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deathmybride · 1 month ago

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*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ the wolf with the red roses | remus lupin *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

ship: Remus Lupin x fem!oc

warnings: haven't proofread as well as I could have, gets pretty hot and heavy, sirius slutshaming, prongsbashing

summary: At the end of sixth year, the Marauders are set to perform a set at the graduation ball for their upperclassmen. It's a hot summer day and tensions are running high. What will happen when things unsaid come to the surface?

word count: 4425

a/n: My first ever Wizarding World fic! Hope you guys enjoy it. I've been fascinated with the Marauders ever since I was a kid and I'm frankly shocked that I've never so much as drafted a fic about any of them. Well, there's a first time for everything.

pic ref: very young and very beautiful David Thewlis in the 1980s with his band Door 66. Razor Blades and Mrs Moony's House are the only two remaining music videos. I recommend giving them a watch if you like post punk and new wave.

song ref: You Took the Words Right Out of my Mouth by Meatloaf (released 24th of March 1978 in the UK, so it doesn't quite fit with the established Marauder's timeline, but WHATEVER we just have to cope with that)

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Summer swept over Hogwarts all at once, patching the emerald lawns with thousands of tiny yellow wildflowers. Honeybees bobbed lazily around the planters in the windows as a wave of giddy heat settled over the grounds. Sweet smelling herbs were in full bloom in the green houses, their fragrance catching on the breeze as far away as the Astronomy Tower. The world seemed hellbent on drawing me outside, but there was only a week left of my sixth year at Hogwarts, and still two exams left. Even still, I was not studying on that lazy Sunday morning. Instead, I found myself in one of the sweltering music practise classrooms with my best friends, rubbing my hands raw on my drumsticks in preparation for our gig at the graduation party for our upperclassmen. We had been practising for nearly two hours by the time James decided it was time for him to “take a slash,” and finally let us take a well deserved break.

“Infrigido,” Remus passed his wand over a glass he had just filled from the great silver pitcher by the door. It fogged, weeping beads of perspiration down the side.

“Thanks, Rem.” Our fingers brushed as he passed it to me, burning hot. For once I was grateful for the sweltering atmosphere, confident that my face was already too red to visibly blush.

Instantly, the cool glass sapped the thick feeling from my overworked fingers. I held it to my lips and drained it in a few gulps, only surfacing for air when nothing remained but the dregs. Remus let out a breathy laugh, and refilled the glass with another wave of his wand. I drank from it again, and this time I found that I could drink and drink, but the glass remained full.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” I marvelled, pressing the chilled surface to my flushed cheek.

“Charms class.” He ducked his head bashfully and took the glass back, drinking deeply.

“Advanced Charms class.” Sirius amended slyly. “So modest, Moony.”

“That must be where he learned to be so charming.” I snickered as Remus sputtered on his icy mouthful.

“Oh, shove off it.” He croaked, lightly pushing my shoulder.

I stumbled back, clutching at it theatrically, and flopped down onto the squashy L-shaped couch where Sirius was luxuriously reclined in a beam of sunlight. My head came to rest on his lap.

“Bit hot and bothered there, ma chouette?”

“You don’t know the half of it, Siz.”His grey eyes glittered in amusement, tongue darting foxishly over one prominent canine. “You try keeping time with you lot and see how you feel by the end of it.”

“Ouch.” He raised a ringed hand to his heart.

Sirius was attractive, everyone could agree on that much. From the untamed wreath of curly hair, muscled forearms already tan though summer had barely begun, to the stompy black biker boots, everything about him attracted groupies like flies. That’s not to mention his slightly sleazy sense of humour and ticklish charisma that had most girls hanging off his every word. He was like dark chocolate to me; something rich and decadent, something that I was sure I couldn’t resist if it presented itself. Yet, even with his jeans rough against my cheek, my gaze strayed back to Remus (who seemed adamant to look at anything but me) and I knew I had a taste for something sweeter.

“Well, I for one, am glad I’m not a drummer.” Peter simpered, his beady eyes flickering to my bare legs. “I don’t know how you manage it, Quills.”

“With great difficulty.”

I fought to keep the tension out of my voice. I always hated the way my feathery nickname sounded in his mouth. For that matter, I had always hated Pettigrew himself, even before second year when I caught him lying that he had met John Lennon on holiday in Poole. I decided soon after meeting him that he was like a rat- annoying and cowardly, but ultimately too harmless to justify having an open dislike for- so it was greatly amusing to me when our Animagus forms revealed themselves. I was an owl, so there was a certain murderous instinct that took over me when I saw him scurrying through the long grass. But alas, James and Sirius enjoyed him sucking up to them, so I was forbidden from eating him.

