#reader x remus lupin

[undercoveravenger]

The Haunted House

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Male!Reader:

Requested: Yes

Request: “getting dared to go into the shrieking shack on Halloween (wow, a full moon on Halloween? How weird...) and finding a big scary werewolf waiting for you. Except he's really not all that scary, he just won't let you leave because Remus really likes you and his wolf form can't quite say that, just wants to keep you there.”

A/N: This is post number 4 for the 2023 Spooky Month event. Y’alls trick or treat is coming next Tuesday, October 31st. Hope you’re ready.

-----

The Shrieking Shack had well earned its name throughout the years you’d been at Hogwarts, with guttural screams and groans echoing from it each month around the time of the full moon. You’d heard dozens of different stories- ghosts, ghouls, poltergeists like Peeves. Someone from your Transfiguration class even thought it was some long-abandoned merfolk in a tank that’d grown too small.

Whatever it was though, you were going to find out.  The lot of you had had to sneak out of your commonrooms and were nearly caught by patrolling professors or prefects a couple times, but now here you are with your friends crowding around behind you clamoring encouragingly, you stand just past the fence separating the Shrieking Shack from the rest of Hogsmeade. The full moon looms ominously just over the ramshackle eaves of the decrepit building, providing just enough light for you to pick your way through the snowy yard and up to the front door.

A mumbled spell is enough to break away the locks and rotting boards holding the door closed and you’re able to force it open the rest of the way with a forceful shove. You only allow yourself one fleeting glance over your shoulder at your friends before making your way into the house and closing the door behind you, resolved to completing your friends’ dare and staying the night in the haunted house.

The floorboards creak with every step you take, wavering slightly under your shoes as your weight puts pressure on long-damaged planks as you make your way deeper into the house, each room revealing deep gashes carved into the walls and floors. Tattered strips of fabric from what might have been blankets or clothes are strewn about, stained a dark rust color in places from what you can only assume is blood. Some rooms even have shards of what would have once been furniture, a splintered chunk of wood that may have once been the arm of a couch tossed thoughtlessly against one wall of a ruined living room and the stuffing from a gutted chair cushion decorating an old bedroom, but no matter how many torn apart rooms you explore, you aren’t been able to find the source of the screams.

It finds you.

You’d wandered into what you think was once-upon-a-time a study, an ancient oak desk sitting on two broken legs in the middle of the room and its chair upturned nearby. The contents of the desk had proven uninteresting by the time you’d dug through the second desk drawer and you’ve gotten to the point of boredom that you’re considering just leaving altogether when you see it standing in the doorway. You’re not sure how long it had been watching you, but it stands, still as a shadow, with pitch dark eyes locked squarely on you.

You can see the beast’s raised hackles over the top of its head, lowered so it can fix you with a brutal stare, and a growl so low it rumbles through you like thunder fills the room as it takes a looming step closer. As it creeps forward, a brush of moonlight from the cracked window pane behind you catches it, giving you just enough light to make out further details of the creature.

At first glance, you might’ve thought it was just a wolf, but the longer you look the more your situation begins to sink in. The creature before you was nearly double the size of any wolf you’d ever heard of, back easily brushing the doorknob as it stalks into the room. Its legs are long and its paws splay when it walks like they’re not quite right, but the real telling point are its eyes. It doesn’t look away from you as it approaches, not even for a second, weaving through discarded furniture and debris like it was second nature until it stands just on the other side of the desk from you. It doesn’t look like it’s questioning whether you’re a threat like any other wild animal would, and the growl has started to subside now that it’s gotten a good look at you. The look in its eyes, while certainly somewhat wild, is too human to be anything else.

You’re not quite sure what to do at this point, not with a massive werewolf between you and the door, but being in a werewolf’s den during the full moon certainly can’t be a good idea. With that in mind you begin to move, edging slowly around the corner of the desk in order to not spook the wolf, already surprised by its calm demeanor and unwilling to test its good graces. The wolf allows you to pass by it and slip from the room, though you can hear the heavy footfalls of its paws as it follows you. You move back toward the front door, intent on leaving the same way you’d come, but you’re stopped by the massive wolf letting out another thunderous growl and shoving its way between you and the door. It bullies you on with more furious growls and pointed nips to your heels and hands, further into the house and up a narrow back staircase into a near demolished bedroom.

You obey when it gives you a pointed glare, settling down against the wall opposite the door. A satisfied huff escapes the wolf and it pads after you, flopping carelessly down to lay beside you and resting its large head heavily on your lap. The reason behind the werewolf’s behavior was confusing, certainly, but werewolves had been known to be territorial and prone to violence from what you’d heard, so if sitting here for a few hours while you waited for the wolf to shift back meant it’d keep you safe, then that was a small price to pay. 

-----

It’s not the watery morning light that wakes you, but the shift against you. The aching, tortured gasp of pain that escapes as the person curled against you moves. The sound has you on high alert straightening against your back’s own cry of pain from sleeping sitting up all night, eyes blinking open blearily and finding the now-human werewolf trying to shift away from you.

It takes you a moment to recognize him without his signature posse of idiots and the bright red Gryffindor robes, but you are able to place the jagged pink scars across his face and his curly brown hair from some of your shared classes - Remus Lupin. 

