m00nycore

[m00nycore]

𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝘼𝙇𝙇 𝙊𝙁 𝙈𝙔 𝙎𝙏𝙐𝙋𝙄𝘿 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙏 ;; 𝙛𝙞𝙫𝙚

𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 .

𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙎 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 𝙭 𝙤𝙘 (𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙪𝙥 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨)

𝙏/𝙒 : 𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚’𝙨 𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙢𝙨, 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙜𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣, 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙

𝘼/𝙉 : 𝙞’𝙢 𝙨𝙤 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙩’𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙖 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧!! 𝙬𝙚’𝙧𝙚 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙢𝙖 .. 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮’𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙤𝙣𝙚 :)) 𝙞 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚 𝙞’𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩. 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙩! 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙧 𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨? 𝙩𝙗𝙝 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚. 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙡𝙡 <3

𝙏𝘼𝙂𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏 : @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lord-byron @drxcomvlfx @neocityslut @gloryekaterina @sunles @cherrytomato2 @confuscita

Draco couldn't help but glare as he descended the stairs from the dormitories.

It was odd, even to him. He couldn't have cared less about Persephone's friendship with Blaise prior to the engagement, betrothal be damned. Now, however... Draco Malfoy was infuriated by the sight of his fiancée cozied up to Zabini.

"Darling," Draco purred, approaching the two, and surprising himself with how genuine it sounded, how soothing he sounded, in contrast to the rage he felt.

Persephone looked up, confusion written on her features for a sixteenth of a second. Her face quickly smoothed into a smile—seemingly genuine, but Draco knew better.

Again, he made a mental note to learn the secret to her happiness.

"Blaise," Draco greeted. The boy nodded in response.

His fiancée was small enough for him to fit in the chair with her. He rested a hand on her thigh and couldn't help but marvel at how his hand dwarfed her leg.

"Feeling better?" Persephone asked, a hint of concern coloring her tone. Another surprise.

"Much, thank you," he replied, managing a smile.

Blaise had his brow furrowed.

"You speak like business partners," he remarked.

Draco was aware of his quick temper—but awareness was not synonymous with control, no, never for Draco.

"You'd do well, Zabini," he seethed, removing his hand from her thigh. "To keep yourself out of our relationship."

"Draco," Persephone warned. "That was unnecessary."

"I won't allow him to speak ill of—"

"You aren't in charge of him."

"I'll leave you to it," Blaise was smirking as he rose from his seat, and Draco resisted the urge to draw his wand and jinx him.

Persephone sighed, closing her eyes.

"Could you not be so sour?" she wondered, annoyed by the display. "He's right, Draco. Every interaction we have is as if...," she paused and ran a hand through her curls, struggling to find the words. "It's as if we're being held at wand-point."

Draco was silent, mulling over her words. Anger, of course, was at the forefront of his mind... but she was right.

But he smirked.

"Your love poem in potions seemed rather genuine."

She exhaled, the slight curve of her lips betraying her amusement.

"I thought I did a decent job of dressing up your... odor."

"Odor?" He asked, offended, and ruining their first semblance of a lighthearted conversation. He sounded the way he used to, pompous, stupid, and the realization dampened his mood.

Frowning, as if she had sensed the flavor of his distaste in the air, she ghosted her hand over his arm.

"Sorry, I just—"

And without another word, he stood and made a move to exit the common room. He was tired, far too tired.

Draco Malfoy was too tired to pretend.

Every day that had passed since the first term began was as excruciating as the first.

Wren recognized that she had became the subject of scrutiny among her peers, and, honestly, she couldn't blame them. She would have been a fool to expect anything different. Between her sudden engagement and obvious personal deterioration, whispers and stares were the least of her worries.

But the unyielding gaze of Harry Potter was fueling her anxiety.

She wanted to tell him, to beg him, to stop, to let her focus on classwork and how to breathe. Green eyes followed her through classes, halls, and mealtimes. He observed her whereabouts, her tone, her gait... he was perceptive, it seemed, in matters related to Draco Malfoy.

Unfortunately, she had fallen under that category.

Wren assumed Draco was off plotting the murder of Albus Dumbledore when he hadn't shown for breakfast. Truthfully, it was bothersome that he was refusing to involve her in any plans he may have. For him, it wasn't out of care. It was his pride.

Blaise had elected to eat in solitude that grey morning. She found herself relieved—her own company was all she wanted. It was hard enough to choke down porridge alone... but with watchful eyes, it neared the impossible. Her status as Malfoy-to-be worked in her favor during such times—an even wider berth was given to her than before.

