Elodie

that one scene in order of the phoenix where Sirius has his arm around Remus

bonus hug doodle

Canon:

How I would describe these three canon couples just drawing their sleeping position.

Romione, Drastoria and Hinny.

The Family Rejects

For @abcjosiet @bluebirdlinginthenest @maraudermeryn who have all been really vocally supportive of We Can Be Heroes in recent weeks - as a thank you!! ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This is a prequel to the canon marauders fic We Can Be Heroes. If you enjoyed that fic, I hope you like this prequel, which centres on events in the marauders’ 5th Year leading up to The Prank. It will be around 4-5 chapters long max. If you haven’t read it, it won’t make any difference.

Chapter 1: Gone Away

I would tell you That I loved you If I thought that you would stay But I know that it’s no use That you’ve already Gone away

Boys Don’t Cry (The Cure)

The Summer holidays loomed over him, like a tsunami. Even in his dreams. He had started having horrifically realistic nightmares. Standing barefoot in a sandy cove, screaming at his mother, who suddenly disappeared, replaced by a towering wall of water, drowning him. He’d woken up drenched in sweat. Standing in Orion’s study, listening as his father told him “we are not giving you a watch for your seventeenth, we don’t love you, you don’t deserve it”, Regulus stepping forwards, both arms outstretched, as his father placed a vintage, platinum watch on each of his wrists. Oddly, they reminded him of handcuffs. He had woken up crying, for some godforsaken reason. Disgusted at himself. He didn’t care about his parents. He didn’t care. He refused to care.

He swiped angrily at his eyes and threw the bedclothes over himself in frustration. He had hardly slept in the past few weeks, three hours a night, at most. If he’d known, James would have described it as one fucking thing after another. Remus would have called it “an unfortunate concatenation of events”. How did he always have the right word for every single possible scenario? It was incredibly attractive. Well, he presumed girls would think that. If he were a girl. Never mind, that didn’t even make sense…

He called it a clusterfuck. And he was right.

His dismay about the Summer. His abortive attempts to talk to Reg. The ever-growing open hostilities between the Marauders and the Pureblood Pricks. Including, but by no means limited to, the recent Peter Pantsing Episode, which had earned him two weeks of detention. Yet somehow, the bastard had only ended up with one week. Fuck him.

“Wow. The level of skill and wit that it must take to cast Levicorpus and then stand underneath him and call him names, not even inventive ones… so impressive, so mentally and technically challenging…” Sirius’ voice had oozed contempt as he advanced alone towards the group of tossers, wand out.

A few of them immediately broke eye contact with Peter’s figure, hovering near the corridor ceiling, arms flailing about helplessly. Their spells broken, Peter lurched downwards with a fearful yelp. Mulciber didn’t, wand still pointing up at his friend, a cruel sneer on his face.

“Hello, Coz,” he smiled. “We were just telling him that there are penalties to pay for hanging around with blood traitor scum like you, Black. That it’s your fault we picked on him, and will do so again. So much for calling them your friends, Black. If you even knew what a loyal friend was, you’d have distanced yourself from them all months ago.”

Sirius’ footsteps faltered momentarily.

“Oh yes, because I’m friends with every single muggleborn in the school, such a popular guy.”

His laughter sounded harsh. If there was one good thing he had believed about himself, it was that he was a loyal friend. Mulciber’s messing with your head, old chap, he tried to reassure himself, sounding exactly like Prongs’ Mother Hen ramblings.

“Missed him, did you, your boring, talentless, useless friend? The one you allow to hang out with you, out of pity. What’s his name again? Oh yes. Peter Pitiful. Here to check up on your pathetic little half-blood friend? Surprised you noticed him gone, your boring, fat little-“

Angst warning! A James and Sirius ficlet, the night the Fidelius was cast.

                                                            ~~

The last time Sirius sees James alive is October twenty-fourth, a week to the day before everything ends.

They sit, side by side, on the floor of the hallway, backs against the wall with the door to the cottage wide open on James’ other side.

The cottage that, as of an hour ago, no one else in the village was able to see.

Sirius lifts the bottle of firewhiskey that rests on the floor between his feet, taking a swig.

James is a mess.

He tries to hide it, unsteady hands pressed tight together between his knees.

