at those love handles on him,” a third one said. “I don’t understand how he’s a Marauder.”

“Pity friendship, I think. One would think he’s a Squib,” Billy gurgled.

James rose to his feet. “Professor Sprout? I think Billy Blabbermouth and his lackeys are having trouble here.”

The class turned to them.

He hexed the trio publicly. It was a silly one, helped jog your memory, repeat your previous words (he’d used it plenty on Sirius when he was fumbling around Remus like a shy maiden).

Billy and his friends looked aghast as their disgusting words came pouring out at Sprout’s face. She took a hundred points off them, and handed detention for the next two weeks.

“Thanks James,” Peter whispered.

“Of course, mate.”

James also got detention for hexing a student in class, but he took it happily, Remus was minding that detention as Prefect anyway.

In their last year, Remus had come back with a long wooden cane, much to his chagrin.

His body couldn’t carry his weight right after the moons, so he’d been forced into a magnificent cane with a golden lion at the head. They had tried to make him feel better about it but Remus was a creature of self-reliance, of pride.

Remus hated it, Peter knew.

It happened on their way to breakfast.

Peter was behind the other three boys, voted as the one to lie to Mary about their Halloween plans (they were planning on transforming all the beds into pumpkins; no, they weren’t going to be creepy about it—mirror charms, duh), when Davey Smith traipsed past them and tripped Remus.

Remus fell down like a bag of bricks, red-faced and irate, unable to retaliate after the moon and otherwise (monster, monster, Remus chanted to himself to prevent himself from snapping, Peter knew).

Sirius and James helped him up, jaws locked with anger, as their first priority was to check on their friend.

Smith jeered. “Feet useless, cane broken, face cut up. What kind of an ugly invalid are you, Lupin?”

Davey Smith, jealous of Remus simply because he’d been asked out by Davey’s crush. What a piece of work.

“Sirius, no. James, put your wand down,” Remus sighed. “Smith, kindly get lost.”

Peter smiled. He’d not been warned. “Sorry, Mary, duty calls!”

He turned into Wormtail behind an armour and scurried up an unsuspecting Davey’s pant leg.

Wormtail bit into the Hufflepuff’s flesh.

Davey howled.

McGonagall swept into the hall, took one look at Remus, at the anger tinged faces of James and Sirius and Peter’s self-satisfied expression. Then she noticed Davey, who was flopping about the hallway embarrassingly.

“Mr Pettigrew,” McGonagall ground out tightly, “I don’t know what you’ve done, but his thigh is bleeding! Detention for the week. And Mr Smith, we will have a Talk after Madam Pomfrey is done with that gash. No Hogsmeade for the rest of the term for you.”

Peter smiled benignly. “I’ll be there, professor.”

She whisked Smith away, scolding him for hurting her kids, no doubt.

“Pete! That was fab!” Sirius laughed and James thumped his back. “Wish I could’ve given him rabies, but you might’ve done me up with plague.”

Remus was rolling his eyes, but a smile was hooking his mouth up in the corners, “I should know better by now, eh? Of course one of you will rush to defend my honour.”

“It’s what you deserve Moony,” Peter said, smiling.

Really, they’d always have each other’s backs. Until the very end.

[exhaustedcatte]

tagged by: @divkazkdovikde thank you:))

last song: line without a hook by ricky montgomery

last film: 12th fail (it’s a bollywood movie; really heartwarming and motivational)

currently reading: (haven’t read in months bc of an upcoming exam) last book i read was – tuesdays with morrie by mitch albom. reread a bit of the song of achilles (ask me again in a few months and i’ll have ploughed through my entire tbr lol)

currently watching: good omens and superstore (very very irregularly bc, again, my big exam is soon)

currently consuming: textbooks. so many textbooks.

currently craving: tacos. god, i just ate, but now i’m hungry again.

no pressure tag(s): @dothsexth + anyone who’s following my blog and everyone who comes across this post! hop on:)

Tagged by @celestialcrowley - thank you!

Last Song: Dress - Taylor Swift

Last Film: Muppet Treasure Island - It is currently my 2 year old's favorite movie, so we watch it at least once a day!

Currently Reading: Good Omens fic by @voluptatiscausa. 

Currently Watching: Sesame Street - My toddler and I are waiting in suspense to learn the Letter of of Day.

Currently Consuming: Coffee

Currently Craving: This really amazing egg and plant-based sausage breakfast sandwich my husband makes for me.

Tagging @cobragardens @shadesofecclescakes @ihavenoideahowtodream @mimi-and-the-next-20th-century @floralomens @takeme-totheworld @greenthena @hinekosama @mindthewitch @tominniemousesblog @voluptatiscausa

[exhaustedcatte]

Quidditch

“Is that Lupin?” Mary squinted against the morning fog into the distance.

The only way Lily knew that it was, in fact, Remus was the angle at which her neck was tilted back and the bundle of red wool that was wobbling towards the stands.

