Kitkat

“But why?” He finally manages, letting his weight fall back into the back of the sofa in a half-seated, half-standing position. You really picked a horrid place to have this conversation; you asked to come over, and Sirius - none the wiser - was likely excited for a romp, but then you were taking your shoes off to be polite but not allowing him to take your jacket, slapping him with the “I can’t do this anymore” before you were even five whole steps into his flat. 

“It’s…I don’t know, Sirius. It’s not enough for me.”

“I’m not enough for you.” He parrots in monotone; not a question.

“No, Sirius, that’s not what I’m saying.” You moan. “But, just, this arrangement - it isn’t enough for me anymore. I want more.”

“You want more. More, what?”

“Sirius, come on.” You groan, finally looking at him in exhaustion and hoping he can hear the desperation in your tone. “Are you really going to make me say it out loud?”

“I just don’t understand what’s changed!” He pleads, standing again and holding his hands out helplessly. 

“I have!” You shout back, immediately feeling guilty because this wasn’t meant to be a fight, and this was probably exactly why he insisted on this kind of arrangement with you. 

“I have,” you try again, softer this time, “I just…I want more. I want a boyfriend. And I can’t have that if…”

“If you’re sleeping with me.” He surmises, earning him a nod as you go back to studying the soft grey of his shirt. “But…we agreed, yeah? We agreed that that’s all we’d be.”

“I know.” You admit. “I know, and I’m sorry, I just…” Your shoulders raise helplessly, causing him to sigh.

“Was it…something I did?” He asks carefully, joining you in looking to the left of the room instead of at each other. 

“No, Sirius. And I don’t hold anything against you.” You insist delicately. “I’m not asking you for anything you’re not able to give me, either. That’s why I’m-”

“-leaving.” He finishes for you. The word apparently sour in his mouth, the aftertaste leaving his lips puckered somewhere between disgust and hurt. 

“This was just temporary, yeah?” You try, nudging your socked toe against a scuff in the hardwood floor beneath you. “This was never meant to be forever; not exclusive, no commitment.”

He turns to look at you at that, face pained as if you hadn’t just repeated his own rules verbatim. 

“Those were your rules.” You remind him gently. 

“But you want more.” He offers, again, not a question. 

“I’m sorry, Sirius.” Is all you can think to say. 

You try not to shrink under his gaze, your own eyes flitting between his - that look suspiciously red rimmed - and his t-shirt; apparently the thin fabric covering his heart safer territory than his eyes as they search your face for, what, you aren’t sure. 

“Alright.” He says simply, apparently having come to some decision.

“Alright?” You ask carefully, watching him as he stands and shakes out his hands, rolling his shoulders as if stepping away from a fist fight. 

“Alright,” he repeats, “you want a boyfriend? I’ll be your boyfriend.”

“Wha- wait, Sirius-”

“What? That’s what you said, right? You want more?” He’s gaining on you as he asks, and this time you do shrink under his gaze; feeling about two feet tall as he makes it to you, his chest centimetres from your own. “I’ll give you more, then.” 

“You- no, I…that’s-”

“You want a boyfriend, I’ll be your boyfriend.” He says again, softer as he slips his fingers into the belt loops of your jeans; not touching you, exactly, but enough to make him feel like an anchor for your fluttering heart.

“I don’t want you to be something you don’t want to be. I don’t want to force you.”

“You’re not forcing me.” He says, grey eyes mapping out points of your face. “I said this wouldn’t be exclusive but…it sort of already was for me. Might as well just call it what it is, then.”

You shake your head, not in disagreement, but in disbelief. “You said you don’t do relationships.” 

His eyes narrow slightly as if wanting to wince, but they stay open in favour of watching the way you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“No, I don’t.” He admits, and the little flicker of hope in your chest is almost snuffed at his admission. “But I’ve never really wanted to do a relationship before. But I want you.” 

“You want me?”

He must notice the tentative, hopeful smile on your lips, because a matching one grows on his own before his eyes flicker up to yours. “I want you.”

“But…I want a boyfriend?”

Frustration. 

Hunger. 

Rage. 

The days leading up to the full moon were always tough. In his younger years, and still on his worst days, Remus had a tendency to lash out. His friends tended to take the brunt of it. Time and time again they’d subject themselves to the worst of Remus’ moods with no more than a shake of their heads. James would shove an extra chocolate bar into his hands with a pointed look, Sirius would needle him just enough to keep him from sinking too deep into his own head, and Peter would distract him with whatever gossip he’d picked up.  They tried. They continued to try even when Remus would bite back. 

He’d gotten better as the years went on, but it never went away—not really. It laid in wait just below the surface. Simmering and festering. He could control it now. For the most part. He had enough practice with it, disguising it under a well-worn mask. A polite smile, the strain only noticeable to his friends. Remus tried to distance himself from her, if only for a while. He didn’t want her to witness him like that. She didn’t need to see him when he was more beast than man, ruled by baser instincts.

 It didn’t work. 

He’d opened the floodgates and there was no quilling the monster now that it knew what it felt like to have her near. Now that it knew how sweet her voice could be or hold soft her touch was when she brushed against him ‘accidentally’. 

He hadn’t run from her the way he had before. Instead he offered her a half-truth. When he said he wasn’t feeling well it wasn’t exactly a lie. She didn’t need to know that the reason he was feeling poorly was because his bones ached with the all too familiar feeling of preparing to snap and contort in hellish ways or that his headache stemmed from the wolf taking a more centerstage role rather than its usual heckling background act. 

The distance lasted for a day. In all actuality it was closer to a few hours. He’d been a lot more terse than he had been in years. It was clear to his best mates, who gave him a wide berth as they made their way to the Great Hall. It was Peter’s idea, which was surprising. Out of all his friends he was the one who interacted with her the least, Lily having taken the second place spot after Remus himself. So, there they were, sitting side-by-side. Remus was acutely aware of the way their thighs touched every so often. While it shot a thrill up his spine it also grounded him in a way he wasn’t used to. 

He was still in a god awful mood, but he was a lot more… tolerable. 

Her voice was soft as she spoke to him, as if she could sense his growing agitation. It wasn’t aimed at her—gods no—but at the loud second years sitting further down the table. They were grating, talking too loudly, voices overlapping each other; they were just too much. Any other day it wouldn’t have been an issue. He likely wouldn’t have noticed, in all honesty, but the wolf made it very difficult to ignore. 

“Remus?” her voice called to him, soft and soothing like she was coaxing a skittish animal into paying attention. The wolf loved it, standing in metaphorical attention at the sound of her voice—honeyed and sweet without even trying. Though, Remus was willing to bet that only he thought so. 

Remus did his best to keep the vexation out of his tone as he spoke to her. The last thing he wanted was for her to think it was her doing, “Sorry, dove, I didn’t catch that.”

In his peripheral vision he could see James look at Sirius in bewilderment and mouth something like ‘when’d that start’. Sirius looks just as perplexed, if not chuffed at the sudden change in their friend. Remus paid them no mind, as was becoming par for the course whenever she was around. 

“I asked if you still wanted to meet in the library later,” she repeated patiently. She pushed the remaining food on her plate around with her fork, a clear indication that she was done but didn’t want to leave just yet. He found it—like everything else about her—endearing. 

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Yeah, of course.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Do you… not want me to?” He feigns hurt. 

She levels him with a look that Remus knows all too well by now, “I didn’t say I didn’t want you to. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t busy.” 

Remus let out a breath, shaking his head. “Never too busy for you, dove.” He didn’t think much of the words as they left his mouth, but judging by the way James nearly choked on his pumpkin juice and Sirius was now full-on grinning like Christmas had come early, maybe he should have.

If she noticed their antics she didn’t mention it. Instead giving Remus the courtesy of pretending his friends weren’t as embarrassing as they actually were. Her voice drops so that only he can hear her, “If you’re not feeling well we could always reschedule.”

His own tone mirrored hers, low and like they were sharing a secret meant only for each other, “I’m fine. Besides, the library isn’t exactly the most taxing place to be, is it?” 

Remus resisted the urge to smooth out the furrow in her brow as she looked at him. He wasn’t being completely truthful and he knew that she knew that. 

She studied him for a moment longer, likely deciding whether to call him out or not. It seemed he was in the clear, at least for the time being. She packed her things and headed to her first class of the day. 

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

The candlelight casted a soft glow that helped ease the headache Remus had been nursing since lunch. The sound of pages turning and the ambient noise of other students quietly murmuring to each other filled the silence between them. Not that it was really needed, but it was nice. 

“You’re so annoying,” she huffs at him like he’s just committed a personal slight against her. 

“Am I,” he asks, unbothered. He glances at her from his spot across the table, where he had been sitting quietly for the past couple of minutes, “What’d I do this time.” 

He does his best to suppress a smirk at the petulant way she looks at him, all that’s missing is a pout and the look would be complete. “You were right,” she grumbles. He could tell that the exasperation in her tone was only half-genuine. 

“You’ll have to be more specific, love,” the word falls from his mouth with an ease that has her blink in surprise. It’s momentary and fleeting, but he noticed it in the same way he’s committed all of her quirks to memory in the past two weeks since their outing. It wasn’t the first time he’s called her that, or some variation of it, but it was the first time he’d done it intentionally—with a confidence that came from knowing the way she would react to it. 

“Don’t get smarmy with me, Lupin,” the glare sent his way is nullified by the way she ducks her head right after. 

Remus realized that he enjoyed this version of her far more than the one he had glorified for so long. She was still kind, charming, and unbelievably attractive, but she wasn’t perfect. Where most might’ve been disappointed that what they’d envisioned had turned out to be incorrect, Remus was beside himself with admiration. He saw sides of her he’d never been privy to prior. His favorite, or rather one of his favorites, was her temper. It wasn’t that her temper caused her to be particularly mean, just that it’d make her huff and puff in a way that reminded him of a displeased mooncalf. Not that he’d ever say that to her—he’d rather not be on the receiving end of her ire. 

“Already with the name calling. It’s not even dinner yet,” Remus sets his book down to give her his undivided attention. His hands itched to reach across the table and take one of her hands into his, but he refrained. The terms of endearments were already blurring the lines of their ‘friendship’, any touching and he’d lose any semblance of self control he had. 

“I’m not name calling,” she defended. 

“You are,” he was quick to counter. “You still haven’t told me what I was right about. I’d like to know what I’m gloating about before I do it.” 

“You already know what I’m referring to, Remus,” she says his name in what he assumed was meant to be a chiding way, but it sends a thrill up his spine nonetheless. 

“I don’t know why you continue to try to prove me wrong,” he says after a beat. “One of us has had to spend hours going over the material.” 

She’d claimed with near certainty that a potion recipe called for a specific ingredient; Remus, very gently might he add, told her that she was completely wrong. Not in an unkind way, not entirely. More teasing, if anything. To be fair, the potion in question was one they had to study and perfect in their first year. But, in all fairness Remus himself likely would have forgotten the specifics of it if he wasn’t tutoring a handful of first years. 

“Yeah yeah,” she murmurs with a flippancy that Remus knows is for show. 

She returns her attention back to her studies and Remus takes it as an opportunity to gaze at her. The longing in his eyes is palpable. She was… the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, he was sure of that. Not just in physicality but in every way a person could be. He was biased, sure, but he would argue that it was an objective fact. 

She had this way about her—an ease, a quiet confidence that made everything she did seem effortless. Even now, hunched over her parchment, hair falling over one shoulder as she chewed absently on the tip of her quill, she was captivating.

Remus let himself watch, just for a moment. Let himself revel in the fact that she was here, that she chose to sit with him, argue with him over potion ingredients, humor him when he was being insufferable. That she spoke his name in that way that made his pulse quicken and sent warmth curling through his chest.

He could never tell her any of it, of course.

Could never put into words how deeply he felt, how utterly wrecked he was by the simple fact of her existence. Because there were things he wanted that he couldn’t have, things he knew better than to reach for.

But in moments like this—when the moon was creeping closer and the weight of it pressed heavy against his skin—she made him feel human. Made him feel like something more than the thing clawing at the edges of his control.

He let out a quiet breath, dragging a hand down his face as if that would somehow help rein himself in.

“Staring is rude, you know,” she says without sparing a glance up at him and Remus feels his heart stutter. 

“I was not staring,” he defends poorly. He wills the heat creeping up his neck to stop. 

She hums, “Sure you weren’t.” 

He huffs a soft laugh and forces himself to turn his eyes back to the book in his hands. 

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Remus decided to skip dinner that night. He knew himself well enough to know that even with her there the cacophony of voices would have him on edge. So, he would stay in the solace that was his dorm. The fact that Sirius, James, and Peter would be out was an added plus. He loved his friends, but sometimes they were a bit… much. 

