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Remus’ legs shook with pleasure and his nails dug crescent moons into Walden’s hips in a half-baked attempt to steady himself. A sheen of sweat and pink in his cheeks showed how close he was, how good it felt, how he barely cared any more how they ended up here as long as they saw it through to the end. A multitude of emotions flashed in his eyes at Walden’s plea, desire and pleasure and satisfaction but also a hint of aggression at being told to cum. It was just enough to clear his head ever so slightly, enough that his teeth let go of his bottom lip with a moan but he didn’t hit euphoria. His hand moved to cover Walden’s and tighten it around the Ravenclaw’s dripping cock. He wanted to feel the other man writhing under him, undone and gratified at Remus’ hand. “I want to feel your cum on me first.”

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lockhart-depulso‌:

Gilderoy took an intake of breath when Remus seemed to imply that he wasn’t a good journalist. But he easily let it go. It wasn’t Remus’ fault that he had no clue what good journalism was even if it were staring at him right in the face. And it was.  “Where do you think tales come from, Remus?” he smiled saccharinely. “Have I not just asked for facts and evidences? Which by the way, you won’t even share…” he whispered that last part under his breath as he wrote down on his notebook before he forgets. Wouldn’t disclose whereabouts during night. “And if I’m being honest, you don’t really get to decide which has nothing to do with the matter.”

“Hmmm.” That was all the Ravenclaw had to say. He knew Remus was right about the Aurors keeping a tight lip with regards to the details of the investigation. That’s why he targetted the four first instead, hoping that one of them slips up in one way or another. The innocent until proven guilty though? Gilderoy didn’t know if he believed in that. But no matter, he already felt that Remus wasn’t going to tell him anything more about the incident. So he snapped his notebook shut and nodded as if it was his decision to end the interview. “It’s enough for the article,” he replied, not outright agreeing to what Remus said. He patted the other boy’s shoulder twice, both to thank him and dismiss him. “Thanks for the interview yeah? The article will be up in a few days, give or take.”

Remus rolled his eyes. He didn’t enjoy the Daily Prophet, too much in the Ministry’s pocket for his liking, and now he was thinking perhaps he just disliked journalists in general. After all, Remus valued his privacy and journalists had no sense of boundaries or propriety. “Oh because you do get to decide what has to do with the matter and what doesn’t do you? As I say. I told the Aurors. They deemed me not guilty and I think they know a bit more about it than a sixth year who wasn’t there.” He rolled his eyes again when Gilderoy patted him on the shoulder, glad that it appeared the interview was over, if only because much longer and he might hit the younger boy. “I look forward to it with anticipation,” he said, words dripping with sarcasm as he got up and walked away as quickly as screaming muscles would allow.

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wixenprince‌:

“Well, my father…”

Severus gritted his teeth just from saying the words, and he gazed at his notebook with a hard stare. He didn’t like talking about his least-favourite person in the world. “… He’s one of those muggles. I think he actually liked me when I was younger, before my mother had to tell him she was a witch. ‘Course, I was showing all the signs too… And he didn’t like that I was home alone with her all the time, teaching me about the Devil or whatever nonsense… But, the school didn’t like me either.” He gave another shrug, glancing up again. “We don’t do well at home together. At. All.”

He was much more interested to learn about how Remus grew up, going so far as to rest his chin on his palm as he silently listened to the other boy’s story. It was one thing to read about werewolves, and another to talk to one directly - and despite the fact that he’d been scarred by their encounter in the Shrieking Shack, he tried to keep an open mind.

And in doing so, he felt a twinge of pity for Remus. It wasn’t a matter of who had it worse - they both grappled with their childhood and had been permanently affected by it. “Hm,” he said after a minute of thought, eyes wandering again. “I’m sorry it had to be that way. It’s not easy on anyone to go through something like that… But… Things have improved?” Severus hoped. But Merlin, why did he even hope? Why did he care at all? Surely this was only a moment of weakness.

It was a strange thing, relating in part to Severus’ upbringing whilst simultaneously pitying the parts he could not relate to. His mam had always been enamoured with magic from the moment she met Lyall while Lyall was kind and defensive towards Hope’s non-magical status and so Remus was never at a risk of either of his parents rejecting him for magical ability or lack thereof. Lyall had also never been obvious in his dislike for Remus specifically even as he made his hatred for lycanthropy and those cursed by it clear. Remus had experienced, however, the feeling of a parent who once did nothing but love and protect one day looking at their child and only seeing disappointment and the one thing they hated and feared above all else. “Right,” he said, voice heavy with the unspoken agreement that he too did not get on with his father -- hell, if it weren’t for his mam, Remus may very well have done a Sirius by now and taken up sanctuary at the Potters’. Especially in light of the last Christmas holidays where Fleamont had taken the news of Remus being a werewolf with hardly a stutter and helped the four of them with arrangements for the Full Moon with no hesitation.

