ᵃ ʷʳᵉᶜᵏ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵉ⋅

“A BOGGART ? Sorry, but why is there a Boggart kept in a box under the bed ? That just sounds like a horrid place to store a being like that. Bit cramped, but…”

              being within the order was.. not entirely something he wanted to do, nor was teaching for that matter, but dumbledore simply had a way of pestering a man into submission. he came early to scope the scene — his power seemingly radiating from his being, as he paused at the voice heard. he wasn’t expecting there to be anyone else, though he wasn’t sure what it exactly was he was expecting.

wordlessly he’d glance towards the stand, wrinkling his nose before moving pointedly in the opposite direction of it. he had fought the dark lord before, just not.. in an order. 

“   stephen strange — a relatively new professor at hogwarts, so it would seem. i’m sorry, and you are..?   ”   quirking an eyebrow stephen studied the other man, tilting his head just a touch.

        With a sweeping gesture Sirius pushed off of the frame of the door and vanished into the dining room not even bothering to approach the cupboard. There was a wave of his wand and two glasses and a bottle of firewhiskey floated down onto the massive table and Sirius seated himself at the head of it.

“There isn't much to the place right now, I'm busy making this place more... habitable it's been abandoned for.. well a long time..” Sirius didn't want to think about just how long he'd been trapped in Azkaban right now.

“The kitchen is in the basement, bedrooms are scattered about, a few useless rooms that need to be dealt with..” He waved his hand the bottle of firewhiskey slid across the table into the palm of his hand. He poured himself a drink, and then one for Stephen.

{ @otruaighe

         peter twisted his quill as he watched sirius from the corner of his eye. he was up to something, muttering with james as they seemed to be doing something they shouldn’t be. he wanted to know but he stayed still for a moment while they seemed to plot something. only when james left did peter scoot closer to sirius, leaning closer. the quill was dripping on the table, peter unknowningly smearing his arm in it. 

          “what are you two planning?” 

        Sirius had a wry expression on his face—James had come to him with a plan and who but he the excellent thrill seeker that he was was needed to take center stage. As Peter approached his grin only grew and idly he reclined a bit in the chair he was sprawled on.

“Well, you see Wormtail..” Sirius began, leaning to swipe a bit of ink on his finger and pressing it to the tip of his friend's nose.

“James needs a bit of help—can you believe it I know Prongs admitting he needs help. Anyway he wants me to distract ol' Snivellus so he can hang out with Lily.” Hand was placed over his chest and Sirius tilted his head away dramatically.

Nev’s perplexed expression shifted into one of annoyance. She frowned a bit. “It’s rude to call Professor Melchor such a thing.” She replied nervously–as if to appear more brave than she actually was. Her gaze silently surveyed him. He was rather dirty and wore rags. 

Then it dawned on her; she had seen this man before–in the paper; he was the escaped prisoner from Azkaban. Her eyes widen a bit; what could she do; he was here to kill Harry! She would have to worn someone–anyone. She wasn’t about to let the man out of her sight. 

She cleared her throat after a moment. “If you need assistance; I-I can help you, mister.” she spoke calmly despite her hands shaking a bit. 

@otruaighe

     Ah there was the recognition Lips tugged up into a smirk, a single brow raising in challenge as Sirius stared down at the girl. Of course he wouldn't hurt her—he would only be the man they wrote about when he got his hands around Peter Pettigrew's throat.

“I'm doing quite well on my own thank you, why don't you just run along and forget that you ever saw me. Would probably be for the best—we wouldn't want something unfortunate to happen to a sweet young thing like you.”

              milo’s reaction was.. unexpected, truthfully. many didn’t see the library as something special, given they couldn’t appreciate it’s comparison to other.. mundane, libraries. wordlessly stephen leaned his hip against the air itself, leaning his weight against an invisible wall created by magic. it was refreshing to see milo’s reaction — mostly because it appeared he finally found someone that was as interested in books, as he. 

given that he was a linguist, truthfully he should have expected that. but.. it has been some time, since someone new has come to the sanctum’s library in particular. usually newcomers are taken to his study, or a sitting room — never the library, as information is the most powerful weapon of all.

“   bibliothecam est ad vos, milo.   ”   the library is open to you, he spoke in latin — fluently, a language in relative disuse. in order to be as fluent in spell deciphering as he was.. he was a pseudo linguist, as well. just not in the professional sense, not in the least.

“   the rune you have is from the book of the vishanti.   ”   his words were cautious, his head tilting before he gestured to the book upon his desk — much bigger than the rest, and floating just above the surface of his workspace. 

     “ Hoc est incredibile...” Milo parroted back. He'd heard Latin, and thus he'd replied in Latin as he stared around the room with a look of bewilderment. The museum's library had nothing on this—this work of art.