The quiet was a welcome relief. No clattering silverware, no overlapping voices grating against his already frayed nerves. Just the low hum of the castle settling for the night and the occasional creak of the four-poster bed as he shifted.

He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to shake the tension from them. The full moon wasn’t quite close enough to make his bones ache, but the restlessness was there, coiling under his skin.

The dorm was empty, just as he’d hoped. Sirius, James, and Peter would be down at dinner, likely causing some kind of scene that would earn them glares from McGonagall and cheers from the younger years. Normally, he’d roll his eyes and let himself be dragged into whatever chaos they concocted, but tonight, he couldn’t stomach the noise, the energy, the sheer presence of other people.

Except… there was one person he wouldn’t have minded.

The thought crept in before he could push it away.

If she were here, she’d probably sit at the foot of his bed, legs crossed, rambling about some bit of homework she’d been obsessing over or a book she thought he’d like. She had this way of filling the silence without overwhelming it, making it feel less like suffocating loneliness and more like something warm. Comforting.

But that was a dangerous train of thought.

He sighed, dragging a hand over his face before reaching for the book he’d left on his nightstand. He needed to distract himself. Because thinking about her—about how much he wanted her here—wasn’t going to help anything.

He’d managed to get through a chapter when there was a knock at the door. Odd. The boys wouldn’t knock, even though sometimes they really should, and Lily would be at dinner with them. For a brief, fleeting moment his mind jumped to her but… no she wouldn’t come by. Not that he didn’t want her to, just that it seemed a touch intimate to have her here. Ignoring the ache in his bones, he went to answer the door. 

​​When he pulled the door open, he froze.

It was her.

She stood just outside looking up at him with something soft in her eyes—concern, maybe, or curiosity. He wasn’t sure. He was too caught up in the fact that she was here, standing at his door, looking like she belonged in this quiet, dimly lit space with him.

“Hi,” she said, offering a small, hesitant smile.

Remus blinked, forcing himself to push past the shock. “Hi.” His voice was rougher than he meant it to be, throat dry from disuse. He cleared it quickly, shifting so he was half-blocking the doorway. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at dinner?”

She shrugged, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “I noticed you weren’t there.”

He swallowed. Of course, she noticed.

“It’s nothing,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, feigning nonchalance. “Just wasn’t feeling up for it.”

She nodded, “Figured. Thought you should at least have something.” 

Remus looked at the packaged food like he’d never seen anything like it before. It was silly the way his heart fluttered. Remus stared at the wrapped parcel in his hands like it was something sacred, something more than just a bit of dinner smuggled from the Great Hall. And maybe, in a way, it was.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat, willing himself to act like this wasn’t affecting him as much as it was. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said, voice quieter than before.

She shrugged, casual in a way that made it clear she didn’t see this as a big deal. “I know. But I wanted to.”

And that—that was what undid him.

Because she always did this. Slipped past his walls with such ease, knocked down his carefully built barriers without even trying. She made him feel seen, made him feel wanted in a way he wasn’t sure he could handle. All of it done like it was second nature to her, and maybe it was. Remnants of their past selves where being together was like breathing, but right now in this body that housed a monster that could wreck havoc. 

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before glancing at her. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, shaking his head, but there was no real bite to it, there never was when he spoke to her. 

She only smiled, “What a rude thing to say to someone who did something nice for you.” 

“Thank you,” he laughs. There’s a beat of silence before Remus, in all his awkward glory, asks, “Did you… do you want to come in?” 

To his surprise—and slight disappointment—she shakes her head, “No, that’s alright. I should head back down anyway.” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he says with a nod of his head. He does his best to ignore the wolf’s petulant noise of displeasure. 

“Hope you feel better soon,” she says with a sincerity that makes his heart ache. She waves before she takes her leave. He knows that she likely only left because he had chosen to sequester himself in his dorm, but part of him wished she had said. 

The door’s shut with a soft click. Looking at the contents of the parcel Remus is come over with several emotions—gratitude, affection, and wistfulness. The contents were all things he enjoyed. Remus didn’t really have a large appetite, much to his mother’s and James’ chagrin.  He picked at his plates more often than not, eating habits resembling a bird pecking at its food than a man’s. 

Every time his mother had coaxed him to eat more, to hopefully fill out his thin frame he had rolled his eyes. Each time James did the same, though with slightly more success surprisingly, he had done so begrudgingly. But now, looking at the plate she had prepared he couldn’t bring himself to even feign annoyance. The image of her sitting there fixing a plate for him with things he liked has a warmth settle in his chest. The action itself was sweet, perhaps the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for him, but it wasn’t just that. It was clear and tangible evidence that she saw him—that she paid attention to him just as much as he did to her. 

Being seen by and being known by her was just like he thought it would be. It was frightening and exposing and wonderful all the same. 

He was so fucked. 

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Unravel Me Masterlist

Taglist:

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @rory-cakes, @friedfreyfries, @azure-drag0ness

 The way Remus’ gaze  continuously shifted to the entrance of the Three Broomsticks every minute or so would have been amusing if it weren’t just slightly pathetic. He would tense momentarily when the door would open and then subsequently deflate when the person walking through said door wasn’t her; it would have gone entirely unnoticed by most people but of course his friends were watching with varying levels of amusement. They had the decency to remain silent on the matter. But that would only last for so long, he could practically see Sirius vibrating to make some sort of remark. 

He was only half listening to the conversion that was currently taking place, something about James’ mum inviting them over for something— a dinner maybe, or a gathering of some kind. Remus offered a half-hearted agreement when prodded, “Uh, yeah, sounds great.” 

James didn’t take offense, instead sharing a look with Lily that said more than he could understand. To know someone so intrinsically that words weren’t needed must have been a wondrous thing. Remus would like that. There were times where he didn’t want to talk. When words felt too heavy, when explaining himself felt like an impossible task. It had seemed so out of reach before, like something he could be a passive observer to in other people’s lives but never know the true weight of being known so deeply. He still wasn’t sure he wanted to be known so deeply; to have his secrets laid in front of someone for judgment like they were Anubis about to weigh all his wrongs and see if he were worthy. 

If she saw all of him, what would she think? She was kind, unbelievably so, but did that kindness extend to beasts? Because that was what he was. A wizard, yes, but a beast nonetheless, according to the ministry. Half-human at best. A complete monster at worst. 

She was his Anubis. She was his Rhadamanthus. She alone guarded the gates to any form of salvation he could have. Her judgment had the power to undo him in ways he could never recover from, there was no doubt in his mind about that. If the softness in her gaze turned to disgust or fear he knew that it would haunt him for the rest of his life. A rejection outright would kill him. 

It wasn’t unheard of, but a rejection of a soulmate was not something people did. Even Remus, in the throes of his self-inflicted torture and exile, had not thought to do it. In part because he was incredibly selfish, but also because of what it would have done to her. The pain that accompanies the breaking of a soul tie is like nothing else, he’s heard. It’s a visceral thing—all the pain of a physical wound without the possibility of alleviating  it. It was a lasting scar on the soul. Remus was no stranger to scars that never healed, but he’d be damned if he marred her in any way. 

But, if she decided that this was too much, that the monster he turned into proved too difficult to deal with, he wouldn’t blame her—he couldn’t. His friends had come to terms with his lycanthropy under very specific circumstances: James, who came from a family who gave acceptance with a freedom that was unheard of, Sirius, who found a family in the friends he had and would do whatever he needed to in order to ensure their happiness, and Peter, who had always followed where they led, eager to prove himself and unwilling to be left behind. They had chosen him despite the danger, despite the fear, and they had done so as children, when the enormity of his condition was still something distant, something they could solve with a bit of clever magic and reckless bravery.

But she—she hadn’t grown up beside him, hadn’t built her world around him the way they had. She had her own life, her own dreams, and she had no reason to rearrange them for him. He wouldn’t blame her if she left. He wouldn’t even ask her to stay. 

And yet, selfishly, desperately, he wanted her to. 

Remus is pulled from his thoughts by a swift kick to the shin. It’s gentle enough that he knows it’s Lily’s doing. He shoots a glare but before he could ask what's gotten into her, he sees why she did it. Weaving through the throng of people, offering a quick hello or smile to some in passing is her. 

She carried herself in a manner he was familiar with. She had the same blinding charisma James and Sirius had, but in a way that was all her own. She was light on her feet, like a dancer even if he’d seen walk into a desk a couple of times or somehow manage to stumble on nothing at all. Her very presence was enough to make the space brighter. 

He could see her eyes scan the crowd until they landed on him. He felt himself freeze, and he knew that it was very noticeable when he saw the way the corners of her lips twitched slightly. Then there was Sirius’ amused snort that was silenced with an elbow to the ribs from Lily, well Remus assumed it was Lily’s doing because he couldn’t quite force his gaze away from her as she made her way to their table.  

“Sorry, I took longer than I thought I would,” she said as she slid into the seat in front of him. 

Lily is the one to respond as Remus tries to remember how to have a conversation, “Oh, it’s alright. We haven’t been here long anyway.” 

That… was a lie. The group had been there maybe an hour? Closing in on an hour and a half, but she didn’t need to know that. “You’re friend’s weren’t upset, I hope,” Remus finds himself asking before he realized he’d spoken, “that you came I mean.” 

She shakes her head and waves the notion away dismissively, “No, they’re not upset. Surprised, maybe, but they’d have no reason to be upset.” 

“Surprised?” Peter asked. 

She nods, turning her attention to Peter. He liked that about her. Whenever she was in a conversation she was present, fully and wholly. There was never a question whether she was listening, it was obvious in the way she engaged. Remus felt that many people had conversations simply to hear themselves speak. She did not. “You lot are just a group I don’t really hang out with, they were just a bit… surprised when I told them I’d be meeting with you guys here.”

The group falls into easy conversation, which doesn’t come as a shock to Remus. She is a very easy person to like, objectively. He interjects with a comment sporadically, and when her eyes return to him he hopes that he doesn’t look like a deer in headlights. If he does, she doesn’t acknowledge it, she simply responds to his comment. 

Lily was right, though he’d never tell her lest he have to suffer another insufferable ‘I told you so’. Having the rest of them there, taking on the brunt of the conversation while Remus attempted to recall how normal conversations were had, was very helpful. 

That gratitude was short-lived. 

He saw James and Sirius share a look he’d seen far too often from the pair. Remus knew what they were up to before they even began. It wasn’t exactly difficult to guess. 

“Lils, we should stop by Spintwitches before they close for the night,” James started, already getting up from his seat. Lily, who was clearly looped into this plan, agreed without hesitation. 

Sirius was the next to leave, with a lot less subtlety than the other two. Peter, who hadn’t been clued into the plan, stuck around until Sirius came back, hoisted the poor boy up, and hauled him out as well. The scene was straight out of one of those sitcoms his mother watched. 

“That was a lot quicker than I thought it’d be,” the amused lilt to her tone was not what he was expecting. He stopped glaring at the door his friends had just escaped through and looked back at her. 

“What?”

“I figured they’d at least wait twenty, fifteen seems a bit obvious.” 

He gave a huff of laughter, “They aren’t really… known for their subtlety.” 

“No, I suppose not,” she grinned. “I take it they didn’t let you in on their plan?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” he found himself returning her smile. Remus was still nervous and he would be giving his friends an ear full once he got back to their dorm, but he was decidedly glad that they had left. It wasn’t that Remus had suddenly shed his shier ways, or that he was unexpectedly filled with confidence; he was just glad to not have to share her attention with everyone else. 

It was selfish and it caught him off guard, but it was the truth. The wolf hated the way her eyes would leave his or when her attention was shifted and now that they were alone, well as alone as they could be in a crowded pub, it returned to that same stillness he’d felt that day in the library. It wasn’t gone, but Remus didn’t feel like he was in a constant losing battle against it. 

“So,” her eyes filled with warmth and mirth as she looked at him too, “are you having a decent time, or are you too polite to also leave?”

Remus huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You caught me—I’m miserable, but it’d be a little mean to leave you here by yourself,” he deadpanned.

She gasped dramatically, clutching at her chest. “You wound me, Lupin.”

He smirked but ducked his head, toying with the handle of his butterbeer. “I mean it. I’m having a good time.”

Her teasing smile softened, and she studied him for a long moment, like she was trying to decide if she’d heard him right. Then, she leaned in slightly, her voice quieter when she spoke again.

“Me too.”

The beat of silence that settled with them was anything but uncomfortable. The pub was still loud, still filled with chatter and music and clinking glasses, but it all blurred into the background. For a moment it was just them, in that moment, at that table, and nothing else mattered. 

“Do you want to stay here?” Her voice was soft, but her eyes held something else—something that made his pulse stumble. It wasn’t just a question; it was an invitation. And Merlin, did she make it difficult to say no.

