#SIRIUS RETURNS FROM THE VEIL TO FIND OUT THAT REMUS FUCKED A WOMAN AND HAD A BABY AFTER HE DIED

[impishtubist]

sunday snippet

“Padfoot!” Teddy comes running over to him, dragging a young blonde girl by the hand. “This is Victoire. She’s my best friend. Victoire, this is my Padfoot.” 

This must be Bill and Fleur’s daughter, then. Sirius takes her hand and bends over it, swallowing the lump in his throat at being called Teddy’s Padfoot. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Weasley.” 

Victoire blushes violently as he kisses the back of her hand. The two children then scamper away, and someone claps Sirius on the back. 

“She’s never going to shut up about you, now,” Bill says.

“Teddy doesn’t, either,” Harry says, trying to sound put-upon and failing. “Sirius is everyone’s favorite.”

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Hey, can you write a story in which James is protective of Sirius and gets angry whenever someone speaks ill of him (maybe accusing him of being just another Black or a Death Eater) so when he and Sirius come back after the Veil (because they do come back), James is appalled to discover Sirius is considered a bad guy and is so upset and founds the Sirius Black Defense Squad? :) please and thanks!!

"You sure you're not a Death Eater?" the other auror said, voice low and quiet like he knew exactly how cruel he was being and didn't care in the slightest. "Like your dear brother? Well... ex-brother?"

Sirius didn't bother grabbing his wand, he just pulled his arm back and plowed his fist into the other man's face.

Right about the moment he was hitting the ground, James rounded the corner, carrying two mugs of tea with a pile of paperwork tucked under his arm. "Er." He looked up, saw the hurt and infuriated look on Sirius's face and the way he was holding his hand oddly in front of him, and sighed. He walked over to their desks, nudging-- oh what was his name, McLaggen?-- with the toe of his shoe. "C'mon lad, off the floor some of us are trying to work."

"Your partner's bloody mad!" Probably-McLaggen said as he scrambled to his feet, hand coming up gingerly to his face which would bruise spectacularly if he didn't get it healed.

"He does look rather angry, doesn't he? I suggest you leave before I decide to join him in that." James ignored what he actually meant by that phrase because this was earl grey in his hand, and he was having a craving. Getting worked up would only sour the taste, and McLaggen wasn't worth that.

"Here you go love, English Breakfast two sugars. I halved it because I don't want you bouncing around all night while I'm trying to sleep."

People stared for a minute as Sirius took the tea with a mild grimace before they tottered off, clearly getting the hint that nothing further was going to happen. Probably-McLaggen had to be dragged away by his friends so he didn't try to restart anything. James really wished people would stop pushing him like this. He was going to bloody snap one day, and Merlin help whoever was on the receiving end of it.

*

Being brought back to life was just weird. Honestly. People asked James if he felt any different, and he didn't. They asked Sirius the same and got-- you guessed it-- the exact same answer. They felt normal. Not tired, not too energized, they didn't think they were missing any memories, and overall they felt absolutely normal. Unfortunately that answer was unsatisfactory to the Medi-witches, and they were trapped in solitary. Which would have been fine except James did want to see Harry and Remus again, and he would rather have liked to acquaint himself with Moony's kid. Moony had a kid! The future was wild, but here he was, stuck in hospital instead of exploring it.

In an attempt to sedate James and Sirius's escapist tendencies, they brought the Prophet to them every day. "Ah," James said, delighted, "we made the front page." Except... he frowned. The headline stated Hero James Potter returned from the dead! and there was a picture of him from the first war, but Sirius was nowhere to be found. He lifted the paper and looked under it, like somehow the second half of the headline and main picture had been separated and was waiting for him to find it; it wasn't. Well that couldn't be right.

He read the article, which said a lot considering that their return was confidential and even the people who knew what had happened didn't really know what had happened. And there, like an aside hidden in the middle of an essay, was news of Sirius's return. Sirius Black-- heir apparent for the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black-- also returned from the dead in a manner similar to J. Potter. Black is a suspected Death Eater from the first war, though no official charges were ever pressed. Ex-fucking-cuse him? 'Suspected Death Eater'??? What the bloody fucking hell was that shite! When he pointed it out to Sirius, expecting similar outrage, Sirius just shrugged. "What?"

"C'mon James, I told you I was arrested for blowing up those Muggles. Pettigrew being alive apparently didn't change matters all that much."