Until Harry Potter appeared at her shoulder.

"Persephone," he greeted, awkwardly. "Er—how are you?"

It was in that moment, when Wren found herself at the verge of hyperventilating, that she realized she may have needed psychological help.

The stares the interaction had already attracted made her hands shake more violently than they had already been prone to. She gripped her napkin so tightly that she thought her bones would burst through her skin.

He saw you on the train. He knows. You heard his bone crush under Draco's sole. You're not innocent. He knows.

She wondered if admittance to Saint Mungo's following a nervous breakdown would exempt her from the mission.

Breath, she reminded herself. He can't hurt you. You're in control. Act the way you were taught—or you'll end up like mum.

In an instant, she had regained composure.

"Good morning, Harry," she greeted, with a smile that might have been dazzling months ago. "I'm alright—ready for the weekend, of course. Yourself?"

He looked slightly confused, which almost reassured her—but she had hesitated a second too long. She knew he had caught it.

Breathe.

"Brilliant," he responded slightly too quickly. The word had tumbled from his mouth, indicating he had his script written and he didn't want to forget it.

"Um... was that all?" she wondered, mirroring his awkward disposition, and slightly cocking her head to the side. Good, play innocent, she praised herself. You can avoid this. Evade it.

"Well...," Harry scratched the back of his head, looking towards the Gryffindor table. She followed his eyes to the disapproving gaze of Hermione Granger, as well as the scrutiny of Ron Weasley.

"I was just wondering," he lowered his voice. "I was curious about your... relationship... with Malfoy."

"My engagement?" She continued to feign innocence. "What's there to be curious about?" She made a point to glance down at her engagement ring with a smile.

"You've never talked to Malfoy much before," his inflection was becoming bolder, challenging.

"Harry," she exhaled, still smiling. "Draco and I grew up together... I love him, and he loves me. It just... took us a while to realize, is all."

"I don't believe it," he whispered, harsh, an edge to his tone.

"I can't help you there, then," she returned, an edge forming in her own inflection. The stares from other students remained steady. She wondered what Blaise made of it, or if he cared enough to even pay attention. Her nerves had receded, shifting to irritation.

Harry searched her face, but she had molded her mask. She was impenetrable, unyielding.

"Persephone," his tone took on a different tone, one of... desperation. Pleading. "You were on the train. I know you know what's going on—please, just tell me. I-I can help you, alright? I know you're not like him."

Fortunately for Wren, she had settled into her part, and was damn good at playing it.

"Listen, Potter," she hissed, cold, dangerous. "You'd do well to leave behind your delusions about myself, my fiancé, and our relationship. Chosen One or not, you have no right to project your savior fantasies onto me. I don't need your help. I'll be sure your wedding invitation makes it to the cupboard under the stairs," she snarled, standing.

As she approached the exit to the Great Hall, she spotted Draco entering.

It was a snap decision, and she had never been so thankful for the unwanted attention the morning had provoked.

Taking in the tiredness, the irritation, the questioning written on his visage, Persephone Wren Bardick grabbed Draco Malfoy by the lapels of his suit and pressed her lips to his.

[m00nycore]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕 ;; 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑑𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒 ?

𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑐

𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜 . 𝑜𝑛𝑒 . 𝑡𝑤𝑜 . 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒 . (...)

𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑢𝑝𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑠 𝑖 𝑔𝑜

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ;; @mads-bri @missdicaprio @thesweethufflepuff @little-bit-of-randomness @suhke3 @confuscita

[m00nycore]

something i love n think about often is how we all as a fandom collectively decided that remus john lupin would be a bowie stan

[m00nycore]

𝗁𝗂 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌, 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾!

𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗌, 𝗂 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗒 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗌. 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖽, 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾. 𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁, 𝗂’𝗆 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗌.

𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 :

𝟣.) 𝗂 𝖺𝗆 𝗉𝗎𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝗉𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝗁𝗂𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗌. 𝗂’𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂’𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂’𝗆 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗍. 𝗂’𝗆 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 ��𝖽𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗂’𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗂𝗍.

𝟤.) 𝗂’𝗆 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌, 𝗌𝗈 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍.

𝟥.) 𝗂𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋𝖻𝗌/𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗌, 𝗆𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 :)

𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌, 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗂 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 !!

