#c: remus

[allabbottme]

Anthony barked a laugh at Remus' dismay when he mentioned the Triwizard Tournament, it wasn't a challenge that Anthony was quite up to facing but he reckoned he would do quite well on a broom task. "Well, at least now if you ever had to fly from a dragon, you could. Albeit, the dragon might beat us both on speed." Anthony stated, quite amused by the topic. Back in his heyday, Anthony's cockiness probably would've convinced him that he could beat a dragon in speed but with his injury, the older man was quite aware that any attempt would be a death mission.

"I've never actually rode a bike," Anthony revealed, glancing back at Remus. It seemed somewhat odd to have been comfortable on a broom but not to ever have ventured into the popular muggle past-time. "But from what I hear, once you learn, you never look back."

Holding his place in the air for Remus to catch up and gain confidence, Anthony readjusted his hand on the broom. "Twice, and it's not pleasant." He pointed out, "one I deserved, and the other was a Quidditch incident in Hogwarts. But I'd prefer not to mention that right now. " Not wanting to spook Remus while he was doing so well.

"I'd be more than happy to teach you about reward systems. I have to do them for myself otherwise I would get nothing done." That wasn't necessarily true. Not anymore anyway. When they were in school Remus definitely needed to give himself something in return for doing something productive. It's not that he didn't want to do the work, it was finding the time. Between classes and busting everything up with his friends he didn't really seem to have much time to himself. Hence, reward system.

Remus let out a Ha! "Triwizard Tournament my arse! You'll never catch me there. Too many stories about people going missing and worse. No thank you," he said as he glided ever so slightly in the air. "But you're right. Trusty Steve has me. Doing good so far. But I've often wondered about that muggle phrase. Bicycles are hard to ride just like brooms are hard to fly. How can it be just like that," he snapped his fingers, "and you all of a sudden remember?"

Rising a little higher to catch up with Anthony, Remus stayed firm. He wanted to do this so badly that he wasn't going to let anything get in his way. It already felt amazing and he had barely gotten anywhere yet. "How many times have you gotten a drink with a black eye? Curious minds want to know," he laughed as he rode higher.

[ptpeter]

where: flourish & blotts who: @xremus-lupinx

Having a day off was rare, but he was fully taking advantage of it. Early lunch and visiting his mother, he'd then grabbed some supplies and had managed to clean his flat. It was a done day, except he thought it wise to visit a friend, they didn't have that much time to spare these days. He stopped by the shop and took a seat waiting for Remus to finish tending to a client, then smiling when he came over. "I know, I know, you're working. But I shall wait patiently and we can grab a beer later?"

[devirtute]

@accidentallymagic asked: 10 (Chester + Remus)

MEME: 𝚂𝙸𝚃𝚄𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻 𝙶𝙸𝙵 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂 STATUS: accepting

betting certain favors on physical games was always a hit or mess, but he hoped that it worked remus up enough where the winner didn't matter at the end. he knew that the quick game of tennis definitely got his own blood flowing. he jumped over the next and crossed over to the court until he could wrap his free arm around remus' waist. "hope no one's watching." he didn't care, but he still felt the need to say it. chester dropped his tennis racket and leaned forward to press his lips against the other's in a heated kiss.

[offtotheratraces]

who: @lvpvsnoctis

where: the entrance to the great hall

The Yule Ball was only beginning to kick off, Peter had left the Marauders house slightly earlier to get a few drinks in at the Hogs Head before heading to the main event. His suit was quite simple, charmed green for the evening purely to enjoy the festivities. Glancing around him, he felt severely underdressed as Ilvermony students arrived in suits with cascading diamonds and gowns with long trains that Peter was definitely going to trip over later in the evening.

Not seeking to walk in alone, and spend thirty minutes searching for a familiar face inside the busy great hall. Peter waited outside, leaning against a wall. Toying with a cigarette in between his thumb and index finger, Peter finally stood up straight upon the sight of Moony. Blowing a wolf-whistle as his mate passed, Peter grinned. "Merlin Moony, give the rest of us a chance, we can't all be as dashingly handsome as you."

[vicedmuses]

"so you're kicking people out of your bedroom for that vampire?" a wide smile formed on his face. if he could blush, he felt like he would have already. so he moved around on the bed so that he could position himself behind remus, hands on his ass spreading them. "didn't think i was a giver?" he spat on the witch's hole before moving forward, starting to press his tongue around the rimmed entrance.