Milo stood rooted to the spot, shuffling around the possessions in his arms so he could adjust the circular glasses that had slid down his nose with thumb and index finger. Just think of all the knowledge that could be found in these books—granted some of it he probably wouldn't understand but that just meant he would have to learn—

Oh Doctor Strange was talking right he should listen. Head turned towards the sorcerer and the book he gestured to that was floating he was never going to get used to that.

Cautiously Milo approached the book and fumbled through his bag until he pulled out his notebook and pen—scribbling down what Doctor Strange said.

“The Book of Vishanti?” Brows furrowed a little, pen tapping at his lip several times.

Remus ducked out of the way of someone’s crumpled up ball of parchment and gazed around dazedly. He’d been in the library finishing off some research for his Transfiguration homework, and was unprepared for the assault. Blinking, he spotted Sirius just as the damn ingrate yelled across the room for Remus.

“I can give you detention for that sort of thing, you know,” he said, pointing toward the rogue parchment with his eyebrows. “Important people use that portrait hole, Padfoot. Even more important than me, if you can believe that.”

He slid into an arm chair next to the sofa Sirius had commandeered. “Not that many people are more important than me, of course. But I’ve heard rumours there may be one or two.”

“You're the most important person to me Remus.”

Sirius snorted loudly, long legs barely missing the back of James' head as he flipped around so he was laying on his front and facing Remus. Books that had been stacked on the arm of the chair went tumbling to the ground and Sirius grumbled as he stooped to at least stack them neatly and not damage the spines.

“Ohhh detention with Moony, I'm quaking in my slippers. How long before that goes to the dogs.” Tongue stuck out briefly feeling rather smug with himself at his little pun.

“What would you have me do? Sort through your wardrobe and pair off your socks? C'mon then do your worst.” He was only teasing of course, he couldn't help himself.

How long had it been since he’d heard his name on Sirius’ lips? Had it been all the way back at Hogwarts? It felt like it, like the sound was a memory from a different life, a fantasy he’d read in a book.

It was the pain that snapped his focus back, the jab of Sirius’ boney limbs, the rough tugging and pulling against Remus’ garments that scratched against his skin. A searing line that burned between his nose and his temple, setting fire to the bones around his eye. An ache throbbing along his jaw. Precursors to tomorrow’s change; reminders of what he truly was.

Rational and together, Sirius was saying. What utter nonsense—Remus had never been rational or together, not even in their school days when he was playing at prefect, enacting a charade of normalcy abetted by Prongs and Padfoot, and Peter too. Remus didn’t have an answer for why things had turned out the way they had. He’d long since given up on fate or karma or prophesy. They were hollow and self-defeating. Anymore for Remus all there was was this, was now; might be or could have happened were traps, were meaningless—were words, wind, nothing.

When Sirius pulled away, Remus lurched forward, the axis of the room tilting. He collapsed against Sirius in a jumble of uncoordinated limbs and pressed his forehead against Sirius’ temple. His hair sliced at Remus’ nose until he dropped his head onto the sharp bones in Sirius’ shoulder.

“Fuck’s sake, Sirius, when was the last time you washed your hair?”

        When Sirius pulled away he hadn't been expecting Remus to follow him—but the closeness was wanted needed almost in a way that made Sirius feel so very human after so long feeling like he was nothing but a bitter shell of rage and anger and regret.

He had so much to say and yet words escaped him—so many bitter, angry words fell flat, stuck in his throat. He wanted to yell, he wanted to scream but all he could manage was a sharp bark of a laugh at Remus' words as his friend rested against his shoulder.

“There's other ways to hint you want to share a bath with me Remus.” He cracked a toothy grin even though it wouldn't be seen. Sometimes it's easier to fall back to humour—he did that a lot in his youth too when things touched too rawly.

Fingers scratched gently at the base of Remus' skull, hopefully a soothing motion before it combed through the strands of hair at the back of his head as Sirius turned to rub his cheek against both his hand and Remus' head. Between the alcohol and the closeness he wasn’t quite sure which limbs belonged to who now, they were just a tangle.

“I forget sometimes...” Shoulders heaved with a heavy sigh now that he’d started talking he couldn’t seem to stop. “After so long...” being in Azkaban “you just.. forget to take care of yourself... what's the point?” He laughed again, but this time there was no mirth in his voice.

“Molly has to remind me to eat, nags like a mother that I wish I had...” A dark glare was shot towards the door, vaguely in the direction of that accursed portrait of his mother stuck to the wall. “ I... I feel like I don't know how to function anymore.” And so he drinks and aches and hopes it will simply go away.

—So there’s that I write like this author going around at the moment and out of curiosity I threw one of my Sirius replies into the analyze thing and

“Go on, James, save me a seat, will look less suspicious that way.” Sirius elbowed his friend in the ribs nudging him forward. The last thing anyone wanted was Moony's furry little secret to be the next big gossip or the fact they had become Animagus.

He waited for a bit, idly milling around until he spotted an opportunity...

“Hello there, mind if I escort you to breakfast?” Brows waggled briefly, a bit of a smirk on his lips as he laid the charm on thick.