- 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗒 ❥

𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝘼𝙇𝙇 𝙊𝙁 𝙈𝙔 𝙎𝙏𝙐𝙋𝙄𝘿 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙏;; 𝙏𝘼𝙂𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

@dreaming-about-fanfictions @lord-byron @drxcomvlfx @neocityslut @gloryekaterina @sunles @cherrytomato2 @confuscita

𝙎𝙉𝘼𝙋𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙏;; 𝙏𝘼𝙂𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

@drxcomvlfx @dreaming-about-fanfictions @primadonnasdream @confuscita

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙊𝙉𝙇𝙔 𝙊𝙉𝙀 𝙇𝙀𝙁𝙏;; 𝙏𝘼𝙂𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

@mads-bri @missdicaprio @thesweethufflepuff @little-bit-of-randomness @suhke3 @confuscita

[m00nycore]

[m00nycore]

Shout out professor rj lupin for not flipping absolute shit when he sees harry with the marauders map in the hallway that night. i seriously cant stop laughing he could have gone oh FUUUUUCKK!!!!!!!!!! but hes got like plus 15 repression and a proficiency in Bullshitting so he just says ‘hmm yes yes oh is this a? a zonkos? haha cool.’ Legend.

[m00nycore]

none of my college professors tho cuz high school hit different

YES my comfort character is remus and has been since elementary school. YES i’ve been dependent emotionally on some of my high school teachers and YES i have had a crush on one of them. what about it

[m00nycore]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕 . 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆 . 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒆 .

ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑑𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒?

𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑐

𝑡/𝑤 : 𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑖𝑛𝑗𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑔𝑜𝑟𝑒 (𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒, 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑦 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑠), 𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑔𝑒, 𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑔𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑓

𝑎/𝑛 : 𝑖 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑎𝑧𝑘𝑎𝑏𝑎𝑛, 𝑖’𝑚 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑠𝑒. 𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑢𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑒𝑑 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑢𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑢𝑠 𝑤𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤.

𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ;; @mads-bri @missdicaprio @thesweethufflepuff

the dog grabbed the fox by the scruff it it’s neck, running as fast as his legs could take him.

blood was dripping on the ground.

the only thing he saw as he left was the stag hitting the wolf with his antlers.

she still bled.

the dog was traveling fast, far away from the wolf. the rat followed, as he could hear its body moving through the grass. the rat ran up the three trunk, hitting a specific knot, and the tree limbs froze, as if encased in ice. not a single leaf moved.

the dog and rat ran into a hidden tunnel, making sure to not be pursued or seen, though they knew they wouldn’t be, in the darkness of the night.

the dog placed the fox down, gently, and he transformed to his human form. frantic.

“c’mon luce, change back.”

the fox changed back into herself. blood was spilling down the front of her head—so much was pooling that it was in mouth, staining her teeth.

the rat changed his form as well, the boy practically crying in from concern.

her hair was matted with blood, and her eyes were barely open from the impact she made being thrown aside by the wolf.

“stay awake, luce,” his hands were shaking. “i’ve got you, you’re gonna be okay.”

the girl nodded, shakily reaching for something in her shirt pocket, half-dazed. the boy grabbed it, and he nearly choked out a sob.

“dittany and silver powder, vulpes, you’re amazing,” he kissed her forehead, hands grasping the sides of her head. “you’ll be okay, alright?”

“sirius, should we take her to madam pomfrey? she looks bad, i don’t know if—!”

“she’ll. be. fine,” he growled, through clenched teeth. “we can’t blow our cover, fuck, wormtail. we’ll be sent to azkaban.”

“sirius, i don’t think they’ll send us there for becoming animagi!”

“no,” the girl spoke, finally, though it sounded labored. she winced as the boy dropped liquid from the vial on her wounds, a strange combination of brown and silvery. “he—he can do it.”

“wormtail,” sirius, choked out. “go back to prongs and make sure moony is contained. i’ll be here with vulpes.”

“but what if—?!”

“peter!” sirius nearly yelled. “i. won’t. let. anything. happen. to. her!” his hands continued to shake and he growled to himself out of frusturation. her wound was healing, closing up, but it would be noticeable. sirius hardly knew how to do healing magic, and she still had a concussion.

without a word, wormtail transformed and left. only the sounds of her labored breaths and sirius talking to her, to himself, remained.

“luce, don’t close your eyes, okay? your wound is healing, okay? i need to make sure you don’t fall asleep, that would be bad—you need to stay with me!” his voice was crackling. it was pretty bad. she hardly looked conscious. even though she was healing, the blood loss was sirius' prominent concern.

“lucy,” he mumbled. “hey, hey—just look at me, okay? just look at my eyes and don't look away, got it? you’re fine, you’re okay, i promise.”

