Mid Week WIP
Thanks for the tag @practicecourts : )))
Sharing a snippet from a new story I'm working on:
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“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Sirius muttered glancing at James as he chucked his shirt with more vigour than perhaps was necessary.
James turned to his brother to find a perfectly arched eyebrow raised in his direction.
“Healer Evans,” James grunted, glancing to the place where a crumpled piece of parchment sat at his desk.
Sirius’ eyebrow remained raised, unimpressed.
James rolled his eyes. “He wants me to gather eucalyptus under a full moon from the grove just outside of Taghazout. I mean honestly doesn’t Dad know we’re busy with our Transfiguration Masteries? We are almost done, but still. I don’t quite understand how he managed to always hire such eager tofts,” James groaned
James paused when Sirius didn’t have an immediate reply, turning to look at his brother
Sirius was staring at him, head cocked, a slight smirk on his face
“What?” James said
“Nothing,” Sirius said straightening his face “I’d just forgotten you hadn’t come in with me to visit Dad when we dropped home last weekend.”
“Right” James said turning away to dig a piece of parchment out of his bag. “So you’ve met Evans then - I just hope he’s better than the last one.”
I am tagging @wearingaberetinparis, @abihastastybeans, @winryofresembool, @charmsandtealeaves (sorry if you've been tagged) xx
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P.S. I Still Wait for You
Chapter 2/4
Ten days before the wedding and he comes home from training to find Marlene McKinnon sitting on the low wall outside his flat, smoking a cigarette. The door is open and there’s a muggle contraption inside making an infernal noise.
“S’ up?” she says, without moving. She is the epitome of cool – backcombed blonde hair, black leather trousers, black eyeliner, The Cure t-shirt, red Doc Martins.
He raises his brow.
“Do I want to know about…?” he waves his arm vaguely in the direction of his home.
She shrugs, chips at her black nail polish, takes a long drag of the short cigarette.
“I can explain.”
He snorts, sits down beside her on the wall, and waits in companionable silence. A muggle man emerges after a while, wearing navy overalls, pencil behind his ear.
“There you are, love, all sorted,” he says, grinning at the two of them, like he’s just done them a massive favour.
“Thanks Mr. Smith. How much do we owe you?” Marlene says, stubbing out the cigarette on the wall and rummaging in her black satchel.
She pays him and watches him leave, scanning the street, hand on the wand in her pocket, eyes narrowed.
“Still worried in case a Deater follows him?” James says.
“Yup,” she nods. “Force of habit. Can’t seem to stop. Even after three years.”
“Some things don’t change easily.”
He’s talking about something else entirely and Marlene knows it.
She takes a deep breath, turns and faces him head on.
“I got a telephone installed, line’s connected now. Lily wants to ring you. She’ll phone you before the weekend, after seven some time.”
It’s simultaneously the worst and best news he has heard since she left.
“Why?” he finally manages to say.
“Because.” Marlene shrugs again. “She wouldn’t say.”
He runs a hand down his face.
“What the actual fuck.”
She stands closer to him, grabbing both his shoulders.
“Just talk to her, yeah?” she says.
Like it’s perfectly easy.
“Please. She deserves one conversation.”
He can’t seem to answer so he doesn’t. He nods, brusque.
“You’ve gone quieter in your old age,” Marlene smiles back at him, then leans in and gives him a strong hug, suffocating.
He laughs then, smiles back at her, even if it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Yeah,” he agrees.
“I love you both,” she says. “You coming Friday to the local? Dorcas’ll be there. So will the lads. She got a promotion. Assistant Editor.”
“Holy shit! Congrats!” he gives a low whistle.
“Will we see you?”
“Probably,” he says, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the concrete.
It depends on the call. It depends on what Lily says.
***
The phone rings on Friday night, at 7pm exactly. He’s been walking up and down the hall, repeatedly, for the past two hours. He picks up the receiver and finds he cannot speak.
“James? Hi, hello. It’s Lily… are you there?”
He laughs then, short and bitter. As if him not hanging on to every word she says was ever an option.
“James?”
“Lily.”
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
There is an awkward pause.
“Hi,” she repeats. “Thanks for taking my call.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“Hello?”
He takes a deep breath, looks up at the ceiling.
“What do you want, Lily?”
