witticisms-of-a-wolf-blog

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Put a tarot card in my inbox and I'll answer the question!

The Fool: What is the stupidest thing your muse has ever done?

The Empress: What would your muse name their children?

Judgement: Would your muse ever go back to their most recent ex-lover?

The World: What has been your muse's greatest success?

The Sun: What was the happiest moment of your muse's life?

Wheel of Fortune: Does your muse believe in luck?

The Hierophant: What is one rule or law your muse would never break?

Strength: Name a time when your muse had to be strong in the face of danger or trouble.

The Star: If your muse had one wish, what would it be?

The Magician: What would your muse draw if given paper and markers?

The Emperor: Name a time your muse has broken the rules.

Death: If your muse had to change something about themselves, what would they change?

The Chariot: If your muse ruled the world, what would they change first?

The High Priestess: What is the smartest thing your muse has ever done?

Temperance: Would your muse remain calm despite the worst circumstances?

The Lovers: At what age did your muse first fall in love?

The Hermit: If your muse were trapped alone on an island, name three things they'd have to have..

The Moon: Has your muse ever had something unexplained happen to them? If so, what?

Justice: What's something your muse has been dying to admit or confess?

The Hanged Man: Name a bad habit your muse can't give up.

The Devil: What was the worst relationship your muse has ever had?

The Tower: What event would trigger your muse's breaking point?

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mcrninglily‌:

july 8th 1979. @witticisms-of-a-wolf.

Lily had to keep telling herself that Dumbledore was not an arsehole.

She told herself that she was being ridiculous, that surely, this whole speech Dumbledore gave was only to try and bring them closer together. No more secrets. No more lies. But of course, what did telling those secrets do to the people who were keeping them? Lily couldn’t help but feel her blood boil. Dumbledore had no right to invoke Remus’ secret in that way. No right to even ask him if it was alright. 

She tried not to let her anger get the best of her, but even as she stomped down the hall to Remus’ room, she could feel the anger in her feet, pushing into the ground with every step. Remus deserved to come out in his own time, not because Dumbledore asked him. Remus did not deserve to bee used as a tool to get the gang together.

Although Lily respected Dumbledore, in this moment she wanted nothing more than to punch him right in his sparkly eyes.

With a shake of her head, Lily knocked on Remus door. She almost didn’t realize that she had arrived; had almost walked right past the doorway before she’d realized where her feet had taken her. Lily waited until the door opened before managing a small smile. Remus always had that effect on her. She could feel like she was running a marathon but as soon as he was there she felt calm again.

“Hi,” she said, softly. “I hope you don’t mind having a visitor.” She pulled out a small tub of sweets from the kitchen. “I brought snacks.” 

When there wasn’t anyone else around, it was almost possible for Remus to believe that the events of today had been nothing more than a dream. He didn’t hang around for long after the end of the meeting, walking away from the property alone and apparating back to the flat he shared with Sirius with a loud crack. It was only as he shut his door that he felt he was able to breath again.

He didn’t know how long it had been when he heard the soft sounds of knocking at his door. It took him longer than usual to react, all of his movements sluggish and rigid as he forced his feet to walk towards the sound. He expected to see Sirius’ face as he opened the door, and was surprised instead when it was Lily who greeted him. Remus immediately stiffened, guilt flooding his eyes as he traced the soft lines of her expression.

“Lily.” He answered, surprise evident in his voice. His face was pale, and he was unable to still the shake in his hands where he his grip had tightened on the handle of the door. However, as he searched the other witch’s face for signs of fear, anger, or mistrust, all he could see was the same warmth and compassion she had always held. Remus stilled in confusion, pausing for a beat as he registered her arrival before opening up the door to invite her in with a short nod.

“Sorry. Yeah, of course- come in.” He murmured, the words disjointed and clumsy. He ran a hand through tangled curls, lips unable to help but pull into the shadow of a smile at the sight of the tub in her hands. “You brought sweets?" He asked, eyes lifting from her hands to her face with a tilt of his head, expression difficult to read.

Remus stepped away from the door, turning and making his way wordlessly towards an open window with a practiced motion. Bending down, he swung his legs through the opening and out onto the metal fire escape outside, exhaling deeply. It was warm, the summer heat lingering into night as the sounds of the city filled the air around them. He left a space at his side for Lily, a familiar position for the pair.

Not for the first time, Remus didn’t know what to say. He could remember sitting side by side like this several times before: after his argument with Sirius, after that long night with Marlene in the hospital wing, after they had graduated and he had felt more lost than ever had before. It was always easy between them, and yet today neither of them could deny the visible tension, unspoken words hanging heavy on Remus’ shoulders.

Lily deserved so much more than what he had given her. She had deserved the truth long before now, and had earned the right to hear it from his lips rather than the words of another in a large group. He had been selfish, hoping to hang onto their friendship for as long as possible, putting off building what he had assumed could only be an inevitable, irrevocable wall between the pair. It wasn’t right, and his fear had betrayed nearly all of their house mottos. All of these were things that he would never be able to forgive himself for, and yet despite it all, Lily came to sit by his side today, as she always did.

“I didn’t know if you’d want to come.” The werewolf finally conceded, the words sounding strange when he heard them out loud.

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The Trees – Rush

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gideonprwtt‌:

Gideon’s body went cold when Dumbledore mentioned that there was a werewolf among them. 