“Remus!” Lily waved him over.

He was blinking blearily, holding on to Peter by the shoulder, and still struggling to open his eyes. “Morning Lily,” he said to the air above her shoulder.

Peter deposited Remus by the girls before scrambling down to give Sirius his forgotten hair-tie. “Be right back, Moony! Padfoot can’t have his pre-game superstition faulted.”

Mary giggled and thumped Remus into the seat beside her. “Aw, Lupin! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a morning game till now! I know you love your sleep.”

Which, yes. Remus was often the last one to arrive for breakfast. He would stumble in, still sleep dizzy, and scarf down a plate that was meticulously arranged with his favourite foods by one of his boys. It was a bit endearing.

“Gryffindor hasn’t had a morning match in ages,” Remus pointed out.

Lily couldn’t help but ask, “So you, who doesn’t mind shaving off a few minutes of class for sleep, woke up early for bloody Quidditch?!”

“James and Sirius are playing,” he shrugged simply, looking a bit more awake now that he’d gotten a lungful of fresh winter air. “I always come to watch them play.”

Mary and Lily stared at him with twin looks of surprise.

Here was Remus John Lupin, infamous for arriving last to breakfast and sometimes nodding off in class because he had, according to Potter, bouts of insomnia. Here he was, at the Quidditch pitch when the sun was yet to show, simply because his friends were playing.

“You’re so sweet,” Mary cooed. “Ditching sleep for Quidditch! A lesser man could never. Would never!”

Remus huffed a laugh.

They tracked Peter giving Sirius the hair-tie and then fixing James’s glasses on his nose. “The superstition,” Remus explained as the three of them did a small group huddle. “We were trying to be supportive for their first tryouts years ago by fixing them up and they decided that that was why they got in.”

“That is absolutely adorable,” Dorcas declared from where she’d walked up beside Remus. “What’s your role in all this?”

Remus, curiously, blushed scarlet. Not just because of the wind nipping his face. “I’ve never done this outside—we usually handle their nerves and superstitions in our dorm.”

“Well,” Lily said, eyeing the two figures flying towards their stands despite the shouts of protest from Hooch and the Gryffindor Quidditch captain. “Looks like you’ve no choice but to follow through Remus.”

“It’s for Gryffindor,” Dorcas implored. “I don’t care how embarrassing it is, but you’ve got to! They need to be in form. If you are what it takes, then damn me Lupin, I’ll have your head if we lose!”

Remus sighed resignedly as the boys got closer.

For the first time, James wasn’t even looking at her when he flew over. His glasses were still askew but he was smiling with such contagious excitement that Lily found herself wishing he’d turn the smile on her and then instantly felt weird about wanting that. (Oh, but the red and gold against his skin was just too much.)

“Right then, Moony mine,” James leaned forward to Remus, smiling lasciviously. “Go on.”

Remus rolled his eyes and pushed James’s unruly hair back, “One day I will kill you both.” But then, Remus held James’s face by his temples and planted a kiss to his exposed forehead.

There were sharp wolf whistles and jeers sounding from around them like fireworks.

“Make me proud, as always. Off you trot, Potter,” Remus smiled. Sirius snorted elegantly from behind James. An inside joke, then.

“I don’t trot!” James muttered balefully as he nosedived to the grass to appease his captain.

Lily looked on as he jumped off the broom impressively right before landing and his exaggerated hand movements took over the conversation. She assumed he was arguing that they needed the Lupin Kiss for their own benefit.

Sirius hovered for a moment before swooping in to take James’s spot, looking entirely too unruffled even in the biting cold. As much as she could pretend to loathe Sirius, Lily had to admit that the boy was somewhat of a talent. And not to mention the absolutely ridiculous beauty on him.

Mary shared the sentiment, it seemed. “You’ll be breaking so many hearts right now, Black,” Mary noted with a smirk. “What they would kill to be Lupin.”

Lily looked around her and was unsurprised to find girls from all over the pitch, watching this spectacle. Disdain and jealousy crackling like live wire in the air.

“I’m perfectly happy as I am. I’d kill to be me if I were them,” Sirius said haughtily, throwing his short braid back.

Before any of the girls could comment on that statement, Remus shook his head and pulled a sour-faced Sirius by his jaw, Lily felt her face heat up at that action, leaned over the railing and pressed a kiss to the furrow between his brows, which smoothed out into Sirius’ perfectly porcelain face, tinged a healthy pink, when Remus pulled away.

“Good luck, Black. Make it worth my losing sleep.”

“You got it, Moonshine,” Sirius winked, eyes sparkling, previous woes forgotten, and looking much brighter now. He took off to the team, where they were all lined up to begin.

There was a pregnant silence for a few long seconds.

“And here I thought you plan the wreckage of the school in that dorm, but you’re all just kissing each other goodnight, huh?”