“Remus?” His name escapes you before you can stop yourself from speaking and you can see the way the tension takes root in him, joints and muscles coiling under his skin like he was preparing himself to run from some threat.

He seems to have to force himself to settle before he can speak, dark chocolate eyes examining you thoroughly. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? When I was-” He cuts himself off with a clear of his throat, eyes dropping back to his lap. He must’ve managed to track down his clothes from before he’d shifted since he was using them to cover himself. “I can’t really remember anything when I’m… like that.”

“No,” you say, and you can see the relief wash over him, tension easing in his shoulders and he no longer looks like he is going to accidentally shred his jumper. “No, you, uh, well you brought me here and then decided it was a proper time for a cuddle apparently.” You try to force a laugh, though the situation is certainly still awkward, “I thought that werewolves were s’posed to be scary, y’know? Think you’re just a were-lapdog instead?” 

A startled laugh slips out of Remus and he looks almost as stunned by it as by your words, “I- I don’t know. This is kind of a new reaction? I’m, uh, I’m usually not so nice when I’m not myself.”

“Huh,” you say, more curious than ever about the wolf’s odd behavior, “I wonder why you were acting like that then? It didn’t really seem to be aggression, even when you growled at me - more like herding behavior like my uncle’s collie.”

Remus flushes at that. This close you can see the dozens of tiny freckles that scattered over his cheeks and down his jaw and neck. “I… have a theory,” he says quietly, like he almost can’t bring himself to say it. His gaze drops back to the bundle of cloth in your hands and you almost wonder if he would’ve tried to sneak out before you had woken up. You wouldn’t have blamed him if he did. “I think it’s some sort of passively shared consciousness? I can’t really connect to it at all, but maybe it can get a sense of my feelings? Like if I strongly disliked someone, it would probably act accordingly, and if I liked someone…” Remus trails off at that, flushing impossibly redder.

An amused little snort escapes you then and you lean forward, supporting yourself with your arms as you push yourself into his field of vision. “Is this you saying you like me, Remus?” You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you at the way you can already see him scrambling for a response, but you lean forward to press a light kiss to his cheek before he can find the words. “Cute,” you say, grinning as you watch the realization hit him. “Sit with me at breakfast?”

He nods slowly as he wraps his mind around your words, eventually letting you help him to his feet and back into his clothes. The two of you eventually make your way back to Hogwarts through the secret passage under the Whomping Willow that he shows you, taking breaks when he needs them and trading banter and kisses all the way.

And while your friends were curious about the shy Gryffindor sitting beside you at breakfast with his hand curled tight with yours, none of them questioned what really happened to you during your night in the haunted house.

[masterjasper223]

Then and Now - Blood Moon

(Warnings: underage sex, period sex, angst)

Lupin Then

Dating a werewolf wasn't something to romanticise, but that wasn't to say it didn't come with its advantages.

For one, no one had more sympathy for you when you were on your period. Remus knew all too well what it was like to have to deal with something painful month after month, something that many of your classmates were blissfully exempt from, yet would most likely be repulsed to hear about.

In fact, you were acutely aware that Remus had it worse on every score, especially the latter; his "condition" was a very well kept secret at Hogwarts, and his education was only able to continue for as long as it remained as such.

But somehow, you'd never expected him to understand all of it: the cravings, the sudden drop in self esteem, the bursts of emotion- from irritation, to sadness, to feeling suddenly... well, unbelievably horny.

Yet as it turned out, you were wrong.

********************************************

It's Sunday afternoon, and the two of you are studying together in an empty classroom on the sixth floor. Or, rather, that had been the plan, before you'd woken up with the tell-tale discomfort in your lower abdomen.

There's little chance of your being productive today, but you decided to join Remus anyway, vaguely hoping that you'd absorb a few scraps of revision just by being in proximity to him.

But even those prospects are looking grim, as you have yet to summon the energy to open your textbook, and are currently slumped across the desk with your cheek pressed into the faded leather cover.

"Remus... Why do you have to be so handsome?" you sigh, staring vacantly at his profile. Something about the way his brows knit together when he's concentrating is very alluring all of a sudden.

"Terribly sorry for the inconvenience," Remus replies, a little testily. To his credit, he's actually trying to get some work done, and has already filled half of the roll of parchment in front him.

"I want to study," you grumble. "But I got my period this morning."

Remus pauses mid-scrawl, shooting you a sympathetic glance. "Then I really am sorry. But you'll be all right if you skip a day or two- I'll give you a copy of my notes to go over later."

"Thanks, Remus," you say, smiling up at him affectionately.

He clears his throat, and shakes his hair out of his eyes in that twitchy sort of way that tells you he's feeling self-conscious, before starting writing again- but he's barely jotted down two words before his quill stops on the page.

"Hang on. What does my being handsome have to do with anything, then?" he demands, shooting you a sideways glance.

"Because I'm horny," you whine, watching with some satisfaction as a flush creeps up your boyfriend's neck. "But since I'm on my period, we can't... you know..." You walk your fingers up his arm, searching for the right expression. "...play around." You haven't actually had sex yet, but you've gone a bit further than snogging on more than one occasion.

"Why not?" Remus asks, hoarsely. His quill slides from between his fingers and rolls to the side of his notes, where it lies dripping ink, forgotten.

"Because we'd make a mess, of course. Not to mention, I'm in pain." You grimace, massaging your belly under the desk. "And I don't feel very sexy today."