It shouldn’t matter, he reminded himself. It was more an instinctive response than anything else, but Gideon recognized that he was, once again, discriminating someone for no good reason. Dumbledore’s lecture only further shamed him for the kind of ideology he didn’t know he was harboring. But Gideon still recalled—and still carried on his body the markings of—a battle with two werewolves where he and Fabian had escaped by the skin of teeth, and that was only after the sacrifice of a bystander witch. The event took place during his third week as an Order member, so it was rather memorable even when time had dulled the exact details.

The meeting continued on, and Gideon fidgeted in his seat, distracted and wanting the meeting to end. He needed some space to think, to rationalize what it meant for him to have one of his fears as a fellow Order member.

Afterward, he stayed to chat with some people, but he couldn’t help sneaking several glances at Remus, who quickly disappeared from the scrutiny. For a moment his heart went out to the man, as Gideon himself understood the pressure of being in the limelight for all the wrong reasons. 

Elphias Doge’s house seemed to doom his mood though. Despite having a layout similar to Dedalus’ place, there was something colder, more rigid about the cottage: perhaps it was Gideon’s unfamiliarity to the coastal coolness, perhaps it was the way furniture spaced just a bit too wide from each other, or the perhaps it was the chill that had been pressing on his back since Dumbledore’s announcement. In the end Gideon left the cottage and bid everyone an early goodnight.

In the garden where Gideon happened upon—he had always a soft spot for plants—there was a shadow of a lone figure. He stepped closer, holding his wand out, but the figure turned out to be Remus, tensed and anxious. As if to mirror Remus’ emotional distress, Gideon’s posture went stiff; Gideon flashed an awkward smile at the man and pocketed his wand, his mind whirling: what do I say, what do I say …  

“No, no, it’s fine.” Gideon cleared his throat. “I didn’t know it was you. I’ll just, um, I’ll leave you alone then.”  

But he was running away—away from his own colleague, away from a trusted friend of many including Dumbledore, away from his fears. He was ignoring reality and putting it out of sight so he wouldn’t be bothered by it. How cowardly!

“Actually, you know what?” He spun around and faced Remus again. “I don’t know you as well as others, but I want to say that your, er, condition, you being a werewolf shouldn’t make me look at you differently. I have … I don’t have good memories with werewolves, but I’m trying my best. Just call me out if I mess up. And, uh, I look forward to seeing you around, I guess.”

Gideon wasn’t sure if he did a good job delivering that impromptu speech or not, but he did feel better after saying it out loud, as if the physical manifestation of his fears had made them easier to deal with. He hoped he hadn’t accidentally offended Remus in anyway.

Remus could feel the unease in the other man’s posture as clearly as he could feel it in his own. The cool breeze from the coast was welcome, and Remus tried to focus on the simple sensation as he matched the other man’s glance, visibly guarded.

He didn’t know Gideon well, the wizard a few years older during their time at Hogwarts. However, he had known the reputation that he and his twin brother had left behind. He knew of the way that Sirius and James had looked up to them, both fellow Gryffindors who shared the same love for chaos and making those around them laugh. Those years since he had attended school with them seemed so far away now, as he watched the older wizard stand before him. He couldn’t imagine the loss that the other man had suffered. Guilt flooded his system for adding another measure of unease to his day. He doubted the other man would be pleased to find out that Dumbledore had stooped so low as to recruit a werewolf to join the Order.

Remus watched as Gideon spoke, eyes lowering as the man turned and started to walk away, silently berating himself for not finding something better to say. Or perhaps he had already said too much. He wasn’t sure what to do in this situation, and longed selfishly for the security of his group of friends by his side. He couldn’t imagine how difficult it was going to be to face all of them at the next meeting or training session.

However, the other man spun around suddenly, and Remus raised his eyes again, expression confused as the older wizard started speaking again. Remus quickly realized that the other words weren’t of judgement or of hostility, but instead of neutrality and openness. They surprised the werewolf, and he was silent as he listened to the other man speak, eyes softer now.

However, the declaration that he wasn’t the first werewolf that Gideon had met struck Remus. The other man had met another of his kind, and knew what they were capable of. He felt another wave of guilt for bringing up what he could only imagine to be unpleasant memories, and took an involuntary step back for the other man’s sake.

“That’s okay.” He found himself speaking, eyes meeting the other man’s cautiously. “-I understand if you don’t have good memories with werewolves.” He clarified, the words carefully selected. “I don’t either.” Remus finished, nodding as he stiffened his jaw, biting down on his lip.

He hoped he wasn’t overstepping by speaking now, or holding the man in conversation when he would really rather be leaving. He took a chance, however, by continuing, the words hesitant but honest. “I appreciate it, though. You saying that. You didn’t have to.” He continued, dropping his eyes and looking back to the house behind them. “The Order is important to me. I just want to help.”

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In The Flesh playing from another room Pink Floyd

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bewareaudog‌:

“If it gives me anymore brownie points I actually sat in my flat for a good twenty minutes thinking of ways to construct a well thought out argument.” The words were stated proudly, though not entirely honest. Twenty minutes was a bit of a stretch— maybe a good five. However, that was a step when it came to Sirius. He rarely thought anything through before he went into it. It was one of the Marauders’ biggest faults, but Sirius figured he should’ve went in sounding like he took some time to think about it before he just started ranting to one of the most well thought out Marauders. Remus was the hardest one to crack among the four of them, at least in Sirius’ mind. When he had an idea James and Peter went along with it a lot easier than Remus did, even if it was completely absurd.