"Maybe I used to. But I sent them all home after I had a magical evening with a vampire yesterday." A lazy smile spread across Remus' lips. Balancing on his knees, he slowly removed his shirt and pants for Zachary. "Fuck. Wasn't expecting that." He stole one last kiss before assuming the position on his hands and knees, back arched, and ass pointed in the air. "Go ahead, handsome. I'm all yours."

[orbch]

c!thomas centric art dump bc lowkey… underrated SaSi character… somehow…

[logosbot-tm-art]

Haven't drawn Thomas or the sides in a few years sooo

[dikdikpronouncedxylophone]

Sanders Sides as Ao3 pt. 80

[mkmarlene]

As he pointed out the bottle had emptied out, Marlene was glad for the opportunity to excuse herself momentarily as the conversation was increasingly turning into something all too close to discussing the truths she'd worked so relentlessly to keep buried. "I've got more, don't you fret, darling." She offered with a smile, leaving the room so she could grab a new bottle from the kitchen. A deep breath taken to ground herself before joining Remus back in the living room.

She listened to him talk, nodding her head slowly, a gesture that she was kindly paying attention to his words even as she poured herself a generous glass, filling his once more too. How wonderful it would be for the war to be over, but there was this thought at the back of her mind that wondered if anything would actually change when it did. Who would win? How much more would they have to lose? And would she feel any different then? She didn't think so, the war had already taken too much from her to ever be the same.

"As bad as it all is, it’s our reality. We have got to keep fighting or give up altogether, there’s no in between. And it’s despairing and painful, believe me I know.” The blonde let out a heavy sigh, one that said more than she could ever put into words. “I’m going to keep on fighting, alright? We’ve all got to.” If they wanted their friends alive, they couldn’t quite stop. Their own lives constantly at risk, she was willing to give hers up for any of them.

Remus gulped the last of his drink and went to pour more but there was only enough for half a glass. They had already gone through a whole bottle. Obviously times were rough. He shook the bottle. “We’re out. What are we going to do? Alcohol is needed for this conversion,” he let out a slight chuckle, the best he could anyway. He took a small sip of his drink to savor it.

“I’ve learned it’s best to let her be but I worry. I worry about all of us. Here we are putting our lives on the line everyday. I know it has to happen. I know we need boots on the ground but the outcome could be terrible. We have to win this war. It has to be fast and it has to be without casualties.” He inhaled then exhaled. “I wish it was that easy. I wish we could say ‘That’s it. It’s over,’” He pursed his lips. “We could all run away. Live on a commune, keep the rest of the world out,” he mused. “But then there’s the guilt of running.” He put his drink on the table and placed his hands on his face. “There are no right answers to this except to fight and fighting leads to death if not worse.”

He sat with his back on the couch feeling defeated. “I’m so sorry about your family, Marls. It shouldn’t have happened. But you survived for a reason and it wasn’t to die. You can protect without dying so stop saying that.”

[olliedollie1204]

taps mic. clears throat. remus being the embodiment of the thoughts and fantasies thomas considered "forbidden" means he was, at least for a while, the sole embodiment of thomas' queerness as something to be feared or ashamed of or disgusted by. before any of the other sides could accept this about themselves, before thomas could accept it about himself. remus is the source and the holder of thomas' most unwanted thoughts, which at one point (and while this is technically subtext it is like 1 inch away from being text) included thomas being gay. if we get any dialogue or confirmation of this in the series I will do 1000000 backflips break my neck and pass out on the floor

[ahqkas]

♯ PUPPY PRINCESS ; remus lupin

PAIRING! young!remus lupin x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! every gift of yours is something remus tends to cherish, especially your love for creating from nothing (based on this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 3.1k

WARNINGS / TAGS! pure fluff, remus is nothing but smitten and wrapped around your finger

NOTES! autumn’s coming and my obsession with the marauders is slowly defrosting ☹️ all the credits to the pretty devider below belong to @aqualogia !

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

I. A TANGLED WEB OF YARD AND ADORATION

THE LATE AFTERNOON SUNLIGHT FILTERED THROUGH THE TALL WINDOWS of the Gryffindor common room, casting a warm glow across the stone walls. You're sitting comfortably on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, with your hands working steadily, creating a rhythm with the yarn and crochet hook. The familiar motion of looping the yarn through the hook brought a sense of calm, a quiet joy that you've always found in crafting.