“It’s not mutually exclusive, Meadowes,” Remus smirked. “Besides, I think these two just enjoy being kissed.”

“By you!” Mary stressed with a laugh. “I doubt anyone else would work for them… well, besides Lily for Potter, I suppose.”

Lily flushed despite herself, a recurring theme today. Maybe she wasn’t so averse to that idea, after all.

None of them said anything about her lack of input for Sirius. It could be seen from miles away even through the thickest clag, this lingering thing between them.

(She hoped they’d figure it out soon, she had a few galleons riding on them.)

[exhaustedcatte]

your works got me giggling kicking my feet then sobbing a few seconds later 😭😭 u r a gift!!!!

!!! omg i’ve been smiling so hard over you msg anon😭💗 you’re so kind! thank you so much, it means the absolute world<3 i hope you have a great day!!

[exhaustedcatte]

Detention, boys!

“–pair of troublemakers, they are,” Pomona Sprout wailed. “I know it was them, but there’s no way to prove it.”

Minerva, who’d just walked in, already knew who the offending duo could be. “Potter and Black?”

“Potter and Black,” she confirmed. “Charmed all of my Mandrakes to sing! Sing! Can you believe it?!”

A smile unwillingly pulled on the Gryffindor House-head’s mouth.

“What did they sing?” Professor Sinistra asked curiously.

Pomona ducked, shy. “I didn’t recognize the song, but Ms Bones said it was a muggle band called—ehem.” She cleared her throat and whispered, “The Sex Pistols.”

Minerva suppressed a loud guffaw, forced it back down her throat, and allowed a small grimace. Sinistra had no objections, laughing cheerfully.

“I bet you that was all Lupin,” she said, still grinning. “I’ve heard him giving gospels on muggle music with such ardor, you’d have thought he was being paid to advertise.”

Minerva didn’t know muggle music, but she knew her boys. This prank definitely had their signature on it, not just the handle on magic, but the careless display of talent.

Charming those noisy crybaby Mandrakes was no easy feat.

“I’ll hand out detention for the weekend,” Minerva said easily. “Potter and Black for the frontline work, Lupin for definitely pointing them towards the charms and Pettigrew for stealing all of your Mandrakes,” she raised her brows.

Pomona sighed, smiling.

The thing was, it was easy to detain them for smaller, localised pranks. It had their magical imprint all over it. While they had stepped into juvenile delinquency and thrown dung bombs, most of their practical jokes were, well, practical. Neatly studied and practiced. Difficult charms and jinxes. Hexes that Minerva had almost forgotten about since her own school days.

They’d made the suit of armours duel outside the Defence classroom, transfigured every single notebook in their class into origami birds, charmed it to fly away and got them all let off class. Hexed the Slytherins to speak in haikus for two full days. They’d also frozen the Lake into an ice rink in the cusp of summer post-exams. Pranks against which Finite Incantatem were useless. They put a lot of effort into their jokes, which somehow turned out just as remarkable as their neglected schoolwork.

But she’d given them many cauldrons and trophies and broom closets to clean for all of those, because she knew only they could be responsible for such intelligent tomfoolery.

What was difficult to pin on them was larger, vastly spread magic, because their trace was faint when it was distributed wide, mingling with everyone else’s magic. In theory she would put all her money on it being the Marauders, but she couldn’t simply accuse them when no one had seen them out of bed, no misbehaving, nothing. Very mystifying.

Which was why she was effectively silenced when she walked into the Great Hall on Tuesday. Everything seemed fine at first, but then she noticed, after hearing the excited tittering.

The Slytherins were emerald green. Minerva almost marched down to the quartet – the rivalry was telling. But she glanced around and saw the Hufflepuffs drenched in yellow. The Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were not spared either, dyed in their own house colours.

Minerva peered down her table. The other professors were trying to puzzle out how this had been achieved. She was silently proud that they kept glancing at the four boys on the far end, as if trying to read the answer straight from their brains. They knew no one else was capable of such advanced magic while still being playful.

Minerva looked over to them.

The Marauders were maintaining a strong air of ignorance despite the obvious looks being thrown their way from students and teachers alike.

Remus was stirring his likely fourth sugar into his tea, while Sirius kept nibbling the untouched toast from his friend’s hand. James was roughing his hair up and laughing at something Peter was whispering into his ear. They were also painted a vibrant red, probably as an alibi.

“I know it’s them,” Dumbledore said lowly, eyes dancing with mirth. “But I do think it’s rather spectacular, don’t you agree, professor?”

She huffed a laugh. “Yes.”

It was hard to tack this on them, not when Potter and Black, who despite knowing magic straight out of the womb, would vehemently deny everything and call it a fluke of someone’s luck. Not when Lupin, a severely clever werewolf who often downplayed his own intellect, would disagree politely and be off in that quiet way of his. Not when Pettigrew, the most unassuming and yet the sneakiest of them all, would lie impressively through his teeth.