“If it helps,” he said, thoughts wandering back to Severus’ father and that Christian devotion that Remus knew very little about, “if he’s like that, he would probably think my mam is a Devil worshipper, too, and she’s a Muggle. She’s the one who got me into rock music. And smoking.” He kept quiet on her still buying him cigarettes and weed, because there was always something odd about admitting that, just as he didn’t mention that she practically worshipped magic as that rather defeated the point of bringing her up.

Remus’ pen hovered over his notebook and he studied the page in front of them without reading. There were some situations he never expected to find himself in and sitting next to Severus Snape, studying together and casually discussing his experiences as a young werewolf was one of them. He pinched his wrist but it didn’t appear to be a dream. “I won’t say I am used to it or that it is easy, because that will never be the case but things have improved, yes.” In part because of what he had just voiced, that a child’s body was terribly unsuited for werewolf transformation, but mostly because he wasn’t alone and so did not resort to self-inflicted injuries. Not that he could tell Severus that.

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James: We’ll want to go out for drinks on Tuesday

Remus: Tuesday isn’t a drinking night

*on Tuesday*

Remus: Happy birthday Prongs— oh. We probably do want drinks, don’t we?

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Their breathing grew louder as Remus moved with increasing intensity. He lost track of who was panting or grunting or moaning in pleasure at any one point, the sounds blending together. “Yes,” dropped from his lips more than once, the friction just what he needed and Walden’s encouragement driving him on. “Come on,” he implored, fingers scraping at skin. “Walden...” He barely breathed the name as his cock slid halfway out of the hole. Another thrust and it buried back in, deep enough that his balls pressed against the Ravenclaw’s flesh. His mind was focused on the pleasure and pain, nothing but the raw sensations between them, and he bit on his lip as he tried to hold himself together a little while longer.

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Walden had barely finished agreeing before Remus had pulled his fingers away, slicked a mixture of pre-cum and spit over his dick and lined it up to the hole his hand had just vacated. He pushed in with a grunt and his eyes flickered closed in pleasure over the feeling of his cock surrounded, wet and warm and tight from their rushed preparation. Eyes, open again, roamed Walden’s body hungrily, enjoying the sight of him laid out in front of him, marks from Remus’ fingers along his torso. “Fucking—” He just about stopped himself from making some sort of comment — of calling the Ravenclaw gorgeous or something similar that was not the sort of thing he felt he should be saying, in the same way that he was trying not to think about the fact this was now the third time they had done this. Instead, he rocked his hips with a sudden aggression, fuelled by thoughts of what had led them to this point.

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lockhart-depulso‌:

Gilderoy kept his eyes on the other boy but continued to scribble furiously on the pad on his lap. Even if Remus was disagreeing with him, Gilderoy nodded now and then to encourage him to continue. His answers, after all, were still very telling. Gilderoy scribbled the words angry and defiant onto the paper. Once Remus was done, Gilderoy placed his quill down on his lap and placed his hand on the other boy’s shoulder. “If I may — off the record — everything is a tale waiting to be spun. Do you not believe that what the public thinks affects real people with their real lives as you say? But you are, indeed, correct. You were released and the castle is yet to do anything about it. It’s up to the public now to believe whether you four are indeed innocent or not.”

“But surely, they must have told you guys something. I find it hard to believe that the Aurors wouldn’t have discussed with you what they’re suspecting you guys have done in the first place,” Gilderoy insisted. “I, unfortunately, cannot do that since it’s not the paper’s place to call anyone innocent but,” the Ravenclaw rose as Remus did the same, feeling that Remus already wanted to leave. “I’m just trying to hear your side here. You can’t clamor for the public to believe you’re innocent without providing proof first.”

“No,” he replied shortly. “Facts and evidence are what are important. When people try to change them to fit the vision they want or the story they would like to tell is when problems occur. A good journalist would not spin this into something for the drama, they would simply relay the facts and steer clear of topics that clearly have nothing to do with the matter.” He ran a hand over his face, feeling more and more tired as the seconds ticked by. Life had been stressful enough recently without having to explain himself to people he didn’t even know and he now regretted agreeing to talk to the sixth year.