Remus Lupin sat nearby with a thick textbook in his lap, but the words kept getting tangled in his mind due to his lack of attention on the subject. He was supposed to be studying — there's a Transfiguration exam tomorrow that he really should be preparing for — but he couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from you. He watched the way your hands moved, the smooth, practiced motions that seem to come so naturally to you. There was something about it that fascinated him, though he couldn't quite put it into words.

"You're staring again," you say, glancing up and meeting his dark eyes with a small, knowing smile. Your tone is light, teasing. You're used to it now — how his attention drifts from his studies to you whenever you're engrossed in one of your hobbies.

Your boyfriend looked slightly embarrassed, flushed cheeks caught in the act, but he smiled back at you. "Sorry," he replied, though it didn't sound as sincere as it should. He wasn't sorry for admiring you and your skills. "I just . . . I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?" you asked, your hands never pausing in their work. The yarn slides smoothly through your fingers.

"Make it look so easy," he said, genuinely curious. "It's like you're weaving magic with your hands."

You gave him a soft chuckle at that, shaking your head as you finish off another row. "It's not that complicated, really. It's just practice. Anyone can learn if they have the patience."

The werewolf nodded thoughtfully, though he was not entirely convinced he could manage it. The heavy textbook was set down, the revision long forgotten. "What are you making this time?" he asked you, leaning forward slightly, his curiosity piqued which charmed a smile on your lips.

"A scarf," you answer, keeping your focus on the yarn as you hold up the length of your still unfinished work that's slowly but surely taking shape. The stitches were tight and even and the colour of the fabric shined in the fire of the fireplace. "Winter's coming soon, and I figured you could use something warm."

Remus' brows lifted in surprise, eyes flickering between your face and the scarf in making. "For me?"

"Of course," you said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I wanted to make something you'd actually use. Plus, it's a good excuse to work with this colour."

He couldn't help but linger at the scarf — a deep burgundy, the color of his tie, which reminded him of autumn leaves and Gryffindor pride. It was a shade he'd always liked, and the thought that you'd chosen it specifically with him in mind made him feel a quiet sense of gratitude. 

"Thank you," he said quietly now with sincerity lacing his every word. "I really appreciate it."

You looked up then, meeting his gaze with a smile, the kind of smile that made something warm unfurl in his chest. Something unspoken passed between the two of you — an understanding, a quiet connection that didn't need words to be felt. "I enjoy making things for people I care about," you replied. "And you can't go wrong with a good scarf."

There was a comfortable silence as you returned to your work, and Remus found himself drawn once again to the way your hands moved with such practiced grace. He'd always been fascinated by the kind of magic that doesn't come from a wand — the quiet, everyday magic that you brought to life with your hobbies. He watched as the yarn twisted and turned, forming something tangible and warm, something that wasn't there just moments before.

After a while, you glanced at him again, your eyes thoughtful. "You know," you started, voice casual but inviting, "if you ever want to learn, I could show you how to crochet. It's not as difficult as it looks."

Remus hesitated, caught off guard by the offer. He'd never thought of himself as particularly crafty — his talents have always leaned more towards theoretical things, like books and spells. But the idea of sitting with you, learning something new together, was oddly appealing. "I don't know if I'd be any good at it," he admitted, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. A part of him was terrified his hands weren't stable enough for such work as your own were.

But you just shrugged lightly, focus still on the scarf as it grew longer with each stitch. "It's not about being good at it," you exclaimed. "It's just . . . something calming to do with your hands. A way to focus your mind on something simple."

The werewolf considered this, watching the way your hands moved with a steady, comforting rhythm. There was a kind of peace in it, a meditative quality that he couldn't help but find appealing. "Maybe I'll give it a try," he said finally, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small smile. "If you promise not to laugh at me."

"I would never. I think you might surprise yourself."

The hours slipped by as the common room gradually emptied, students heading off to their dormitories as the evening wore on. The fire burned low in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the walls, but you and Remus remained where you were, content in each other's company. The scarf in your hands grew  longer with each passing moment, the yarn slowly transforming into something tangible, something with weight and warmth.