The sound of an argument coming from outside the window did little to stray his attention. Sirius grew up with arguments all the time— by his parents right down the stairs from his bedroom. By his cousins who were visiting and weren’t getting along. Not that Sirius could really blame anyone for not getting along with Bellatrix. The woman was mental. Arguments happened all the time around him growing up, and while he certainly didn’t miss that sort of atmosphere he missed people being around. It was all very controversial because Sirius was a man who appreciated solitude— in fact he needed it sometimes. But he hated being alone. Entirely alone. Sirius missed being able to wake up from a nightmare and be surrounded by his friends and wake one of them up to distract him and comfort him if he wanted it. Even though the Marauder could easily slip out and find one of his friends if he wanted to— no matter the time of day or night, Sirius missed how things used to be. Call him childish if you will, but Sirius wasn’t a person meant to be by himself for too many hours. It drove him crazy. He had been alone with his thoughts too much as of late.

“Maybe there’s nothing immediately wrong with your flat. It doesn’t look like it will fall down for a few more years,” he started, accepting the cigarette thankfully. Sirius took a drag as he looked around the room and carried on again. “But there’s something wrong with the whole rhetorical picture of it.”

Maybe he should have included in his argument this was also for Sirius himself rather than just doing a favor for his best mate. His pride got in the way of admitting that aloud. Perhaps Remus knew him well enough to read into that without Sirius actually speaking the words, but he hoped not.

“I’ve got a huge space I’m living in all by myself. I have more money than I know what to do with. To be entirely honest with you I’ve been looking into how I’d go about donating some of it and what I should actually donate it to because I’m sitting atop a bunch of money I probably don’t actually deserve because I’m doing nothing useful with it. I have more than enough space and money to help you get up on your feet rather than a shabby flat. My uncle probably would have wanted me to help someone— not that it’s some sort of charity case. You’re my best mate, and he’d probably be happier seeing me do something with it rather than spend it on marijuana, cigarettes, and alcohol. Not that I still won’t.”

It was then Sirius looked to the window, a small smile turning up on his lips. “And you won’t have to hear that arguing, even if you say it’ll end soon. Poor bloke will probably start it up again after a couple of weeks anyway. Most you will hear that is almost as annoying as that is any music I’m playing.”

The Marauder shrugged his shoulders, turning his attention back to Remus. “Well, that and the smell of weed. Some people tell me it makes a home smell bad, but I haven’t noticed,” he mused, handing his friend back the cigarette. “Unless you prefer living on your own. Then really all my arguments are invalid, so if you think that then I’ll shut up. Until you say that, however, my argument still stands.”

“Twenty minutes?” Remus mused, leaning the side of head against the back of the couch as he smiled, eyes bright. “Damn, that is impressive. Might even be a new record.”

He was silent as he listened to Sirius speak, fingers pulling at a loose thread at the sleeve of his shirt. There was a layer of honesty in the other man’s words that he didn’t doubt, that much was clear. However, he couldn’t deny the way that his stomach twisted at the mention of a charity case, despite the other man’s words of denial. Logically, he understood this wasn’t Sirius’ intention. Despite this, the old argument hung heavy in the air between them, and Remus wished guilty for a brief moment that the other man’s motivations could be more selfish. Was it completely impossible that he, like Remus, had simply grown lonely? Would it be so bad to admit something like that? Watching his friend speak now, he almost believed it to be true. Perhaps this was just another thing that he didn’t quite understand; some unwritten rule of code that had passed him over in his solitary upbringing. Remus had learned quickly at school that there were certain things that boys just didn’t think or do or say. Certain things were better left unspoken.

He pushed the hopeful thought aside, instead making a mental note to look into a few charity programs or organizations in the area that he would be able to suggest at a later time. He understood how much Sirius’ uncle had meant to the other man, and even though the suggestion surprised him, thought it would be the perfect way to honor him. In any case, there were much better uses for Sirius’ money than supporting a penniless werewolf, that much was clear.

“You know, if I had known better I would say that Prongs was putting you up to this.” He finally answered, the words heavy but the tone light, as if it were simply a passing comment. “Did he help you come up with the speech?”

As Sirius turned towards the noise by the window, Remus allowed his eyes to trace over the profile of the other man, eyes falling on the edges of his lips as he found himself lost in thought. The sound of an ambulance passing by cut into the moment, and Remus broke his gaze. 

“Wormtail’s the only good one of the lot. You know, he likes it here.” Remus said, accepting the cigarette back with a nod. “-says it’s got character. Maybe the two of us will go and get a place together and that’ll be that.” 

Bringing his hand to his lips, he inhaled deeply as he took a drag. The smoke filled his lungs, and for a moment he forget the steady ache that pulled at his bones, from the bottom of his spine to the tips of his fingers. He pulled his leg up closer to his chest, turning back to face Sirius.

“Anyone who complains about the smell is probably just upset that you haven’t offered them a hit first.” The werewolf countered, eyebrows raising with interest. “Is that included in the rent?” He took another drag and exhaled slowly before continuing for clarity. “-both the bad music and weed. Otherwise I’m not interested.”

the roommate agreement //

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prxn-gs‌:

With the grassy atmosphere, the wide open spacing free of crowded, stuffy meetings and internal drama, it was a lot easier for James to pretend they had simply been dueling just to duel. That they weren’t preparing for a war and their lives weren’t all in danger. Alastor’s watching glare could be all but forgotten.

All these years of friendship left James and Remus in sync in a way he hadn’t been able to manage with most of the others he had practiced with, but the two of them, Sirius, and Peter had a special kind of bond that couldn’t be replicated no matter how many speeches about them all being family that Dumbledore wanted to give. James already considered too many of the people here family, letting anyone in only for the change to lose them seemed too hard, even for someone who was always eager for some danger.