His first instinct was to agree and remain in the relative comfort of the pub atmosphere—to let himself get lost in the warmth of her gaze, in the way she looked at him like she already knew the answer. But Remus had spent years learning to suppress instinct, to keep his desires caged behind careful words. So, instead of deflecting or hiding, he let himself be honest.

“No,” he said, his voice steady.

A look of mild shock passed across her features. Then, something softer settled. It was a look he hadn’t seen her wear before, and he hoped he would be the only one to ever be on the receiving end of. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” she leaned in slightly, as if she were sharing a secret with him. He found himself leaning in as well. They were close, far closer than they’d ever been before and yet not close enough. Remus couldn’t help the way his eyes mapped out her face, committing it to memory in case he never got the opportunity again.

“Yes,” he breathed. It was an admission, a surrender. 

The air between them buzzed with unspoken words but an understanding that was shared between them. Remus barely noticed as he stood, as she reached for her coat, as they moved together toward the exit. The pub, the noise, the rest of the world—it all faded into something distant and unimportant.

All that mattered was that they were leaving together.

The noise of the pub was muffled as the door shut behind them. He wasn’t sure where they were going, all he knew was that he would follow her to wherever she led them. 

She looked up at him and Remus felt himself blush. He would blame it on the weather if it was ever mentioned, “Where did you want to go?”

“I didn’t really have a plan,” she admits sheepishly. “I just… sometimes I don’t do too well in crowded places, and I wanted to actually talk to you, you know?”

Her voice was quiet, but the honesty in it struck something deep in Remus. He understood that feeling all too well—the weight of too many voices, too many eyes, the way it could press in until it was suffocating. But more than that, her ability to say it so plainly, without hesitation or apology, added to the growing list of things he admired about her.

“We could…” he hesitated. He didn’t want to assume or push, but the way she was looking at him—like she trusted him to fill in the blank— made him feel inclined to say something. 

“We could go for a walk,” he suggested. “It’s quiet by the lake around this time, nice too.” 

She tilted her head in that endearing way he liked and smiled at him, “Sounds perfect.” 

Relief flooded his chest, mixed with something warmer. For a moment, neither of them spoke, just walking side by side, their steps falling into an easy rhythm. 

After a while she broke the silence softly, “You’re easy to talk to, you know.” 

“Really,” he asked through a huff of laughter, “I think I make for a horrible conversation partner.” 

She nudged him gently with her shoulder, “You don’t.”

As he looked at her he allowed himself to believe her, if even for just a moment.  

“You’ll see soon enough that I do,” he replied easily. 

“Or,” she bantered, “you might be a little too hard on yourself.”

He made a noncommittal noise in response but grinned all the same, “Or,” he repeated in the same manner, “I’m exactly right.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head like he was being impossible, but the way she gazed at him told another story, “You’re very determined to be self-deprecating, aren’t you?”

“It’s one of my best qualities.” 

She hummed, pretending to consider her next words, “I don’t know, I happen to like the way you laugh. I’d be willing to say that’s one of your best qualities.”

Something so simple shouldn’t have the power to make him stumble, but it did. He hoped she didn’t notice the way his steps faltered. Of course she did. The knowing glint in her eyes made it clear that she was enjoying the way that something so innocuous had the ability to throw him off balance. 

“See, you’re not awful at talking. You just don’t know how easy you are to be around,” she nudged his arm gently. 

Remus didn’t know what to do with that, so he just shook his head, smiling despite himself. “You’re relentless.”

“And you’re stubborn,” she countered with a grin.

He sighed, long-suffering but amused. “I suppose this means we’re at an impasse.”

“Not necessarily.” She turned to him, stepping slightly closer as they walked. “You could just accept that you might not be the best judge of yourself.”

Remus arched an eyebrow. “And I suppose you think you are?”

“Maybe.” She smirked. “Maybe I just know a good person when I see one.”

His breath caught for just a second, something warm and unfamiliar curling in his chest. He wanted to argue, to brush it off, to pretend like her words didn’t mean more than they should. But then she reached out, just briefly, fingers brushing his as they walked. He wanted nothing more than to take her hand into his, but he didn’t—he couldn’t. 

He cleared his throat, “Well, I might begin questioning your judgment if that’s what you think.” 

She gasped in mock-offense, “I have great judgment of character, I’ll have you know.” 

Remus smirked. “I’m beginning to doubt that.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, stepping slightly ahead and turning to walk backward so she could face him. “You’re just mad because I see right through you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, do you?”

“Mhm.” She crossed her arms, looking far too pleased with herself. “You pretend you’re terrible at conversation, but you’re not. You pretend you don’t like attention, but I think you do—just in the right ways, from the right people.”

His stomach flipped at that, but he kept his expression carefully neutral. “And let me guess, you think you’re one of those right people?”

She tilted her head, considering. “I don’t know. Am I?”

It was an invitation as much as it was a challenge, and Remus hated how much he wanted to accept it. His fingers twitched at his side, aching to reach for hers, but he shoved them into his pockets instead.

“You certainly think highly of yourself,” he deflected, shaking his head.

She grinned. “Someone has to. You’ve got no one else besides yourself at the end of the day, might as well be nice.”

Remus let out a breath of a laugh, glancing down as they walked. “You’re relentless,” he muttered again.

“And you’re still stubborn,” she shot back.

They were quiet for a beat, the only sound was the soft crunch of gravel beneath their feet. Then, in a voice much softer than before, she added, “I meant it, though.”

He looked over at her, and this time, she wasn’t teasing. Her expression was open, earnest.

“I think you’re a good person, Remus.”

His breath caught. He wasn’t sure why that particular phrase made something tighten in his chest, but it did. Maybe because it was so simple. So certain.

“You hardly know me,” he replied, his tone softer and laced with that same self-doubt. 

She shrugged, unfazed. “I know enough.”

Remus huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “That’s a dangerous thing to say.”

“Why?” she challenged, tilting her head. “Because you’re secretly a villain?”

“Maybe.” His lips quirked, but there was something else there—something heavier lurking beneath the joke.

She studied him for a moment, then softened. “No. I don’t think so.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose. “And what if you’re wrong?”

She smiled, stepping a little closer, the night air wrapping around them like a secret. “Then I’ll take my chances.”

“Like I said, dangerous,” he muttered. Remus swallowed. She was too close, or maybe not close enough. He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that she looked at him like she saw something in him worth believing in—something worth knowing, even when he wasn’t sure he believed in it himself.

“Like I said,” the challenge in her eyes made him want to fall to his knees. He was such a mess when it came to her. “I’m a great judge of character.” 

"You must be," he muttered, more to himself than anything. "You're certainly confident in it."

She smirked. "I am. And the more you argue, the more convinced I am that I’m right."

He shook his head, biting down a smile. "That doesn't seem fair."

“If it makes you feel better, I promise I don’t say things I don’t mean,” it might have been wishful thinking, but he thought he saw her eyes linger on his lips a second longer than normal before returning to his eyes. 

That made him pause. There was something about the way she said it—lighthearted but firm, like she wasn’t just teasing him anymore.

His heart did an inconvenient little lurch.

As the night continued Remus found that being around her was a lot easier than he thought it would be. Which proved even more of a problem. He couldn’t be with her in the way he wanted, he wouldn’t do that to her. He wouldn’t subject her to the wolf in a way that would alter or force her to get off whatever path she had worked so hard to forge for herself. He also wouldn’t cut the string that tied them together, out of selfishness or to spare her from the pain he wasn’t sure. So, he would remain by her side in the only way he could—as her friend. 

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

When the duo meandered their way back towards town square he almost didn’t notice the small group that seemed to be waiting for them. Almost. But, it was difficult to ignore Sirius’ too-loud gasp that could be heard from where they were. 

“Sorry in advance,” Remus sighs as they approach. 

Sirius practically shouted, clutching his chest like he’d just witnessed something scandalous. “Look who decided to return to us.”

James, standing beside him, grinned far too wide to be innocent. “I thought we’d have to send out a search party. Maybe alert the authorities.”

“Stop it,” Lily’s chiding was ineffective since she was stifling her laughter. 

Remus ran a hand over his face, groaning. “You absolute menaces.”

Next to him, she laughed—because of course she found this entertaining. “I think they missed you, Remus.”

Sirius gasped again, more dramatically this time, and grabbed James by the arm and loudly ‘whispered’, “Did you hear that? Remus, not ‘Lupin.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but his face felt uncomfortably warm. “Merlin, you lot are insufferable.”

James smirked. “We missed you, mate.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Oh, we definitely did,” Sirius insisted. “We needed details. A full report. A timeline. You left the pub and just—vanished.”

“It’s been an hour,” Remus deadpanned.

“An hour too long,” Peter said solemnly.

If even Peter was joining in then Remus knew that the night would be long and likely result in a migraine. It was their first real chance to tease Remus in the way that he’d done to them in their various situations, so he could  see why they were so willing to jump at the opportunity, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. 

Next to him, she shook her head, still grinning. “I think your friends are a little obsessed with you.”

He  gave a dry laugh, “You have no idea.” 

Sirius slung an arm around Remus’ shoulders—to which the young lycanthrope pushed off almost immediately— grinning wildly. “So, Moony, tell us—was it a romantic stroll under the stars?”

James waggled his eyebrows. “Did you gaze longingly into each other’s eyes?”

Peter gasped. “Did you hold hands?”

Remus turned to her, as serious as he could manage. “This is what I deal with daily. You still think I’m a great judge of character?”

She bit her lip, like she was fighting back laughter, “I said I was a good judge of character. Jury’s still out on you though.”

“Funny,” he deadpans, but the glint in his eyes is telling. 

Her answering smile had him suppressing a grin. If she was going to be his friend he’d have to learn to control the stuttering of his heart when she looked at him like that. 

Remus’ friends didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on her openly now, no longer stealing glances when he thought no one was looking. The shift was small, insignificant and would have gone unnoticed by most, but they might as well have been neon signs to them. 

Sirius waggled his eyebrows, nudging James none too subtly. “Well, would you look at that?”

James hummed in agreement, crossing his arms as if observing something particularly fascinating. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

Remus ignored them, “I think it’s probably best for your sanity if you go before they’ve managed to drive you mad.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” she asks in feigned indignation. “And here I thought we had a nice time.”

“We did,” he agreed readily. “But I don’t want my friends to be the reason you don’t want to come around me again. I’d rather do that on my own.” 

She laughed and shook her head, “I doubt that’ll happen.” 

The certainty in her voice makes his chest ache. He wants to believe her, more than anything, but he can’t. Not fully at least. She might like Remus, he wasn’t entirely sure why she would but she seemed to, but the wolf was something else. However, he would take what he could get—gladly hold onto what she offered him even if she wasn’t fully aware what it meant to him or what she was offering it to—for as long as she was willing to give it. 

“We’ll see.” 

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

My Love, 

Much has happened since my last letter, but all falls to the wayside as I think of you. Your last letter found me later than I had hoped, but I do not put that blame on you, my heart. The distance separating us does not make it easy, I know, so I will treasure each one that finds me. I hope you are well. I would be beside myself if you were anything less than that. I am doing fine. The days are long and the path is treacherous, but it will be worth it once I am back to you. 

You have been on my mind as you are in my heart, ever-present. In two weeks time I will be by your side again. That knowledge has kept me sane in the roughest of times. My companions do not hold even a modicum of your charm or wit or sensibilities and as such I am left missing you in all aspects. I miss you terribly as it is, adding my less than spectacular company only makes it worse. Though, I assume you tire of my complaining, so I will leave it at that for now. 

I’m sure you are waiting with baited breath to hear of our latest endeavors, so I will no longer keep you waiting. We believe to have found the resting place of the artifact we have spent months searching for. There were markings, language I would presume, that we are still attempting to decipher. I have said it would be in our best interest to wait until we know more, but of course my compatriots are against that idea. They seemed more irate than usual at this suggestion, but I will hold firm on it. Though, I do find it peculiar that 

[An unfinished letter found while excavating what seemed to be the ruins of a camp.]

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Unravel Me Masterlist

“And that was all she said?” Lily asked Remus as they made their way to the library.  The corridors were filled with other students too consumed by their own conversations and happenings to give the duo much thought. 

“Yup.” 

“Okay,” Lily said slowly as she thought through her next words carefully. “But did she say it like ‘I don’t have to go’ or ‘I don’t have to go’?”

Remus stared at her blankly for a moment, “That… you just said it the same twice.”

The look of incredulity that settled on Lily’s face would have been comical during different circumstances. “Are you dense?” she asked, stopping in her tracks to turn and face him fully. “The tone, Remus! How did she say it? Was it casual? Hesitant? Was she giving you an out or hoping you’d ask her to join?”

Remus blinked, suddenly regretting every life choice that had led him to this conversation. “I—I don’t know,” he admitted, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “She just said it.”

Lily groaned, throwing her hands up. “Hopeless,” she muttered. “Absolutely hopeless. All of you, every single one.”