Eventually, you finished your work, holding up the completed scarf for Remus to see. The stitches were beautifully done, the pattern simple yet elegant, and the color — rich and deep — seemed to glow in the firelight. "What do you think?" you asked, a hint of pride in your voice at your boyfriend's speechless reaction.

Remus reached out, his fingers brushing over the soft fabric. It's perfect, he thinks, not just because of how it looked, but because of what it represented — your care, your thoughtfulness, the time and effort you put into making something just for him. "It's . . . perfect," he opened his heart to you, voice thick with emotion. "Thank you."

You gave him a sweet smile, pleased with his reaction. "I'm glad you like it."

II. THE ART OF CLAY

THE SOUND OF RAIN ECHOED SOFTLY AGAINST THE GLASS WINDOWS OF THE HOGWARTS GREENHOUSE, creating a gentle rhythm that blended with the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional drip of water from overhead plants. The air was thick with the earthy scent of wet soil and blooming herbs, an atmosphere so comforting to you that made the space feel like a world apart from the usual hustle and bustle of the castle. You were seated at a small worktable near the back, a lump of cool, gray clay before you, your hands already beginning to shape it into something more.

Remus Lupin stood quietly nearby, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed casually as he simply watched you. There was a sparkle in his gaze, the kind that comes from someone who finds fascination in the smallest details, in the quietest moments. His curiosity was piqued by the sight of you working with the clay, your hands moving with a practiced confidence that hints at countless hours spent honing your craft.

The room was otherwise empty, giving the two of you a rare moment of privacy amidst the bustling school and your friends who were constantly full of life (named James Potter and Marlene McKinnon). The greenhouse, usually a place for Herbology classes, had became your private studio, a place where you could indulge in your love for pottery — a hobby that was as grounding as it was creative.

"Do you ever get tired of making things?" Remus asked, breaking the comfortable silence. There was no hint of judgment in his tone, only genuine curiosity. He'd seen you immersed in various crafts before — crocheting, jewelry making — but each time, you seemed as passionate as ever.

You glanced up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Not really," you replied to his question, your hands still working the clay. "It's like . . . I don't know, a way to clear my mind. I like the idea of starting with something so simple, like a lump of clay, and turning it into something that wasn't there before."

Remus nodded thoughtfully, his eyes following the movement of your hands as they smoothed the surface of the clay. There was a certain grace in the way you worked, a rhythm that was almost hypnotic to him. "What are you making today?" he questioned again, this time moving closer to get a better look.

"A bowl," you explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Your fingers pressed gently into the clay, shaping the walls of the bowl with careful precision. "Something simple, but useful. I thought it might be nice to have one for our common room. We could use it to hold things — keys, cigarettes, chocolate frogs."

A charming smile appeared on his lips at that, the idea of something as ordinary as a bowl bringing a sense of homeliness to the often chaotic Gryffindor common room. "That sounds like a good idea," the praise left him naturally when it came to you, pulling up a stool to sit beside you. "Do you mind if I watch?"

"Not at all," you replied, glancing at him briefly before returning your focus to the clay. "But be warned, it's not as exciting as it looks."

Remus didn't agree. He'd always been intrigued by the way you found joy in creating things, in bringing something new into the world with your hands. As he watched, he noticed the subtle movements of your fingers, the way they coaxed the clay into shape, turning a shapeless lump into something with form and purpose. It was a process that seemed almost magical to him, though he knew it was nothing more than skill and practice.

The rain continued to patter against the windows, a soothing backdrop to the sound of your hands working the clay. Every so often, you dipped your fingers into a small bowl of water, smoothing out imperfections and keeping the clay pliable. Remus had never seen you look so beautiful; hands dirty, hair messy, and you clothed in one of his favorite sweaters.

"You make it look easy," he commented after a while, his voice low so as not to disturb your concentration.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "It's not always. There's a lot that can go wrong — air bubbles, cracks, the clay drying out too quickly. But that's part of the fun, I suppose. It keeps you on your toes."

He gave you a nod, understanding the appeal in a way.

After a while, you sat back slightly, examining your work with a critical eye. The bowl was nearly complete, its shape smooth and even, the walls sturdy yet delicate. "What do you think?" you asked, turning to Remus with a small smile.

He leaned in closer, studying the bowl with a thoughtful expression. "It's an excellent work," he said, his voice sincere. "You've really got a talent for this."

