otterly-darling

[otterly-darling]

X. Myth

The cave didn't look mythical. It looked damp.

"Are we sure this is the place?" Sirius asked, poking the stone arch with the tip of his Very Heroic Sword.

Remus consulted the floating map, which now glitched every third syllable. "'Beware the cave where truth does dwell, where myth and fate and fungus smell…' Yep. This is it."

The cave breathed.

Not a wind. Not an echo. A slow, rumbling exhale.

"Hello?" Sirius called. "Ancient prophecy? Mild doom? Possibly a talking goose?"

Instead, a spectral figure emerged from the darkness — cloaked in mist, glowing faintly, and holding what looked like a mug of tea.

"I am the Keeper of Forgotten Truths," it intoned.

Sirius waved. "Cool. Do you validate parking?"

The ghost sighed. "Every age sends a fool and a guide."

Remus raised a hand. "Guide, here. Definitely not the fool."

Sirius elbowed him. "Rude."

"You are the Prince of the Wayward Path," the spirit continued, floating dramatically. "The Heir of the Errant Line. The One Who Will Either Save the Kingdom or Accidentally Marry a Tree."

"Wait, what?"

The spirit shrugged. "Prophecies are flexible."

Sirius tilted his head. "You said prince. Like, capital-P fate kind of prince?"

The ghost nodded. "There is an ancient myth. A cursed royal. A sacred bond. A wolf-hearted protector."

Remus blinked. "Sorry. Wolf-hearted?"

"Yes," the spirit said serenely. "The loyal one. The quiet fire. The one who does not leave."

Sirius looked at Remus. Slowly. Like he was seeing him in high-definition for the first time.

"Oh," Sirius said, quietly.

Remus scowled. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Looking at me like I’m a meaningful tapestry.”

The spirit cleared its throat. “Together, you must rewrite the end of the story. Or doom it to repeat.”

“Doom is so dramatic,” Sirius said, still staring at Remus.

The spirit gestured at the wall. A mural shimmered into view — a prince, a wolf, and a sword made of moonlight. They stood together at the edge of a storm.

Remus swallowed. "I liked it better when we were just stealing cheese."

The ghost bowed. "Myth is never just a story."

"Neither," Sirius said softly, "is this."

@wolfstarmicrofic

[otterly-darling]

IX. Adventure

Remus was getting a bit bored of The Forest of Whispers, which was less "forest" and more "overgrown magical anxiety."

The trees leaned in like gossiping aunts. The moss muttered passive-aggressively. And the air smelled vaguely of plot.

"I’m just saying," Sirius said, ducking under a branch that definitely tried to grab him, "if a forest whispers, it should whisper nice things. Encouragement. Flirtation. Compliments about my hair."

Remus adjusted his satchel and sighed. "One tree literally called me a tragic cardigan."

Sirius squinted at the bark. "They're not wrong though."

They pressed on, following a map the tiara had started projecting from mid-air. (It spoke in rhyming couplets. Neither of them were thrilled.)

"Left at the stump, beware the lark, Then jump the stream when it turns dark. The treasure waits 'neath leaf and root, But mind the chest—it's oddly cute."

"Did it just imply the treasure chest is sentient?" Remus asked.

"Even worse," Sirius said, narrowing his eyes. "It implied it's there's another leg in this ridiculous journey."

They found the chest nestled under a gnarled oak, surrounded by softly glowing mushrooms and one extremely judgemental squirrel.

It blinked up at them. Literally blinked.

"Don't touch it," Remus warned.

Sirius already had his hand on the lid.

"Sirius—"

With a dramatic creak, the chest sprang open. Inside: a sword, a velvet pouch of enchanted peppermints, and a scroll labelled FOR IDIOTS WITH DESTINY ISSUES.

Remus unrolled it. "'Only one with a True Motive may lift the sword and not be turned into a moderately intelligent goat.'"

Sirius reached for the sword.

"WAIT," Remus snapped. "What's your motive?"

Sirius blinked. "Adventure?"

The chest groaned. The air shimmered.

Remus yanked his hand back. "Try again, disaster prince."

Sirius hesitated. Then, softer: "Protecting you."

Silence.