To your surprise, Remus offers you a wry smile and says, "Ah. That sounds familiar."

"Which part?"

"All of it. The pain, I've told you about. But leading up to the full moon, I'm- something of a mess. Less so now than I used to be, but I still can't stand to see myself in the mirror, and I get... cravings."

"Me, too!" you say, sitting up and swivelling around in your chair to face him. "I crave chocolate worse than if I'd been hounded by dementors."

"I crave red meat," Remus admits. "And, er... human contact."

You raise your eyebrows at him. "You mean you get horny, too?"

Remus nods, his cheeks now very pink. "But I wouldn't want to do anything about it," he says, quickly, glancing away. "I can't. I don't trust myself." He shakes his head, as if to clear it, and you're surprised to find that there's a mischievous spark in his eyes when they flick back to yours. "But it's different in your case. Very different."

"How so?" you ask, a little more sharply than you had intended. You can't help but feel that that's rather presumptuous of him.

"Well, for one, this is the safest time of the month for you to have sex," he points out. "And for another, according to- certain sources- it might just be one of the best times."

You understand 'certain sources' to mean the debauched experiences of Sirius Black.

"At the very least, it could provide some temporary relief," Remus continues, crossing and uncrossing his legs with a wince.

"Are you suggesting we...?"

"Well... yes. I mean, only if you want to."

You smirk at him, but a split-second later all of your confidence evaporates. "You wouldn't find it a turn-off?"

"Of course not. I've seen blood before."

"It's not just the blood. I'm..." you trail off, hugging your stomach, reluctant to put too fine a point on it.

"It won't change how sexy I find you," Remus murmurs, gently. "But if you're uncomfortable, we can wait."

You consider for a moment, weighing your options... but with your heart racing, and desire already pooling in your belly, drowning out the pain, it doesn't take you long to make up your mind.

"If you're sure... I mean, I'd like to." You reach across and place your hand on Remus's knee. He stiffens for a moment, swallowing thickly, before laying his fingers over yours and giving them a squeeze. "But where? When?"

Remus glances around the empty classroom. "Not here- we won't be able to relax. There's always the Astronomy Tower, no one goes up there during the day..." He pauses, glancing up at the ceiling. "But I, er, think I can arrange for the boys' dormitory to be empty for a few hours. Tonight, if you like."

"Tonight, then," you agree, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek.

*********************************************

It's not your first time in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, and it won't be your last. As promised, the two of you are alone- which is why you're sitting on the end of Remus's four-poster, with your thighs wrapped around his hips, and his arms wrapped around your back, snogging as if your lives depend upon it.

But when you reach between your bodies to grasp his cock through the fabric of his robes, Remus squeezes your waist and draws back, panting, his lips flushed from kissing you and his eyes bright with desire. "Are you sure?" he asks, eyes flicking between yours. You nod impatiently, tugging at the front of his robes. "Okay," he chuckles. "Just- tell me if you want to stop."

"You, too," you say, sucking in a big breath before crashing your lips against his. But you're not content with snogging anymore. While Remus's hands cup your cheeks, yours begin to wander, raking down his back and chest, squeezing his biceps and hips, before slipping under the hem of his robes.

The second your fingers close around the hard length straining at his boxers, Remus's fingers are on your bare thighs, hitching your own robes up to your hips, as if he's been waiting for permission to touch you all this time.

"Robes- off-" you manage, in between kisses, and you part just long enough to allow Remus to tug your robes over your head, and to help him do the same. A moment later, your bra joins the pile of robes on the floor. Then he stands up- your legs tighten instinctively around his hips- and lays you down on your back on the mattress, supporting himself on his elbows in order to get a good look at you.

"What about the blood?" you ask, breathlessly, plucking at the quilt underneath you.

"That's what scouring charms are for," he says, grinning as he nuzzles your cheek.

Your answering giggle turns into a gasp as his warm hands slide along your bare skin. Remus licks and sucks at your neck as his fingers explore every inch of you, relishing in the little hums and moans you make for him, until he works up the courage to remove the last scraps of fabric separating you from him. Then he begins massaging your inner thigh as he kisses his way down your neck, fingers trembling and blood pounding in his ears.

"Remus... Aren't you forgetting something?" you pout, tugging at the waistband of his boxers, and he chuckles nervously before kicking them off.

But soon all trace of nerves are gone as you start pumping him in your closed fist, and he becomes putty in your hands, weeping precum into your palm, fingers digging into your thighs as he pushes them apart.

"Can I- try something?" he asks, squeezing your wrist with shaking fingers to get you to stop. You nod, releasing him, and lick your lips, wondering what he has in store for you.

Remus takes a moment to admire you again as he settles back on his haunches, before slowly lifting your thighs, spreading them, and positioning himself at your entrance. But instead of sliding in, he begins swirling his tip around your slit.

Fuck, that feels good.

You're so warm and slick that the tip of his cock slips in by mistake, and dips in and out of you without any resistance. You're even more sensitive than usual, and the extra moisture feels so delicious on the head of his cock that within minutes the two of you are twitching spasmodically, on the verge of release. Neither of you is going to last long, but as you watch Remus bite down on his lip, and his Adam's apple bob as he moans low in his throat, suddenly you don't care.