Finally Alastor’s voice rang over them, sending them all to a halt. James couldn’t put an exact pin on it, but he had a quality that made James respect not only Alastor Moody’s accomplishments, but him as a person. He trusted him to lead himself and his friends, his family, into that war and would follow him until the end. He was momentarily frozen, wide eyes locked on Moody until Remus’ voice had pulled him back out of his thoughts.

“I’m just especially amazing.” James shrugged, but his gaze contradicted the nonchalance of it as his eyes brushed him over. “In that case, I guess it’s a good thing we’re doing this.”

“Yeah, yeah- ‘course you are.” Remus smiled, head tilting. For a moment, it was almost as if they had been back at school, with a sweet summer breeze and practiced nature that came from dueling with an old friend. However today they hadn’t been preparing for an exam, but instead training for a very real war that lingered in front of them. It was just out of sight, beyond the borders of the trees in the distance, and yet both men could feel the uncertainty as clear as they could feel the sun shining. 

“Have you been out flying lately?” He asked, pushing the other subject aside as he gazed out into the field around them. “This looks like it’d be a good spot. The coast can’t be far from here.” He couldn’t help but imagine what their summer would have looked like in a different world. They could have spent the weekend with bottles full of fire whiskey, camping and singing and swimming on the beach. It was wrong to think like this, and yet he couldn’t help himself from going back to that place for a brief moment. It was easier than imagining what the next few months might hold. He knew the other man could feel it, too: the heaviness of the present.

Pocketing his wand, Remus fell in step alongside James, the pair making their way back towards the house. The werewolf pulled at the edges of his sleeves absentmindedly where the fabric stuck to his skin in the heat, voice softer now as he continued. The words had been on his mind all morning. 

“Have you spoken to Lily since the meeting?”

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dearmckinnon‌:

hey you.

something in marlene’s distant memory snapped. it took her a moment to locate it, but when she did, she could’ve sworn her heart fractured in an old and inexcusable way. almost three years had passed since that rainy october day, but the situation was mirrored in a lot of ways. she was standing in front of him with the wind whipping her hair around her face, calling him out on his extended absence and he was passing it off with a greeting that made her want to grind her teeth together with the amount of adoration she had for him. he was even tilted the way he had been, leaning heavily to one side as if he were in pain. it occurred to marlene that he probably was in pain, and had been that day as well. back then she had ignored it, adding it to the list of things they didn’t tell each other.

as her past leaned forward to kiss her present, marlene laughed. It wasn’t a pretty sound, or a flirty one, or even one that spoke of genuine humor. it was short, pointed and an obvious show of her no longer taking the bait he held in front of her. how’s your mum? she almost said it but the notion made her angry. her frown deepened, “shut up.” but then he was telling her to come inside and marlene looked up to the sky, rain splashing down on her face. she had to squint to protect her eyes, the fury that was suddenly leaking from her holding her back for a fraction of a second. she looked at him, permanent crease between her brows. marlene pulled her wet arms from across her body and lifted them, letting them fall a moment later down to her sides. her hands made an audible slapping noise against her bare thighs. “i don’t care,” she told him. “i love the rain.” you know that. she didn’t say it aloud but she knew he was already thinking it. he loved the rain, too. with a sigh, marlene reached up and pulled her hair over her right shoulder. her fingers were surprisingly steady as she twisted her messy locks, wringing the water out on his doorstep before stepping over the threshold of his apartment compliantly.

“you’re retreating,” she told him. without considering what she was doing or really even where she was, marlene sat down on the floor of his flat and started undoing the laces of her shoes. she was still angry, but her socks were wet and it was only making it worse. marlene preferred being barefoot anyway, always had. especially when it was raining. with a bit of forced effort, she yanked one of her boots off and dropped it onto the mat by his front door. “and I’m over it.” her bright eyes were focused on the task at hand, despite her obvious irritation. getting her sock off was tricky and she made several tries of pulling on it before her hand slipped and she accidentally hit the wall next to her. marlene tried again without even acknowledging that anything had gone wrong. “i get it, okay? i gave you space.” eventually, the article came off with an unattractive slapping sound against the floor. with a grimace, marlene picked it up and laid it across the top of her boot. “i allowed you the time to process and regroup.” much easier than the first try, she got her second shoe and sock off, placing them precisely in line with the others. finally, marlene got to her feet.

now barefoot, she was an inch short than she had been and standing directly in front of him, she realized she barely reached eye-level with his chin. his face was flushed, presumably because of her blatant berating of him. “we’re gonna talk about it now, because if I wait on you, I’ll probably meet the end of time before you come to me about it.” her voice came out a bit breathless, eyes scanning and committing to memory the sight of him - though admittedly this was one she knew well. “so. you’re a werewolf.” her hands were on her hips again, frown still placed upon her mouth. marlene allowed herself the pleasure of looking at him now, taking in the sharp lines of his collar, jaw, and cheekbones. there was a softness in his eyes, downy curls falling into them, and the way his lips curved down in the center of his upper lip made her stomach churn. his freckles were stark against his pale skin, the pink tinge in his cheeks that much more obvious. marlene exhaled through parted lips, eyelids drooping as she unabashedly memorized the painting of his face. her voice was quieter when she finally spoke again, “there it is. i said it out loud and the sky didn’t fall.”

marlene supposed she had known all along. she paid too much attention to him not to. then again, she had kept herself naive enough, aware of the desperate way he tried to be someone other than himself, to stay just beyond the realm of deception. she teetered on the edge of awareness and ignorance for years until she let go of him entirely. he had almost done the same, though he had known her secrets and simply respected the fact that she wasn’t ready to talk about them. “and, what’s more, you’re still remus lupin. the terribly tragic boy who hides from his problems as if that’ll make them go away. werewolf. chicken’s more like it.” marlene raised her eyebrows at him, always a challenge in her golden stare. this time, however, the corner of her lip moved up into a smirk. she was teasing him, letting him know that despite the fear inside of him she was still the same old Marlene. “i always knew you were more interesting than anybody else at that dreadfully inattentive school.”