James stared at him, dumbfounded. "Please tell me you're joking," he said faintly.

Sirius shrugged again.

James threw the newspaper at him, glad that that, at least, got a reaction out of him. "What is wrong with you? People think you're a murderer, doesn't that bother you?"

He sighed. "James. They've thought that for nearly twenty years now, and I'm too old to try and change their minds. I'm not in Azkaban, and that's all I care about."

James glared, then crawled out of his bed and into Sirius's, aggressively cuddling him. If it was the last thing James did, he was going to hunt down every single person that made Sirius so dispassionate with himself, and he was going to wack them over the head with a mop until their opinion changed. Because thinking that Sirius wasn't the best person on the entire planet? That was bad enough, but to actively dislike him? Heresy.

Sirius chuckled and wrapped his arms around James. He thought he was overreacting a bit, but he wasn't going to turn down some cuddles.

Later that day, they were reluctantly told that they could leave the following day. The Sirius Issue wasn't gone from his mind, but for the moment it wasn't absorbing his every thought.

*

Remus and Harry were waiting for them when they were released from St. Mungo's. Sirius wrapped Harry up in a tight hug, and James decided to give them a moment of relative privacy by turning to the baby in Remus's arms. "Oh well aren't you just the second cutest thing in the world," he said wondrously when Teddy blinked at him.

"Second cutest?" Remus repeated in amusement.

"Well I have to be honest don't I? Don't I?" James said in a baby voice, grinning as Teddy responded in baby babble.

"Sirius your partner is insulting my baby."

"I am not. Am I?" James said, still using the baby voice. "No I'm not."

"Sure you're not," Remus said drily. "Harry's his godfather by the way. Not sure I got to tell you that."

James straightened up from where he'd been hunched over to be on eye level with Teddy. "Really? Aww they grow up so fast. Mostly because I was dead for your entire life," he said in an aside to Harry, who had finally stopped hugging Sirius. "But I do remember how quickly you grew as a sprog. I swear, between one day and the next you went from babbling to running around the house."

"Speech and movement aren't that conn--"

"Oh shut it Moony I'm having a moment."

"Not a very good one," Harry joked.

James gasped theatrically, putting an arm around Sirius's shoulders when he went back to standing beside him. "Do you hear this treachery? From our very own son?"

Harry's face flashed with confusion, but Teddy let out a loud wail that reminded Remus they should head back to continue talking. James agreed easily, though he wasn't quite sure where they were heading back to.

Remus went ahead and apparated with Teddy since the floo could be a little dodgy with a newborn, and Harry led them to the fireplaces, telling them to go to 'the Burrow'. Sirius seemed uncomfortable with the idea, but James didn't have a chance to ask him about it before they were stepping into the green flames and swirling away.

When he materialized, it was to the image of a middle-aged red-headed woman fussing over Harry, oblivious to his discomfort. She ushered him off to the kitchen, then turned to James with a neutral smile. "You must be Mrs. Weasley," he said with an equally polite smile. He didn't know anything about her other than she was Harry's friend's mother, and she had eight kids or summat.

"I am dear." She stepped forward to shake his hand, and James tried not to let his smile wince at the endearment. She didn't mean anything by it, he knew, but he'd always felt that endearments were earned, not given away like mints. "You're free to stay here for as long as you like so you and Harry can become acquainted. I'm afraid it's a touch crowded for beds, but we'll find a space for you."

The words were nice, the offer genuine, but something about it struck James as off. He realised what it was a moment later: Remus wasn't staying here, and he'd explicitly said that Sirius could stay with him. And if Sirius was staying with Remus, then James was staying with Remus, and James was now confused as to why she thought James didn't have a place to stay since Remus had obviously been around in the past few days to be with Harry. "Ah, er- thanks for the offer, but we'll be fine at Remus's."

"Did Harry say he was going with you?" she asked with a confused tilt of her head, like plans had been made without her knowledge.

"No," James responded, equally confused. "I thought Harry was staying here with his friends." He looked to Sirius to see if he knew what was going on any better.

"He is," Sirius confirmed. "Ron and Hermione," he added in a lower voice, and James nodded. There were too many new people, and he wasn't remembering any of them except Teddy. But Teddy was a baby and hardly counted.

"Oh, well if everything's in order, why don't we get a bite to eat? You do look a bit peckish dear," she said, looking over James like she thought he could stand to gain a pound or ten.