“I’ll go to Moony’s first thing,” Sirius says, into the quiet; “Tell him it’s done. He’ll clock on if we try to hide it. Should happen pretty quickly after that.”

James is shaking his head before he even finishes the sentence.

“Maybe not. Maybe…” he breaks off, his voice as unsteady as his hands, and Sirius waits a minute before he speaks again.

“You haven’t seen him, mate.”

Remus was just as much of a mess as James, the last time Sirius saw him.

He just hides it far better than James ever could.

Moony had always been good at that.

James finally looks at him, for the first time since they’d cast the Fidelius, with an expression convinced that he’s just signed Sirius’ death sentence.

“No,” James had said, some months before, the first time the suggestion of the Fidelius had come up; “They’d come right for you.”

And so, they’d just moved from safe house to safe house - James and Lily and seven-month-old Harry - with no place to really call home.

It worked well enough, James said.

Until Dumbledore told them, two days ago, that Voldemort had them exactly where he wanted them.

That his elusive spy had gotten word that someone close – very close – had been compromised.

One of James’ nearest and dearest.

So, Dumbledore had suggested it again – the Fidelius – because there wasn’t any more time.

James had protested, saying the same thing as last time.

“They’ll come for you.”

They probably will.

They’re counting on it.

Death Eaters will be hunting him down, while Peter remains safely tucked up in Godric’s Hollow with James and Lily and Harry, Voldemort none the wiser – even if he should get his hands on him – that they’re chasing the wrong man.

It’s the only way, so they cast the charm.

James hates it.

It brims there in his eyes, where there used to be sparks of light and mischief.

Sirius doesn’t say his own thoughts on the matter aloud.

Better me than Harry.

James couldn’t argue with that.

Better me than you.

James would balk.

But it was true.

A world without James Potter isn’t one Sirius Black has any interest existing in.

Sirius appeals to James’ idealistic side, instead – the one he isn’t even sure is still there anymore – and he leans in a little closer, calling on his own that he knows has always simply been borrowed from the very person he’s trying to convince.

“This will work.”

Sirius swigs from the bottle again and hands it over.

James and Lily had run for a year with Harry in tow and made it.

Sirius is one person. He’ll get further. He can move faster.

He’d told James this.

That he’ll be just fine.

James hadn’t been convinced.

James still isn’t convinced, now.

But he humors him and nods, taking a slow drink from the bottle.

They stay like that, saying nothing for a while.

There’s so much to say.

But nothing they both don’t already know.

So, eventually, they joke and they laugh and they talk, long into the night, they way they’d done as boys in the dorms at Hogwarts.

Back when they’d been convinced they were invincible.

Too soon, it’s dawn, and they’re still sitting on the floor, the bottle long since having run dry, even if their words had not, and Sirius reluctantly gets to his feet.

“Better be off, then.”

For a while there, James’ eyes had been bright.

But the darkness that shouldn’t be there comes back as he gets to his feet, more slowly, facing him.

He starts to speak.

But then he doesn’t.

Instead, he steps in closer and hugs him tight.

It’s not how it usually is; the other times they throw their arms around one another.

This time, Sirius thinks – for one dark, twisted moment – that this really is the end.

“Pads –“

A coo behind them makes them break apart and the moment breaks when they see Peter standing at the bottom of the stairs, some feet away, with a beaming Harry on his hip.

Lily’s in the shower, he tells them; she probably doesn’t know Sirius is still here.

They’d already said their goodbyes.

Sirius gives Harry a kiss on the cheek when his Godson reaches for him, giving him some time, while the baby remains perched on Peter’s hip.

And then Sirius smiles, giving him a nod; “Pete.”

Peter’s smile is forced and strained with regret, like he, too, believes it.

Like he believes Sirius is walking headlong into some terrible fate.

Sirius scoffs when he sees that same look in James’ eyes again, as he begins to head out the door, the weight lightened, somewhat, now that he and James are no longer alone.

“Chin up, you two.”

He claps James on shoulder, his hand lingering a little longer than it normally would.

The look James gives him is burdened with goodbye.

Neither says it.

James can’t.

Sirius won’t.

And then he steps out into the dawn of what he doesn’t yet realise is the end.

Me (pulling out the chair for him): Of course!

Snape: Can I have a seat?

Me (plugging in the chair): Of course!

Pads and Reggie together bc i love those two so much OTL

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