“Well, it’s greatly appreciated.” His plump cheeks dimpled as he smiled.

“Thanks, Peter.” I managed a sweet smile, then sighed dramatically. “At least someone appreciates me.”

It’s a shame it’s him and not Remus. I thought glumly. He had gone back to messing with his bass. It was a beat up old thing that had clearly gone through a serious thrashing some time in the 60s. There were deep scratches in the blue glittery finish and the edges of the body were scarred from smacking into things.

I will never forget the day I found it. All through fourth year, the boys and I had been dreaming of forming a band, and that summer I had been wandering through the muggle end of Manchester when I came upon it at a car-boot sale. It shone out like a diamond amongst the kitsch, and I knew instantly that it was meant for Remus. When school started in the autumn, I had Lily paint bubbly white flowers over the worst of the damage. He cried when I gave it to him. It was a bit of a shock, watching him go quiet and tense, like he was swallowing a big pill. He managed a quiet ‘ thanks,’ and bolted to his dorm room. It was late when he came back, all puffy eyes and sheepish smiles, and hugged me tight to his chest. ‘You’re the best, Ferne,’ came the shaky whisper against my ear. I’ll always remember that as the moment I started to realise I might be in love with Remus Lupin.

It was then that James came bursting back into the room, wiping his hands on his bell-bottoms. Marching straight to his guitar, he ran his still wet hand through his unruly hair, half-flattening it. He hoisted the instrument over his shoulder in a business-like way. To a casual observer he almost looked careless, but I could see an almost exaggerated level of care in his movements. It really was the Jaguar of guitars, I had to admit. Gloss black and curvy, James treated it like a fetish to some weird god, stroking it, polishing it, praying to it. He strummed a slightly off-key chord and set about tuning it.

“What are you all laying about for?” He spoke without lifting his eyes from the knobs.

“I’m just having a kip, Prongsy.” I mumbled, closing my eyes. I decided he deserved a wind up, he’d worked us to the bone after all.

“Go on, get up.” Though his voice was still mild, I could hear a testy edge.

“Don’t look at me.” Sirius added. “There happens to be a rare bird roosting in my lap.”

“Quills, let him up.”

“Oh but, Jaaaames!” I squirmed. “It’s too hot!”

“Oh, you poor thing. Somebody call St Mungo’s.”

“Dick.” I huffed, eyes still stubbornly shut. “C’mon, we’ve been at it all morning. Can’t we just pick it up again tomorrow?”

“We’ve been at it all morning and we still haven’t ran through the big finisher.”

“But-”

“JUST GET UP!”

My eyes snapped open and jolt of unexplained terror shot through me at the sudden shout, like the snap of a firework. Though my eyes met instantly with the culprit, it took me a moment to comprehend that it was Remus glaring daggers back at me. He had never snapped at me like that in all the years I had known him. Sure, he had gotten short with me around the full moon, but there had never been such venom in his voice. I took a set my jaw and shoved myself up, trying to mask the hurt. Some of it must have shown on my face, as he dropped his viscous stare and pretended to adjust his peddles. I stalked past him and slumped onto my stool, glaring into his face as I passed, though he refused to raise his eyes from the floor.

Sirius cleared his throat. “Your time of the month, is it, Moony?”

Peter gave a weak chuckle, his eyes darting frantically between the three of us. James seemed to be calculating something. He passed me a questioning look and I shrugged like flicking a fly off my shoulder. Remus spoke up, his voice tense and measured.

“Let’s run through the closer.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth, Moony dear.” James snickered at his own joke, the tension clearly forgotten to him. “I want to start with the spoken word bit, but if you guys are-”

“No, it’s fine.” It was my turn to speak up, a challenge in my tone. “We’ll do it, won’t we, Moony?”

Finally, his startled eyes met with mine. It was not a nickname I used often. He was always Remus or Rem to me, Remmie if we were alone. ‘Moony’ was a tired joke. Knowing he was properly in the doghouse, he looked away and muttered.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

“Right.” James clapped once. “Everyone up then.”

With a groan, Sirius hauled himself to his feet and saluted.

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Peter settled himself behind the keyboard and Remus stood by, his shoulder facing me. It pissed me off.

“On a hot summer night,” He recited monotonously. “Would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?”

“Yes.” I spat.

Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs call burst into fits of snickers. Even Remus seemed to be suppressing a smirk.

“What?” I demanded hotly, looking to James for answers.