The sword didn’t smite him. The forest… sighed?

He picked it up. The blade gleamed like starlight and Very Real Emotional Progress.

Remus swallowed. "That's… mildly heroic."

"I know." Sirius grinned, sword over his shoulder. "I hate it."

The chest snapped shut, deeply offended.

@wolfstarmicrofic

[otterly-darling]

VIII. Plot

The next morning, they were twenty minutes into their triumphant return journey when the ground fell out from under them.

"THIS IS WHY I DON’T TRUST PATHS," Remus yelled, as they tumbled through a trapdoor that absolutely no-one had seen coming.

They landed in a heap at the bottom of a narrow, glowing tunnel.

Sirius groaned from beneath him. "Plot twist," he mumbled. "Literally."

Remus sat up, checking he still had the Tiara of Truth strapped to his satchel. "You alright?"

"Sirius blinked up at him, slightly dazed. "You're on top of me."

"Observant."

"And it's doing things to my sense of dignity."

"You don't have one."

Sirius smiled, a little crooked. "Not since the cheese."

They untangled themselves and stood, brushing off moss and the last of the tiara glitter. The tunnel pulsed faintly with magical runes, which always boded terribly.

A floating sign materialised ahead of them:

"Side Quest: Feelings & Poorly Timed Magical Reflection Maze. Proceed with Unnecessary Emotion."

Remus read it twice. "Absolutely not."

But Sirius was already walking. "Come on, it might be fun!"

"That’s what you said before we barged in on that troll."

"You’re still holding that against me?"

"You had sharp, doggy teeth, Sirius. I had nothing."

They entered the maze.

Mirrors lined every wall—some wobbly and distorted, some crystal-clear. Each one showed… not quite reality.

Remus paused at one and saw himself—older, softer, smiling like he meant it. Sirius stood behind him, hand casually around his waist.

Another mirror showed Sirius standing alone in a crown of thorns, eyes distant. The tiara flickered on his head, then vanished.

"Okay, no," Sirius muttered, quickly moving on.

Remus caught his arm. "Wait. What did you see?"

"Nothing. One of those magic mirrors that just shows you your taxes."

"Sirius."

But Sirius shook his head. "It doesn't matter. They're just illusions. Bad lighting. Trick glass."

He looked away, voice too light. "Come on. Let’s find the way out before we're forced to confront anything truly awful. Like commitment metaphors."

Remus stared after him, heart annoyingly loud.

He whispered, "Plot development."

From somewhere deep in the maze, the walls whispered back, "We heard that."

@wolfstarmicrofic

[otterly-darling]

VII. Story

They camped just outside the Forest of Whispers, too tired and too glitter-covered to be welcome at any respectable inn.

Remus sat cross-legged by the fire, flipping through a battered old folktale book he'd packed "just in case of plot." Sirius sprawled on his back nearby, the Tiara of Truth perched askew on his head like an eccentric bird.

"Tell me a story," Sirius said, poking the air lazily. "A nice one. With heroes and nonsense and maybe a mildly cursed talking object."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "So… a documentary?"

Sirius grinned, eyes reflecting the firelight.

Remus cleared his throat. "Alright then. Once upon a time, there were two idiots."

Sirius perked up. "Sounds familiar."

"One was a prince," Remus continued, "who couldn't stop getting cursed because he had no filter, no plan, and far too much hair gel."

"I don't use—okay, carry on."

"The other was a scholar. Quiet. Careful. Absolutely not interested in adventures, cursed royalty, or feelings."

Sirius sat up slightly. "Definitely fictional."

"But fate—and also a sentient cheese wheel—threw them together."

"You forgot the troll."

"And the antlers."

"And the fact that the prince had incredible bone structure."

Remus gave him a look. "Anyway, they went on a journey. Fought monsters. Lied badly. Fell over things. Made very poor decisions in caves."

"Still sounds fictional."

Remus hesitated, then read the next line softly: "And somewhere along the way, the scholar realised he wasn't just following the prince to break a curse—he was following him because… he wanted to."

The silence stretched.

Then Sirius said, very gently, "He sounds like a disaster."

"He is," Remus agreed.

"And the prince?"

"A menace."