She sat back and sipped her tea, enjoying the humorous sight of the bright morning sun reflecting off of the colourful skins of her students. But mostly she was observing her band of troublemakers.

They were still hanging off of each other’s shoulders like limpets, clingy and supremely codependent, in the best possible way. She watched Sirius proof-read a parchment Peter had given him. Remus was feeding James his scones and cream, who was trying, futilely, to tame his hair with a bottle of Fleamont’s Hair Gel that had just arrived with the owls.

These idiot boys, she thought fondly.

There would be no way to prove it was them other than their excited footsteps and victorious laughter that echoed through her office later that day.

Minerva McGonagall stepped into the hallway, unable to tamp down the pride in her voice when she called out, “Detention, boys!”

[exhaustedcatte]

Remus, dear.

“–What’s got Lupin limping like that, you think?” a Hufflepuff whispered, while Lily and Remus made rounds.

“Potter says he fought a Hippogriff!” the friend replied, sounding awed.

Lily heard a new voice say, “But Black insisted that Lupin fought the Squid naked and the limp was a result of a botched healing spell.”

She turned to raise her brows at Remus, whose ears were quickly turning red.

He turned the corner a step ahead of her and shooed the kids off with a mild, “Off you go, nosy buggers.”

Lily twisted her hair back into a bun. She had also heard Peter tell some of the third years that Remus had been bitten by a Mandrake.

“A Mandrake then?” Lily asked lightly, staring up at him.

Remus shrugged. There was a ghost of a smile on his mouth when he said, “Was that Peter?”

“He said you snuck into the Greenhouse at night to… harvest Marijuana,” Lily blushed at the accusation.

But Remus simply shook his head, muttering, “Fucking Wormtail, ratting me out like that. See if I keep his bedwetting secrets next time we have a movie night.”

Lily barked a surprised laugh. Remus offered a crooked smile, which suggested that he was probably lying about the bedwetting thing. You could never tell with Remus, where a lie ended and the truth began. It was an enviable knack.

They turned down a corridor.

Remus said nothing of her silence; she followed him blankly as he weeded out some gutsy (but frankly stupid) fourth years from broom closets and a few older students from classrooms. Lily stayed resolutely silent, thinking of the many other rumours that shrouded Remus in mystery.

He was pushed into a huller, duelled a giant, was bitten by Grindylows, got into a car/train crash. She could keep going. But they never explained how he’d gotten a new gash down the slope of his collarbone when she saw him yesterday.

“Remus, dear, still on duty then?”

Remus smiled warmly, “Yes, Madame Pomfrey. Lots of delinquents running wild here.”

Lily had only ever seen Pomfrey’s face in a harrowed expression, so the fact that she was smiling was unnerving.

“Mm, you’re rather well versed in that, aren’t you?”

Remus pressed an offended hand to his chest. “You wound me, really.”

It was the kind of response she would’ve expected from Black or Potter, who’d taken to calling the nurse Poppy on their own accord.

Then he blinked, smiled wearily. “No, no, you don’t wound me.” There was an inflection to his voice. As if he meant to say she ‘healed’ him, which, well – Pomfrey was a Nurse, Lily thought helplessly but she felt like she was missing something.

Pomfrey’s eyes softened. “Get plenty of rest, Remus, dear. Or I’ll have your boys to answer to.”

Remus bid her goodnight with a two fingered salute.

“She calls you Remus,” Lily noted curiously. “Not Mr Lupin. She only ever calls me Ms Evans.”

Remus looked over his shoulder at Pomfrey’s retreating back and tilted his head, considering.

“Maybe she’s making a move on me,” he said finally.

“Remus!” Lily cackled.

He grinned at her cheekily, mouth slanting into his cheek with no reservation. He looked so lovely like that; so young and mischievous.

Their conversation was abandoned when Potter came bounding through the halls and yanked Remus by the collar behind him, screaming about the wrath of a Sirius Black.

She last heard Remus cluck, “I thought we learned not to touch his motorcycle collection after last time, Prongs!”

Lily absolutely did not want to know anything about that possibly illegal lark.

God, delinquents. What a misfortune for whomever ended up with them.

[exhaustedcatte]

R.A.B

Regulus Arcturus Black was named after one of the brightest stars of the Leo constellation.

He wasn’t the brightest star in the sky though, that was Sirius.

He was, as many people often liked to point out, the absolute opposite of his older brother. Cold, detached, obedient, formal. He was all the synonyms of aloof and vicious that one could associate with the Heir of the Black family, once Sirius had been properly cut off, of course, because till then Regulus was simply the stony, unrelenting Spare.

(He was all of those things until–)

Now, the Leo constellation was obviously a Lion.

Regulus never understood why his parents would choose something so Gryffindor for him. A house they prejudiced against even before Sirius’ sorting. He wondered if he was simply just that unimportant to them.

His first time properly breaking the rules gave him a weird thrill.