It was Sirius who spoke up. “The line, my dear, is, ‘will he offer me his mouth?’”

I flushed, sat back and folded my arms, trying to look unperturbed. “Well, how am I supposed to remember if he’s not even looking at me, mm?”

“He is fucking incredible to look at, isn’t he?” Sirius said, fanning himself.

“Mm, yes.” James agreed as Remus turned his back on them. “Check out his arse!”

“Shut up, you animals.” Remus tossed over his shoulder. The fire in his eyes had dampened some, and I felt that familiar squeeze in my stomach as he looked straight into my eyes. “Better?”

I nodded tersely. He nodded back. My owl eyes honed in on the sunlight reflecting in the sweat sheen gathered on his lip. He sighed.

“On a hot summer night, would you-”

“Can we get some emotion in that, please?”

“What kind of emotion, Prongs?”

“Lust, ideally.” James threw a smirk my way. “I mean, I know that might be a challenge, but…”

That one stung. I had always known I wasn’t much of a looker, and James had a nasty fascination with riling me up, but I never expected him to insult my looks. It was a low blow, even for him, but I grit my teeth and prepared to laugh it off. I figured I should be a good sport, what with tensions already running high. What I wasn’t preparing for was Remus rounding on him, his voice disarmingly pleasant.

“What did you just say about her?” He was almost smiling.

James chuffed out a placating sort of laugh. “I just meant that you’ve been friends for so long, it must be a bit weird-”

“You’re the one making us do this, James.” I sighed, suddenly weary. It was true, James had dogged us into doing the stupid dialogue as some public demonstration of our inside joke. “I know you think it’s funny that Rem’s a werewolf and we’re the only ones who know, but it’s a bit of an antique fucking joke by now, isn’t it?”

James puffed out his cheeks, looked at Remus and scoffed. “You don’t mind, do you, Moony?”

Remus ran a hand through his hair and looked into the middle distance as though he had just been asked for the meaning of life.

“Sometimes,” He rasped. “It feels like the only way to survive a disease like this is to make a joke out of it.”

Sirius gave a low whistle to break the silence.

“We’ll do the intro, but I need a break.” He swung the bass off his shoulders and grabbed his satchel instead.

“The gig is in three days!” James begged.

“And we have a transfiguration exam tomorrow. It’s boiling hot in here and I need to revise. Coming, Ferne?”

It took me by surprise that he wanted to be around me at all, but I stuck my drumsticks in my pocket and got up to follow.

“Guys, c’mon!” James whined. “Padfoot-”

“Not a chance, mate.” Sirius gave a mighty stretch and grabbed his enormous leather jacket. “Have you seen how nice it is outside?”

Remus’s hand, gentle as ever, took me by the elbow and guided me into the hall., but as soon as it was there, it was gone. He walked so briskly that I almost needed to jog to keep up. Silence hung thickly between us as we wound our way through stairwells and passages until we surfaced at last near the greenhouses. The warm breeze passing over us blew away the tension in my shoulders.

“Why are we running?” I panted.

“We’re not,” He took me by the wrist and yanked me into the nearest greenhouse, ducking down below the planters. “But he is.”

As I peered over the steaming tops of some Puffing Peonies, I saw Wormtail come bustling out of the entrance we had just emerged from. He was doubled over and heaving breaths, glancing about in confusion. He turned around a few times, then his shoulders slumped, and he ambled off somewhere to do whatever rats do when the owls aren’t watching. I couldn’t help but giggle as I turned to Remus.

“Why are we hiding from him?”

He exhaled sharply, a hint of disapproval in his easy smile. “Because if Peter came along, you’d find some reason to run off.”

I huffed, frustrated to be read so easily.

“And,” He added more softly. “We haven’t hung out just to two of us in forever.”

He looked away, pink creeping up his neck, and fiddled with a frayed string on his jeans.

“I don’t know what to make of you today.”

“I’m sorry.” He said instantly. “I just… I shouldn’t take it out on you, should I?”

“What’s wrong, Rem? You can tell me.”

“I’m alright.” Clearly he noticed my sceptical expression. “I’ll tell you later, yeah?”

I considered it for a moment, then nodded. The crease on his brow faded and he looked a little more like his old self again. He stood up, his head nearly brushing the planters that hung from the ceiling, and groaned softly, stretching out his leg

“Have you done your hip?” I said as I got to my feet.

“No.” He winced.

“Are you sure? Have you got your cane?”

“No.”

“Do you need me to-”

“Don’t need it.” He insisted, limping toward the far entrance and dodging the vines and low hanging flowers.