They both smiled.

"I like this story," Sirius said, voice quiet now. "Even if it is a bit derivative."

Remus closed the book. "It's not finished yet."

Sirius leaned back again, arms behind his head. "Well then, better make it a good one."

@wolfstarmicrofic

[otterly-darling]

VI. Magic

The tiara hovered above the mossy rock like it knew it was better than everyone. Which, to be fair, it probably was.

Sirius eyed it warily. "Is it… pulsing?"

"It’s vibrating with ancient truth magic," Clemency said. "Or hatred. Hard to tell with artifacts."

Remus gave him a look. "You okay?"

"Fine," Sirius said, then immediately glowed brighter.

Remus snorted. “Liar.”

"It’s not my fault my emotions have visual effects now," Sirius hissed. "I sparkle when I’m conflicted."

"Then you must be radiating," Remus murmured.

Sirius took a deep breath and stepped forward. "Okay, stupid tiara. You want truth? Here's some truth: I don't like being cursed, or sparkly, or having conversations with trees. I miss a smooth scalp. I miss fitting under doorways. I miss having dignity—"

The tiara sparked.

"—but also, I don't actually regret biting Nigel the Troll. He was rude."

The tiara hovered higher.

"And I think Remus has perfect hands, and I'm mad about it."

Remus choked. "What—"

"I SAID WHAT I SAID," Sirius shouted, as the tiara launched a beam of truth-light directly into his face.

He staggered back, glowing like a disco ball mid-meltdown.

"TRUTH ACCEPTED," Clemency declared dramatically, as the tiara settled gently on his head.

Silence.

Then: poof.

The antlers vanished. The glowing fingers stopped. Sirius blinked. "Wait. That worked?"

Remus gaped at him. "You… you told the truth."

"Don’t act so surprised."

"I'm not! I'm—well, a little surprised. I thought it'd be more of a slow-burn."

Sirius shrugged. "Turns out I'm emotionally reckless and magically gifted. A devastating combo."

Clemency handed Remus a glittery feedback form. "Please rate your honesty breakthrough on a scale from 'soul-wrenching' to 'delightfully humiliating.'"

Remus laughed and looked at Sirius—standing there, slightly rumpled, tiara tilted sideways, looking stupidly proud.

"You actually did it."

"I did," Sirius said. Then, quieter: "And I meant it. About the hands."

Remus flushed. "You're ridiculous."

Sirius beamed. "And yet…"

Remus rolled his eyes. "Still here."

@wolfstarmicrofic

[otterly-darling]

V. Fairy

The Forest of Whispers was less "mystical glade" and more "sentient shrubbery with gossip issues."

"I swear that tree just said my antlers looked 'tacky,'" Sirius muttered.

"It said 'tragic,' actually," Remus corrected. "Also it commented on your posture."

Sirius huffed. "What kind of cursed tiara lives here?"

"The shiny, honesty-exposing kind," Remus said, stepping over a glowing mushroom. "So, you know. Your natural enemy."

They reached a clearing where moonlight poured in like someone had spilt a vat of glitter. Hovering above a mossy rock was the Silver Tiara of Truth, shining ominously and humming with the kind of energy usually reserved for cursed items, or so Remus presumed.

"Behold," came a voice, "The artefact you seek."

They turned. A fairy hovered mid-air, wings shimmering, eyebrows perfectly arched.

She was four inches tall and carried the energy of a stage manager and a tax auditor rolled into one.

"I am Clemency, Guardian of the Tiara," she announced. "Speak your wish and be judged."

"We’re not wishing," Remus said. "We’re retrieving. Royal decree."

Clemency examined her very tiny clipboard. "Right, right. Prince Disco-Antlers and the librarian."

Sirius blinked. "You know me?"

"Everyone does," she said flatly. "You’re the reason Nigel the Troll’s therapy bills are through the roof."

"Fair."

Remus stepped forward. "Can we have the tiara, please?"

Clemency fluttered closer. "One condition. The tiara only allows itself to be worn by someone who speaks their truest truth."

"Like a confession?" Sirius asked, suddenly wary.

"Like a soul-baring, heart-wrenching, no-holding-back sort of moment," Clemency said brightly. "Or a dance number. Whichever feels more honest."