You blushed slightly at the compliment, but there was a pleased look in your eyes. "Thanks, love. I'm glad you think so."

III. CRAFTING CONNECTIONS THROUGH SILVER AND STONE

THE CASTLE WAS QUIET AS EVENING SETTLED OVER HOGWARTS, the usual loud of students giving way to a serene calm. The Gryffindor common room was dimly lit, with only the flickering fire casting warm shadows across the burgundy rugs and tapestries. You were seated at a small table by the window, a soft light of the moon illuminating your workspace, where an array of tiny tools, shimmering beads, and delicate chains lay spread out before you.

Remus Lupin sat nearby, his attention drawn to the intricate work you were doing. He had always been fascinated by your hobbies, each one opening a door to your soul. But there was something particularly mesmerizing about watching you make jewelry — something in the way you handled the delicate materials with such care, transforming them into beautiful, wearable art. Watching your smaller hands mend the delicate pieces stirred a feeling in his chest.

"Doesn't it get frustrating?" the werewolf asked, leaning forward slightly, his eyes following the careful movements of your fingers. "Working with such tiny pieces, I mean."

You smiled softly, not taking your eyes off the silver chain you were holding. "Sometimes," you admitted, carefully threading a small brown stone onto the chain. "But there's something satisfying about it too. It's like solving a puzzle, finding the right combination of stones and metals to make something that feels just right, y’know."

He nodded thoughtfully, his gaze shifting to the array of materials on the table. Tiny glass beads of various colors sparkled in the firelight, alongside small stones and bits of silver wire that would soon be part of some new creation of yours. "It's impressive," he said quietly, more to himself than to you. "How you can take something so small and turn it into something so . . . meaningful."

You glanced up at him, a pleased smile on your lips. "Thank you, Remus. I think that's what I love about it — how something so simple can become something special, something that can be important to someone."

He watched as you carefully threaded a few more stones onto the chain, your fingers moving with the kind of ease that came from years of practice. There was a kind of magic in it, he thought — a different kind from what they learned in class, but no less powerful. It was a magic that didn't come from wands or spells, but from the heart and soul, from the desire to create something beautiful and meaningful.

"What are you making now?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him as he leaned in a bit closer.

"A bracelet," you replied, holding up the nearly finished piece for him to see. It was simple yet elegant, made of fine silver links with small brown and black stones interspersed between them. The stones caught the light as you turned the bracelet in your hand, their colors shifting subtly in the firelight. "I thought it might make a nice gift for someone."

Remus took in the bracelet, admiring the craftsmanship, the way the silver and stones complemented each other perfectly. "It's beautiful," he said, a note of awe in his voice. "Who's it for?"

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes flicking up to meet his. There was a softness in your gaze, something almost shy. "I was thinking . . . maybe you'd like it," you said, your voice quiet, almost hesitant.

For a moment, Remus was taken aback, surprised by the offer. He hadn't expected you to be making it for him, but now that he knew, he felt a warmth spread through his chest, a feeling of gratitude and something more, something deeper. "For me?" he asked, his voice laced with surprise.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "I wanted to make something that would remind you of our time together," you said, a hint of nervousness in your tone. "Something you could keep with you."

Remus felt his heart swell with emotion, a mixture of surprise, gratitude, and something else — something tender and profound. He looked at the bracelet again, seeing not just the beauty of the piece, but the thought and care that had gone into it, the meaning behind every detail. "I . . . I don't know what to say," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "It's . . . it's perfect. Thank you."

You smiled, the tension easing from your posture as you saw the genuine appreciation in his eyes. "I'm glad you like it," you said, your voice soft. "It's not much, but I wanted to give you something special. Something that's from the heart."

Remus reached out, his larger fingers brushing against the cool silver links as you handed the bracelet to him. The metal was smooth under his fingertips, the stones cool and solid. He could feel the weight of it, not just the physical weight, but the emotional significance it carried. "It's more than just 'something,'" he said, his voice quiet but firm. "It means a lot to me. Really."

You watched as he carefully slipped the bracelet onto his wrist, the silver and stones catching the light as they settled into place. There was something incredibly intimate about the moment, the quiet exchange of a gift that held so much meaning. It was more than just a piece of jewelry to him.