Since James and Lily became an item his own friendship with Lily had flourished. It was nice, most of the time. 

She was a force, much like James but with a different kind of intensity—one that was quieter, more precise. She had a way of picking apart his thoughts before he even had the chance to process them himself, which was both helpful and infuriating.

Most of the time, he appreciated it.

Right now, however, as she continued to stare at him like he was the dimmest person alive, he wasn’t so sure.

“I don’t even know why I brought it up,” he grumbled as he continued down the hall. It was a lie, boldfaced and completely. He knew why he brought it up. 

James would be no help. He had known him long enough to predict exactly what he would say—Just tell her, mate, what’s the worst that could happen? And Remus was not about to do that. Because the pessimist that he was, Remus could go on and on about a hundred different ways doing that would end in complete and utter disaster. Sirius would likely say the same, in cruder fashion too most likely. Peter would likely agree with Remus, telling him that it was better to be safe than sorry, better to never give this the chance to turn into something that could potentially hurt him. Maybe, once upon a time, Remus would have taken that advice. 

Which led him to the only other person he could turn to, and one that would likely have better advice—Lily Evans. She was, after all, the only one who wouldn’t tell him to throw caution to the wind like James and Sirius, but also wouldn’t feed into his self-sabotaging instincts the way Peter might.

Lily was practical but not cold. She was honest but not unkind. If anyone could help him untangle this mess—or at the very least, stop him from spiraling any further—it was her.

Which was how he found himself trudging toward the library, bracing himself for whatever blunt wisdom she was about to throw at him.

Remus had a sneaking suspicion that James had already filled Lily in on the basics, he was right of course. He wasn’t particularly mad about it though. He expected it because there was nothing James Potter kept from the redhead. If he had someone like that, someone who knew him, who saw him completely and still stayed—he doubted he’d keep anything from them either.

Not that he was thinking about her in that way.

Not at all.

“I mean,” Lily said after a moment, tilting her head thoughtfully, “you have to let her join, right?”

Remus opened his mouth to argue, but she continued before he could.

“It’ll be a group of us, which would make it less tense,” she reasoned. “You wouldn’t have the pressure of it being one-on-one. Plus, it’d be nice not being the only girl stuck with you lot.”

Remus huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I suppose that’s a fair point.”

Lily grinned. “It’s an excellent point, actually.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “And what if it is tense? What if it’s weird?”

Lily gave him a look. “Then it’ll be weird,” she said simply. “And you’ll deal with it, like a grown adult, instead of running away and brooding over it in some dark corner of the castle.”

Remus groaned, but she wasn’t wrong. 

The pair entered the library, and Remus nearly turned right back around.

Because there she was—sitting at one of the long wooden tables, completely lost in whatever she was studying, utterly unaware that she was the sole topic of their current conversation. He shouldn’t be surprised. Of course she’d be here. She was as much a creature of habit as he was. She always sat there, if the space was available, or on the second floor tucked away at one of the tables if the library was too crowded. 

The only reason he knew that was because he also spent a lot of time in the library and just happened to notice. 

Lily, none the wiser, kept talking, completely unbothered. Because unlike him, she wasn’t acutely aware of her presence, wasn’t pulled toward her like she was meant to be caught in her orbit. No, that was Remus’ plight to carry and his alone. 

“Even if it is bad, right?” Lily continued. “Say it goes horribly wrong—then there’s always next time.”

Remus quickly leads them up the spiralling staircase and away from where she could potentially hear their conversation. He doesn’t respond to Lily until they’re sat at a table, that just happened to have a vantage point to their subject of conversation. 

“What if it all goes to shit though,” Remus counters because he is nothing if not a doomer. ““What if I make a complete arse of myself, and she never wants to speak to me again?” He hesitated, then lowered his voice, almost as if saying it too loudly would make it real. “I will deny I ever said this if you tell anyone, but I think I might actually die if that happened. As in, keel over at that very moment and change the course of all of your lives.”

And then—of course—Lily grinned. She at least had the decency to not laugh in his face. It was when she did things like these that reminded him why she and James got on so well. They were both menaces in their own right. 

“Oh,” she said, smugness creeping into her voice. “Oh, this is so much worse than I thought. Never thought I’d see grumpy Lupin so besotted.  Don’t tell me you've already started scribbling her name in your notes with little hearts around them as well.”

Remus groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Lily sing-songed, looking far too pleased with herself. “But I do love finally getting some honesty out of you.”

Remus risked a quick glance toward the table where she was still sitting, blissfully unaware of his absolute meltdown. Lily was right, of course, it was far worse than he was letting on. 

Far, far worse. Not doodling her name bad… but give it another day and he’s not so sure. 

“I’m opening up to you, please don’t make me regret it,” Remus groaned, burying his head in his hands. This was by far the most vulnerable he’s ever been. Turning into a monster was one thing, but talking about his feelings? A different kind of torture entirely. 

Lily patted his shoulder in what was probably meant to be a reassuring gesture but felt more like amusement.

“Oh, Remus,” she sighed dramatically, “I would never make you regret this.”

He lifted his head just enough to shoot a glare at her.

“Fine,” Lily relents far quicker than Remus knows the boys would have. 

“Let’s imagine it goes horribly wrong, right? You make a fool of yourself, like a proper arse of yourself, and you can’t string a sentence together or—”

“Get to the point,” Remus interrupted before he was sent into another spiral. 

Lily smirked but, thankfully, complied. “The point is, even if you do somehow manage to make a complete arse of yourself—which, honestly, you won’t—what’s the worst that happens? You get embarrassed? You sulk for a week? Do you honestly think she’d hold it against you? She doesn’t seem like the sort of girl to do that.”

Remus doesn’t have a comeback for that, no retort because she’s right. She didn’t seem like that kind of girl.

She was kind.

Not in the way most people were—not in a self-serving, transactional way, where kindness was given with the expectation of something in return.

She was kind in a way that seemed to come as naturally to her as breathing.

It was in the way she spoke to people, in the way she listened, in the way she noticed the smallest things about people and remembered them. It was in the way she had waited for him, in the way she had given him an out but never turned away. The offer hadn’t felt like pressure for him to decide what he wanted then and there, it was just patience. A quiet, steady thing. A kind of understanding that made his chest ache, because who does that? Who waits like that? Who lets someone figure themselves out without expecting anything in return? The answer was no one. No one does that. Except her. 

Because if Remus was feeling all these things, all these echoes of times long passed, then so was she. From the looks of it, she was handling it a lot better than he was. In the very least she wasn’t actively looking like she was constantly on the verge of a meltdown the way he so clearly did.  Or was she just better at hiding it? 

That made him freeze. He’d been so caught up in his own panic that he hadn’t thought about her. He felt so… selfish. Because for all his overthinking, all his agonizing over the possibility of losing her, he hadn’t considered that she might have been struggling with this too. That she might have been feeling the same echoes, the same pull, the same impossible weight of knowing—and yet, she had been the one who handled it with grace.

She had been the one to wait. To give him space. To let him run when every part of her had to have known that he was running from her.

Was that why she had refused to look at him in class?

Why she had avoided his gaze all day?

Was she preparing herself for the possibility that he would tell her that whatever this was—whatever it could be—was something he didn’t want?

The thought sent a sharp, unwelcome pang through his chest.

Because fuck, what if she was? What if she had already started pulling away—not because she had changed her mind, but because she thought he had? 

Because of his hesitation, his avoidance, his complete and utter inability to deal with emotions like a normal person?

For the first time all day, panic coiled tight in his gut—not from fear of what he might feel, but from the realization that she might think he had already made his choice. He had spent days thinking about what their past was like that he ignored what this version of himself was causing. Did she think… did she think he didn’t want her? He couldn’t blame her if she did—because, honestly, what else was she supposed to think? Every single thing he had done since that night pointed to the exact same conclusion.

Avoiding her. Ignoring her. Running every time she got too close.

Of course, she thought he didn’t want her.

But that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

He wanted her biblically, in a way that was pathetic.

He wanted her in a way that ached, in a way that made every cell in his body hum when she was near.

If he ever allowed himself, he would drown in her, surround himself in her, let himself have her in every way he had denied himself. He would be at her beck and call the same way he teased James for.

Following after her without hesitation, hanging onto her every word, looking for excuses to be near her—he knew it. He’d seen it happen to James, watched his best mate fall so hopelessly for Lily that he had reshaped himself without even realizing it.

And Remus had laughed. Had mocked him for it.

But now? Now, he was just as bad. Worse, even, because at least James had tried. At least James had done something about it instead of skulking around like a man starved, pretending he wasn’t already half in love.

He doubted Lily, who was currently saying something to him that was going completely unheard, ever felt unwanted. He was willing to bet everything that James had never made her feel like it was a burden to be tied to her; but Remus was, even though it couldn’t be farther from the truth. That made his stomach twist in the worst way, because the last thing he ever wanted to do was make her feel like she wasn’t wanted. Like the burden lied with her and not with him and the beast that called his body home. 

For the first time in his life, Remus was about to do something he’d never dream of doing. He was going to her, let her know that whatever was going on in that beautiful head of hers was wrong. He was going to tell her that his inability to handle his shit had nothing to do with ehr and everything to do with him being a complete and utter prat. 

“I’m… I’ll be back,” is all he offers the bewildered redhead before he’s up from his seat. He moves, not allowing himself the time to overthink the way he’s sure he will later. Instead, he takes the stairs two at a time. The walk to her feels simultaneously like the longest trek of his life and the shortest. The wolf howls with each step closer, eager to finally be close to her once more. 

Remus stops behind her seat, with the realization that he hadn’t exactly planned how he would tell her, just that he knew he had to. He stood behind her chair for a minute, contemplating how to even begin a conversation. He was saved, or punished; the jury was still out, when she glanced behind her. 

“What… did you need something?” she asked, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion as she looked up at him. He saw her hands twitched, as if ready to close her book and gather her things. Did she think he was about to ask her to leave? 

Remus felt like he was going to pass out, having her eyes on him again made that same pressure settle in his chest, but it didn’t feel as crushing. He probably looked like a right creep, standing there silently until she had turned around and then continued to remain silent. 

“Remus?” came her voice, twinged with worry. 

He felt his heart skip a beat, it was the first time she’d said his name—well his first name. She’d normally refer to him as ‘Lupin’ the way most people did. Hearing his name from her lips though… Merlin there wasn’t a better sound. He cleared his throat, pushing through the warmth beginning to settle on his face and the lump that threatened to make him unable to form a sentence. 

“We usually sit near the back, by the fireplace. At the Three Broomsticks, I mean. Usually one of us goes ahead to make sure the spot isn’t taken, typically it’s me, there was this whole thing with Pete and we just don’t really task him with it anymore.  So if you get there early I’ll… be there so,” Remus rambles and he can’t seem to stop himself even though every cell in his body is screaming at him to shut up. “Not saying that you do. You can get there anytime you want.  Not that I’m telling you you have to go or-”

Her confusion melts into something softer, into something that makes the noise of the library fade. Being seen by her was a vulnerable thing, it was exposed nerves and crumbling walls. Remus had a feeling that being known by her would be a different thing entirely. 

“I’m not good at this,” he confesses to her, like a  penitent sinner seeking forgiveness from the only one that could grant it. “I don’t… me being stupid and flighty doesn’t mean that I don’t…” 

He doesn’t know how to continue because if he does he knows he would have to admit all the things he’s been too much of a coward to. He would have to admit that he had already been half in love with her before this whole mess started and now it was just all… meant to be? He wasn’t meant to die alone? That, yes, fate had been cruel but not that cruel? How is he meant to tell her that all of this has thrown his whole life off kilter and he’s desperately trying to make sense of it all? He can’t say that, at least not now, so instead he’ll give her the only truth he can. 

“I want you to go,” it comes out like a breath he’d been holding in for too long. “I think you might find my friends incredibly annoying and I’m afraid I’ll make a total fool of myself in front of you, but I want you there.”

He pauses, and before he can think better of it he adds in a whisper, “I’m… I’m trying.” 

It’s not perfect. It’s not enough. It doesn’t erase the way he ran, the way he still feels like he’ll turn tail any minute. But it was all he could offer her. He figured she’d tell him that he was a moron for thinking it would change anything, that it would mean anything, but then she did something he hadn’t expected at all. 

She smiled at him and the warmth of it rivaled the sun, it melted some part of him he had long since let freeze. No one had ever looked at him like that—like he was something worth looking at. She tilted her head in that way she did when she was thinking something over, considering it with great care before she responded. “I’ll be there. I won’t be able to make it early, I have had plans with a few friends I’d hate to cancel, but I’ll be there.” 

Remus nodded and held back from asking further questions.  He wouldn’t ask her which friend. He wouldn’t ask her how long she’d think she’d be. He wouldn’t ask her what their plans were. Even though he wanted to know everything she thought, did, or wanted, he’d resist. 