You’re retreating.

The words landed in the air as heavy as the storm around them. To anyone else, they would have sounded accusatory; harsh and direct. However, the bluntness of the girl struck Remus as refreshing. It was the moment you jumped from a rocky cliff on a hot summer’s day and landed in freezing waters; at once sharp and cold and terrifying, but also suddenly clearer than anything else before. There was no pretense in the witch who stood in front of him, soaking wet with no matter of poise or forced eloquence. He wondered with a twinge of jealousy how it might feel to be that brave, even just for a moment. What was the price for a gift like that?

He shut the door to the flat with only a measured hesitation, eyes falling on Marlene’s shoes as she continued. The entire procession would have almost been comical if circumstances were different. She was a beautiful mess, bare legs and messy socks, with the wet fabric of her shirt clinging to her shoulders and the long line of her back in a way that made him dizzy. He fought against the urge to laugh: to bend down by her side with a smile and untie the laces of her shoes with steadier hands. It would have been so easy. And yet there was a heaviness that lingered in the air, something that had been shattered years before and now suddenly blown up by conditions beyond his control.

Turning to the table nearby, he picked up the towel he had just set down and held it out to the witch with an outstretched hand. He wanted to wrap it around her shoulders, or even more to pull her close and bury his head in her hair and forget the day for a moment; anything but the habitual gesture. The thought filled him with guilt; settling heavy and uncomfortable in the bottom of his stomach. He wondered not for the first time how she must feel now, looking back on all of their stolen time. Would she be upset? Disgusted? Embarrassed? He swallowed and pushed down the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him.

Regardless of the outcome, everything he had fought to keep hidden for so long was splayed out in front of them and as paralyzing as it was, Remus didn’t have any other choice but to give her the answers that she deserved. When she stood up in front of him at last, he couldn’t bring himself to lie, the words finally forcing themselves out.

“I didn’t know if you would want to talk to me-“ He started, unsure of whether or not he was making sense. His breath was uneven, and he fought to disguise the anxiety that threatened to silence his voice. Remus tilted his head, eyes lowering instead as he continued. “I’m not going to force anyone to be comfortable with me, or any of this.” He lingered on the last part, the word sounding dirty as it landed on his lips. He frowned as he continued. “I know that’s what Dumbledore said, and I appreciate what he’s trying to do. I agree; we need to trust each other. But I understand if everyone isn’t-“ He paused for a moment, his jaw hardening before he forced himself to finish. “-I understand if you aren’t okay with it. With me.”

They had always seemed so separate in his mind, Remus Lupin and the wolf. They were two disjointed halves of the same person, constantly clashing and warring for control. The scars and marks from their battles were written on skin and etched in broken bone. He wondered if she was seeing that side now, when she met his eyes. Could she still see him, or was it the wolf who she found looking back out at her? The thought sent his head spinning, and yet as he matched her gaze and searched her expression, he couldn’t find any traces of fear. This struck the werewolf as strange.

He thought he knew what direction the conversation was headed in, until she spoke her last line, her eyebrows raising in a way that struck Remus as familiar. It surprised him, the curve of her lip that he almost missed if he hadn’t been searching for it. He convinced himself that it existed in his imagination alone, the lingering promise of hope too optimistic to allow himself to hold onto it for more than a second. His eyes were guarded, and shoulders tense from carrying an invisible weight that he still wouldn’t allow himself to drop. 

“I’m not interesting.” He finally said, voice surprisingly soft, not arguing against anything else she said. Remus walked towards a closet next to the entryway, pulling out another oversized sweater and tucking it under his arm. With another hand, he reached into the pocket of Sirius’ jacket and found a packet of cigarettes, mentally reminding himself to buy the man another later. He let out a breath, shutting the closet and turning back towards the witch.

“But if you want to talk, I can try.” He bit down on his lip, walking over towards the couch and offering the sweater to the other girl wordlessly. The casual nature of the movement seemed easy, but the quiet invitation took more bravery than he could admit. “What do you want to know?”

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dearmckinnon‌:

times up // 15 July 79

@witticisms-of-a-wolf

it was late afternoon and even as the sun was setting, the air was thick and muggy. it was the kind of heat that made a persons clothes stick to them uncomfortably. marlene mckinnon wore black hotpants and her usual ratty boots. her shirt was white, loose fitted with a red neckline and the words ‘i’m a pepper’ stamped crookedly on the front. her hair was loose, sticking to the back of her neck as she made her way down the crowded sidewalk. people were hurrying in all directions as the clouds rolled in, but marlene wasn’t paying them any attention. her golden hues were scanning the shop windows for a particular pair of roller skates she’d been trying to find for weeks now. summer just wasn’t right without wheels on her feet these days.