Rude, he thought uncharitably. This was the perfect size for holding Sirius and fitting both of them on any given horizontal surface. If he gained weight without warning, who knew what would happen to impromptu cuddle sessions? He shuddered internally as they followed Mrs. Weasley to the kitchen; it didn't bear to think about.

There was a long dining table taking up the entire room, which was abnormally large to accommodate the ludicrously long table. The table was laden with food, and most of the seats were already filled. Half were Weasley's, but the other half looked to be friends of both the children and the family. The young, dark skinned woman talking to Harry was surely Hermione, and it appeared that she, Harry, and half the Weasley children were having a discussion about Quidditch.

Remus took the empty seat at the end, strapping Teddy into the highchair next to him before he plated up some food for both of them. The seats next to him were open, and Sirius and James took them. It was like a small version of meals at Hogwarts. It was strange to be around people that looked the same age as him, but he was born a decade or two before. Hell, he and Harry were only a few years apart, physically speaking.

James poked dubiously at the food on his plate. It's not that it looked bad-- quite the contrary, it looked delicious-- but he couldn't help his trepidation. Normally he would have wolfed it down, but Sirius was only nibbling. The two of them had similar tastebuds, and it stood to reason that if Sirius didn't like it, then James wouldn't either.

"Mister Potter?"

Sirius had to nudge his leg before he realised they were talking to him. "Hm?" he said, looking up from the questionably good food.

"What do you think?"

"I wasn't paying attention," he admitted with a grin. "What's the question?"

"Is the seeker the single most important player in Quidditch?"

James rolled his eyes. "It's called a team sport for a reason. There's no such thing as 'single most important player'. One person buggers up, you all suffer."

"Language," Mrs. Weasley said, and it didn't seem like she was joking.

James glanced at Sirius in a 'are you kidding' way, and he made a face that said 'no, she is completely serious'. "We've all fought in a war-- or two," he added with a nod at Remus who was busy making a face at Teddy in an attempt to get him to eat what was currently on the fork in front of his mouth, "and we've probably all killed people. Are you really gonna get upset about a stray curse?"

"I just don't think it's nice to say in polite company," she said, a touch primly, and James had to stop himself from saying 'what the fuck' aloud.

"Riiiight," is what he said instead. "Anyways, Quidditch is a team sport, and trying to break it into pieces like that doesn't even make sense to the sport."

"You were Quidditch Captain in your day weren't you?" Hermione asked, and James nodded. "I don't think Harry mentioned, but he was in our year. When we were still going, that is."

"Nice." James held up his hand for a high five, and Harry paused for only a second before slapping it.

"I'd meant to pursue it as a career, but then the war happened and then I died, so." He shrugged.

"Do you really think it best to bring that up?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Bring what up?" James asked. Honestly, every time she said something he was plunged into a state of confusion that never resolved, only dissipated over time while something else distracted him.

"Your... absence," she said delicately.

"It's kinda hard to miss. Or do I actually look the forty years I'm supposed to be? Me and Sirius used to look good together, now I just come across as a cheap sugar baby."

Sirius snorted, and Remus sighed in a way that meant he was amused but he wasn't going to admit it. "Be glad for your youth, sweetheart. You could probably play professionally now," he mused. "Once they get rid of your death certificate or whatever rot they're planning on doing to declare you alive again, you'd be able to audition."

"I haven't so much as looked at a broom since I got back, I might not even be good anymore." Sirius rolled his eyes at that because come on, and James amended, "I'm sure a lot has changed in the past twenty years for the League. I can't show up with no knowledge and no recent practice." He frowned as something occurred to him. "What're you planning on doing? Cause pros travel, and I'm not sure I want to try and live without you for weeks at a time."

"I could travel with you, it's not like I've got anything else going on for me. Besides, then I'll be the trophy spouse and people won't have as much cause to complain."

"Sirius," Mrs. Weasley's voice cut in, and James was really about to get annoyed with this.

"What," James said, a touch shortly as he turned from their conversation.

"You shouldn't joke about such things," she said, eyes darting to the children, but fuck if James or Sirius knew what she was trying to convey.

"I wasn't joking?" Sirius said, utterly confused.

She heaved a put upon sigh, and Remus cut in just as she was opening her mouth. He very carefully wasn't looking at anyone but Teddy as he talked in a mild tone, "Molly I suggest you think about whatever it is you want to say, taking into consideration how much you may or may not know about the two of them."