He didn’t want to sound like a pathetic looser. A weirdo who still thinks about her most days. He tries for polite, detached. He hears her swallowing.
“I was hoping we could have a brief talk.”
“Yes. Go ahead.”
“I, er, when I was, I was surprised to receive the invitation to Remus and Sirius’ wedding. I didn’t feel it was right to go. But they insisted. To the point of visiting me on a number of occasions. And they were my friends, are my friends. I don’t want to upset them. I’m so happy for them…” she pauses, and she sounds like she’s short of breath for some reason.
“Yes, I’m happy for them too. They both deserve to be happy.”
“They do. It’s… it’s just… difficult. I wanted to ask you a favour.”
“A favour?” he slides down the wall, until he’s hunched into the corner, on the floor, telephone cord in his left hand, twisting it repeatedly.
“If I come, I… I don’t want to talk to you. It would be too… difficult. Too hard. I couldn’t… I’ve told them. If I come, I’m not sitting at your table and I’m not talking to you.”
He makes a sound, so she knows he’s listening.
“I can’t do it.”
“I understand,” he says.
He hears her long exhale.
“Thank you, James.” She sounds relieved.
“Would you do it again?”
“Sorry?”
“Would you walk away, without saying a word? Would you do anything differently if you could go back?”
A heartbeat.
“No, I would do it again, every time.”
He’s glad she can’t see his face. His knuckles are white from how hard he grips the phone.
“I won’t talk to you, I won’t even look at you. You needn’t worry.”
“Thank you.”
“Goodbye Lily.”
“I hope you are alright.”
He’s perfectly fine. His heart isn’t breaking down this long-distance line tonight.
“I’m fine. I’m not missing you at all. I’ve moved on. Made new friends. Met new lovers.”
He sounds so plausible he can almost convince himself.
“Good. That’s good, James, I’m so glad to hear that.”
If she’s been feeling any remaining sliver of guilt about how she left him, he’s made it easy for that to evaporate.
“Yeah, so, you needn’t worry, I’ll leave you alone. It won’t be any problem.”
“Okay. Thank you, James.”
If she says James one more time he will scream or sob or punch something.
“Goodbye,” he says, formal, brisk.
“Good –"
He hangs up the phone, before she can say anything more hurtful. He’s struggling to understand how he was ever in love with her. Why he was ever in love with her.
@jilychallenge2023 this is from April, but I kept going… 🩷
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Unforgiving Current, Unforgetting Moon
At 14, Regulus Black made an unexpected friend in Remus Lupin.
At 16, losing Remus almost hurt worse than losing Sirius.
at 18, He hopes he hasn't burned that bridge completely to ashes.
Or where Regulus and Remus become friends in Hogwarts, have a falling out when reg takes the dark mark, and then meet again and fake their deaths to go horcrux hunting together during the war.
Prologue
Remus Lupin is dead.
Sirius barely registers the words as Moody announces them to the room. He's sure he heard wrong because that's just-that's- that's not right. Remus? His Remus? No. He saw Moony last week. When he'd left to spend the moon with the pack. Moony was running a few days late, but he promised Sirius he would return. He promised. And Moony doesn't break his promises. Not his Moony.
Remus Lupin is dead.
James feels his heart stutter in his chest. He knows it's a lie. It has to be. It has to, because his heart, after its brief moment there, is now pounding. And If his heart is still beating, then so is Remus', because there's no Prongs without Moony. Because if Peter's down the table, breathing heavily, then Remus must still be breathing, because there's no Wormtail without Moony. Because if Sirius is across from him, shaking his head frantically, eyebrows furrowed, then Remus must still be able to move his own body, because there wouldn't be padfoot without Moony.
Remus Lupin is dead.
Lily takes a sharp breath in, waiting for Dumbledore to tell them that Moody's just playing a cruel joke. She brings a hand to the small bump on her belly. No. Her best friend isn't dead, because he's going to be the other godfather. Because-because she and James haven't even gotten the chance to ask Remus and Sirius yet.
Remus Lupin is dead.
Peter breaks out in a sweat. Because there's no traitor without Remus. He's spent too long meticulously putting together the details, planting suspicion. Without Remus, there is still a spy. But there isn't anyone else to take the fall for Peter's betrayal, except the rat himself.
Remus Lupin is dead.
But that can't be true, because- because it's just not.
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