Sirius paled. "I don’t like this forest."

Remus looked at him, expression unreadable. "Do you want me to try?"

Sirius hesitated. "No. I think it wants me. And I think I’ve already started."

Clemency clapped. "Oh good. Emotional suffering. The trees live for this."

Sirius exhaled slowly, and stepped toward the tiara.

@wolfstarmicrofic

[otterly-darling]

IV. Wicked

The castle looked exactly as Remus thought it would: grand, gloomy, and aggressively over-decorated with tapestries that all featured someone judging him.

"Are all the portraits watching us?" he whispered, as they traipsed along a long corridor.

"They're my ancestors. Judging is a family tradition," Sirius replied, casually flipping his great-great uncle off.

They didn't even make it to the throne room before the doors slammed open and Queen Walburga swept in in full couture.

"Sirius Orion," she declared, voice sharp as polished glass. "First, you insult me, and then I hear you stole enchanted dairy—and ate it. With your hands."

Sirius attempted a bow, which wasn't easy with antlers. "Mother. You're looking… exceptionally vertical today. Has the hat grown larger?"

Walburga's eyes narrowed to weapon-grade. "The hat is traditional. Unlike your behaviour."

"I thought we decided the hat needed to go?"

"We decided no such thing. You were cursed halfway through that conversation and turned into a dog."

Remus coughed to hide a laugh.

Walburga turned to him sharply. "And you must be the spell breaker enabling my son’s idiocy."

"Remus Lupin. Librarian. Mildly cursed-adjacent. Not enabling so much as damage-controlling."

She looked him over. "Hmph. At least someone in this ridiculous mess owns an ironed shirt."

Sirius flailed his glowing hands. "I broke the cheese curse! Mostly! That’s got to count for something."

"Oh, it does," Walburga said. "It counts as reckless dairy consumption. The curse is still active, Sirius. You're just… in phase two."

"What kind of curse has phases?"

"Yours," she said crisply. "Because you are special. And insufferable. And, frankly, wicked in ways that make the family ghosts need a lie-down."

Remus tried to sound helpful. "Can it be broken?"

Walburga smiled thinly. "There’s a potential path. You’ll undertake a new task—something to prove you’re more than sparkly headwear and inconvenient charm."

Remus leaned over. "Define 'inconvenient.'"

She smiled sweetly. "You'll venture to the Forest of Whispers to retrieve the Silver Tiara of Truth. And for heaven's sake, stop glowing."

Sirius wiggled his fingers. "Can't help it. It's the honesty and dairy combo. Also, I'm not apologising about the hat."

"I think you'll find you will be."

"Why though? It really is last century."

Remus muttered, "You said that out loud."

Sirius grinned. "Curse of truth-telling, remember?"

Remus sighed. "Pretty sure that part was just your personality."

As they turned to leave, Walburga called, "And Sirius—try not to embarrass the crown again."

"I make no promises," Sirius said brightly, antlers glinting in the candlelight.

Remus laughed. "You're impossible."

"And yet," Sirius said, bumping their shoulders together, "You're still here."

@wolfstarmicrofic

[otterly-darling]

III. Prince

The next morning, Sirius woke to find the antlers had grown—again. This time, they sparkled faintly, like someone had sprinkled them with fairy dust.

"Great," Remus said, blowing glitter off his cereal. "Now you look like a disco deer."

Sirius flexed his fingers, still glowing faintly at the tips. "Disco Deer sounds like a heroic title. Maybe Sirius, Prince of the Disco Deer Realm."

Remus rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile. "You're supposed to be a prince. Not a party animal."

"Prince," Sirius said, "Is a tricky word. I used to think it meant 'born with a tiara.' Now it means 'wearing antlers and somehow still not losing at life.'"

Remus stood and grabbed the ancient book again. "Officially, you are still Prince Sirius, heir to the Mildly Inconvenient Curses Kingdom. But apparently, the Queen witch’s curse is rewriting your resume."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Rewrite? I was hoping for a promotion. Maybe knight? Or at least a dragon tamer."

"You couldn’t even handle a troll without me," Remus said. "Let alone a dragon."