Regulus could see the appeal of it for his brother and his little posse, who loved concocting mischief in their free time. He understood now that it was the unbridled freedom to do as you pleased in the wake of the moon as everyone slept, unaware.

He stared down at the pale white shadows of the ghosts and promptly ignored it.

He looked, instead, at his murky reflection in the dark waters and imagined his hair to be bit longer, glossier and eyes a bit brighter, wiser.

I hope I can make you a little bit proud. Even if it’s too late now.

Regulus powered through, and stepped into the light of his name, of his constellation, at the lake, where the inferi haunted the waters.

Regulus was brave.

He knew exactly what needed to be done. He knew what this meant for him as a Death Eater turned defector. He knew that he’d leapt into this recklessly (much like someone else he knew) but he also knew that he had to do it.

Knowledge was power, but knowledge could also be a burden.

Regulus was not about to let it weigh on his conscience when he could just as well do something about it.

So he did something about it.

It was also his last time breaking the rules.

[exhaustedcatte]

Name one hero who was happy.

James loved easily. James Potter knew love like he knew Magic, both omnipresent in his house. He loved with everything he had, bright and sharp. Love to him was mundane. It was in knowing exactly what teas Remus took throughout the day, knowing how to help Peter with his confidence, knowing how to make Sirius laugh after a rough time. It was the incorrigible simplicity of his actions that should drive you mad, but it really couldn’t. Love to him was easy.

Sirius loved fiercely. Sirius Black didn’t know love as well as he knew Magic. He was proficient at blocking his mind from invasive magic, but he knew naught about accepting a genuine compliment, despite all the (facetious) bragging he did. He loved severely, his love was magnanimous as it was dangerous. It was a target on your back, to belong to him. Love was a challenge he took on, a fuck you to everyone that told him love was not his to take, keep or nurture. His love was fierce.

Remus loved carefully. Remus Lupin knew love out of guilt. He knew, from the tender age of 5, that love could be guilt disguised to ease the pain – his or not, he wasn’t sure. He chose to love those that he knew wouldn’t mind being on the receiving end of a wolf’s affection. He loved with intention, a strong kind. One would not expect it from someone whose M.O.M classification was XXXXX, but Remus bent rules like plastic, his love was a craft built by gentle hands. His love was careful.

Peter loved tentatively. Peter Pettigrew loved like he was afraid he’d be nothing without something to love. He loved out of fear.

As Marauders, they melded together perfectly. James found kith and kin to cocoon with his Love that was like a warm blanket. Sirius found the family he wanted to fight to be with, the Love he needed to protect. Remus found the friends he could be something more than just a secret to, the Love he had to experience. And Peter, of course, found the love he could worship (although, that can be put up for debate).

It was Love.

Unadulterated and pure, as it is amongst friends – blood of the covenant thicker than the water of the womb and all that.

It was exhilaration and joy; it was not distance that made the heart grow fonder, no. It’s the pain that beat the heart to tenderness. The Love that bleeds crimson when cleaved. The kind of Love that remains, in the depths of the person that refuses to acknowledge its existence. Because to love is to hurt.

It was Love, until it wasn’t.

You can’t.

[exhaustedcatte]

Grimmauld Place

“Yes, yes,” Draco huffed. “Tell Kathleen to ask Robbards instead, I’m only a mere banker, he’s the auror!”

Draco put the receiver down with force, fuming at the audacity of some clients. Even after cleaning up his act, absolutely spotless might he add, some people still found ways to poke through his defences.

Their newest target was Harry Potter, or also known as Draco’s fiancé.

Gringgotts had kindly offered him a spot fresh out of school, after Draco had submitted a letter of referral from both the Headmistress and Arithmancy professor of Hogwarts. It helped that he had vast knowledge about the kind of money that was sent here for safekeeping.

It was only a couple months in that Harry had turned up at his office, with a huge sum left behind by a certain Sirius Black. One thing led to another and Draco promised him a coffee. Now, almost eight years later, Draco was going to be promising him the rest of his life.

“Alright Malfoy,” Pillai strode into his cabin, closing the door behind her with her pencil heel. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to run away,” Draco dropped his head on the table, groaning.

“I bet. Well, your little hunk is out there being sniffed by Skeeter’s rats.”

When Draco lifted his forehead to see Malavika tuck her saree pallu into her skirt, she smiled sinisterly. “Go get your man.”

Draco pulled on his coat and let his glasses drop by the chain around his neck. A quick swipe of his wand and his messenger bag was packed up and ready to go.

“Be a dear for once and tell Cecily I’m clocking out early?” He kissed Malavika’s cheek, in an attempt to disarm her while being sincere with his love.

“I’m always a dear,” she said heatedly to his retreating back, obviously flustered, still unused to being subjected to physical affection.