quite suddenly, however, marlene found herself stock still in the middle of the walkway. she glanced around, brow furrowed, as she wondered absently where the hoards of people had all disappeared to. she was suddenly and terribly alone. for the briefest moments, she felt panic ceasing her. was this about to be her first death eater experience? certainly not, she thought. she was on an inherently muggle street. as if the sky was answering her question, the bottom fell out. the rain was viscous, coming down in hard, heavy streams. she was soaked to the skin in a matter of seconds, but she remained still. her face turned up to the sky and her eyes closed. for the first time all week, she let her brain wander down that forbidden path.

marlene hated letting people come to her. she hated the waiting for a response, the hoping they’d make the first move, all of it. she much preferred doing the acting herself, that way the timing was in her own impossibly controlling hands. she didn’t have to wonder what someone was thinking when she made them talk. but exactly a week ago, she’d decided to give him space. remus lupin had been called out in a way that was empowering to her as an onlooker, but obviously traumatizing to him as the subject of conversation. she left that meeting with every intention of giving him the space he needed. surely he was going to be bombarded with more than his secret-keeping brain was used to. the shock to his system had to be paramount. so she left with the hope that eventually he would approach her.

naturally as the week wore on, it occurred to her that he would never come looking for her. it wasn’t in his nature, it wasn’t something he had ever done. he was probably terrified none of them wanted anything to do with him. marlene understood it, but she also knew that she was brought up on morals of acceptance and kindness. he couldn’t help who he was. and marlene knew enough about wizarding history to know that unless his father was a wolf, he was likely turned against his will long before they met at hogwarts.

it was a split second decision when she ducked under an awning and pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. scrawled there in her friends familiar hand was an address. taking a deep breathe, marlene closed her eyes and turned on the spot.

apparation wasn’t one of her better abilities, but she supposed she was in the right neighborhood. dingy-looking flats lined the road on either side of her. they looked as if they were painted white once upon a time. marlene looked down at the number on the paper, smeared by her wet, shaking hands. deciding that it was hopefully an eight and not a three, she put the paper back in her pocket and made her way down the street until she found the front door she had been looking for.

marlene turned her face to the rain again and took a deep, steadying breath. she had no idea what she was going to say if he was even home, but she couldn’t wait anymore. she took the steps two at a time and rapped her fist against the door. marlene took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest, a frown forming of her face as she waited. as the seconds ticked by, she bounced impatiently on the tips of her toes. “oi,” she called out over the sound of the rain. “open the door, you walloper.”

Remus hadn’t been sleeping much since their meeting last week. The transformation had been more difficult than usual, the werewolf not allowing the others near him this time. He couldn’t risk the thought of something happening. The wolf was increasingly unpredictable, feeding off of his insecurities and weaknesses. Lately, it seemed that he lived in the grey space of uncertainties more often than not. 

There were dark marks under his eyes from a lack of sleep, and his face had seemed more hollow than usual, soft freckles and flushed lips seeming out of place with the roughly cut angles of sharp collarbones and a lean form. Maps of the city had been scattered around his bare room, marked in places where he had found reports of incidents listed in several newspapers, both wizard and muggle alike. He wasn’t sure if any of this would be useful, but had been unable to sleep when the idea had come to him on his way home from work the night before. It was difficult for the wizard to stop himself once he started a project, especially if he could see its potential value. More importantly, it had provided him with a much needed distraction from the events of the week and the conversations he had done his best to avoid.

Reading through the previous week’s edition of the Evening Standard, Remus hadn’t noticed the hasty shift in the weather outside. The evening heat had quickly changed into a heavy downpour, and it was only as he reached for a page and felt a sudden dampness that he looked up to find rain spilling out through the open window and into the small room he occupied in the flat.

“Shit.” Remus murmured to no one in particular, leaning to his side with a small wince from the effort and sliding the window firmly shut. Looking down at his papers, he bit down on his lips, standing to retrieve a towel from the other room, silently damning London for its unpredictable weather.

He was walking down the hallway when he heard the sound of a fist pounding on the front door. At first, Remus had assumed that it was just the rain, moving through the kitchen by habit. None of the guys would have knocked before entering, and he wasn’t expecting any company that night. In truth, he could scarcely remember a time when he was expecting company at all, let alone this night. However, as he dried his hands, the pounding continued. It was a familiar voice that followed, causing the werewolf to freeze where he stood, fingers tightening in his grip on the towel.

Marlene?

“Shit-” Remus swore again, pointedly this time. No, it couldn’t be her. That wouldn’t make sense. He hadn’t seen the witch since the last Order meeting, and even then could barely remember meeting her eyes. He hadn’t been brave enough to glance over and see what they might hold, wanting to push the moment away for as long as possible. The werewolf turned in place, reaching for a discarded jumper that had been laying on the sofa and pulling it over his head to cover the t-shirt he had been wearing. It was too big for him, and loose around the neck as the knitted material slipped down towards his shoulder. However he didn’t have time to remedy this, as there was very clearly an impatient Scottish girl standing outside, and by the sound of the heavy downpour, she was not happy.

Pulling open the door, the sight that greeted him took the werewolf by surprise. Marlene was drenched from the rain, her hair clinging to her neck, eyes electric and bright. His stomach twisted, and the moment brought Remus back to an old memory with a quick flash. Of course it would be raining.

“Hey you.” He replied automatically, the words slipping out just as they had once before. His eyes had lowered by habit, briefly flickering to the transparent fabric of her t-shirt before he forced them back to her face, freckled cheekbones flushing and unspoken words hanging on parted lips. His mind had moved through a disordered amalgam of emotions in the short moment, none of them clear enough to be articulated even if he had wanted to try. 