“where is remus?” she slurred, slightly. “is remus okay?”

she was seeming heavily disoriented, at that point. sirius applied more dittany than what was probably necessary.

“remus is fine,” sirius replied, distracted. “he’s—hey, luce, open your eyes! Lucy, vulpes, i’m sorry about this, but i need to wash the blood out.”

water burst from sirius’ wand and he ran a hand through her hair to help clean it. she flinched away from it, as it was quite cold, but forced herself to stay still.

sirius then muttered what few healing spells he knew to attempt to lessen the injury to her head, to stop any more blood, but he could tell she was severely concussed.

“sirius,” she murmured, after a while, opening her eyes wider.

“how are you feeling?” he was still frantic, but he dropped his wand to the side, feeling exhausted, anxious, from the prior events.

“you fixed it,” she told him, simply, adoringly, and he relaxed his muscles, sagging over slightly.

the man kissed the woman’s forehead, eyes closed as if it pained him.

“i shouldn’t see you for a while—you need to stay here,” he told her.

“but- but why? i’m safer with you, i should be—!”

“luce,” he said, sadly. “it’s not safe. i’ve already separated myself from remus, and-“

“which is stupid,” she countered, her tone stressed. “he would never be a spy. he would never hurt harry! or lily, or james, or us! you can’t be so stupid, sirius.”

he ran a hand through his long hair, frustration on his features. the fight was imminent.

“we can’t be too safe these days, vulpes—you know that.”

she had a hard set to her mouth. “if you think that anything bad would happen to us apart wouldn’t happen separately, you’re full of shit, sirius.”

“well, maybe i just want to be away from you, anyway!”

her face fell.

“what?”

“you heard what i said,” he replied, coldly. “it’s for the best.”

“okay.”

“okay.”

“bye.”

“bye.”

he vanished, leaving the girl alone.

the girl was screaming, crying, kicking things.

there was a man with her, watching helplessly. he had come over to see her as soon as he had seen the paper.

he was processing the news himself. he just stared, simply stared, tears rolling down his face.

“FUCKING—FUCKING TRAITOR, WHAT THE FUCK!” she screamed, sharp on her vocal chords, throwing herself against the wall. “HE FUCKING KILLED THEM! THEY’RE DEAD BECAUSE OF HIM! THEY’RE FUCKING GONE!”

and she wailed, sobbing. screaming, as if she was being tortured. slamming into the things in her parlor, she grieved. driven to the point of near madness, she had broken.

she picked up a glass table and threw it at the wall, crystalline fragments exploding across the room.

the man, beginning to sob himself, restrained the woman in his arms, stopping her from throwing herself into the shards.

“lucy—lucy! lucy, stop!” but she was thrashing against him, screaming at the top of her lungs, in utter despair.

it could have been minutes, hours, seconds, but they were on the ground, the woman still in his arms, struggling to fight. she was tired, as was he. she sobbed- she simply sobbed- and he had joined her.

adjacent to the mess of jagged edges, the pair cried.

[m00nycore]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕 . 𝒕𝒘𝒐 . 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 .

ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑑𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒?

𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑐

𝑡/𝑤 : 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠. 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.

𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ;; @missdicaprio @thesweethufflepuff @mads-bri

guilt had become remus lupin’s conviction.

he didn’t mean to stare, he didn’t, he knew it made her feel odd, but her buzzed hair made it more obvious to him.

lucy had stopped wearing makeup, and remus thought it was nice. he also thought her hair, or lack thereof, was nice.

but he could see the ghost of a scar on her temple, one that was quickly healed with dittany and silver powder. it was amazing, really, that it had become so unnoticeable—it could pass as a tiny childhood injury.

but, it never healed. to remus lupin, it was clear. to remus lupin, it was a fundamental piece of his self-hatred. a reminder of his monstrosity.

lucy was due to take over classes for him, as the first full moon of his stint as a professor was rapidly approaching, only within a few weeks of the start of the term. she sat at his desk, writing down notes. the students were due to revise pixies and imps, lessons from the previous year.

“rem?” lucy’s eyes were concerned, but uncomfortable from his sustained stare.

remus was quiet, smiling, albeit awkwardly, and returned his attention to peering out of the window.

it was nearing the end of sunset, and the skies were beautiful hues of red and pink. jazz, remus’ favorite record, to be exact, was playing on the phonograph, softly.