"Remus- please..." Your breath catches- you can't think of anything more to say- and a moment later you've stopped thinking altogether as he fills you for the first time.

It's bliss, pure and simple. Even more so when he begins to move, snapping his hips back and forth, creating delicious, slippery friction. You fit him like a glove, but even though you're tight around him he has to be careful only to pull out halfway, in case he slips out.

You can tell that exercising this control is costing Remus a lot; his brows are knitted together in concentration, as if he's studying a particularly tricky revision question, and sweat is trickling down his naked chest.

He's watching you, too; his eyes flick between your face and the place where your bodies are joined, enraptured at the sight of you beneath him. You can feel him drinking it all in: your spread thighs, your trembling breasts, your flushed cheeks and messy hair...

He groans your name, and that's when you feel a throb- a throb so deep within your core, and so unlike anything you've ever felt, that at first you're not sure if it's coming from him or you. Then you feel a tug behind your navel, not unlike the sensation of using a portkey, followed by a flood of wetness between your thighs as a fresh wave of bliss washes over you. Remus's fingers dig into your skin, and he bucks his hips several times before collapsing on top of you and burrowing his face into your neck.

You lie like that for a long time, just holding each other, revelling in one another's warmth; though you can't help but fidget a little, as slick drips from your slit, and his soft cock, still inside you, begins to firm up again, making your sensitive walls tingle.

You wonder if he'll want to go again- wonder if you could even handle it- but eventually Remus pulls out of you and rolls onto his side, propping his chin on one fist. Gazing down at you through half-lidded eyes, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and whispers, "How do you feel?"

"So good." The ache in your belly is gone, and every last muscle in your body seems to sigh with contentment at your release.

"Well, that answers my next question," Remus chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. "But don't get too comfortable. We'll have to clean up soon."

"Just a bit longer..." you groan, nuzzling your face into his chest. You're already dreading the walk back to your dormitory.

"Of course. I don't mind." He rolls the quilt over you and tucks it under his arm, pressing you more firmly against him. "But- best not stay too long if you want those revision notes. I, er, didn't get much done after our talk earlier."

*******************************************

You're both so spent that neither of you notices the door click shut behind you, or hears the whispered exchange between James and Sirius as they tiptoe down the stairs to the common room.

"Moony, you beast..."

"You owe me ten galleons, Prongs."

---------------------------------------------------

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Lupin Now

When you open the door, Remus is more surprised than you- but then, Dumbledore had told you to expect him.

Clearly, Remus had not been so well informed.

His eyes fly wide, and he whispers your name like a prayer- before quickly clearing his throat, as if to erase it. "Er, how are you?" he asks, with all the forced politeness one uses when addressing a total stranger.

"I'm all right, Remus. Or should that be Professor Lupin?" you tease, managing a grin in spite of the ache in your chest.

"Just Remus, now," he says, returning the smile a little stiffly. "My teaching career was rather short-lived, I'm afraid."

Ah. Perhaps you're not as well informed as you'd thought.

"Well, come in," you say, throwing the door wide. "I'll make us a cup of tea, and we can catch up a bit before we get down to business."

You make it halfway down the corridor before you realise Remus isn't following you, and turn to see him framed in the doorway, staring at his feet. Without meeting your gaze, he mutters, "I'm... not sure that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

Remus swings his arms, and inspects the frayed sleeve of his robes, clearly stalling for time. In fact, you get the distinct impression that he's searching for an excuse. Finally, he says, "I'm afraid I'll disappoint you."

"Disappoint me?" you echo. You feel a sharp twist in your stomach, and something hot and prickly claws at your throat. "Disappoint me?" you repeat, louder this time. "After all these years, that's what you say to me?"

He flinches, and his face twists as if he's in pain, but he still doesn't look at you.

That does it.

You storm up to him, yank on his sleeve, and, the second he's over the threshold, shove him against the wall next to the door, which slams shut of its own accord. Remus doesn't fight you- in fact, he barely reacts at all- but he does place a hand on your shoulder, as if he's determined to keep you at arm's length.

It's insulting. You grind your teeth, resisting the urge to draw your wand.

"When you cut me out of your life the second we left Hogwarts, do you think I was disappointed? When you made sure none of my owls could find you, do you think I was disappointed? When you tried to get me kicked out of the Order, do you think I was disappointed? When I had to hear about James, and Lily, and Peter, and Sirius second-hand, do you think I was disappointed? Do you? Because I wasn't disappointed! I was bloody heartbroken!"

Silence hangs in the air between you.

Then Remus looks up, and finally meets your eyes. "I am sorry," he says. He pauses for a moment, as if to let the words sink in, before continuing, "I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was doing what was necessary to protect you. It was a foolish notion. I see that now- and I regret it.

"But at the time, I thought that it was right, and that that fact alone justified the pain I was causing you. It was selfish of me. I told myself I was sacrificing my happiness for your safety, when in reality, I was sacrificing your happiness for my peace of mind." He gently squeezes your shoulder, and tries to extract himself from your grip. "I have no intention of asking for your forgiveness. The fact that I tried to avoid this conversation proves that I am a coward. Once we've concluded our business here, I'll make sure you never have to hear from me ag--"

You push him back against the wall, cutting him off. His arms fall limply to his sides.

"I can't believe you. You're about to make the same mistake all over again!"