Instead he held the door open wider, hoping that the witch would take his invitation. “Come inside, you’re soaked.”

[witticisms-of-a-wolf-blog]

witticisms-of-a-wolf‌:

Marlene had always been able to see things that others overlooked. For that reason, her words didn’t come as a surprise to the werewolf. What surprised him was her unabashed honesty. He listened without the need to answer, taking in her words in the same manner he always had, without judgement or defense. There was no need for formalities or pacifying of the words. Everything about the witch was honest and raw and real, something that the werewolf found to be refreshing in the hollow night. His eyes followed hers as she leaned back, a challenge hanging in the space between them.

“Is that what you thought you were?” Remus finally asked, the question low and quiet. “A glass doll?” He frowned a little as he spoke, the words coming out before he could stop himself. 

When he thought back to the girl in his memories, fragile and breakable never came to mind. His mind went back to a flash of cherry red lips and golden eyes, bright in a dimly lit room. The only thing slight about her had been the size of her wrists as he held her hands in his. When he allowed himself to think back to this time all of those years ago, Marlene McKinnon had seemed to burn as brightly as ever in his eyes. She was brave where he was cautious, warm where he was cold. Even now as she spoke of secrets, he knew he wouldn’t be able to say the words she had wanted to hear. The words twisted in his stomach in a way that he was far too familiar with. No, she had never been breakable in his mind. If it had taken her transferring to realize this for herself, he supposed he should be happy for that change. 

“Beauxbatons.” Remus nodded, eyes softening. “You have to tell me, are the Pyrenees more beautiful than the Highlands? I know they were always your favorite.” He wondered when the witch had last been to Scotland.

The first time I really banged up my knee, I let it heal the muggle way. I needed it to prove that i’m real, even when I flipped in such a way. 

The lines of his fingers hardened as she continued, hands pressing down at his sides into the rough concrete of the steps. A part of the werewolf understood why she had done something like that. It was the same part of him that understood that not every mark that scarred his skin had been the wolf’s doing. He had convinced himself that it was just another white lie, harmless unless he gave it power. He wondered now, looking back at the other girl, if she would agree.

The sounds of conversation spilled out from the inside of the house, and it reminded Remus that they weren’t alone. He wished for the moment to last longer, wanting to hold onto this space for as long as he could. With a pang of guilt, the werewolf remembered wishing for the same thing on one of the last days he had spent with the witch.

It brought a small smile to his lips, hearing that she had someone in her life. The name was familiar; he remembered Amelia from their time at school, and though he didn’t know her well, he was happy that she had been able to be there for Marlene in a way that Remus couldn’t. “Are you living on your own now, or are you moving into one of the safe houses here?” Remus asked, his head tilting back towards the witch. The other questions he wanted to ask hung unspoken in the night air, far too difficult and important to be crowded into the spare minutes they had been granted. 

The sound of her laugh made his stomach twist, his eyes tracing over the lines of her lips and committing them to memory. His expression was lighter and more gentle now, and a small laugh escaped his lips. For a moment, it was as if he was sixteen again. Remus nodded after a beat, forcing his eyes back out to the outline of grey clouds on a dark night sky. “I remember.”

His trunk at school had never been overflowing with items in the same way his roommates’ had been, so it was easy to notice when something was out of place. “I’m surprised you kept it,” he answered, stomach tight with indecision. 

It was strange to be talking to her like this, and yet the conversation felt for a moment just as easy as it had always been. Selfishly, he wished he could turn to his side and tell her to stand up and leave. He wouldn’t even ask for his jacket back. Remus wanted the witch to go and find Amelia and run as far as she could from here without looking back. She was healthy and happy and good, and he wasn’t sure if he could promise that the war would allow her to remain like this for much longer. The thought was one that would linger in his mind for a long time after their conversation had ended.

marlene looked at him for a moment in silence. his question hung in the air around them. is that what you thought you were? a glass doll? the corner of her mouth just barely pulled up into a smile, lashes shading her eyes as she looked down at her hands. “you always thought too highly of me. sometimes i was very breakable, other times i was like a statue and nothing could move me.” she was set in her ways at only sixteen years old. 

remus’ memory of her love for scotland made something twist in marlene’s heart. she found herself smiling at him, genuinely. it was a sideways, confused sort of smirk that held more than a little affection. for a moment she didn’t say anything, but then she decided to play along. “the fact that you even have to ask makes me want to sing you flowers of scotland.” marlene tried to give him a challenging sort of look, but she dissolved into laughter a moment later. “what kind of scot do you think i am? there is nothing on this earth more beautiful than the highlands. tæ think again and whatnot.”

the ease with which their conversation flowed was something warm and familiar to marlene. if she ignored what she had been through in the past two and a half years, they could’ve been sitting on a train talking about the point and incredulity of everlasting ink. but then he asked her where she was living and it reminded her that there were reasons for everything. their time together hadn’t lasted and perhaps it was never meant to, but they were also being given another chance as they tried, however pointlessly, to save their world. “i have a flat in london. edgar and amelia bones live with me for now, but i may eventually move into arabella’s safe house. it’s right outside of hogmeade.” she smiled nostalgically, looking down at her fidgety fingers. “which means i could be home.”

a sigh left her lips as laughter spilled out from inside the house. the sound made her skin itch with indecision. she didn’t want to go back in there, but the hardest part was over. she’d seen remus again, talked to him, felt him out. they were going to be fine, if a tiny bit awkward. she knew why she had kept it, but she wouldn’t relive that horror story to him. he probably remembered it with the knowledge that it had been the very reason they’d stopped speaking in the first place. marlene cleared her throat and stood up a bit too abruptly. it was clear there was a time limit to how long she could talk to him without drifting out into the sea of her oceanic mind. “i think i’m gonna head out,” she told him, eyes glancing reluctantly at the door. “i’ve had about as much social interaction as i can handle for tonight.” before she ascended the steps, however, she did her best to memorize the look of him in the span of a few seconds. he looked so much fuller than he had the last time they’d spoken. gone was the dejected little boy who missed his friends. before marlene in that moment was a man who radiated a protectiveness and an ability to fight for his life and the lives of those he loved. they hadn’t planned for it to end up this way, but for better or worse, they were in it together.