“Even if they had given me details about their investigations, there are rules over disclosure of information. I do not fancy being held in contempt of court when I have only just got back to school. Ask the Aurors, if you must know.” He hoped by saying this, he could get the rest of the school to leave him and his friends alone. It would not fully reduce his stress, as he would still feel the constant watchful eyes of the Aurors waiting for them to slip up and he was yet to find out if they may have discovered the four empty beds during the Full Moon, but at least conversations like this could be squashed to a minimum. “You can still quote me claiming innocence,” Remus corrected. “I think you will find that the burden of proof lies with those trying to place blame. Innocent until proven guilty, after all, and is that not the whole point? We have not been proven guilty. They were unable to do that and so here we are, back at school, released and charges dropped. Is that proof enough for you?”

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wixenprince‌:

Normally, Severus wouldn’t have divulged any information about his childhood, let alone go on to tell the story of his only time spent at a muggle school, but if anyone would understand how he felt during those months, he figured it’d be Remus. The only other person he’d ever told was Lily, and though she sympathized, he doubted she could truly relate.

“My dad made me go to a muggle school in year four… I lasted about… Six months?” he said, balancing his pen on the back of his spidery hand. “It was a Catholic school. They didn’t like me much… And I didn’t like them. Once, some boys shoved my head into a toilet and I couldn’t control my magic… Ended up flooding the bathroom and getting expelled for trying to kill my classmates.” The pen fell off his hand and rolled onto his notebook, causing him to look up at the other boy and crack a dark smile. “They thought I was possessed.” 

Severus shook his head and laughed quietly, mindful of the fact that they were in the library, and then crossed his arms as he gazed over at Remus. “Why couldn’t you keep attending school?” Perhaps it was a stupid question, but none of his textbooks went into much detail about the specifics of coping with lycanthropy as a child. “It’s not as if muggles would have any idea what your… Problem was.”

He couldn’t help but snort. “A Catholic school,” he repeated. “How are parents so good at finding the situation that you’ll feel least welcome?” Not that he knew a lot about Catholicism but it seemed a lot of the muggleborns who had troubles with their family on discovering their magic it was due to the Catholic perception that magic was sin and wixen were possessed by the Devil. “I get waiting until you were older and understood better what you can and can’t talk about but surely they could have predicted that happening with you suddenly being forced into a situation like that at one of the most volatile ages for accidental magic?”

Remus looked up in surprise. It seemed so obvious to him, still surprised that he could attend Hogwarts when it had never been questioned that he would leave primary school after his bite. Five year olds had enough belief and imagination that the lines between the muggle and the wizarding world were blurred. It was something that had always been a bit of a risk in Lyall’s eyes of allowing Remus to attend when he was not yet old enough to fully understand the International Statute of Secrecy, but that only became a serious concern to them when they were keeping secrets from the Ministry of Magic as well as their muggle neighbours. Then, there was the more practical excuse which is the one he voiced. “A child’s body isn’t well-adapted for the transformation. It took even longer then for me to recover than it does now and the sickness beforehand started earlier, too.” In fact, since transforming with Animagi and able to run free he had managed to get down to just one day before the Full Moon and one day after, a great improvement on the four or five days of classes he used to miss in first year. “Even muggles would ask questions about a child missing a week of school out of four and that level of catch up -- well, it was much easier for my mother to educate me full-time instead.” He didn’t add his father’s paranoia or the constant moving from town to town.

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wixenprince‌:

“I just want - I -”

All of the sudden, his hands were trembling. He lowered them, wringing his wrists and shaking his head slowly, his hair as greasy and dirty as ever, but from a different sort of neglect. Severus had always been thin, but he looked like a walking skeleton, eaten alive by anxiety and paranoia for two years now. His dark eyes were sunk deep into their sockets and his skin was pale and grey, pulled taut on his face where his cheekbones and brow protruded like knives.

He took another step forward. “This has nothing to do with you or your… Condition…” His gaze rose to meet Remus’s, voice quiet but deliberate, as if he’d practiced this exact speech in the mirror a hundred times before. “… I’m not coming to you as an enemy… I want nothing from you except a-an open mind… Hear me out…”

But all preparation went out the window when he realized he was finally speaking to someone that might have an ounce - no, a drop - of sympathy for his situation. Severus’s fingers tangled themselves in his hair, eyes wide and half-crazed as he stood just inches from the other man. “Remus, they’re destroying me. The things I’ve seen… The things I’ve done… I’d take it all back if I could, every last second of it - by God I wish I’d killed myself when I had the chance -”

He turned on his heel and doubled over, covering his face. “Fuck. I’m not making any sense… I’m sorry…” Severus brushed his hair out of his eyes and slowly straightened up, murmuring, “My time is limited, I-I can barely think… They’re always watching me, listening to me… Did you know that you’re not safe even in your thoughts? They can hear you… They know!” He pointed at his temple, spinning around to face Remus as his body shook with fear and fatigue.