“Yeah… yeah of course. We’re usually there for a while so you can stop by whenever you want,” he can feel his heartbeat in his ears, but he doesn’t stumble over his words the way he thought he would. He was freaking the fuck out—of course—but he didn’t do all the usual things he did when speaking to someone who wasn’t one of the few close friends he had. 

He didn’t break eye contact. 

He didn’t let the words die in his throat when he didn’t know how to continue.

He didn’t shut down. 

He just stood there, before her—vulnerable, exposed, raw, and trying. 

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

“You need to go,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. Keeping her eyes open was a herculean task and yet she tried. Sisyphean in nature, as if she could remain by his side by sheer force of will, “you shouldn’t be here. You’ll get—”

“Oh, sweet girl, I’m not going anywhere. Haven’t I already said that,” his voice mirrored hers, soft but laced with a worry that didn’t go unnoticed. He dabbed at her heated skin with a damp cloth, hoping to at least give her a modicum of comfort. He shushed her gently when she tried to protest, “Let me care for you, okay? It’s what I was created for.”

There was nothing more he could do. No magical cure. No miracle to come, no matter how much he prayed or bartered his own life for hers. So, this was all he could do. He could only watch as another cough wracked through her frail body. Could only watch as another stained cloth was added to the pile, stained with a crimson that would haunt him for the rest of his days. 

He brushed the hair from her face, letting his touch linger—for her comfort or his own, he wasn’t sure.  Her skin was too warm, her breath too shallow—he knew what was next. He had known since the doctor came, he knew it when the apothecaries could only offer tonics that could ease her pain but not cure it. But knowing did little to prepare him. How could one even begin to prepare themselves for the single greatest loss of their lives? How was he meant to 

“I’m so tired,” as if she did not spend most of her days as of late lost in dreams, hidden away where the pain could not find her. 

“I know, my heart, I know,” he suppressed his sobs, her last moments would not be in the presence of his sorrow. That could wait, for now all that mattered was her. All that ever mattered was her. “Best to get your rest, hm? Being the fairest girl is such work, that must be why you are so tired.” 

Her eyes, unfocused and seeing a world he could not, met his, “Such work.” 

The next words from her lips broke his heart even further, “I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have a thing to be sorry for,” he responded firmly and filled with so much love it was about to break his heart in two—a piece for her to take so that she is not alone for too long in the place he could not follow her and the other to shrivel in his chest. “Not a thing.”

“I’m afraid,” she muttered, a moment of lucidity that had come so rarely in the passing days. She sounded so small and he could do nothing to shield her from it. The place she would go would be one he could not follow her to. 

“You won’t be alone for long, my heart. I will be there before you know it,” he memorized her face for a final time. “Just wait for me,” he whispered as he carded his fingers through her damp hair. 

Her eyes shut and they did not open again. The sobs that he refused to let her see now tore through him with a vengeance. The sound of a man who had just lost everything that made his days worth living. He peppered her face with kisses, for each time she had refused. If asked, he wouldn’t be able to say how long he kneeled there beside her, just that he had. 

He did not live to see next spring.

 If she was only permitted nineteen, then he would not witness a twentieth without her. It was for the best, really.  His sweet girl, his heart, had left him there and he had to find her. 

It was his job, it was what he was created for. 

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Unravel Me Masterlist

Remus sighed, rubbing a hand down his face and took the space beside Padfoot, moving the dogs hind legs haphazardly to make space. The dog’s eyes tracked him, but did nothing else.

Sirius tended to do this after an argument, regardless of who it was with or what it was about. It was easier than trying to voice the things he meant to say instead—things that got stuck in his throat, swallowed by years of conditioning, by scars left over from being born a Black. It was difficult to say sorry when no one had ever offered it before, like trying to learn something second-hand when everyone else was already fluent in it. 

For as upset or irritated Remus had been when he left, he understood. If he had the option to hide away then Remus would do the same. 

Remus sank down into the well-worn cushion, keeping his gaze on the fireplace. He rubbed at his temples and let out a sigh as he muttered, “Alright, how long are we going to keep this up for?”

Padfoot gave a huffing noise in response. James was the dog whisperer, able to decipher all of Sirius’ dog-isims with an ease that was entertaining at best and creepy at worst. Remus did not have that skill. 

He kept his voice low, not wanting to be overheard talking to the mystery dog of Gryffindor tower. The general consensus among the student body was that the massive black dog often seen lurking around at least one of the Marauders was James’ dog.

It was a ridiculous assumption, really. But James—ever the performer—had leaned into the narrative with a theatrical flourish, claiming it just couldn’t bear not being by his side during the school year. Half true, but there was also the added fact that the  dog also had to graduate or face what would surely be a ticked off Mrs. Potter.

Which meant that, to most of Gryffindor, Remus was currently sitting beside James’ dog, holding a whispered conversation like a complete lunatic. Lucky for him the common room was emptying out, so no one would witness Loony Lupin at it again. 

He sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Right, well, since you’re clearly not shifting back anytime soon, I’m just going to assume you’re feeling guilty and don’t know how to say it.”

Padfoot huffed in return, and if a dog could roll its eyes, Remus was sure he just had. 

“Best we hash it out now, though,” Remus continued, voice low and even.

If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t be so keen to confront this so quickly—would let it fester, let it settle into something quiet and unspoken, something that could be buried beneath time and avoidance. Sirius and Remus were both masters at that, in their own right. Sirius was all laughs and humor, covering up anything unpleasant with a charming glamour. Remus’ approach was different, but just as avoidant. He would simply… pretend it didn’t happen. 

But he and Sirius… they had a history of conflict.

Maybe not conflict resolution, exactly, but conflict? Plenty.

And history had taught them both that if they didn’t face it now, it would only end in something far worse—an explosion neither of them had the patience or energy for.

Padfoot stayed still, ears flicking slightly, watching him with an unreadable expression.

Remus exhaled sharply. “Look, I know what you were doing back there.” His fingers tapped idly against the arm of the chair. “And I know you thought it was funny, and maybe it was—to you.”

Padfoot let out a low whuff that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.

Remus shot him a look. “But it wasn’t to me.” His voice was quieter now, steady but firm. “So if you’ve got something to say, say it. Because if you plan on continuing to pull sh—”

Before he could finish, Padfoot huffed again—then, with an exaggerated stretch, shifted. 

The look on Sirius’ face wasn’t what he was expecting. It was apologetic or arrogant, it was carefully neutral. 

That, more than anything, put Remus on edge.

Because Sirius was never neutral. For him to be measured like this—to sit there, expression unreadable—meant that whatever he was about to say had been thought through.

Which was rare. And, frankly, a bit terrifying.

Remus swallowed, forcing himself to hold Sirius’ gaze. “Alright,” he said slowly. “Go on then.”

Sirius exhaled, rolling his shoulders slightly before speaking.

“You know,” he started, voice softer than usual, “for someone as smart as you are, you can be really thick sometimes.”

Sirius continued before Remus had the chance to respond, “The only reason I invited her was for you, you dolt. And I’m near certain the only reason she agreed was for much the same reason. She seemed completely uninterested in me until the moment you came up.”

Remus’ stomach twisted, but Sirius didn’t give him time to dwell on it.

“Look,” Sirius leveled him with a stare that made him want to be anywhere else, “if you don’t do something, someone else surely will.”

And then, quieter, more serious than Remus had ever heard him, he added, “And they’ll mean it, too.”

The weight of those words settled over him, heavy and inescapable.

Because that was the thing, wasn’t it?

Sirius was playing—pushing buttons, forcing him to react—but someone else? Someone who didn’t know what she was to him, what she could be?

They wouldn’t just be stirring the pot.

They’d be taking her from him.

Remus knew that Sirius was right, as annoying as that was to admit to himself. That familiar ache, the one he had felt earlier, the one that had settled into his ribs like a phantom pain—it was back. The echo of loss, something old and lingering, something left over from times before.

Because this wasn’t new.

He had felt it before, in ways he couldn’t explain, in lives he couldn’t remember. The unbearable weight of something just out of reach, something that had been his once—only to slip away before he ever had the chance to hold it.

He wondered, not for the first time that day, what their story had been.

In another life, in another time, had they met under different circumstances? Had it been easy, effortless, without the weight of secrets and hesitation pressing between them?

Had he fought for her then, or had he been just as much of a coward as he was now?

Had she left him? Had she been taken from him? Had he watched her walk away, powerless to stop it, just as he felt now? 

Remus was pulled from his thoughts before he could spiral further, “You owe it to yourself, Moons, to see where it could go. And, if not for you then,  for her. Girls got it bad.” 

That sent a jolt through him, something too warm, too dangerous. He swallowed, trying to suppress the way his heart jumped at the idea.

“She does not,” he muttered, even he didn’t sound convinced.

Sirius only raised a brow. “Sure, mate. As the one who actually spoke to her,” low blow but Remus would let it pass, “I’d be willing to put money on it.”

All Remus could do was look away as he felt his cheeks begin to warm. It was silly, really, the way even the idea that she felt even half of what he refused to acknowledge fully made his heart race. Made something inside him—something deep and impossible to ignore—hope.

Hope was a dangerous thing. It was sharp-edged, deceptively fragile—something that, if held too tightly, had the ability to sever what little remained of his resolve.

Remus had spent years keeping hope at arm’s length, refusing to let it take root where it could one day betray him. Because hope led to wanting, and wanting led to disappointment, and disappointment… disappointment was a pain he was far too familiar with.

And yet—

Sitting here, with Sirius’ words still echoing in his mind, with the thought that maybe—just maybe—she felt even a fraction of what he did…

He felt it.

He felt it in the way she held his gaze and refused to be the first one to let it go. In the way she was patient—patient enough to let him fester, to let him wrestle with himself, to let him come to terms with just how wrong he had been about so much of his life.

She hadn’t pushed. Hadn’t demanded answers, hadn’t called him a coward, hadn’t forced him to acknowledge the thing sitting heavy between them.

He swallowed hard, willing the feeling away, but Sirius had already seen it.

And judging by the shit-eating grin now plastered across his face, he wasn’t going to let it go anytime soon.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

He felt like hell. All he managed was maybe two hours of sleep last night—and that was being generous—and his body was paying for it now. His limbs felt heavy, his head dull with exhaustion.

It wasn’t just the lack of sleep. It was the thinking. The endless loop of thoughts that had kept him tossing and turning, the restless ache that had settled in his chest and refused to leave. 

The wolf sensed her before he did, which was becoming par for the course as of late. It was almost comical the way it stood at attention when she was near. The way it listened for her, keenly aware of where she was in the room even if Remus refused to look. 

He had made the choice last night, somewhere between the restless tossing and turning, when sleep refused to find him; he would stop avoiding her.

It didn’t mean he’d talk to her. Didn’t mean he’d seek her out, or initiate anything, or do anything that could remotely resemble admitting the way she affected him. 

It wasn’t much, James would argue that it was nothing, but it was something. Because for Remus, not running was a choice. A deliberate, difficult choice. It went against everything he had trained himself to do, against every instinct that told him distance was safer, that wanting was dangerous.

Just standing still—letting himself exist in the same space as her without fleeing—was the hardest thing he had done in a long time. 

In class, one of the few where they sat near each other, he had taken his usual seat instead of the one he had switched to after they returned to classes after their incident. Before he had started avoiding her. Before he had let fear dictate his every move.

And now, without a word, without acknowledgment, he had simply sat down.

He didn’t look at her, didn’t let himself check for a reaction, but he didn’t have to. He felt it—her surprise. 

And for the first time in weeks, the wolf in him was silent, still. Satisfied, for now, with simply being in her presence again. 

They didn’t sit directly next to each other, but they were only separated by two people, who tended to arrive just before class started. It meant he was here. That he had stopped running, at least for now. He hoped it would show her that he was trying. 

He got there early, like he usually did, and so did she. It used to be part of an unspoken routine—one they had never acknowledged, never put into words, but had simply fallen into over time.

A quiet, shared habit.

One that he had broken at the height of his avoidance.

But now, here they were again. The way she moved was… stiffer once she saw him. Hesitant enough for Remus to notice, but he figured he’d notice if she decided to try a different perfume. Was that weird? Felt a little weird, but it was true. 

The classroom was nearly empty, the usual pre-lesson hush settling in, and for the first time in weeks, they existed in the same space without him immediately searching for an escape route.

He didn’t look at her. Not yet.

But he could feel her there.

And judging by the shift in the air between them, she had noticed, too.

“I don’t have to go,” she broke the silence. Her voice soft and low. It made his heart race. 

“Sorry?” he replied dumbly. He chanced a glance at her then, only to find that she wasn’t looking at him. Instead she was fishing for something in her book bag, her expression unreadable, her movements casual—too casual.