[witticisms-of-a-wolf-blog]

Dated: 8 July, 1979 Location: Elphias Doge’s home; Wicklow, Ireland

Remus had waited until the last possible moment to arrive at the meeting, head bent low as he moved with purpose towards the back of the room. Sirius followed at his heels, coming to a stop at his side as he leaned against a warm beige wall. If anyone had watched them enter, he wouldn’t have known. He refused to allow himself to meet the eyes of the other members that filled the small space, the soft sounds of conversation around him little more than a gentle hum. With a glance down, his eyes focused on the metal handle of the door to his right. It wouldn’t take longer than a second to reach it and escape to the quiet garden outside. 

With a practiced motion, he pulled the sleeves of his sweater down, eyes training over his wrists with a steady focus to mask any glimpse of a raised scar. Inside, his mind was repeating the words uttered by Album Dumbledore in the days leading up to the meeting, committing them to memory. The wizard had never given Remus any reason to doubt him before. He knew this, and yet the moment the older man started to speak, Remus’ stomach twisted and he fought against the urge to be sick for the third time today.

He bit down on his lip instead, eyes trained on the fabric of the carpet and to the dark scuff on his laced boots. Wordlessly, fingertips brushed against Remus’ hand by his side, gently slipping around his own until he could feel the warm, steady heat of another man’s palms pressed against his own. Sirius squeezed his hand tightly before slipping away just as quietly.

Silence had fallen over the room as Albus spoke, reading the headline of the Daily Prophet. Remus recognized the article, dark ink staining his fingertips as he read over the words dozens of time since its publication the day before. It had only served to solidify his stance that this wasn’t a fight that was going to be won easily.  It’s not the right time, he had wanted to whisper to the man who stood now with so much certainty. Please, not today. His breath came with more effort now. I’m not ready to lose them all just yet.

There was a long pause, and Remus could feel the wizard’s eyes on him. Looking up with an indecipherable expression, Remus met his glance with hardened eyes, his heart sinking in his chest. He wasn’t brave enough to say anything, instead giving a short nod of approval, the small movement enough to send his head spinning. He gripped the side of his arm and pulled himself close, trying to do anything to stop his hands from visibly shaking. In the moment, he could hardly breath. The walls had seemed to close around them, the crowded space suddenly suffocating.

There is a werewolf among us.

Remus didn’t allow himself to look away from Dumbledore as he spoke, his jaw hardening and a cool mask dropping over the pale features of his face. He couldn’t appear weak. He couldn’t let them see that side of him. He needed to prove to his headmaster that accepting him all those years ago hadn’t been without hope. He would be everything he had ever promised the man he could be. If standing here and allowing his condition to be turned into a lesson would assist in paying back even a fraction of what he owed the older wizard, Remus had to try.

A wave of numbness washed over the young man as the wizard finally spoke his name, and he could feel the eyes of everyone in the room quickly fall on him, heavy and burning. His eyes didn’t dare waver from Dumbledore’s, and he ignored the quiet buzz of whispers that had quickly broken the silence. He didn’t want to know where they came from, or who they belonged to. He didn’t want to see their faces, or hear their words of condemnation. Instead he waited with steely determination for the meeting to finish, counting the seconds to himself.

As soon as the group had disbanded, Remus turned his shoulders to the crowd. James and Sirius were at his side without a need for words, hands brushing at his arms as low conversation filled the space. He froze for a moment, unsure of what to do. Staying here at his friend’s side would only serve to isolate them if things didn’t end up turning out the way Dumbledore had planned. If he moved to speak to others, he would be pushing himself onto them without invitation, at the best forcing unwanted pleasantries that he hadn’t the patience for. If he reached for a drink, they would all be watching him, eyes analyzing each and every act and waiting for a moment when they would see the monster that they imagined he ought to be. He felt like an animal in a cage, skin crawling with the explicit sensation of being watched. 

The choice was surprisingly easy. He had known it from the start. Pushing open the door to his side, he stepped out into the quiet night, wondering briefly if he would ever stand inside the house again. If things hadn’t gone over the way that Dumbledore had wanted, he imagined he wouldn’t be receiving an invitation to the next meeting. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding in, feeling surprisingly light as he stepped out into a small garden.

Under his feet, broken stones were covered in a rich moss, and the high-pitched humming of bugs sung from an old rock wall by the edge of a gathering of trees. He walked over to this place, leaning his chest against the old stones and breathing in the sweet Irish breeze. Remus shut his eyes, trying to steady himself and clear his head when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him.

He stiffened at the sound, jaw hardening and automatically starting to apologize before he could stop himself. “I’m sorry-” He offered, his expression difficult to read. “I'll go somewhere else.”

[witticisms-of-a-wolf-blog]

[witticisms-of-a-wolf-blog]

You've had sex, you've physically hurt someone, you've never done drugs.

2/3 correct.