Before Sirius could retort, there was a sharp knock at the door. Remus opened it to reveal a messenger—a small, nervous-looking fairy clutching a scroll.

"The Queen Witch requests your presence at the castle," the fairy whispered. "She says the cheese incident has... complicated things."

Sirius sighed. "Oh, excellent. Summoned by my mother. And I thought today was shaping up to be a good one."

Remus blinked. "Your mother is the Queen Witch?"

"Yes," Sirius muttered, already dreading it. "Walburga the Slightly Overdramatic. Queen of All That Is Magical and Mildly Judgmental."

"She cursed you?"

"Oh. Yeh," Sirius waved a hand, "But don't worry—she's done this sort of stuff loads of times before."

Remus looked stunned. "I... I don't think it makes it okay Sirius. Wait—so we’re going to your childhood home?"

"Technically my ancestral castle. Full of talking portraits and bad memories and possibly one vengeful teacup."

Remus looked resigned. "Well, time to face your royal curse I guess. And maybe, just maybe, your terrifying mother."

Sirius wobbled his antlers with a grin. "After all, what’s a prince without a little chaos?"

@wolfstarmicrofic

[otterly-darling]

II. Curse

A week after the Moon-Brie Heist of Mild Success, Sirius sprouted antlers.

Not majestic, woodland-prince antlers. Lopsided, moss-covered, vaguely squeaky antlers.

"I ate the cheese," he said, sounding deeply pleased. "I've earned this."

"You weren’t supposed to eat it," Remus muttered, flipping through Ye Olde Booke of Dumb Heroics for the third time that morning.

Sirius peered over his shoulder. "Page 437: 'Side Effects of Consuming Cursed Cheese include… Antlers, Luminous Toes, and—oh!—Uncontrollable Truth-Telling.'"

He beamed. "Guess I’m about to get emotionally reckless."

Remus froze. "Sirius."

"I think about kissing you a lot."

"Sirius."

"And your gigantic nose is my favourite thing on your entire face, which is saying something because your face is stupidly handsome—"

"SIRIUS."

"Also I’ve definitely had dreams where we—"

Remus slammed the book shut. Hard.

They sat in silence.

"…Right," Sirius said, visibly attempting to shut his own mouth with both hands. The antlers wobbled.

Remus exhaled slowly. “Okay. We’ll fix the antlers. And the... honesty.”

“But not the feelings?”

Another pause.

Remus looked away. "Those aren’t a curse."

Sirius blinked. Then grinned. "Is that a confession?"

"It’s a warning," Remus mumbled, ears pink.

"I accept your dangerous affection," Sirius said, very seriously, glowing toes now lighting up like fireflies.

Remus sighed. "You are absolutely insufferable."

"And yet…" Sirius said, inching closer, "You haven’t thrown me in a pond."

"Not yet I haven't," Remus said darkly.

@wolfstarmicrofic

[otterly-darling]

I. Brave

Once upon a time in the Kingdom of Mildly Inconvenient Curses, there lived a prince named Sirius who had been turned into a dog. Not a majestic dog. A scruffy, drooly, tail-chasing mutt.

"It was one sarcastic comment to a witch," Sirius barked. "ONE!"

Remus, a local spell breaker and part-time librarian, sighed as he stirred his tea. "You told her pointy hats were so last century and then tried to hex her eyebrows off."

Sirius cocked his leg to lick at his own arse. "She started it."

"You were chasing her cat."

"She started that, too!"

Regardless, Prince Sirius was stuck in his very undignified form unless he completed a noble quest that proved his bravery.

"Like slaying a dragon?" he asked, tongue lolling.

"Too cliché," Remus muttered, flipping through Ye Olde Booke of Dumb Heroics.

"Rescuing a damsel?"

"I am the damsel. I’m rescuing you."

"…hot."

Remus dropped the book on his head.

Eventually, they found the quest: to steal the legendary Moon-Brie, a magical cheese guarded by an ill-tempered troll named Nigel who really just wanted to be left alone to work on his pottery.

"This is stupid," Remus whispered as they snuck into the cave.

"You’re stupid," Sirius whispered back, tail wagging in excitement.