Still holding your gaze, Remus takes a deep breath and slowly shakes his head. "This is diff--"

"No, it isn't! You're making it seem like you're doing this for me, but this isn't what I want! I've never..." Suddenly, a terrible thought occurs to you, and your fingers curl reflexively into the front of his robes. "Unless... it's what you want?"

He hesitates for only a fraction of a second before answering. "It is."

The words pierce your heart like shards of ice- but you have to be sure. Swallowing thickly, your eyes desperately searching his, you force your numb lips to form the question. "You... don't want to be with me... like we used to... anymore?"

Remus stiffens, and you could swear you feel his pulse skip under your fingers. But his reply is as cold as it is resolute. "No."

"I... I see."

Your heart drops like a stone in your chest. You're not sure if he's being honest with you, but you decide that it doesn't matter anymore. If this is how he wants it, then so be it. You've made up your mind, as well- on two counts.

The first, you retrieve from its clever hiding place in your kitchen. It's a delicate charm bracelet, from which dangle three tiny phials, each brimming with a pearly substance that is neither gas nor liquid. You grab Remus's hand, still hanging limply by his side, and coil it into his palm.

"This is everything I can tell you about the Department of Mysteries. I hope it helps."

Now your Order business is concluded.

As for the second count...

You wait until Remus has tucked the phials safely into his briefcase. Then you splay a hand on his stomach, and spear him with a look so intense that you feel him freeze up under your fingertips.

"When was your last time?"

It takes Remus half a second to catch your meaning. When it dawns on him, his mouth forms a small 'o', and at length he replies, so quietly that you have to read the words off of his lips to make them out, "Seventh year. Right before the end-of-term feast."

Your answer exactly.

So, he hasn't had anyone since you, either. Which means- if your memory of his libido is anything to go by- Remus must be as touch-starved as you are.

"Spend the night."

To your surprise, he places a hand over the one splayed on his stomach. You lace your fingers with his, and he doesn't pull away.

"Please."

But then Remus laughs bitterly and shakes his head. "I cant. Tonight's the full moon." He cups your cheek with his free hand, and his thumb strokes the fullness of your lower lip. "I'll have to lock myself away."

You sigh and lean into his touch, wishing you could be there for him, that he didn't have to go through it alone. But you know he wouldn't want you to see him in that form. So instead of offering, you ask, "Do you have the potion with you?"

He answers with a curt nod. You can't help but notice that his hands still haven't left you.

He wants you.

No, scratch that- he needs you. You can see it in his eyes. Try as he might to hide it, you know that look all too well.

But you also know that he doesn't trust himself enough to be close to anyone right before the full moon. You never did make love during the week leading up to the transformation; he was always careful to put some distance between the two of you, and you respected that distance, knowing that he would close the gap the moment the lunar cycle began anew.

The question is, what will Remus say now? He's already denied himself the chance to be with you. Will he really deny himself this, as well?

You lick your lips, deciding to make this your final push. You've made up your mind- it's time for him to make up his.

"It's still early. You could stay until you need to take it, then disapparate. Or... we could make it quick."

He hesitates. The fingers laced with yours spasm, as if he's on the verge of pulling them away- but his other hand betrays him, thumb gently tugging on your lower lip.

"Do you still remember our first time?" you ask, before you can stop yourself.

"Of course," Remus says, a little too quickly. A flush creeps up his neck, and he clears his throat before continuing. "We were... rather irresponsible." He swallows, and his eyes briefly dart down to your mouth, before flicking back up to meet your gaze. "I suppose nothing's changed."

And, without giving you a chance to process this, he crashes his lips to yours.

There's no preamble, no more hesitation. Your tongues dance, and your fingers waste no time in getting reacquainted with every inch of skin they can reach; seeking out the similarities, and revelling in the changes.

This Remus isn't all that different from the one in your memory, except for his features,(he's aged quite a bit), and the fact that he's a little underweight for his stature. He also has more scars than you remember, more lean muscle, too; and he's bigger, in more ways than one.

You've probably changed more than he has, and you feel his calloused palms and fingers appreciate every last detail, everything that you are- everything that you've become in his absence.

Remus is the first to strip, kicking off his shoes and breaking the kiss just long enough to tear off his robes. Yours come off next, and any remaining scraps of fabric are left in place, to be pulled roughly aside whenever they get in the way.

You throw your arms around his neck, and he picks you up at the waist, spinning you around to press your back against the wall. Squeezing his hips with your thighs, you reach in between your bodies to grip his cock, pulling back just enough to be able to watch his expression as you touch him. Remus's eyes are dark with lust, his breathing ragged- you've never seen such a look of intense desire.

And it's all for you.

Biting your lip, you rub the head of his cock around your slit. He's painfully hard, leaking precum onto your palm. It feels so good- even better than you remember. You could come for him, just like this.

But Remus groans and clutches your wrist. "Mmph. Best stop that- if you want me to last."

So you lean up and brush your nose against his, nibbling on his lower lip and teasing his tongue with yours as you slowly fill yourself up with his cock. You're dripping wet for him, so it doesn't hurt, and any twinge of discomfort is quickly drowned out by the pleasure of being stretched.

It starts off slow, as Remus matches every thrust with a sweet kiss, a sweet caress- but it's not long before you find yourself bouncing up and down on his cock.