Harry Potter, as it turned out, had a few tricks up his sleeve. He’d finally learnt to sneak out of the paws of those terrible paps, who still to this day stalked him. It obviously didn’t help that Draco was involved. It made Harry Potter more of a spectacle than ever.

When Draco walked past the camera flashlights unnoticed, he heard a whisper behind his ear-shell telling him to keep going and to take the fire escape out the building. Draco heeded the advice obediently, thrilled at the turn of events.

He felt around him for a solid body after they’d safely exited the lobby and stumbled into the stairwell. Harry pulled the invisibility cloak off to wrap Draco in a hug.

“They were about to raise hell out here and I knew you’d get nasty if they did,” he explained cheekily, mouthing at Draco’s earlobe.

“Damn right,” he murmured, hands settling on the Professor’s waist.

It was still a little disorienting how well they knew each other – Draco was self-aware, it was obvious they’d kept some rather strong tabs on each other but he’d never imagined a reality where’s they’d use the information they’d gleaned for loveable motives.

It made his heart beat loud in his temple, as if a prayer he had memorised.

“So,” Harry continued, “I snuck into the washroom and hid in my cloak. Then stood behind those godawful gnome statues till I heard Pillai shove you out.”

“Good job, Potter, colour me impressed,” Draco nodded, feeling delighted at the steady rise of red up Harry’s throat at the compliment.

“Why did you come anyway?”

“Oh, right! Hermione mentioned there’s a nice thrift store a few blocks from here so I thought we could go look at furniture.”

Harry had disposed most of Grimmauld Place’s rotten furniture. The wood had begun to splinter off, nails popping into the cushions of the chairs, wallpaper peeling away. The whole scene.

Draco, when he had come around, had donated (given as a placeholder in place of– well, himself) his own things from the Manor. Beautiful pieces he couldn’t part with. He never imagined Harry would want to do away with those as well.

“Furniture?”

“Ah, well,” Harry cleared his throat. He sounded much more nervous now.

Draco squeezed his hand, a silent hey, it’s okay.

“Right, um. Since we’re getting married and all,” Harry said quickly, “I thought we could get some new things for around the house. Like a new chapter? Something to start afresh? Just a few things here and there to add on to your collection…”

Harry Potter was a child who was always given hand-me-downs. Very rarely did he use his money to get something for himself either. Draco wanted to smack himself in the head. To think he wanted to build something with Draco? Of course he would agree.

“Lead the way, Potter,” Draco smiled, sweet, all teeth showing.

Obviously relieved, his fiancé whisked him away in a blur of magic to the furniture store.

An adequately well-curated collection stood pristine in the small building. Draco let go of Harry to let him shop while he did some browsing.

Draco, who had been an absolute wizard at Charms (hah! wizard), had picked up a few fun tricks while squatting around in the library, the one place Harry Potter hated entering, searching for ways to one-up the Gryffindor.

In his search, he found a rather curious spell – one that allowed him to see whose belongings were what, to see who last used it and such.

Draco cast the spell on a hat-pin first.

Owner – Candace Higgins. Last Used – Jemma Jones.

Maybe they were mother and daughter or sisters or best friends. Or maybe they were unrelated.

He looked behind, but Harry was in the other end of the room, near the beds, talking to a salesman about prices and such.

Draco picked up a hand-mirror.

Owner – Lucia Phyllis. Last Used – Felipa Phyllis.

It was definitely a collectible, maybe an heirloom. Gold gilded and shiny. He put it back down reverently. Lucia had good taste, whoever she was.

Feeling a bit bold, Draco spelled a bookcase.

Owner – Gideon Bones. Last Used – Susan Bones.

Draco jumped back at the familiar name.

“Excuse me, sir? How far back do these pieces date?”

The salesman looked around the room. “Well, we have some pretty vintage things here – some that we don’t use anymore. We have stuff from the 80s and then more recent things from few years to a few months ago.”

“I see,” Draco said. Harry furrowed his brow in question but Draco smiled to reassure him.

He then began spelling away. Flatware, silk bedclothes (which okay, kind of ew), tables, stools, hats and scarves. All the sort.

Harry Potter was still shuffling around looking at stuff like vases and ink pots. Poor thing had no idea where to begin. But Draco wanted Harry to pick something out for himself by himself, like a present.

But then.

He saw a pair of identical slipper-chairs, a velveteen red, and decided that would go well with the green rug in the salon.

Spell.

Owner – James Potter and Lily Potter. Last Used – Harry Potter.

Draco stopped in his tracks suddenly like he was hit by a Colloshoo.

There was no way. Absolutely one in a million chance.

He spelled it again. Once, twice, thrice, four tim–

“Malfoy,” Harry hissed. “Don’t be spelling things in front of muggles!”

“Harry,” he said, dazed. “Tell me what you see, okay?”

He cast the charm again.

Once again, gooey letters formed over the two soft chairs.

“What the fuck?” Harry muttered. “What?”