I knew I couldn’t argue with him, so I put a supporting arm around his waist and walked with him.

“You don’t need to do that.”

He only said it once, more as a formality than anything, and didn’t make me let him go until we had ambled all the way down the lawn to the shore of the black lake. We spent the rest of our afternoon in the wood grove, nestled in the mossy roots of the oak tree that we called our own. We were smoking reefer that I’d won from a Hufflepuff seventh-year in a game of gobstones, neither of us saying much. I was mostly content in the quiet, though there were times when the light caught just right and revealed the auburn undertone in his hair, and I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake. Why are you upset with me? Why don’t you love me?

His left hand was in my lap. I had asked to borrow it for some advanced palmistry revision, but I had long ago put down the book and took to idly tracing the scars that scored across his palm and wrist. I always loved his hands. They were long and rawboned, with nails bitten short and shiny callouses on his bass playing fingers, unadorned except for a braided leather bracelet.

His right hand was occupied with a flat stone that he had charmed to return to him when he skipped it across the lake. He sent it flying again with a jerk of his wrist.

“You and Sirius have gotten rather close.”

My finger froze in the middle of tracing a figure-eight. “Have we?”

“Don’t be coy, Ferney.” There was a sullen note in his voice.

I looked at him. He caught the stone as it came flying back and turned to me, his expression unreadable.

“Well, so what?” I bluffed. “Would that be so terrible?”

Face reddening, and took his hand back from my possession, rubbing it harshly over the stubble on his cheek. “Really, I thought you’d be a bit smarter than that.”

I gasped silently, feeling my heartbeat quicken.

“Oh, go on then, this ought to be good.”

He scoffed, launching the rock toward the lake. It clipped the surface at the wrong angle and plonked into the depths. He grit his teeth to keep from cursing.

“Well, for starters, you know what he’s like. Or do you need reminding that he’s put the moves on half the school old enough to take the OWLs? That’s girls and boys, Ferne.”

“Oh, big bad Sirius is gonna hurt me, is he? You’re not my father, Remus.”

He frowned, eyes flashing with wolfish defiance. “I’m not trying to be.”

“Well, you’re acting like it, aren’t you?”

He set his jaw and looked away. Finding no stone in his hand, he picked up a waterlogged stick and flicked it into the lake. The green water sloshed and rippled.

“Anyway, think about the rest of us, would you?” He glowered at the sun glare passing ripples across the black mirror surface. “If you fool around with Padfoot and wind up getting hurt, what are we supposed to do? Go between you like you’re our divorced parents?”

“It wouldn’t happen.” I realised something from this stupid hypothetical that opened a chasm of sadness inside me. “You’d all go with him, anyway.”

“I wouldn’t.” He said instantly, and I saw that his eyes were red, maybe from the reefer, but I could have sworn he was crying.

“Oh, Rem.” I whispered, understanding washing over me. “You’ll always be my best mate, you know that don’t you? Padfoot’s too. Even if there was something going on between us, we’d always love you the best.”

“There isn’t something going on?” I caught relief in the mix of emotions on his face.

“No.” It was embarrassing to admit.

“W-well what was that all about?”

“Nothing.” I flushed. “I guess I just wanted to suss you out.”

He rolled his eyes and muttered, “suss me out? Did you discover anything?”

I hesitated. “You… you love him, don’t you?”

“Who? Sirius?!”

“Remus!” He snickered. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” He sighed. “You never got it.”

“It was a good guess! Easier to believe than the alternative.”

“And what’s that?”

“That you’re in love with me.” I tried not to make it obvious that I was dying inside. “Likely story, huh?”

“Love,” He folded up his long legs and drew me into a hug. “You’re so harsh on yourself.”

“No, m’not.” I mumbled, burying my face in his orange checkered shirt. My high reached a new peak with the faint scent of cigarettes filling my nose, but there was an aching sorrow still bothering me.

“Ferne.” He drew back and looked over me with a probing stare. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, of course.” Maybe I said it a little too quickly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He pursed his lips, fire flashing in his eyes. “This is about Prongs, isn’t it?

“Wh-what about him?” I bit my lip.

“He’s an absolute prick.” He spat. “Don’t listen to a word he says. If it wasn’t for poor Evans I’d say he wouldn’t know beauty if it bit him on the arse.”

“It's okay.” I amended, the urge to smooth things over too strong to overcome. “He didn’t mean it.”

“Course he didn’t, but he never thinks about what he’s doing. He just says whatever he wants for his own amusement.” He tilted his head back with an irritated sigh. “Sometimes I wonder if he even gets that other people have feelings.”