He fucks you senseless, and you ride him for all you're worth. It's like you're venting your frustrations together- or maybe on each other. But there's no anger or hatred between the two of you; just understanding. Longing. Need. Years and years of it, pent-up and begging for release.

It's delicious. Intoxicating. He fills you to the brim, rubbing places your fingers could never reach. You come quickly- too quickly- but Remus holds himself back, gently rocking his hips as he kisses you down from your high.

Then he carries you into your bedroom, (the door standing open on your right), and lays you down on the bed. For a heartbeat, you think it's over- that he's just going to leave you there. But then he settles himself on the floor between your legs, tugs your ankles over his shoulders, and buries his face between your thighs.

"Remus- fuck-"

Remus has always been good with his mouth. He's so eager to taste you- so eager to devour you. He kisses your slit, open-mouthed, no differently to how he claimed your lips; spreading your folds with his tongue and swirling it inside you, sucking on your clit...You run your fingers through his hair, digging your nails into his scalp, torn between holding his head in place and pulling it away. The pleasure is almost too much to bear, and your thighs are shuddering uncontrollably.

Then, just when you think you can't handle it anymore, Remus stands up, rests one knee on the edge of the bed, and slides his cock back inside you.

Your breath hisses through your teeth, but the pain soon fades as he picks up the pace, rubbing your clit and rolling his hips with every thrust.

Finally, you feel a gush of warmth, and Remus judders to a stop, his eyes boring into yours as he groans your name. That's all it takes for you to come undone a second time, and you're still twitching in pleasure as he slumps forward onto your chest.

You wrap your arms around him, eyes fluttering closed. It almost feels like you could be back in the boy's dormitory in Gryffindor tower, taking advantage of your alone time in his four-poster.

"I've missed you." The words spill from your lips before you can hold them back, but you instantly regret them as Remus freezes up again.

"I..." There's so much he wishes he could say, but to do so would mean going back on everything he's said, and undoing the choice he made all those years ago. The choice he reaffirmed the instant you answered the door.

So Remus swallows the words he was going to say, and replaces them with, "I have to go."

Even though you knew this was coming, it still hurts. You pull your arms away from him and roll onto your side, hugging yourself instead. Then, without looking at him, you tilt your head in the direction of the front door. "Lock it behind you for me, will you?"

Remus nods and pulls himself to his feet. He ducks out of the room, dresses quickly and cleans himself up with a wave of his wand. Then he comes back in and gently covers you with your duvet.

"Take care," he murmurs, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

"You, too."

You hear the front door close, and a faint rap on the wood as Remus taps it with his wand, followed by the sound of the lock sliding into place of its own accord.

Then there's a loud crack, and just like that, he's gone.

[aphrcdites]

the bond between a girl and their favorite fictional man is both an unstoppable force and an immovable object

[thatboisus]

“english isn’t my first langua—“ say no more.

[lovelyspooks]

Me at 3am clicking “keep reading” on the most jaw dropping, earth shattering, pantie dropping, smutty fic when I have to be up in 3 hours

[rosieandthethorns]

i don't WANT to read smut right now

i WANT to read a passionate, poetic, jaw dropping, tears streaking down my face, heart wrenching, giggle inducing, feet kicking, cringy yet amazing, gorgeous story written by someone who apologizes for english not being their first language(they're the best writers ever) which has 4 chapters and then makes me scream because it hasnt been updated in months and the author is mia

[natti-ice]

18+ mdni

Me: “fuck, I need his cock”

Him: *is literally just words on tumblr*

[bethsvrse]

STOP MAKING MY LIL AWKWARD NERDY BOYS BE CONFIDENT AND SO SURE OF THEMSELVES!!! I LIKE THEM BECAUSE THEY’RE NERDY NOT BECAUSE YOU FANFIC WRITERS MAKE THEM EGO MANIC ASSHOLES

[luveline]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 —send me a shy!reader request for any character (with a plot) and I'll write a >1k drabble

sirius/james introducing shy!reader to remus. and shes just like quiet and in awe, but remus loves it.

luveline's 40k party ☆ tysm for requesting! remus x shy fem!reader

James is used to your personality after months of being your lecture neighbour, unperturbed by your quiet. "It's going to be fun," he promises, handing you a cold glass of cranberry vodka. "They're nice, okay? I won't let anyone irritate you." 

He's hosting a party and had the generosity to invite you round early. He's easing you in, so to speak. It took him two weeks of steady Hellos for you to work up the courage to say Hi back, another two weeks for small talk, a month before you felt comfortable speaking to him first. If you're that shy, a party is basically torture.

"It's not about irritating me," you say. 

"I know, I'm messing." James lists his head to the left. A second later, there's a knock at the door. "Aha. Wait here, shortcake, there's someone I want you to meet." 

"James," you say after him, wet from your glass leaking down to your sleeve, "what?" 

"I asked him to come early and say hello! He's quiet and handsome and you'll love him, just don't stare at his nose." 

What's wrong with his nose? you think, alarmed. 

James opens the door. Two new voices emerge, one scratchy and a little high, the other smoother. "I need to pee so bad," the scratchy one declares, followed by bounding footsteps up the stairs. 

"You alright?" the smoother asks.

You think there's patting, a hug, "I'm brilliant! You smell really nice, Remus, like a garden." 

"Lovely."