"Bravery isn’t yelling at a troll while I carry a giant cheese!"

"Then define bravery better!"

In the end, Nigel threw a clay bowl at Sirius, Sirius bit his ankle (apologetically), and Remus ran for his life carrying a cheese wheel the size of a carriage tire.

They were very nearly heroic. They were almost dead.

But they made it.

Later, lying on the forest floor with cheese crumbs on his overalls, Remus said, "You’re an idiot."

Sirius, now blessedly human again (and unfortunately very naked), rolled over and grinned. "I was brave, actually."

"You barked at a troll."

"And I saved the cheese."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Oh yes. A tale for the bards."

Sirius winked. "And the brave prince kissed the weary spell breaker in thanks…"

Remus snorted. "He did not."

"…while mostly nude, covered in brie."

There was a long pause.

Remus sighed. "Fine. But I’m never stealing magical dairy with you again."

@wolfstarmicrofic

[otterly-darling]

Historian

"This," Remus said, holding up the very serious leather-bound volume, "Is not what I meant when I asked you to help me document our experiences."

Sirius, sprawled upside-down on the couch, pointed his quill at the offending book. "It’s honest!"

Remus opened to a random page and read aloud:

"Chapter 4: That Time Moony Punched a Portrait Because It Told Me I Was Too Hot For Him."

Sirius grinned. "An iconic moment in magical history."

Remus continued, deadpan:

"Chapter 7: How to Woo a Werewolf in Ten Questionable Decisions — A Memoir."

He looked up, unimpressed. "Sirius."

“What?” Sirius shrugged. "I'm basically providing a public service. You’re very emotionally elusive."

Remus rubbed his temples. "You’ve submitted this to the Historical Society."

"They said they wanted a personal account of the war. I just gave them flair."

"There’s a chapter called ‘Oops, Accidentally Joined the Order While Chasing a Hot Werewolf’!"

"...Still factually correct."

Remus narrowed his eyes. “You annotated one of my actual essays.”

“Improved it.”

“You drew tiny hearts around your name in the footnotes!”

“To enhance reader engagement.”

Remus set the book down like it might explode. "They think I co-wrote this. They invited us to speak."

"Excellent!" Sirius beamed. "We can re-enact the part where you hexed a Death Eater and managed to scold me for stealing your jumper in the same breath. Iconic multitasking."

"I hate you."

"You don’t."

Remus sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, then muttered, "I’m putting a disclaimer on this."

Sirius leaned in, grinning. "Put that in Chapter 12: ‘Things Moony Says When He’s Secretly Impressed.'"

Remus chucked the book at his head.

Sirius ducked, laughing, then added, "You know, historians are gonna eat this up."

Remus muttered, "Historians are going to think I was dating an idiot."

Sirius winked. "They’d be right."

@wolfstarmicrofic

[otterly-darling]

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

[otterly-darling]

The Trouble With Waking Up

Sirius is relentless, Remus is trying not to lose his mind.

Well, this really wasn’t ideal.

Remus wasn’t entirely sure what would be ideal - possibly waking up alone, clothed, with a cup of tea hovering patiently at his bedside and a to-do list that didn’t involve confronting his feelings he had spent the better part of three years locking in the mental equivalent of a dungeon. That, or a coma anyway. 

Instead, he had Sirius Black.

More specifically, he had Sirius Black snuggled up against him like the world’s most inconvenient hearing charm, radiating body heat and bad decisions. One arm was flung over Remus’ chest in a way that felt suspiciously familiar, and one leg (a leg!) had worked its way between Remus’ thighs, where it had absolutely no business being. 

Remus also had questions. He looked blearily at the ceiling and then, very cautiously, lifted the duvet and peered underneath. 

Yep.

Definitely naked. 

Continue reading on AO3 here

[otterly-darling]

Never have words been truer

“Not everyone ships wolfstar.”

Okay? not everyone has taste either.

[otterly-darling]

This, too, is a love story

Extract from Chapter 2

‘It’s clearly ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody,’ Sirius insists, jabbing the pen at the answer sheet. ‘Clearly.’

‘You said that four songs ago,’ James argues, trying to grab the pen. ‘This one has the yearning. And the synthy bit at the start. It’s ‘How Will I Know.’