“you have guilt on your face,” she accused, but gently. he knew she had risen to join him, from the soft scoot of the chair and the quiet step of her feet. she walked lightly.

she ghosted her hand over his shoulder, pulling him to face her.

he glanced at the scar once more, feeling unable to hide the source of his unease. he often felt unable to hide things from lucy.

“rem, it was forever ago,” she assured him, voice dripping with honey, a calm ocean breeze. it almost soothed him. “it was my fault, anyhow. i couldn’t stand to see you harm yourself. i was stupid, yes, but it was my fault nonetheless.”

“the tiny grey fox against the big, bad wolf,” he laughed, humorlessly, recalling a conversation from years and years ago. “i could have killed you.”

“but you didn’t,” was her simple reply.

she quickly walked away, and within seconds she was putting a different record on to play. they had combined collections, and she drew out one of their mutual favorites.

starry, starry night.

the guitar chords of don mclean’s vincent filled the office.

“nostalgia,” she explained, suddenly next to remus once more. “dance?”

it was another late night in the common room, and he was unable to sleep. the full moon was the next night, and it made him restless. his back ached, and he was moody.

lucy had joined him, as she often did, and tried to sooth him with a dance. it was awkward and clumsy, and honestly, they were quite lucky that they didn’t wake anyone with their laughter, hushed as it was.

remus smiled, arms looped around her waist, and her arms loose around his neck.

shadows on the hills,

sketch the trees and the daffodils.

catch the breeze and the winter chills,

in colors on the snowy linen land.

there was quiet laughter, reflecting on the familiarity.

lucy had always been different than the rest of them. she had the jagged edges, but they saw the soft curves that coexisted within her.

how you suffered for your sanity,

and how you tried to set them free.

they did not listen, they did not know how.

perhaps they’ll listen now.

she was daring, she was brave, she was intelligent. she loved muggle music, especially rock, and read a lot of books—remus’ collection of muggle classics no exception. she simply devoured them.

lucy was infallibly kind, caring, and loyal—nearly to a detriment. she was able to talk sirius and james out of the near cruelty that they targeted at severus snape... on occasion.

severus still held that resentment, for all of them.

essentially, remus thought she was too good for this world, for being close to the likes of him. she was dancing with a lycanthrope.

she had her flaws, as humans did. she was reckless, she was selfish at times, she was quick to be irritated, and she was capable of cruelty.

and not that it was to her detriment as a person, but she was horribly sad. depression was her cage, similarly to remus, but her’s was more violent. much, much more violent.

for they could not love you,

but still your love was true.

and when no hope was left in sight,

on that starry, starry night,

you took your life, as lover’s often do.

but i could have told you, vincent,

this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.

“have you ever thought about it?”

remus felt his heart sink. he knew what she had meant, almost too obviously.

“more times than i could count.”

she leaned her head against his chest, saddened. they had stopped dancing, just holding one another.

and it was true, as horrible as the truth was. even as a child, remus lupin had fully wanted to die. fully and truly.

“there was no intent,” he admitted. for, as much as he had wanted his existence cut short... he had reasons to live, people to love who, in return, loved him back, as bewildering as it was to him.

“there was no intent for me, either... i had you. i have you. and that is enough.”

lucy was too good, too vibrant to want that for herself, and remus tried to suppress the tingle of tears.

now i think i know,

what you tried to say to me.

how you suffered for your sanity,

how you tried to set them free.

they would not listen,

they’re not listening still.

perhaps they never will.

the song came to a close, the final notes plucked on the guitar.

they were each other’s reason.

and as he looked at lucy, as they were breaking loose from each other’s hold, as she smiled at him and walked back to her notes...

remus agreed.

that was enough.

[m00nycore]

listening to sofia by clairo and thinking about a particular ship

[m00nycore]

hi! can I please be added to the tag list of “the only one left?”🤍 im obsessed.

of course, thank you so much for your love!! hope you enjoy the next part coming later 🤍

[m00nycore]

sorry i tried to drink your blood i think you're cute

[m00nycore]

hello!! i just read the first two parts for ‘the only one left’ and they’re amazing!!!! can i please be added to the tag list??? 💗💗💗

thank you so much lovebug!! of course 🤍 i appreciate your kindness!!

[m00nycore]

Mary Szybist, from Incarnadine: Poems

[m00nycore]

Joy Ladin, from “Forgetting“

[m00nycore]

Yehuda Amichai, from The Selected Poetry of Yehuda Amichai; “Six Poems for Tamar,”

[m00nycore]

Girl in Pieces — Kathleen Glasgow