"In a good way! Come and meet my Y/N, you remember I told you about her nice gel pens?" 

James leads the smooth-voiced Remus into the living room. You hurriedly put down your drink and stand, wiping your wet hands in your shirt. You cringe at the darkening fabric but hide your grimace as they stop in front of you. 

"Remus, Y/N. Y/N, Remus," James introduces you both. 

Remus has a scar across his nose that seems cruelly cut. There's another beside it that starts in his upper lip, both of which end in his eyebrow. You know how self-conscious it feels to be looked at, so you manage to smile and offer your hand without too much of it. He's handsome with his scars, a nice nose with a ridge and brown eyes the colour of caramelised sugar.

"Hello," Remus says, shaking your hand. His is big enough to make yours feel small. 

"I invited her early because she's more fun than the rest of our lot," James says, throwing himself down on the sofa and kicking his legs out on the coffee table. 

Remus taps your elbow very gently as if to usher you to sit and sits down beside you, enough space to be casual but too little to stop the rampant nerves that blossom in your stomach. 

Remus asks about your life. What you're studying, where you're from, if James is being nice to you. While James is touchy in the rough older brother way, scrunching your shoulder and shaking you when you're not expecting it. Remus is touchy in a different way, you find, almost as if he doesn't know he's doing it. His shoe bumps your shoe, his hand falls down between his outer thigh and your own, his knuckles touching your jeans very lightly. He spins in his seat to talk to you. 

You don't notice other people arriving, nor the scratchy-voiced friends return. All you can do is look up at Remus with wide eyes. Your nerves meld to something warmer. 

"And what do you do?" you ask him. 

He smiles like you've wandered into a secret. "I'm trying to write a book." 

"He's being a bit much," Sirius says to James, the two now loitering in the doorway with matching beers. You and Remus chatter on, unaware of their running commentary.

"It's a very strong reaction. I knew she'd like him, but I didn't think she'd like him like that." James takes a sip of his drink. Remus asks you a quiet question. You duck your head, playing with your sleeves, and Remus, the bastard, ducks his head to follow your gaze, smiling at you all the while. 

James almost chokes, pointing his bottle toward you both as though Sirius isn't already looking. "He's eating it up. I forgot how flirty he is."

"She'll be nice to him, won't she?" Sirius asks, like it's a done deal. To be fair, Remus seems enthralled with you. 

"Definitely. She's very nice. Oh, look, that's sick, she's gonna pass out." James winces as Remus takes your arm into his hand. 

Remus wouldn't do anything cruel, but James wasn't joking when he told Remus that you were exceedingly, achingly shy. He's about to step in and rescue you, but you turn into Remus' touch and pull your leg up on the sofa to make yourself comfortable. Your voice is animated, if quieter than the average person's.

"Woah," James says, beaming.  

Remus flirts almost as a defence, like he wants to get the rejection over and done with so he can move on. You've yet to reject; you're looking up at him in moderate awe, your lips quirked into an easy smile. 

"Boo!" James calls, flicking his bottle cap at Remus, who brushes it away. "Took me three weeks to get a smile out of her," he mutters. "What a dick." 

[undercoveravenger]

Finding Peace

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Request: “i think a lot about remus with a boyfriend who’s also a lycan 🥰 bonding over shared trauma and/or how they help each other through full moons mayhaps 👀”

-----

Full moons were awful. The transformations were always agonizing; your bones cracking and shifting, fur pushing up through your skin, and the way your features would distort to something more distinctly wolfish. They had only worsened with time, as you grew up and realized what could happen if you weren’t careful- that you could hurt someone, or do worse than that. That was why you hadn’t wanted to let yourself get close to anyone when you’d been admitted to Hogwarts. 

Then again, you really didn’t have much choice when James Potter and Sirius Black set their sights on you and decided you were going to be their new friend, coming barrelling into your life full steam ahead with Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin in tow.

And Remus… Meeting Remus was different. He was smart and sweet and kind and he knew what you were going through because he also had lycanthropy. 

You had thought that having someone else who knew- who understood- would have been a good thing, but now you had more than yourself to worry about on the mornings after the full moon. Now you had to worry about whether you’d hurt Remus,or any of your other friends for that matter, while you couldn’t control yourself.

It was one such morning after a particularly difficult shift, with the watery light of dawn just beginning to filter in through the boarded-up windows of the shrieking shack when you woke up, looking around warily. You found that you were naked, covered in dirt and bits of debris from your run through the woods, and there were a myriad of small scrapes and bruises scattered over you. 

As you examined your surroundings, you noticed that James, Sirius, and Peter’s things were gone, and you assumed they’d gone ahead back to the castle to retrieve some breakfast to bring back for you and Remus.

Right, Remus.

With that thought to remind you, you turned to glance behind you, where he was sprawled out across the worn hardwood floors. He was lying on his back with his face tipped slightly towards you, chest rising and falling gently as he slept. There was a tattered flannel blanket thrown over him haphazardly.

You slowly pushed yourself into a sitting position, ignoring the dull aches of your muscles protesting your movement as you shifted closer to him. You reached out a hand to wake him but found yourself hesitating before you could.