"Oh!" She looked away as a light blush covered her cheeks, and James's brow scrunched. What in Merlin's name was going on? She cleared her throat. "Well, erm. I think I should check on the biscuits!" she said before bustling out of the room.

"Do you know what's going on?" James asked, turning to face Sirius again.

"Not really."

"She didn't know the two of you were together," Remus supplied.

"How is that possible?" James asked.

"Well James, the last time you were alive was twenty years ago, and since then everyone decided that you and Lily were married-"

"What? How is that possible? We barely even talked!"

Remus shrugged. "You all got married on the same day. I guess pictures got mixed around, and there was no one left to say which wedding picture had the correct partners."

James shifted his glare to Sirius, hitting him upside the head with a flourish that dealt very little pain. "Why didn't you tell her? I thought you'd been seeing her on and off for three years?"

Sirius ran his fingers through his hair to get it back in order. "Well it's not like we got on, is it?"

"What? What do you mean you didn't get on? You're wonderful, everyone likes you."

"Most people disagree with you," Sirius pointed out, and he was wholly unprepared for the shock that gave James.

"Excuse me? You are the best thing to grace the face of this planet, and people don't recognise that?"

"James-" Sirius started to say, and James could spot the telltale splotches of pink on his cheeks that would turn into a full body blush if he didn't calm back down.

"You stay here, I need to plan." He bopped Sirius on top of the head and left for the sitting room before anyone could even think to stop him. He pulled out a wand-- not his wand because that was long since gone and he hadn't had a chance to replace it yet-- and started a list in front of him. He only had four bullets before Harry came into the room and sat beside him.

"Maybe badges?" Harry suggested, pointing at point two which said: Public but low key support sign??? James nodded thoughtfully, adding a dash and the word badges next to it.

James glanced at Harry. He didn't seem upset which, now that James thought about it, was a relief. "You're not upset?"

Harry shrugged. "Would've done a few years ago. Now I'm just glad you have each other. Professor McGonagall always said Sirius wasn't the same since you died. I thought she meant Azkaban at the time but."

James nodded, adding another bullet to the list.

"I won't have to see you kiss, will I?"

"Do you want me to lie?"

"Yes."

"Then no, you won't ever see a thing. We're practically strangers in public, and in private we stick to hand holding and nothing more."

Remus, who wandered in with Teddy a few moments ago, snorted. "That's possibly the biggest lie you've ever told, since the current winner of: 'of course I don't love him Moony we're just friends'."

"I was in denial, you berk."

Harry laughed when Remus flipped him a v and James returned it, sticking out his tongue. Remus settled into the sofa next to Harry and nodded at the list. "What about that charity he donated to?"

James snapped his fingers and added it to the list. "You're a genius Moons." He added a few more bullets before going to the top and titling it SBDS.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, tilting his head like the angle would reveal the secret to him.

"Sirius Black Defense Squad. I considered 'Sirius Black Lovers' but that sounded a little off."

"I'll say," Harry said. "You're the only 'lover' in here, and I don't want to be that closely related to you."

"Oh bugger off," James said fondly.

[remus-whoisleft]

hate like poison | remus & bellatrix | august 1997

Remus Lupin, of the four Marauders - only two now, not that he had the mental or emotional wherewithal these days to consider Peter - had seen better days. 

A cruel joke, that, considering how often that phrase had been used throughout his life to describe his state of being. But it never felt more true than now, finding himself staring down the dark should-be desolate depths of Knockturn Alley. The Ministry had fallen only a week before, he was very much a wanted man; in no small part due to the two Death Eaters he had killed at Fleur and Bill Weasley’s ambushed wedding, but he had done what he needed to do to ensure Harry, Hermione, and Ron’s safe escape.

That, and it was war. A war with a painfully long, lonesome gap between battles fought, but they were truly back in the thick of it now.

Had been for a a while. His breath hitched as his mind, as it was wont to do these days, flashed an image of a fluttering archway . Of a man falling through the Veil, one last brief moment of eye contact before Remus had lost everything, the split second he had to decide between chasing after Sirius or grabbing Harry around the middle and stopping him from doing the same. 

He’d chosen the latter. He wasn’t sure Harry forgave him yet. 