“It’s a spell that tells you the owner and the person who had it last. Um.” Draco’s throat felt sticky.

Harry reached over to smooth the fabric. “This is? Mine? My parents’?”

Draco nodded dumbly. “Seems so. Isn’t that lovely?”

“I… yeah. Yeah. But how?”

“I’m guessing someone donated it after…”

Harry ducked his head mutely, overcome by emotion. Draco pet his hair, trying to offer comfort.

“Hello? Good sir, we’d like to buy these here, please!”

The salesman, or owner, by the looks of it, he was the only one in here anyway, ambled to where they were stood. “The chairs? I’m afraid it’s been booked.”

Harry wilted under Draco’s palm. Like flowers drooping under the harsh sun.

“I can pay you double. Please. This belongs to him.” And as a last ditch attempt, “It’s a family heirloom.”

The man raised his eyebrows below his thick hair, finding the heirloom thing ridiculous. But he only replied with, “How can you prove it?”

Harry stood up and put a restraining hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright.”

“No no,” Draco frowned. “Listen, sir? Douglas?” he read the name-tag. “We can pay full amount right now. Please?” Draco wasn’t one to beg or plead, but he would grovel for Harry Potter if he had to.

The man shrugged. “Sorry, can’t do nothin’, well, unless the other guys don’t turn up for payment.”

Draco stood away, eyeing the chairs while Harry booked something for the house. He’d already known what he’d wanted apparently.

“Home?”

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly. “Home.”

Draco remained patient till dinner, trying not to pry, but then again, he couldn’t let Harry drown in his head. When they sat down on their leather chesterfield with a glass of red, Draco decided to open the can of worms.

“Potter? Are you alright?”

Harry looked at him for a minute over the rim of his glass while downing his wine. Draco sat nervously still, not backing down.

“Thank you,” he said finally, after polishing it off, shy.

Draco felt his heart melt. “Oh, Harry. Oh, sweetheart.” He set his glass down, and tugged Harry closer.

“No, really, thank you so much.”

Draco blushed. “I didn’t even do anything. We didn’t get the chairs,” he pointed out uselessly.

Harry shook his head, wayward curls flying with his movements. “You tried.”

Then, reminded by the failure of the chair situation he sighed, dejected. Draco hated seeing Harry like that, like an abandoned pup on the curb-side on a rainy day inside a soggy cardboard box.

“Hey, I’m sure if I dig around I’ll find a charm that can play memories from objects, you do own some old things of theirs, right?”

Harry, who was absolute pants at Charms, perked up at that. “You’d do that for me?”

“I would burn the world to keep you warm, Harry Potter,” Draco said seriously, but still laughingly.

He finally cracked a smile.

“Thanks Malfoy.”

“Stop thanking me, I’m not God –although I could be.”

“No,” Harry agreed, smile lines crinkling the skin around his eyes. “You’re too disgusting, too potty-mouthed for that.”

“Pot calling kettle,” Draco sniffed. “I might even venture to say you seem to quite enjoy it.”

“You might have to remind me,” Harry blinked slowly, eyes turning into liquid fire. Draco loved when Harry got like this – all coy and blithe.

“Oh?”

“Mhm,” he inched closer. “Bought us a new bedframe.”

“Oh.”

“Want to test its quality?”

“You’re so on.”

Three weeks later, on Christmas day, after Draco kissed Harry pink for the novelty glass chess-kit, Harry opened Draco’s present. His very enormous and neatly wrapped gift.

Two red slipper chairs which read James, Lily and Harry Potter when spelled.

Draco saw Harry’s lashes lower over his eyes, in an attempt to blink his tears away. Draco let him.

“How?” his voice was tight, strained with emotion.

“Went back to the store,” Draco grinned proudly. “They put it on sale again because it wasn’t paid for, only marked by a couple who never turned up even after a month. So I snatched it up. Scourgified it and well, here it is!”

Harry fisted Draco’s emerald green Weasley sweater in his hands and kissed him roughly, but still sweet, still kind, still grateful.

“Thank you, Draco.”

“Think it’ll read Last Used by Harry and Draco Potter someday?” He asked with a smile, looking at the red chairs.

Harry squeezed his hand. “Stick around and find out for yourself.”

[exhaustedcatte]

Padfoot

Remus looked out the window of the apartment, the sun was high up in the sky, shining yellow over the unassuming muggles.

The full moon had come and gone three days prior, but Remus could still feel the wolf in the ache in his limbs. He threw the blanket off of himself, sitting upright to assess the state of his bedroom.

It was as clean as he could have it. Nothing broken, nothing torn, which meant Moony must’ve been really exhausted. Few clothes on a rickety rocking chair that was a gift from. Anyway, he loved that chair too much to part with it.

He sighed.

He was definitely going to be kicked out, he couldn’t afford to pay rent in London without splitting with – yeah, he was going to move out before the owner could humiliate him into it. Damn it, he’d quite liked his neighbours here.