“Hogsmeade,” she had replied simply. “I don’t have to go if it’ll make you uncomfortable.”

Remus stilled.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure he had heard her correctly. The words hung between them, deceptively light, but their weight settled deep in his chest.

She was giving him a choice.

Not pushing, not demanding an answer—just offering him a way out. A kindness he didn’t deserve.

Because she shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t be thinking about him, about how he felt, about whether or not his comfort was worth missing something she had every right to enjoy.

But she was.

And it made his already racing heart stutter.

That treacherous part of his mind wished she would look at him. Selfish in its need to have her eyes on him, “You can… do whatever you want.” 

The words might’ve felt dismissive, he was aiming for dismissive, but it didn’t quite land. There was something else there, woven between the syllables. Like he wasn’t just telling her she could do whatever she wanted in regards to the outing, but in general. Like he was telling her whatever she decided, whatever she chose to do would be okay. 

This was the first time they’d spoken since that night, and he thought it should feel different. It was as awkward as he thought it would be, yes, but also easy. Like he didn’t have to think too hard about his words before he spoke them, like they spilled from him as an offering to her. He knew then that he would answer any question she asked him if only to just continue to hear her voice. What a dangerous thing. He would divulge every secret he’d ever had, every thought he let remain unsaid if she asked him to. 

One of the students who sat between them arrived then, sliding into their usual seat and effectively cutting off their conversation.

Remus exhaled, glancing down at his hands as if he had meant for the moment to end there. As if he hadn’t been caught up in the unexpected ease of it all.

She didn’t say anything else, and neither did he.

But something about the interaction lingered, hanging in the air between them like a thread left untied.

And for the first time in weeks, Remus didn’t feel the immediate urge to run.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

As Remus continued his day he thought about her, not that it was surprising in any means. She took up much of his headspace lately. Now, though, he had a whole new interaction to pick apart and stew over:

The way she had spoken to him—soft, deliberate, as if he were a cornered animal who might spook if she made any sudden movement. The fact that she not  only noticed his avoidance, but that she had acknowledged it in the quietest, most careful way possible. That she had given him an out—and that he hadn’t taken it.

The way it had felt so natural to talk to her again. Like slipping into something familiar, something he had missed more than he had allowed himself to realize.

What bothered him though, was her refusal to look at him. Just yesterday she had held his gaze so boldly and what? Suddenly she was avoiding him? The shift unsettled him in a way he couldn’t quite place. Had she changed her mind? Decided he wasn’t worth the trouble after all? Or was she simply giving him space, waiting, again, for him to figure himself out?

It couldn’t be the former because… it just couldn’t be. Remus couldn’t explain it, but he felt as if he would know if that were the case. There was something unspoken between them—something that had lingered even in the silence, in the spaces between words. A thread that tied them together, no matter how much distance he had tried to put between them. If she had changed her mind, if she had decided he wasn’t worth the trouble, he would have felt it. But he didn’t.

So, it meant the latter. It meant that she was giving him grace, the opportunity to figure his shit out while giving him the space to do that. Giving him a pass to take if he wanted it. 

She was offering him an olive branch.  

That made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t prepared for. Because she shouldn’t be this patient with him. She shouldn’t wait for him, shouldn’t let him fumble his way through his own fears and hesitations like this.

But she was.

And now, the real question was—was he going to take the out she had so carefully left for him?

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

“You are quite possibly the silliest man I’ve ever met, to ever exist really,” she said in a tone that said the opposite. She sat on a chair at a table, in a home that was hers… theirs. He kneeled before her, looking up at her as if she was the center of all things created. She was. Her gentle hands cupped his face like he was something to be treasured. 

She was glorious, in the way that made men paint or carve marble in hopes that they could capture her beauty for the rest of time. So that people thousands of years later may look upon it and wonder if such beauty was even real.  In the way that could make men go to war, or make them do whatever they could to return from it. She surely had to be one of the muses, there was nothing else that made sense to him. 

He laughed, something rich and not his own, at least not what it was now, “You think my love for you is silly? What a cruel thing to say to a man, my light.  I am bearing my soul to you and you say such callous things to me.”

She laughs softly, the sound Apollo himself wished he could recreate. They stayed in that silence for a moment, a respite from all they had been through in the past few hours. He rubs soothing patterns where his hands rest on her hip, knowing that beneath the strength she shows there is worry laying in wait. He could see it in the way she holds his face, as if attempting to burn it into her memory more than it already is. 

“I don’t want you to go,” whispered in hopes that the gods would not hear, so that they did not know the depth of her devotion to one man ran deeper than her worship of them. “Just… you must return to me, please. I cannot… I do not want to be here if you are not in it. 

“Oh, meli,” love is etched into each syllable of the endearment. “I would follow you into hades, do you think there is anything that could keep me from you? In this life, in the next, and for as long as Gaia remains I shall always return to you.” 

“What if you don’t,” she lets her tears fall freely and he feels his heart ache. 

“I will.”

“And if you don’t?”

“Then I will find you again. Always.”

“Swear it,” she removes a hand to wipe at her tears and he misses her warmth terribly. 

“I do,” he says without hesitation. And he knows that he means it, even if he wasn’t sure how or why. All he knew was that the woman before him was the other half of him, made separate by Zues but that didn’t stop them from reuniting. If the king of gods could not keep them separated, then neither could death or time. “I am tied to you, my light. Wherever you are, no matter the distance or circumstance I shall always search for you, I will always return to you.”

The Greeks were not known for their happy endings, and so seemed fitting that they had not gotten theirs. He did not return to her, lost in a battle fought for greed or power or something that did not matter. His dying breath and the last thoughts to float through his mind were of her. Of her smile. Of her wit. Of the way she made the world brighter because she had graced it with her existence. His light. His love. His reason.

A cosmic thread formed or found for the first time, a promise made. 

Unravel Me Masterlist

It was a dangerous thought. Hope was a sharp thing, and he had learned not to hold it too tightly. But sometimes, in the quiet, when the world wasn’t watching, he let himself imagine.

He imagined it was soft, having a soulmate.

Not grand or earth-shattering, not some cosmic force pulling him into something too big to hold—but something quiet. Gentle. A steady presence beside him when the world felt too cruel, a hand reaching for his own without hesitation. He imagined warmth, the kind that seeped into his bones, the kind that didn’t ask him to be anything more than what he was.

Maybe it was the feeling of fingers carding through his hair after a full moon, or a voice murmuring his name like it was something worth saying. Maybe it was laughter that never carried a sharp edge, or the certainty of someone choosing him, again and again, without question.

He would never know for sure. But in the dark, when the ache in his chest became too much to bear, he imagined. And for a little while, that was enough.

If he lingered on it long enough, allowed himself to indulge in a dream—a wish that would never come—he could almost convince himself that it was real.

Like if he reached out just far enough, he might find a hand waiting for his. Like if he closed his eyes and listened closely, he might hear a voice murmuring his name, steady and sure. Some part of his soul, trampled by years of unfair fates and broken bones, seemed to remember what it was like. As if, once upon a time, before the world had carved him into something sharp and weary, he had been loved that deeply.

It was a cruel trick of the mind, an echo of something he had never truly known. But still, on the loneliest nights, he let himself believe. Even if only for a moment.

James, ever the optimist, always reasoned that the time would come. That fate, or the universe, or whatever force governed things like soulmates, wouldn’t be so cruel as to overlook Remus forever.

Remus never had the heart to crush those dreams outright. It was easier to let James believe—to let him fill the spaces Remus refused to touch with his relentless hope. James was the very definition of a romantic, the kind of person who believed in grand gestures and inevitable love stories, in fated meetings and unshakable bonds. He spoke about soulmates like they were a promise, a certainty written into the fabric of the world.

But Remus knew better. Some people weren’t meant for things like that. Some people weren’t made for fate’s kindness. And no matter how much James insisted otherwise, Remus had long accepted that he was one of them.

James had found his match early on, so of course, he thought his friends’ time would come. It simply had to.

The universe wasn’t that cruel—surely, after everything, after the wreckage life had already thrown at them, there had to be some kind of balance. Some kind of reconciliation. James needed to believe that. That the people he loved, the people who had already endured more than their fair share of suffering, would find something good waiting for them in the end.

He was relentless in that belief, stubborn in the way only James Potter could be. And Remus—tired, pragmatic, painfully realistic Remus—never had the heart to argue. Because James had found his person, and love had never failed him. Of course he thought it was only a matter of time before the rest of them did too.

But Remus knew better. Some debts didn’t get repaid. Some people weren’t waiting for fate to even the score. Some people just lost. And there was no bigger loser to fate’s games than Remus.

The wolf, however, seemed to have different plans.

The beast that lurked beneath his skin—the thing that threatened to consume him, body and soul—was motivated by something far less rational, far more primal. Baser instincts. It didn’t care for logic, for caution, for the careful walls Remus had spent years constructing around himself.

No, the wolf recognized something in her. It prowled beneath his skin, restless and sharp, clawing at the edges of his control. It was aware in a way that made Remus uneasy, in a way that made his pulse stutter. Because the wolf had no patience for restraint. It only knew hunger, only understood desire in its rawest, most undeniable form.

And for some reason, she had its full attention. At first, Remus reasoned that it was because it was her.

He’d be surprised if there was anyone at Hogwarts who didn’t fancy her. She was beautiful—achingly so, in a way that made a person hesitate, just to make sure she was real. But it wasn’t just that. Beauty alone wasn’t enough to make the wolf stir, to make it watch.

No, it was the way she carried herself. The way kindness seemed to spill from her effortlessly, like it wasn’t something she had to think about, like it was stitched into her very being. She was warm in a way that made people gravitate toward her, like she belonged in the light, untouched by the kind of shadows that followed him everywhere he went.

That had to be it. Just admiration, just the simple fact that she was someone anyone would be drawn to. Her kindness and her light were real, not like his own that he was half-convinced he only mustered so people didn’t look too intently at him

And yet, the wolf growled its disagreement.

It all came to a head a few months short of graduation.

After years of the wolf willing Remus to go to her, to speak to her, to just reach out—he had resisted. Again and again, stubborn in his self-imposed exile. He told himself it was for the best. That she was better off without the weight of him pressing against her light. That whatever force had made the wolf restless in her presence had nothing to do with fate and everything to do with his own weakness.

He didn’t want to bother her. Didn’t want to risk dragging her into the mess of him, into the chaos of a life that had never been kind. He thought he could ignore it. That he could pretend the pull wasn’t there.

But then something happened—something inevitable, something inescapable. And just like that, all those years of careful distance unraveled in an instant.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

James threw a party—because of course he did—while his parents were away visiting an aunt. The Potter house was the perfect place for it, sprawling and full of hidden corners, big enough to fit half of Hogwarts without feeling crowded.

Remus hadn’t expected to stay long. He rarely did at these things. He’d nurse a drink, make sure Sirius didn’t end up dancing on the furniture again, and then slip away before the night got too messy.

He certainly hadn’t expected to see her.

But there she was, standing in the warm glow of the lanterns, laughing at something someone had said, completely at ease. And just like that, every carefully built wall he had put between them felt paper-thin. He let himself admire her for a while. Sue him. She was bloody gorgeous, and he was just a man—one with eyes, with a heart that apparently had no interest in listening to logic, and with a wolf inside him that was absolutely howling at the sight of her. Before he knew it, she was moving, weaving through the crowd—probably on her way to get another drink. 

It all happened too fast, a series of events straight out of one of those god-awful romcoms Sirius claimed to watch ‘for a laugh’. One second, she was walking, the next, someone barreled past her, too caught up in their own drunken stumble to notice. She wobbled, just slightly, thrown off balance—and before Remus could think, before he could talk himself out of it, his hand shot out to steady her.

Warmth. That was the first thing he noticed. The solid, unmistakable warmth of her beneath his touch. His fingers curled gently around her arm, grounding, protective. The wolf in him stilled for the first time in years, maybe ever, humming in quiet satisfaction at the contact.

“Careful,” he said, voice quieter than he meant for it to be.

And then she looked up at him—eyes wide, startled, meeting his in a way that made something in his chest lurch.

They had spoken before—fleeting, brief, inconsequential moments exchanged in passing. A polite nod in the library, a shared glance in the Great Hall, the occasional murmured thanks when she passed him a quill in class. But they had never touched. Never had a reason to.

But now that they had…

It was like watching lifetimes pass through in seconds. A body that wasn’t his, a body that wasn’t hers—two souls recognizing what their bodies never had the chance to. Revering in finally being reunited after passing by each other for years. 

A rush of something ancient and undeniable flooding through him, so sudden and overwhelming that he almost pulled away on instinct. As if some part of him—something buried deep beneath logic, beneath restraint, beneath years of quiet denial—had woken up and was screaming at him all at once.

You sodding idiot, she’s been here the whole time!