Remus let out a low, shaky sigh; banishing the thoughts, letting his back sink against the cooler bricks of the building he was lurking behind. It didn’t do him any good to think about Sirius, not right now. There was time for that in the in-between moments; at night alone or with a grieving Tonks sharing his bed for the comfort, in the early morning as he blinked at unmarked crosswords, the quiet alone hours where he fought back every disappointed, enraged, sick feeling in his stomach when he survived a fight, emerged unscathed from another near-suicide undercover mission. When he stared Fenrir Greyback in the eyes and had to swallow his taunts and fear in favor of gathering information he just, simply, wasn’t sure the Order could even use anymore.

It all seemed so helpless. Remus was tired, and he was angry. He had a baby on the fucking way. 

At least Harry was safe, and seemed to know what he had to do next. It was the only thing he could do to stay sane, the slight miserable hope that Dumbledore had left Harry with something - he certainly had left Remus with absolutely nothing, but he supposed he had worn out his use to the old man the minute he started fighting back.

Remus had already resolved to return to 12 Grimmauld Place within the week, once heat was off the trio after the escape from the wedding; he had to offer to help them, knew he could be of some other service besides tying to get hiself killed. He had to find a way to get himself out of the trap he’d dug himself into. Harry would understand, he had to.

Remus sighed again, trying to calm himself back to baseline: he was in enemy territory simply by virtue of being out in public, however shady Knockturn remained after the not-so-secret coup. He’d been sent to meet up with an informant, a longtime ally of the Order with news on a resistance front on the countryside. 

He had nothing to do but wait, quietly. The glamours he had cast on himself kept him more or less hidden as long as he stood perfectly still, but his eyes trailed after every dark cloaked figure sneaking past him nonetheless. The usual fare; grizzled sorts of people just looking for the ingredients for their potions that more reputable shops wouldn’t dare sell, a trip to Borgin and Burkes for any variety of oddities. 

Speaking of; he was staring at the known Death Eater hot spot - known, of course, because they hardly had much fear in being known at this point - when the door opened. Out walked a woman.

Remus’s breath caught. He had to physically force himself to not reach for his wand immediately, felt his heart race at a breakneck speed. Fear spread first but it was astonishing how quickly it was replaced with anger.

Bellatrix Lestrange herself had just sauntered into his line of sight.

She was making for a side-street. He couldn’t let her get away. Remus barely spared a half thought for the informant he was meeting; he pushed himself off the wall and followed her, hands - balled into tight, palm-bloodying fists - shoved into the deep pockets of his long coat. The few people in her way quickly ducked out of it, averting their eyes. He was still invisible, essentially.

Only one thing was on his mind now, and it tasted like revenge. He had watched her back Sirius onto that dais, listened to her delighted shrieks as Sirius disappeared, too far away for Remus to pull him back.

This was not smart, but what was life without a little risk?

“Hello, Bellatrix.” Remus said mildly, venom behind his tongue, as he stopped a few feet behind her; in the mouth of an alleyway, daring her to turn. “Lovely evening for a stroll.”

@bellatrix-whoisleft

[montpahrnah]

hp fic recs

sirius/remus, part iii

part i / part ii

The Survivor, by apolesen (145k)

1985. Four years after the death of his friends, Remus decides to break out of the pattern of his post-war life and try living among Muggles. In a sleepy town in southern England and the bustling city of London, he tries to build a new life for himself, piece by piece. The more he sees of the Muggle world, the more Remus wonders if that structure is as stable as he would like to think it is.

“The Survivor” is set in Thatcherite Britain, in the wake of the Falklands War and the onset of the British AIDS epidemic. It explores themes of disease, stigma, war trauma and grief, reflecting both on the historical context of the 1980s and Rowling’s characterisation of Remus Lupin.

Time, As a Symptom, by tigrrmilk (12k)

“Ah,” Remus had said, as dry as he could manage. “An aristocratic youth on his grand tour.”

Sirius knocked his arm. “Hey,” he said. “Grander than most, at least. You’ve got to give me that.”

Seven of them go to space. One stays there.

Light in August, by orestesfasting (21k)

Summer, 1977. With the full moon approaching, Sirius heads up to the Lupins’ countryside cottage to make himself useful. Or to make a complete and utter arse out of himself, because really, that’s all he can seem to do around Remus these days.

EXILE/RETURN, by zambla (5k)

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Orbital, by tevere, (3k)

The thing about orbiting is, see, that it’s not flying at all – it’s falling. It’s just that you’re going fast enough to match the curvature of the Earth: you’re falling round and round, and never getting any closer.