He stood there silently for a few long seconds before his brain caught up with his body and he realized what a raving madman he must have sounded like. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” came whispered from his lips again, and this time he seemed to finally get a grip on himself. Severus took a long breath, letting his eyes close for a moment before he opened them again, looking at his old classmate with a pleading expression. “… I want out. I need help. I will give you anything. Whatever will make you believe that I’m telling the truth.”

Remus knew it was only a series of fortunate coincidences that had led to him being here -- either that or the good grace of Albus Dumbledore who for some reason chose him of all the afflicted werewolves to grant his pity. Even with that fortune, he was still here, in a darkened corner of Knockturn Alley, preparing to spend a night on the streets. That was the life of a lycanthrope and what Remus had been raised for from childhood. Much in the same way, he knew, that others had been raised for a life of Dark Arts. Sometimes at school he had wondered how Severus Snape had got tangled in such a life. A half-blood, like Remus. Sent to muggle school for some time. Former best friend of muggleborn Lily Evans, now Potter, and defender of muggle biros. He had often wondered how much Snape had chosen his path and how much of it had been shaped for him the moment the Sorting Hat made its decision.

Like Remus -- how much had he chosen the life of the Order and how much was he forced into it by his sense of obligation to Dumbledore and the home he had found in Gryffindor?

He certainly couldn’t see why Snape would choose that life for himself, given the picture in front of him. He looked scared and desperate and like he had been taking even less good care of himself as he had at school. Remus doubted he looked much better. It had been over a week since his last shower, only charms to clean him and shave him in between. There was a dullness in his eyes, hollow from the horrors he had seen. His nails were unevenly cut and broken and caked with dirt. War had not been kind to anyone and though his instincts were screaming at him not to trust, to be as wary as he had been of everyone since childhood, there was a sympathy he felt towards the other man. Remus saw himself reflected in that sallow face and that was why he went against everything Moody had been telling the Order all this time.

“We shouldn’t talk here.” He knew Snape was right in saying they weren’t safe in their thoughts. Once, he had always applied Occlumency, as a twelve year old who had just learned about Legilimency and who was terrified of somebody happening across his condition. The habit had faded away with friends and trust and love and eventually the fatigue that came with war and the knowledge that none of the wolves he was surrounding himself with would ever break into his thoughts. He should have been more careful.

He practised to empty his mind and rebuild his barriers as he thought of where to go. Dumbledore was the obvious person to trust but Remus wouldn’t lead his mentor into a trap if that was what this was. Instead, he started towards Muggle London, digging through his pockets to see if any of the coins there were muggle pounds. He pulled out a twenty pence piece and a broken button. “Food’s out the question,” he muttered to himself, not expecting Snape to have any sterling on him. “We’ll go to Victoria Embankment. It should be busy enough with muggles this time of night that nobody will notice us.”

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hp character dynamics: the marauders

here they talked of revolution, here it was they lit the flame, here they sang about tomorrow, and tomorrow never came…

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GRYFFINDOR: “Keep it together, legionnaire. This is what we signed up for. Defending the legacy of Rome.” –Rick Riordan (Hazel Levesque: The Tyrant’s Tomb)

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#relatable

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Charlie Heaton for GQ Magazine (March 2020)

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rough night, huh?

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Charlie Heaton for Loewe Spring/Summer 2020

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warring-walden‌:

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He would never be able to bring himself to break another’s skin. His own had suffered at his own nails too much and he never knew if he could do irreversible damage. The last thing Remus wanted to do was inflict a cursed scar on anybody else, no matter who it was. So, he paid little attention to Walden’s beg for more other than to grip more tightly on his thigh. His long fingers did bury deeper inside him before pulling back half an inch and slamming them in again. A rhythm built up, increasing in depth and speed, and bending his fingers until they rubbed against his prostate. His cock ached and he let it rub against whichever bit of flesh he could. “Can you take it dry?” he asked. He could take just a few steps away to retrieve his wand and use a quick charm in place of lube but even that felt like it would be wasting too much time.