Peter nods, swaying slightly in his seat. ‘It doesn’t make me want to dance with anyone. It makes me want to text someone I shouldn’t.’

‘Yeh, and you two are the reason we didn’t win last month!’

‘It’s ‘How Will I Know.’’

The three of them turn to look at Remus, sipping his pint like he really couldn’t give a fuck.

James narrows his eyes. ‘How do you know that? Or are you just agreeing with Padfoot, because you both have form for corroborating.’

‘Because,’ Remus shrugs, ‘I lived with Sirius during his sad wine phase. We had a whole Whitney week.’

Sirius raises his glass, smugly. ‘A powerful time in both of our lives. He was the wind beneath my wings.’

‘That’s Bette Midler.’

‘Oh.’ Sirius frowns a moment. ‘Well, who cares. It’s ‘How Will I Know.’ He grabs the answer paper and scribbles it down and then shoves it back towards James who huffs. 

Read on AO3 :)

[otterly-darling]

This, too, is a love story

I started writing something new :)

Wolfstar, feat. soft dom Remus and new-to-it-all sub Sirius.

Lots of fluff, minimal angst and a sort-of slow burn.

Oh, and it'll probably end up filthy too.

Extract from Chapter 1: ‘OW , you unhinged animal!’ James shouts, recoiling with a yelp and clutching his arm. ‘You bit me!’

‘Desperate times, Potter,’ Sirius snaps scrambling out from under him and reaching over for another cushion, ready to go again.

‘There he is!’ James shouts all-of-a-sudden, pointing wildly to the doorway that leads out into the hall. And sure enough, sitting in the corner, smug as ever and wearing his tiny, blue jumper like the world’s most emotionally-complex, Victorian child, is the hamster.

James bolts out of the room like a man possessed and crashes in the hallway. From his seat on the living room floor Sirius hears a loud thud , a muffled, ‘ I’m fine!’ and then the unmistakable crash of a ceramic pot shattering against tile. 

‘Sir Figsworth!’ James wails from the hallway. ‘Noooo!’

Sirius scrambles to his feet, nearly slipping on the hardwood and regaining his balance with a heroic windmilling of arms and storms into the hallway— - only to be brought up short by the devastation before him. 

Carnage. 

Shards of terracotta lie scattered like shrapnel, earth strew across the floor in chaotic handfuls. And there, at the centre of the wreckage, lies Sir Figsworth— - their once proud fiddle-leaf fig— - toppled, uprooted, his broad leaves splayed out like a crumpled green flag of surrender. 

Sirius stares for a long moment, then whispers, voice heavy with mock-grief, ‘He died as he lived. Overwatered. Unappreciated. And in the fucking hallway.’

Read the from the beginning here :)

[otterly-darling]

Polyjuice Potion

'Erm...' James slowly closed the door and looked at Remus. 'Erm,' he said again, 'Moony, I hate to alarm you but... ah, how do I put this? Moony, Moony seems to be in your bedroom.'

'What?'

'Moony is in your bedroom. He's lying on your bed, in fact.'

Remus cocked his head to the side, a bit like Moony did sometimes, James thought to himself. 'Are you okay, Prongs?' He reached forward and pressed a hand to James' forehead. 'I know that bludger hit the back of your head last Sunday but I thought Merriweather gave you the all clear-'

'Moony is asleep on your bed!'

'O-kay,' Remus said slowly, clearly disbelieving. He reached for the door handle. 'Fucking hell!'

James' head popped round the door. 'Told you!'

'There's a massive dog on my bed!'

'I told you, it's Moony!'

'But I'm Moony!'

'Are you telling me I wouldn't recognise my old pal Moony if I saw him?'

'Are you telling me that I wouldn't recognise that i'd turned into a werewolf?!'

James stopped with hum. 'Hmm. That is a good point. But seriously, Moony - it's Moony!'

'My head hurts,' Remus mumbled, starring at the large furry bundle curled up on his pillow. He took a step closer. James was right, it wasn't a dog. The wolf was large, with glossy fur, the exact shade of Remus' hair. And then it opened his eyes and Remus gasped as his own eyes blinked sleepily up at him.