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A Late Frost, by kest (1k)

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A Short Discourse on Cruelty, by imochan (1k)

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A Short Discourse on Kindness, by imochan (1k)

Companion to A Short Discourse on Cruelty. Three verses.

The Rosary, by fluorescentgrey (31k)

On a Thursday in April 1943 Remus took the train from London to Birmingham, where a stately black car was waiting at the station to take him a short drive southwest to Hagley. In a wood on the estate of the Viscount Cobham of Hagley Hall four local boys hunting quail had found a woman’s skeleton in a wych elm tree.

These Young Lions, by enjambament (26k)

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The Weather Inside, by earlybloomingparenthesis (43k)

Sirius rides a flying motorbike, and snogs strangers in pubs, and strikes moody poses Remus finds irritatingly attractive. But for Remus, who drinks milky tea and wears flannel pyjamas, there’s a chasm cracked right down the fault line between wanting and doing.

How he wants, though. How he wants.

Longsdune, by imochan (3k)

He supposes that this is what is expected of him, to sit here and listen to wetness sinking into the earth and remember how it felt when it was sunny, and there were four of them, and Sirius Black looked at him like he was a piece of the universe he wanted to understand so badly that he was willing to take Remus apart completely and then put him back together.

Tesserae (the Missing Pieces Remix), by glass_icarus (3k)

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When We Were Gone Astray, by shaggydogstail (4k)

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it is our crooked aim, by misandrywitch (4k)

He’s been gone for three days, and he didn’t tell Sirius where he was going or how long he’d be gone. He has no idea where Sirius is, or when he’ll be back. That’s how it’s been for a while now. He makes himself tea and runs a bath and sits in the tub until the water is grey and chilly with sloughed-off dirt. Remus is twenty-one. He feels eighty.

This World Lies At The Bottom Of A Lake, by berhanes (7k)

Briefly he’d considered going to visit Remus, but Sirius has too many stacked up feelings about him to add any more, and he doesn’t trust himself not to ruin their carefully patched situation in the wake of the incident – it’s only been a year, after all, and there’s no better way to shatter a barely recovered friendship than by doing something stupid like throwing out a declaration of love in the middle of explaining the myriad ways in which your family is deranged and terrible. So instead Sirius had hailed the Knight Bus and requested Bowness-on-Windermere.

Postscript, by yeats (1k)

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What forgiveness might look like.

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“Where all my journies end / If you can make a promise / if it’s one that you can keep / I vow to come for you…”

bright ambassadors, by librae (1k)

(PWP, basically)

The Years to Come, by toyhto (3k)

Remus is watching him closely and trying to weight their love, trying to decide if it’s real enough or not, and he knows he would be doing the same if he didn’t already know. It’s real. It always was. They were complete idiots.

Escape for Another Day, by veeagainst (2k)

A life and death experience brings Sirius and Remus together.

four thousand two hundred and sixty, by Kel (2k)

I think the only reason I never lost my mind is that I knew I was innocent. That wasn’t a happy thought, so the dementors couldn’t suck it out of me.

– Sirius Black, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Atlantic Specimen, by ourmutualfriend (3k)

Opiate dream.

A Peripheral Vision, by carmine_ink (2k)

Set in Cambridge at the end of the century, Remus and Sirius struggle to exist in a society that refuses to accept them.

Hold On to Whatever You Find, by fallovermelikestars (10k)

“…he hadn’t planned to jump Sirius’ bones almost as soon as he walked through the door, had actually planned to fix him a square meal and then set about avoiding him for a few days – or forever – but he’d been marinating in whiskey for over an hour and Sirius had fucking smiled at him as he pushed the door closed behind him and that smile, it’s always been Remus’s undoing.”

Then I Would Come and Find You, by RuinsPlume (2k)

This is what saves them every time.

between towers, by tigrrmilk (8k)

Through the doorway at the end of the entrance hall, he could see a wide portion of the small quad ahead. Green and lush. It was early October, and the sun was shining, thank the lord. Or at least thank Merlin. It was Michaelmas. And Remus was taking up a place at Oxford to read English.

Argentum, by happiestwhen (1k)

Memories are only as permanent as you allow them to be.

Homeless Near a Thousand Homes, by lorax (3k)

“He went there because he wanted to remember, and he stayed because he had no other place to be.”