Remus brushed and cleaned up as best as he could after having passed out for close to a day post-transformation without treating his wounds. He pulled on the cleanest clothes he could find in the pile on the old rocking chair.

Then Remus carefully applied salve to the newer tears on his skin that the wolf had inflicted and then wrapped it in a few spare bandages that Pomfrey had given to him the last time he’d accidentally apparated onto school grounds after a mission. No more of those at least, he thought bitterly to himself.

Remus steadied himself and leaned against the mirror, shaved his face, washed his hair in the sink because it smelt too much like the iron rust of his shackles.

Finally feeling a bit hungry, he decided to take a stock of his pantry. A loaf of mouldy bread and a tin of soggy biscuits.

“Fucking – god.”

He took another look at the sky, it was really really bright. Surprising for London.

After counting his coins and the bills he had left from doing a bit of plumbing for the unit above his, Remus decided to go get himself some fresh lunch. He deserved that.

He stuck his hand into a drawer, pulled out a long leash, whistled and then – Remus remembered.

Mechanically, he put the long corded thing away, and stuck his arms into a jacket too small, too tight and too leathery for his taste.

When he closed the door behind himself, the echo of the empty house rung in his ears till he reached the little bodega two blocks down.

“Two san– one ham and cheese, please.”

“Right away!”

Remus stuffed the cling-wrap of his sandwich in the pocket of his jacket.

“What’s –”

In the right pocket was a paper that read:

wash moony’s socks

buy prongslet baby food

buy james new hole-less pants

get lily hair ties

order meeting at 6

Baby food. That paper must have been from when Harry was only a few months old. So back when they were absolutely smitten with each other. Why did he –

Remus felt his resolve crumble looking at the neat cursive print.

He ground his teeth. No. No. Remus didn’t ask for anything more than faith. But they’d all gone and jumped to conclusions and –

James?

Remus blinked.

No. He refocused. Just a muggle with unruly hair and soda glasses. Not James. Never James, never anymore, at least. He was gone. Like Lily and Peter and.

Remus inhaled sharply.

“C’mon,” he muttered to himself. “You can’t have a meltdown on the street.”

He walked past a sweet little park he used to visit regularly right after he’d moved to this part of town with.

“Oh, look! Remus, is that you?”

Remus looked up from where he was admiring the gray cobblestone with glassy eyes. “Emily,” he smiled in greeting. “And Walt. How are you?”

It had been a while since he’d last met the couple. They used to make frequent visits to their son and his family in the unit adjacent to his and.

The family had moved out, to stay with their old parents, so he hadn’t seen them in close to four months, especially since he’d stopped walking Padfoot down the road the Russets lived.

“Oh, we’re doing great. My granddaughter got admitted to Exeter, so we’ll be running a visit sometime soon,” Emily beamed proudly.

Remus cracked a real grin. “That’s great! Tell her my congratulations, she must’ve worked really hard.”

“I will!”

Walt, though, appeared to be looking around for something.

“All good, Mr Russet?” Remus asked peeping around for dark robes and wands on foolish wizards.

“Where’s Padfoot? Haven’t seen the big ol’ guy in ages,” Walt said. “Must admit, I kind of miss him.”

Remus’ throat closed up.

“I knew you liked being ambushed by the little fella!” Emily laughed.

“Not that little,” Remus reminded, trying to smile.

“Is he okay?” Emily asked, noticing Remus’ grin slip away. “Walt’s right, I haven’t seen you walk him in a while. I miss hearing about the noise complaints from Ms Burney too.”

The noise complaints only came when there was a scuffle about Remus leaving without any preamble. Which, well, they deserved that.

“Yeah, I do quite miss watching that wack old woman yell at that sweet pup,” Walt laughed, scratching his beard.

Ms Burney only screamed at Padfoot because he had taken to chewing up all her plants. Not because she was wack.

“I saw little Luis at the mart last week and it reminded me of how he’d sit on Padfoot and beg for rides. Gertrude said he’s in preschool now! How quickly time flies!”

How quickly indeed. It felt like only yesterday when he was walking the big black dog. Now he was left with a dog collar and leash that he had no use for.

But he couldn’t break their hearts like his own.

“Padfoot’s at my Mam’s, actually. I took him there a while back.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m planning on moving out.”

“Oh dear, how so?” Emily frowned. Walt tapped her arm reassuringly.

Remus felt the tears build up in his throat at that gesture.

“London’s a bit out of my budget at the moment, and my mam is getting too old for fieldwork.”

“You’re a good son,” Walt said kindly.

No, he thought, just a poor one.

“Thank you.”

“Do bring him if you ever do visit. Which you must!” Emily said. “Send pictures of dear old Padfoot in the meantime, and write me a letter about every silly thing you both indulge in, okay?”

Remus laughed weakly. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll bring Padfoot next time if I can.”

I don’t know if we’ll ever see him again.