The wolf knew it. Had known it long before Remus ever allowed himself to entertain the thought. And now, with the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips, with her eyes locked onto his like she felt it too—there was no ignoring it anymore

“Thank you,” her voice was soft, barely more than a murmur, and Remus shouldn’t have been able to hear it over the music pounding through the walls. But somehow, he did. As if the universe had tuned out the rest of the world just for this moment, just for her.

And suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not the party, not the sea of bodies swaying around them, not even the fact that this was the kind of moment he always scoffed at—some ridiculous, overdone cliché lifted straight from a bad romance novel.

He had thought himself above this sort of thing. He wasn’t James, falling headfirst into love like it was the easiest thing in the world. He wasn’t Sirius, chasing passion wherever he could find it. He was Remus. Practical. Careful. Distant.

And yet, here he was. Holding her like he’d been waiting his whole life to.

It took a moment for Remus to find his voice, and even longer for him to force his fingers to loosen, to remove his hold on her when every instinct in him screamed don’t.

“Uh—no problem, really, you should just… are you alright?” he asked, the words stumbling out, awkward and uncertain.

The second he broke contact, the wolf howled mournfully inside him. A deep, aching protest, as if they had been separated by miles—by oceans—instead of mere inches. As if letting go of her was some kind of terrible mistake, some fundamental wrong that his very bones rebelled against.

Remus clenched his fists at his sides, grounding himself in the familiar routine of restraint. He told himself it was nothing. A fleeting moment, a trick of the mind, an overreaction born from years of loneliness and wishful thinking.

But the wolf knew better. And no matter how hard Remus tried to ignore it, he did too.

Soulmates were a tricky thing. Rare, but not unheard of. A soul destined for another, woven together by whatever force governed such things—be it magic, fate, or something even older than either.

The ways of finding them differed, varying from person to person. Some were subtle, quiet revelations, like puzzle pieces clicking into place after years of searching. Others were dramatic, impossible to ignore—names appearing on skin, first words burning into memory, an invisible string tugging two people toward each other no matter how far they strayed.

Many of these signs were well-known, familiar enough to be the basis of a hundred Muggle romances, dismissed as fiction by those who had never felt them firsthand. But those who had—those who knew—understood that there was truth in the stories. That when it happened, there was no mistaking it.

And for the first time in his life, Remus felt the creeping, undeniable suspicion that he had been terribly, terribly mistaken about his own fate.

Because the way she looked at him—with eyes his soul recognized, perhaps not the same color or shape, but known all the same—meant something.

Meant everything.

And so, as Remus was known to do, the moment even the smallest shred of light came near his darkened soul—he ran.

He didn’t wait for her answer. Didn’t wait to see if she was actually alright, if she had noticed the way his fingers had lingered just a second too long, if she had felt it too. He just bolted.

It wasn’t graceful, wasn’t subtle. One second he was standing there, heart pounding in his chest like it was trying to break free, and the next he was pushing past the crowd, ducking into the nearest empty corridor like a coward.

Because that was the truth of it, wasn’t it? He was a coward.

The wolf raged at him, furious and unrelenting, snarling its protest at the distance he had forced between them. But Remus ignored it. He knew better. Knew that whatever cruel trick fate was playing on him, whatever this was—it wasn’t meant for him.

He had spent his whole life keeping people safe from himself. He wasn’t about to stop now.

And if it were true—if fate had been so cruel as to tie a girl like that to someone like him—then… then he would just catch her in the next life.

Maybe then, in a different time, in a different body, he wouldn’t be something fractured, something ruined before he even had the chance to be whole. Maybe then, he wouldn’t have to fight the instinct to reach for her, wouldn’t have to run just to keep her safe and he could simply let himself be. Let himself be envelope in the warmth he knew he would find if one touch had sent him into a spiral.

But in this life, in this body, in this moment—he knew better.

So, he ignored the concerned looks from his friends—looks he hadn’t even noticed at first, too caught up in his own internal war.

James, brows furrowed in confusion, already halfway to asking what the hell had just happened. Sirius, arms crossed, watching him like he knew—like he had already pieced together the thing Remus refused to name. Even Peter, usually oblivious to anything that wasn’t explicitly spelled out, had stopped mid-sip of his drink, eyes darting between Remus and where she still stood.

They had seen everything. The way he had reached for her. The way he had lingered. And now, the way he was running.

But he couldn’t deal with that right now. Couldn’t stomach whatever knowing remark Sirius had locked and loaded, couldn’t bear James’ infuriating optimism or Peter’s half-hearted attempts to lighten the mood.

So he clenched his jaw, shoved his hands into his pockets, and kept walking.

And when the wolf howled inside his chest, mourning something it had barely even had, he willed it to shut up.

It had no right to wail mournfully for her, it was the reason Remus needed to put distance between him and the one good thing the universe had ever offered him. 

The wolf had no claim to sorrow, not when it was the very thing that made him unworthy. It was the reason he couldn't have soft things, couldn't hold onto warmth without the fear of ruining it. It was why he had to keep running, why he had to push her away before she got too close, before she looked at him the way he wanted her to and made him believe—for even a second—that he could have this.

So he gritted his teeth, ignored the hollow ache in his chest, and walked faster.

The wolf could mourn all it wanted. It changed nothing.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

The wolf got its recompense during the next full moon.

Transformations were always difficult—all the years in the world wouldn’t make them easy—but they were routine. An ache, a pain, a suffering he had long since come to terms with. Something he expected.

But this? This was different.

He had woken up in the shack, his body a war zone of torn flesh and bruises, deeper wounds than usual carving their way across his skin. James did his best to keep his face carefully neutral, though his eyes betrayed him. There was worry in them. And something else, something more hesitant—because James knew too. Maybe not the full truth, but enough.

He didn’t remember anything from that night—he never did—but from what he was told, it had been awful.

James had been the one to say it first, carefully casual, as if trying not to spook him. “You weren’t yourself last night, mate.”

As if he ever was.

Sirius was less delicate about it. “You were feral, Moons. More than usual. Wouldn’t settle. Didn’t recognize us at first. Even when you did, you didn’t care.”

That part made his stomach turn. The wolf had always known them, its pack, the ones it would die to protect. But something had changed. Something had snapped.

It was Peter’s quiet, nervous voice that sealed it. “You kept trying to go back.”

And just like that, he knew.

The wolf had spent the night hunting for her.

He felt sick.

The self inflicted gashes were further proof. Once the beast realized there was no escaping, no bypassing the Willow or the dog or the stag, no finding her—it turned its frustrations on the only one it could.

Remus.

Sirius was uncharacteristically silent, his usual post-moon quips nowhere to be found. Peter wouldn’t even meet his gaze.

That was the worst part.

Because they had seen. They had watched as the wolf raged, as it clawed and tore at itself, furious and desperate, driven by something beyond even its own primal instincts.

It hadn’t just wanted freedom.

It had wanted her.

And the worst part?

Remus wasn’t entirely sure that next time, he’d be able to stop it.

The group made their way back in relative silence.

James walked beside him, close enough that their arms nearly brushed, like he was waiting for Remus to stumble. He appreciated it. He knew every bone in James’ body wanted to help him, but he gave Remus the dignity of not giving it unless expressly asked. James didn’t say anything—not yet—but the way he kept sneaking glances at him, brow furrowed in concern, spoke volumes.

Sirius trailed a few steps behind, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his usual swagger absent. It wasn’t like him to hold his tongue, especially after a rough moon, but there was something calculating in his silence. Like he was waiting for the right moment to poke. To say something Remus didn’t want to hear.

Peter kept the farthest distance, his shoulders tense, gaze flickering between them, like he wasn’t sure if it was safe to speak.

And Remus?

He just focused on putting one foot in front of the other. On ignoring the sting of fresh wounds, the lingering echoes of something wrong settling deep into his bones.

He should have felt relief that the night was over. That the wolf had been contained. That nothing irreversible had happened.

But all he could think about was her and how he had a sinking feeling that this was only the beginning.

His lips tug gently, an act most would miss but not you. He writes on his own parchment, because it’s true, and in my defence I said cute yesterday, he holds it up briefly, long enough for only you to read and not even Barty notices, although the boy wouldn’t really mind anyway, just give your boyfriend a good teasing for it

He revels in your reaction, that smile that you always wore just that little bit brighter when he was around, he gives you a little nod before returning to watch Barty and you go back to your drawings  

Around 10 minutes pass and you were just beginning to sketch the constellation Regulus lies in when a little flower lands on your desk

Picking it up you unfold the little flap that says, open me, doing as it says you smile at the words, still on for our date little bird?

You look over, noticing Barty’s flowers are terrible compared to this one and you nod ‘Just need to grab the map first’ you mouth to him and he nods

Soon enough class was over and as you walked out Regulus gently brushed his hands with yours, whispering a soft ‘see you at your spot’. You watched him walk off with Barty, Evan and Pandora with the biggest smile, your relationship wasn’t exactly secret, his friends knew, and Lily knew being the one to cover for you in your dorm, but really you kept your relationship on the down low so your fellow marauders wouldn’t find out

You were two years younger than the boys but being Remus’ childhood friend, you were pretty much welcomed in the moment you got on the train in first year. In their fifth and your third they became animagus with you doing the same the following year…and yes it took entire year of you, James, Sirius and Peter begging for Remus to finally cave and let you do it too. Earning the nickname ‘chirp’ when you succeeded, not only from your form but because you were always upbeat and happy

Of course, they hated Slytherins, well, James and Sirius did with a passion while Peter and Remus were just wary of them. You didn’t mind them, sure there were Slytherins you wanted to punch and in fact had done as such back in second year, but most were actually pretty nice when the Lastrange’s of the world weren’t watching

“Prongs!” you call out as you see him passing, waving to him from afar

His head scoots up at the call, looking around until he spots you. A grin grows on his face, turning back to say goodbye to Marlene before jogging up to you

“Hey haven’t seen you all day” he throws his arm around you, pulling you roughly into him and making you giggle 

“Nice to see you too”

“So, what did you just escape from?” he asks, his arm more relaxed as you both walk aimlessly down the corridor

“Charms” you inform, leaning your head into him

You were closest with Remus but after he and Sirius began dating, you and James bonded more whilst they were being all couple-y. Peter was there too but he usually changed into a rat and went a nap in order to escape their pda. Which was something James couldn’t inconspicuously do, although, you and he did manage to convinced everyone you were his pet bird for a month last year…and may have helped him cheat just a bit on some tests and steal a bunch of stuff from the class storerooms

“Godric with the substitute?” you nod “How did you survive?” he wonders rather dramatically “No but really, how? Teach me your ways dear birdy” he uncouples himself and bows before you

“You’re silly” 

“I know” he takes it like a compliment as he should, returning to his previous position

“I just doodled and listened pans as she explained her latest experiment” 

He nods “Fair enough, although…” you keep your smile but you know that although “…just watch out with Pandora, she’s a little weird and that’s fine but she’s friendly with Slytherins alright?” he says it softly, like he’s trying to protect you

You give him a little nod “Sure thing Prongs” you say, not wishing to ruin the moment nor your chances of why you sought him out “Say” you stop walking “You mind if I borrow the map for a couple hours?” you ask sweetly

He nods right away, moving to get it out of his satchel “Hear ya go” he hands it over with a smile

“Thanks Prongs” you slip it into your own bag “I need to go but I’ll see you later in the common room?”

“Yeah see you then” he gives you a wink and smile, waiting until you walk off before it drops and he digs into his bag again to retrieve a certain cloak

James felt guilty following you, so much he almost turned back as well. Almost. He just had a funny feeling you were keeping something from him and the others, he didn’t think that something was necessarily a bad something, more he was just curious as to why you needed the map so often. 