Our lives will run like / Sparks through the stubble, by zambla (13k)

1984. Remus J Lupin, post first wizarding war, is in Berlin. His father has just died. He goes back to his childhood homes, the places he passed through, and realizes that his memory is a map that is folded on itself.

Told in interwoven present and past times, concerning his relationship to his parents, himself, and the traitor, Sirius Black.

My homage to the film Blue (1993) by the great English filmmaker Derek Jarman.

Diamonds and Rust, by toyhto (6k)

“My heart would get broken,” he says roughly, “that’s why.“

Sirius draws his hand back. “I wonder how that feels.”

“I don’t.”

The Season of Love and Death, by mustntgetmy (2k)

A little love letter to autumn, Remus/Sirius style. From their first kisses at Hogwarts beneath the Forbidden Forest foliage, to sharing cups of cocoa in a London park near the end of the first war.

The Man Who Counts Waves, by Underlucius (1k)

If he stops counting he’ll remember who lives on the other side of that azure flood, and then he would walk into the sea and never return. So he counts the waves.

The Impossible Season, by coyotesuspect (21k)

Six months after falling through the Veil, Sirius comes back. As a seventeen-year-old.

Remus takes him in.

A Candle Put Out, by sopdetly (2k)

Now they hadn’t had sex in months, and Sirius knew he pulled away from Remus in his sleep, when they managed to sleep in bed together.

Lay Down, by taffetablue (1k)

After, they Apparate home, saturated with rain and blood, and the oily slide of dark magic skidding along Remus’s skin like unfamiliar hands.

Ghost of Winter, by earlybloomingparenthesis (3k)

Christmas is coming and the bite of winter is in the air, and way up north in the Highlands the mountains are big and bleak enough to hide even Azkaban’s most wanted from prying eyes. All Remus can imagine is being snowbound alone with Sirius. Unfortunately, there’s a ghost who has other plans.

Wandering, Gets You Down, by hiddendaze (5k)

AU premise: Remus is in Ravenclaw and doesn’t really know Peter, James and Sirius. Consequently, there is no Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.

a country mile, by sea_schtick (1k)

The summer after Harry’s third year, and Sirius refuses to be alone.

To Fill A Gap, by berhanes (8k)

Sirius’ face is caught in a rectangle of late afternoon sun and Remus wants suddenly to reach across the three feet and fourteen years between them and touch him where the light hits. He lets himself imagine that he could, that in a moment he’ll just lean forward and trace the curve between Sirius’ neck and his jaw with his fingertips without it feeling like penitence. A different version of himself would’ve already done it. But then, a different version of himself wouldn’t be here in the first place.

Any Other Night, by mustntgetmy (6k)

In 1977, Remus and Sirius set about trying to kill the moon, and years later, in Azkaban, Sirius reflects on this and on his damaged relationship with Remus.

Of Monsters, by llassah (8k)

Sirius always expected to go into the Black family business. Said family business just happens to involve kneecappings, murder, and the most powerful criminals in London. When Sirius decides to leave home at nineteen with a briefcase full of money and a few other essentials, he has no idea that he will end up sharing a dosshouse with a lunatic in a tweed jacket with the reading habits of an Oxford don and staggering intermittent anger issues. Sad thing is, it’s probably the safest place for him right now. Until it isn’t.

stir the flame anew, by blanketed_in_stars (5k)

It’s a light tawny who sits patiently while he reads. Moony—send something back if it’s a bad time. Otherwise I’ll be there at noon. Cheers, Padfoot. There’s nothing more, as if it were the last note in a conversation they’d already been having, but Remus can’t recall anything of the sort. He’d remember if they’d talked about this. He’d remember, he thinks, watching the owl drink the water which he absentmindedly offers her, if they’d talked at all.

Two winters after the war, Remus receives an owl, and, shortly thereafter, an unexpected houseguest.

Souvenir, by sopdetly (3k)

Remus returns from another mission; Sirius has missed him.

Concomitant, by peccadilloes (1k)

Remus comes home and into the kitchen that evening with a soft blue book, and he sets it on the table.

“Some hipster hippie witch in Venice gave it to me,” he says. “Makes them.”

Sirius picks up the book and in his hands it changes, grows large and slim and harder bound. He rubs his thumb over its waxed thread, and its cover pools with longing.

a lie low in Los Angeles, oneiromancy

We’ll Both Forget the Breeze, by happiestwhen (1k)

In winter, time seems to trickle down with the melting snow.