You knew you’d need to wake him eventually, but for now it was nice to see the ever-present tension gone from his shoulders and the worried furrow smoothed from between his brows. Soft brown curls messily tousled around his face and freckles dusting his cheeks and you found yourself wishing absently to trace your fingertips over them, to try and find a pattern or see where they stopped. There was even a faint smile curling at the edges of his lips. He looked at peace, for once, and you didn’t want to ruin that just yet.

You weren’t sure exactly how long you were admiring Remus before he shifted, attempting to turn onto his side before freezing with a sharp wince, face tightening as he blinked himself awake. He groaned at the light, forcing himself to curl onto his side to get a little further from it. Remus finally adjusted to the light and began to look around a little, a grin forming, unfiltered and unchecked, as he met your eyes.

“Morning, Moony,” you greeted him, careful to speak quietly so you wouldn’t worsen either of your headaches.

A soft yawn escaped him as he made to speak, “Good morning,” he murmured, voice hoarse from the transformation and the howling. He looked around a little, seeming confused to find the two of you alone. “Where are the boys?”

You shrugged, “Breakfast, probably.” You turned to look at him, too used to the mornings after transforming to be terribly affected by yours or Remus’ state of undress. “You ready to head back too? Hungry at all?”

Remus groaned, rolling back onto his back and throwing his arm over his eyes. “Thinking about food makes me want to vomit.”

“Fair enough,” you agree with a chuckle, lying down again and staring aimlessly up at the ceiling. “Honestly, I’m alright with avoiding food and people for a while.”

Your friend let out a hum of assent as he tipped his head to look at you. “It’s nice just the two of us.”

“Yeah?” You asked, turning to glance at him. You were surprised by the fond little smile on his face and the softness in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Remus nodded slightly, barely there, like he was sharing a secret. “I like when it’s just us. When we wake up like this, it helps, I think. Makes it feel better. Easier.” He sighed, just a ghost of a breath through his grin, “Everything’s easier around you. You make me feel more like me.”

For a moment, you weren’t quite sure how to respond, though you knew just how he felt. He made you feel the same; he was grounding when you felt like you weren’t quite human anymore, freeing when the two of you played as wolves on the full moons, and calming even when it felt like the world was too much. He made you feel like you weren’t alone and that was one of the reasons you loved him. Really there were too many to count. 

You’d always shied away from telling him since you didn’t want to burden him with your feelings when he already had lycanthropy to deal with. But now that you had reason to believe he might feel the same-

A shaky breath escaped you as your hand crept slowly across the space between you until your fingers brushed against Remus’. You watched his pretty coffee-brown eyes trace the movement and an awed smile form as you intertwined your fingers. His eyes flickered up to meet yours and he slowly brought your linked hands up to press a light kiss on the back of your hands before curling close to you.

“Maybe we put off going back for a little longer?” he proposed quietly.

You nodded, reaching over to pull the blanket over both of you. “Sounds like a great plan.”

He shifted a little closer so he could rest his head on your shoulder and slipped an arm over your middle, content to curl up with you in your own little world.

At least, until your friends showed back up to disturb your peace.

[sunnami]

❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders x reader. (james potter x reader, lily evans x reader, remus lupin x reader, and sirius black x reader.)

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.” 

You blink. 

“Get the fuck out of my room!” 

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making. 

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls. 

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!” 

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze.  Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!” 

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly. 

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.” 

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.” 

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say. 

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies. 

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”  

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.” 

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—” 

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.” 

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you. 

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”) 

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—” 

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.” 

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?” 

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.” 

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.” 

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home. 

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)  

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that. 

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”) 

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.” 

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze. 

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.” 

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much. 

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile. 

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.” 

“I know.” Harry grins. 

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.” 

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally. 

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.” 

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)  

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow. 

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers. 

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.” 

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.” 

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you. 

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast. 

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.) 

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?” 

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.” 

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you. 

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.” 

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze. 

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.” 

“Oi!” 

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.” 

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.” 

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary. 

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.” 

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”) 

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.” 

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.” 

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!” 

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?” 

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically. 

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name. 

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now. 

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?” 

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.” 

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right? 

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.” 

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily. 

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.” 

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.” 

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable. 

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced. 

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear. 

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.” 

Harry’s eye twitches. 

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.” 

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly. 

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.” 

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?” 

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.” 

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.” 

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.” 

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading. 

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands. 

“In your dreams!” You shrill. 

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.” 

Harry nods. “Is it time already?” 

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.” 

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?” 

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?” 

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.” 

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?” 

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?” 

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat. 

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.” 

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this. 

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes. 

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.” 

“One date, then.” 

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?” 

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.” 

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.” 

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you. 

“And I want to—” 

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.” 

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—” 

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.  

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration. 

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases. 

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words. 

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.” 

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.” 

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.) 

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance. 

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.” 

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm. 

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.” 

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.” 

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.” 

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth. 

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it. 

He falls in love.) 

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.” 

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?” 

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.” 

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.” 

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.” 

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.” 

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

[cinnamoodles]

getting into a fandom and reading all the top fics >>>>>

[aphrcdites]

“not all men”

you’re right, my favorite fictional character would never.

[thatboisus]

he wants me so bad (he’s fictional and i read a fanfic about him)

[lovelyspooks]

Me looking at myself in the mirror at 3am after reading smut for 4 hours straight instead of sleeping:

[stvrlitsky]

Live, love and stan my jealous fictional boyfriends <3333