'What- how?' Remus didn't know what to say as the wolf sat up, tall and broad, its tail thumping slowly on the bed and gave a sad sounding whimper.

James meanwhile, completely oblivious to Remus' current existential crisis was poking around the room. 'Sirius was here,' he said to no-one in particular and then rounded on the wolf, finger waggling. 'Did you eat Sirius?'

The dog whimpered again, padding forward and nosing at Remus' hand.

'Sirius?'

'That's what I just asked him-'

'No,' Remus interrupted James who was now sniffing suspiciously at a glass of green sludge. 'I think this is Sirius.'

'That,' James said, still holding the glass, 'That might actually make sense. Smell this.' He thrust the glass at Remus and then pointed at the wolf again. 'Say awoo if you're Sirius.'

The wolf gave a very Sirius like huff. 'Awoo.'

'I don't actually sound like that do I?' Remus turned wide-eyed to look at James. 'That was pathetic!'

James looked unimpressed. 'Really? That's what you're going with? Not why has my boyfriend brewed some secret Polyjuice, broken into my flat, stolen my hair and transformed into the one part of me that I hate beyond all measure?'

'Oh yeh,' Remus glared at the wolf. The wolf snarled at James and then licked Remus hand.

James rolled his eyes. 'I am going to do something very unusual and give you guys a moment.' He started towards the door. 'I shall be in the kitchen making tea if you need me.'

The moment James shut the bedroom door Remus turned back to the wolf. 'Explain yourself,' he said sternly, although the vitriol was slightly lost by the fact that Remus was scritching behind the wolf's ear and making his back leg thud repeatedly onto the mattress.

'Awoo.'

'Awoo to you too. No, stop that!' He pushed the wolf's snout away from nuzzling at his neck. 'I'm mad at you. I'm going to go and have tea with James. You can sit here and think about what you've done until the Polyjuice wears off.'

The wolf snapped his jaws menacingly but Remus was unmoved. 'What you going to do?' He raised an eyebrow. 'Bite me?'

----------

An hour later James and Remus had just polished off their third cup of tea when Sirius came shuffling sheepishly into the kitchen, his hair a mess and several Moony coloured strands of fur on his joggers.

'Well?' Remus put his teacup down and crossed his arms.

'I didn't realise it was Moony's hair,' Sirius mumbled. 'I thought it was yours. I took it off the hoddie you were wearing last full.'

Remus did not look mollified. 'And tell, pray, why you felt the need to Polyjuice into me?'

Sirius opened his mouth and then closed it again, looking between Remus and James.

'Oh don't be shy,' Remus said mercilessly, 'Please do share with the class.'

'Umm-'

Remus drummed his fingers on the kitchen table. 'We're waiting.'

'wantedtogiveyourselfablowie.' Sirius said, very quiet and very quick.

'Speak up!' Remus barked, 'Say it again.'

'You said you wanted to know what it would be like to give yourself a blow j-'

Remus was up out of his chair and slamming a hand over Sirius' mouth quicker than the bludger that had knocked James for six last Sunday.

'HAHAHAHA,' Remus laughed loudly, slowly turning a rather nasty puce colour. 'Looks like being in Moony's head for a couple of hours has sent him a bit loopy.'

'I see,' James smirked.

'Yes,' Remus pressed his hand more firmly, covering up Sirius' indignant squawks of protest further. 'I think he probably needs to sleep it off a bit more actually.'

'Right.'

'Yes- ow!' Remus hissed as Sirius bit him. 'See, gone all rabid werewolf on us, Prongs. I'd get going if I were you. Doesn't seem like it's safe at all.'

James rolled his eyes. 'I'm going, i'm going.' He got to his feet and watched a moment longer as Remus struggled to drag an outraged Sirius out the room before he headed for the front door, listening to Remus all the while.

'There there, Padfoot. A nice nap and you'll feel right as rain.'

'Look at all the fur on my pillow! Bad dog!'

James grinned and opened the front door. He didn't move an inch before slamming it shut again. There was silence, just for a moment and then-

'Do you- do you have any Polyjuice left?'

@wolfstarmicrofic