Along the way he saw you stop at a window, checking your hair and putting on some lip balm. That’s when he smirked, you were seeing someone

He and the boys were protective, they’d defend you till the say they died but they weren’t so protective they would stop any person from seeing you. Still he knew why you might keep it a secret, Remus and Sirius kept theirs quiet for quite a while as did Alice and Frank, even if everyone and their grandmother could see it coming

“Back of the library, classy” he chuckles as he follows little ways back, this area was known for secret liaisons, yet he as he followed he ended up in an area he’d never been before, which wasn’t uncommon for him since you and Remus did the schematics for it

He watched you place your books on the table, satchel hanging over the back of the chair along with your robe, looking like it was any other study session until…

“Saucy” he notes, watching as someone wraps their arms around you from behind, kissing your neck

He was about to retreat and give you some privacy but then he registers the green tie as you turned around. Pushing his glasses up he grimaced at the scene, watching you get pressed against the bookshelves by a snake of all people…and not just any snake

“Pads is gonna flip…fuck” he curses, shaking his head and quickly walking out of the library, debating all the way back of what to do with this new-found information

It was a shame he left so early, completely misinterpreting the scene as a hook-up rather than what it truly was, two people who were more than a little in love with one another meeting for their bi-weekly study date

“Sorry lovely” Regulus apologies, his thumb trailing over your now plump lips 

You shake your head lightly, not wanting to disrupt his movements “You never have to be sorry for kissing me” you can’t stop the smile from spreading on your face, not when he’s shining down at you like this 

He pecks your smile “Still” his arms gently peel you off the bookshelf, one slithering around to rub the impact mark “Didn’t mean to give you a possible bruise…in more than one area” he nudges his nose into your neck

You sigh at the small circles on your back “It’s okay, doesn’t hurt so don’t worry your pretty little head” his cheeks raise, a dusting of pink coating them at you calling him pretty

This was the Regulus few got to see, the mushy one who was a complete softy for you, his Gryffindor birdy. The one that could make him flustered beyond compare with a single word, touch or glance

“You okay there gorgeous?” you tease him just a little and he licks his lips

“Stop” he says holding back the biggest smile 

He encourages you over to sit at the table, trying to compose himself but it’s hard when your around

“Or what beautiful?” you smirk

You watch as he quickly shrugs off his robes and cardigan, dragging the chair around so he can sit beside you before he pulls you down into the adjacent seat, his movements soft while his voice is firm

“Or I’ll do more than press you against the bookshelf” he warns, hand squeezing your upper thigh before sliding down towards the knee and resting it there

You let out a little gasp at his actions, remaining quiet as you open one of the books before whispering a soft “Handsome”

He chuckles, that small bit of firmness he held fading “You swallow a thesaurus?” he wonders kissing your cheek

“No” you shy away with a pouty smile playing on your lips

“How many more do you have because you better get them out now or we’ll never get through Slughorn's essay” his hand wraps further into your inner thigh, thumbs gently sweeping across the thin fabric of your tights

“Cute, stunning, charming…” you say quickly,

“Done?” he asks sweetly, the tint in on his face darkening

“Exquisite” you kiss his cheek “Magnificent” then one to his nose causing it to scrunch oh so cutely “Wonderful” you finish with a peck to the lips “Now I’m done” you grin turning back to the books and leaving him positively flustered

“Maybe over the course of two hours would have been better” he admits and when you glance back his cheeks are crimson “Merlin you make me soft” he lets out a little laugh 

“How soft?” you ask, positively beaming at him and his state

“Like the blankets we take the astronomy tower had a baby with a cloud and…I mean…okay I really don’t know where I was going with that but you get the idea” he covers his face as you both start giggling, leaning into you as you laugh together

“You’re adorable” you add and he pretends like he got a dagger to the heart

“You can’t surprise attack me with that you cruel women…I’m a puddle now”

You really were a ray of sunshine when you returned to the common room, that was until you were greeted with no one but your friends sitting around the couches, looking like they were plotting for war

“Who pissed us off this time?” you giggle, dropping your bag off your shoulder and letting it drag as you reach the couches

They didn’t laugh. Remus and Peter looked nervous, the former rubbing Sirius’ back in a soothing motion, something he only had to do when his boyfriend was beyond upset. Your eyes flicked to James, he didn’t look as angry as Sirius but more disappointed, and somehow that was worst 

A pit started forming in your stomach

“Where were you?” Sirius asks, voice cold

“The library” you try to keep your smile, hoping maybe they’ve just had a bad day

“With?” he says shorty, pressing his lips together to spot himself saying more

“Why does this feel like an interrogation?” you swallow hard, heart thumping in your chest hoping to merlin this wasn’t happening, that maybe you fell asleep during study or this was some weird prank

Sirius sits forward “Maybe it wouldn’t if you weren’t off fucking my little brother?” he comes right out with it

You froze, feeling like all life left your body as they stare you down, the judgement in his voice, the disappointment, the rage

“I…I wasn’t” you try to speak, to explain, but James just huffs a laugh

“I saw you, y/n” that was the moment you knew they may never forgive you, he used your real name “That why you’ve been asking the map multiple times a week since we started back? Off to your little corner in the library to get pressed up against it” he accuses

You felt your face warm at the knowledge he had seen you and then the guilt spread across your face 

“Are you going to keep lying to us?” 

Sirius stares you down to the point Remus sits back, an unreadable expression on his face as he knows he can’t prevent whatever his boyfriend will say

“I’m not lying” you insist “If you had just waited…” James cuts you off

“Waited to see you fuck a snake? Ugh no thank you” he almost sings the last bit with a look of disgust 

“My brother of all people” Sirius cuts in, his voice demanding “Why…just why?”

“I love him” you answer honestly as lies wouldn’t save you, besides you were done pretending

Their expressions freeze 

Peter and Remus looking taken aback and in thought, clearly processing, James just skips everything and goes straight to an almost sympathetic disgust, and Sirius just goes straight to angry, standing up and pointing

“No” he shakes his head “You don’t” he tells you “You don’t” he repeats harder

You felt tears prick your eyes but you hold it, trying to stay strong. You were the happy one, no one had ever seen you really cry and if they did it was usually due to pain

“But I do” you say weakly but there’s a firmness to it which makes Sirius look at you with pity

His hands grip your shoulders “I grew up with him so you listen to me when I say he is incapable of love. He’s a miserable sod, a grumpy bitter guy that cannot and does not love you” he slows down so the last words sink in

You shake your head “You’re wrong…you’re…you’re wrong” you manage to get out, voice breaking and it makes the boys wince

“I’m not, I wish I was but I’m not. You can’t see him anymore, he’s just using you to get to me. He doesn’t love you y/n, you mean nothing to…”

“Stop it!” you shout, pushing him away

They flinch at your tone “Y/n” Sirius tries to reach out but you step backwards

“No!” you let the tears fall not caring anymore “I love him and he loves me. You are all just too caught up in your own ideals and hate of Slytherins to notice how good a person he is”

“He’s a purist!” James exclaims “He called Lily a mudblood in his first year”

“Yeah James in first year! When he was 11 and scared, scared because guess who was also in that corridor? Malfoy, a 6ft platinum giant with a cane up his arse that won’t quit. Merlin of course he did because what was the alternative?”

“Not doing that! I didn’t stoop that low at his age” Sirius crosses his arms

“Yeah because you gotta come back here…” you gesture to the common room “...and be praised for it. Bet it be fucking different if you had to go down the dungeons like him, sleep a mere few rooms down from someone 6 years older that would have no remorse in beating you up for it”

“You’re being silly” Sirius says, clearly not wanting to listen because if he did then he would be the bad guy here, he knew the guilt that would come from it “You’re trying to justify it because you know he’s no good”

You scrunch up your face, so disappointed in your friends “Maybe you’re no good” is all you say taking the map out of your bag and shoving it into Sirius’ chest before walking quickly up to your dorm, ignoring all of their calls

The next morning the boys headed down for breakfast, with James and Sirius facing the Slytherin table, eyes fixed on Regulus as he chatted with Barty and Evan. He hadn’t noticed the stares, nor did he know you were currently in a little ball in bed crying and would be for most of the coming days.

James was half watching while Sirius gaze was fixated on his brother, trying to figure out what his endgame was with you. His eyes only tore away when Lily and Alice entered the great hall without you

Regulus noticed too, his normal little glance to see his girlfriend’s smile was now a sad stare at the girls, a stare Sirius noticed but choice to pass off as confusion instead of clear mild concern

You had managed to drag yourself into the shower today, now wearing the charmed jumper Regulus gifted you that smelt like him, already sniffling and ready to read the saddest, most depressing book in your collection

That was until there was a noise from your window, followed by its opening and your boyfriend tumbling in, hitting the floor with a thump

“Are you okay?” you crawl to the end of the bed

“Yeah yeah I’m fine” he says groaning and definitely not okay by his wincing as he clampers over to the bed, kneeling on the ground in front of you “Are you okay?” he asks a little breathless “I’m sorry for barging quite literally in but it’s been days” 

Your heart flutters and breaks all at once, how could the people you love not see this adorable puppy dog of a man in front of you that literally almost broke all his bones flying up and into your window to check you were okay

“They know” you start to tear up again “They know Reggie” 

His eyebrows knit before the realisation hits, his face morphing to fear briefly before he stands and moves to sit on the bed next to you, engulfing you in his arms

“We’ll be fine” he assures you both “No matter what”

Your hands clutch to his robes, not caring that he is freezing from the cold morning air “I know” you nod into his chest

He gently pulls your face back, cupping it as he wipes the tears “And you know I love you right?” his own eyes are glassy, both of you knowing that things were gonna be a little bit harder from now on but you wouldn’t let them win 

“I love you too” you return it softly

He gives you a small smile before leaning in to kiss you, lips salty from your tears but neither of you care. Unfortunately, the moment is cut short when your door opens, banging against the wall as it does and making you jump apart

Regulus’ face hardens, turning off the emotions switch he had developed in order to survive

“Hands off her” Sirius points at his brother

“Love” Remus tries to pull him back, the only one seeing the scene for what it was

Sirius shrugs out of his grip “No” he stares you and Regulus down “You are going to leave and never see her again, I’m not going to let you use one of my best friends to get back at me”

“Like hell I am” Regulus wraps his arm around you, feeling you nuzzle your head into his chest, fresh tears soaking through his shirt 

“Regulus” 

“Sirius” he returns his brother's angered tone threefold “I am not leaving when she’s upset. If anyone should leave it’s you, you made her cry” 

Remus, James and Peters expressions soften at that but Sirius doesn’t let up 

“I’m not leaving until you leave”

“Fine then I guess you better get comfy” his other arm comes around, cupping the back of your head in a soothing motion before he whispers reassurances to you

“I’m…” Sirius stops himself as he watches his brothers’ actions “…Why?” is all he can say

Regulus holds you close, peering up at his brother “Why what?” he knew what he was asking, he just didn’t know how to answer it just yet

“Why her? Of all people Regulus why one of my best friends” 

“You can’t control who you fall in love with” he says, looking down at you

You raise your head, letting him plant a kiss you’re your forehead before you burying yourself back into his embrace

“You can’t love” Sirius shakes his head, tears forming “You can’t because you never loved me…you never showed any emotion after I left for Hogwarts” 

Everyone’s heart broke, the cracks in his voice, Remus having to take James’ hand to stop himself from hugging his partner while Peter rubs his back

“I do love you” Regulus’ hard expression finally breaks “I never stopped”

“Why didn’t you come with me then? When I cried, poured my heart out while I was still bleeding…you closed the door in my face” 

Regulus winces at that, you don’t have to see him to know. You kiss his chest, hugging him tighter as you knew how much he hated himself for that, how much he wanted to go back…how he had also packed a bag but by that time Sirius had already left and it was too late

“I wanted to, I was just scared” he confesses “When you got sorted into Gryffindor mum and dad were so mad they spent every waking moment conditioning me to…” he makes little bunny ears with his fingers “…not make the same mistake you did”

Sirius moves to sit at the end of your bed, signalling the other boys can stay when they attempt to back out

“They hurt me too when I asked why it was a bad thing, eventually after talking with Evan he told me that the best thing to do is to pretend. Have a switch you can turn off and just feel nothing…and for a while I did that, to the point I was just existing” 

He caresses your hair before looking back at his brother

“Then one day I was in the library and y/n came along, sitting next to me like it was nothing” he lets out a small chuckle “Talking my ear off about some kind of plant and how it was so cool…”

“It was cool” you mutter earning small chuckles from the room, James and Peter moving to sit on the bed next to yours while Remus sits behind Sirius, placing a kiss to his shoulder

“Sorry what I meant was she was telling me about this super awesome…ouch love” he groans as you pinch him “Anyway” he turns back to his brother who is watching him curiously, a lips tugging upwards as he observed yours and his interactions “After a few weeks I finally spoke back, realising she wasn’t a…ploy from you” he winces “She helped me. That switch that had been stuck off was finally on again when she’s nearby” 

You shift away from his chest, still leaning on his shoulder but you could see your friends again

He looks down at you “She helped my live again, smile again” he says, doing just that “I love her and I love you. I never meant to hurt you Siri” he turns back to his brother, seeing the surprise yet comfort the old nickname from their youth brought as it slips out

“I never wanted to hurt you either” he nods, blinking the tears from his eyes “I love you too Reg”

“Fucks sake hug!” James says sniffling with Peter tissues in their hands “Please you're killing us” he waves for them to embrace, this tissue causing him to resemble one of those mothers from period books

You and Remus giggle, moving away from your significant others to the middle of the bed. You intertwined your hand with his while he wrapped his other around you, both watching as the brothers hug for the first time in 7 years

“We always joked about being siblings but in a few years that might actually be true” Remus whispers to you

“We always were overachievers” you whisper back, giggling together while James seems to cry harder…and they call Remus the mum of the group

Thank you for reading 💛

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