As Remus fastened the clasp, he looked at you with deep, unspoken gratitude in his eyes. The bracelet fit perfectly, resting comfortably against his skin, the cool metal and smooth stones a constant, reassuring presence. "I'll treasure it," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I promise."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, a sense of contentment that came from knowing you had given him something truly meaningful. "I'm glad," you replied softly, your eyes meeting his.

For a long moment, the two of you sat there in silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the occasional rustle of the curtains as a breeze drifted through the window. There was a sense of peace in the air, a quiet understanding that didn't need words to be felt. Surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the soft glow of the evening, he knew that this — these simple, heartfelt moments with you — were what he would carry with him through the darkest nights, a light to guide him through whatever lay ahead.

[pumpkin-padparadscha]

[nicotine-noah]

The councilman was just laying it all out there, huh? It wasn't like it was surprising to hear that a master was into pain and suffering. That wasn't exactly Noah's kink but he could make it work...hopefully. He didn't love the filled with fear and screaming idea but he could handle probably handle some rough play. It wasn't like he hadn't had to deal with that before. "Hey, at least you're honest. Not everyone's so straight up about it." The cambion joked, still smiling. He talked too much and he could definitely follow orders but he wasn't exactly a submissive twink like some people down here.

"Oh yeah?" Now that was something Noah liked to hear. He took another drag from the cigarette, watching Remus and smiling around it. He blew the smoke out slowly, not taking his eyes off Remus. "So what kinda mood are you in today?" Noah moved closer, a little bold, but some masters responded to that kind of thing. It might make Remus just want to put him in his place but hopefully not.

"What can I say, I am heartless and cruel. I like making people no matter who they are suffer. I used to consider it sad but not anymore because it does makes one taste so much better. When they are filled with fear, screaming," he spoke closing his eyes for a second before opening them and letting out a sigh. Honestly, Remus was twisted, it was all thanks to his sire. A dangerous vampire who wanted a twisted warrior, a monster and so they produced that. Killing whatever humanity Remus had, inflicting pain on Remus so much that he began to like it.

"It depends on my mood to be honest but I am into beautiful and handsome men like yourself. You are just my type."

[crowncoconut]

Hellooooo sasi tumblr 😼 Take this art if u even care. Based off of WTIT bc it’s my fav episode

(Pose from The Reluctant Bride (1866) by Auguste Toulmouche)

Click for better quality

[orbch]

i never promised you an open heart or charity, i never wanted to abuse your imagination

[aurorasinistrax]

Aurora ignored the little voices in her head, warning her not to hold on too tightly, knowing that until they sorted out their issues, it could end. The thought alone about them ending was enough for her to hold on tighter. He was the missing puzzle piece to her life. Everything made sense the closer he was to her. She couldn't survive without him.

The last thing on her mind was the Order. Subconsciously knowing that once she was out of the hospital and spoke to Edgar and Alastor, she would ask for more training. Aurora was disappointed in herself for freezing up the way she did, that wasn't like her. She also wanted Remus to help her, to be her guide, that way they could learn to work well together, adding more dynamics to their foundation.

Remus' words brought an ease and an adoration, that despite the slight pain she was feeling, her body flushed against his, resting her head on his arm. "Good." A smile lingers on her lips. "I always want you. I want that future we talked about." A marriage and family, even with his concerns about being a werewolf. It was something they could always figure out together.

The bond they were sharing was so intense that Remus could feel her inside himself. It was exhilarating and something he hadn’t felt in far too long. No one could give him that feeling but Aurora. It’s like she sank into him, knowing him, feeling who he was and adoring every part of him. She could see how much he loved her without saying anything. And it wasn’t because she was a Seer, It’s because she was Aurora. No one could beat her. No one could come close. This was a love that couldn’t be replicated.

He wanted so badly for these moments to last a lifetime. He wanted to stay in that hospital bed — with her well — and embrace her with all he had. He wanted to be as close to her as physically possible. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted. He ached for it. It’s what had been missing from all those days and nights they weren’t together. He longed to spend the rest of his days with her. Remus and Aurora. Together.

When she spoke all he could do was nod his head. She couldn’t be part of the Order. If anything proved that the attack did. Surely she would understand that. She would have to. But he couldn’t bring himself to say such things. Not then.

“I don’t want to do this world without you,” Remus agreed. “Of course I’ll stay with you. I’ll always be beside you as long as you'll have me."