“He’s not that bad. Besides, it’s not like he could say anything that I haven’t already thought of.”

“Ferney.” H’s voice was rather stern. “You don’t think you’re ugly, do you?”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t?”

“...well, maybe a little bit, but…”

He took a handful of my fringe and pushed it back from my face with his enormous palm.

“Aw, Rem!” I whined, frantically pawing my hair back into place.

“You’re beautiful.” He poked my cheek. “Say it for me?”

“No!”

“Please?” He broke out his puppy-dog eyes and my will melted away like dew.

“I’m beautiful.”

I barely whispered it, but it satisfied him and he planted a kiss on my forehead that tickled where his downy moustache touched me. His hand ran down my back and for one exhillerating moment I thought he was going to grab my arse, but instead he stole the drumstick out of my back pocket and brandished it, grinning. He tossed it up, and with a flick of his wand, it transfigured mid-air into a single red rose. He sniffed it, raised his eyebrows comically, and tapped it to my nose. It smelled like the real thing.

“Aw, Rem. I’m down a drumstick.” I giggled.

He rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like ‘ungrateful.’

“It’s beautiful. What’s it for?”

“To say sorry for being a jealous old bastard.”

I swallowed the rising lump in my throat and collapsed back into his arms. He hummed lowly and drew me tightly to him. On paper, it should be fine. We had gotten over the hurdle, the status quo was restored. We could go on being best friends, go on holding eachother until the world caved in. But. I still felt the thing unspoken like a third person in the embrace, cold and invasive.

“You’re still not right, are you?” His low voice rumbled through me, his chin resting on my head.

“No.” I whispered, voice cracking. “I’ve got to tell you something.”

I felt him tense against me. I drew back and saw him flush-faced and glassy-eyed, hair all a mess.

“I…”

He gave me an encouraging raise of his eyebrows, though his eyes seemed to be screaming don’t tell me! I swallowed, my dry throat grating against itself. I owed it to myself to say it, even if what I hoped for would slip away. Even if it tore the Marauders apart.

“I really like you, Rem. I don’t know for sure, but I… I think I might be in love with you.”

Shock was the first thing I saw on his face. The widening of his wood grain eyes, the parting of his eternally chapped lips. I could see the cogs turning in those silent seconds that passed. Faint in the distance, the three o’clock bell tolled in the high tower.

“Really?”

I nodded. He nodded back, his gaze darting between my eyes, searching for something. If he found it, I don’t know, but a decision seemed to tick over in his expression. His eyelids drooped, chin tilted, and his Lanky accent was thick when he spoke.

“On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?”

“Wh-what?”

He took a shuddering breath, cheeks redder than I had ever seen them, and smirked. For a moment he almost looked like Sirius.

“On a hot... summer... night..." He took my trembling hand and kissed my knuckles with each word. “Would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?”

My eyes trailed down to his lips, where his breath came in shallow pants. I wanted him, and for the first time ever I was certain that he wanted me. The absurdity of the ritual melted away.

“Will he offer me his mouth?” My voice was barely a whisper.

“Yes.” He breathed, leaning in to kiss just above my brow.

“Will he offer me his teeth?”

“Yes.” My mind melted into static as he grazed his lips over my cheek. Oh Merlin, is this really happening?

“Will he offer me his jaws?” My chin tilted up reflexively, yeilding my jaw to his touch, but it was the tip of my nose that he kissed.

“Yes.”

“Will he offer me his hunger?” At last, his open lips met my jaw, stamping kisses down the length of my neck.

“Yes.” His voice was muffled on my skin.

“Again,” I gasped. “Will he offer me his hunger?”

“And will he starve without me?” I buried my fingers in the thick mop of his hair.

“Yes.” He latched onto a soft place just above my collarbone, a delicious ache resonating with the rhythm of his lips.

“Yes.” It was a desperate, craving syllable.

The hypnotising draw of his mouth trailing kisses up to my ear left my inhibitions powerless, but there was still part of me screaming ‘don’t say it!’

“And does he love me?”

The golden question. My breath caught in my throat as he lingered against the conch shell of my ear.

“Yes.” It came with a warm sigh of breath that buzzed through my brain.

Eyes hanging half shut and swimming with desires long suppressed, he trailed his nose along my cheek, then nudged it against my own.

“On a hot…” My hand cupped his jaw. “...summer night…” My fingers worked circles in his hair. “…would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?”

“Yes.” Our lips were so close that we breathed the same air, but I still felt the heat of his words as he passed them into my mouth.

“I bet you say that to all the boys.”

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