sasha

“they stuff people’s heads down the toilet the first day at stonewall. want to come upstairs and practice?” "no, thanks. the poor toilet’s never had anything as horrible as your head down it – it might be sick.” fucking eleven year old harry!! already a lil mini savage!!!!!

“listening to the news! again?“ "well, it changes every day, you see” my boy!!! mouthing off to the dursleys!! who gives a fuck?? not harry potter

“’congratulations, harry! i wonder if you could give me a quick word? how you felt facing that dragon? how do you feel now about the fairness of the scoring?’ ‘yeah, you can have a word,’ said harry savagely. ‘goodbye!’” holy fuck!! when harry potter literally does not give a shit anymore and jk rowling knows it and literally!!! canonically!!! makes him a savage harry is literally savage it says it right there in the goblet of fire

“it’s time you learned some respect!” “it’s time you earned it.” mouthing off to the minister of magic damn harry authority who????? what??? respecting your elders??? harry doesn’t give a shit!!!!

“sure you can manage that broom, potter? got plenty of special features, hasn’t it? shame it doesn’t come with a parachute - in case you get too near a dementor.“  “pity you can’t attach an extra arm to yours, malfoy, then it could catch the snitch for you.” oh shit!!!! legit how many times do u think malfoy literally cried to his dad because harry burned him!!!! where’s the aloe vera!!!!

and remus has no money and can’t do much to make sirius comfortable, but he can tell sirius how much he loves him every five minutes. sirius was always mushier than him, was always more doe-eyed and romantic, always more openly affectionate, but remus can do that. he can hold him in his arms and give him a long quiet hug in the kitchen for no reason. he can call him baby and princess and beautiful thing, lovely creature, angel eyes, and so on. he can hold his hand in public and touch the small of his back in public and have a private moment in public, foreheads touching, murmuring sweet nothings in the cough and cold aisle at cvs or at the ministry or simply in the middle of the street.

Hair Ties

Sirius started breathing harder and fanning his face. The common room was stifling and the open windows didn’t help. His shirt was already unbuttoned to the point of being obscene and his hair was making the heat worse.

Sirius looked up startled as James sighed in annoyance and got up. He yanked Sirius’ hair back from his face and started tying it in a knot at the back of his head with the hair tie from his wrist

“What’re you doing? And why do you have a hair tie?”

James scowled at him. “You don’t have enough sense to carry one and you’re dying right now with your hair in your face”

Sirius let out a yelp as James pulled his hair again.

“Sorry. I’m still learning. Lily’s been teaching me.”

Sirius turned slightly in his chair and grinned at James.

“You’re learning how to tie hair just for me? Careful Potter, I might get the wrong impression-“

Sirius yelped mid sentence as James yanked his hair back once more.

“Sorry”, James said sweetly.

Medication

James slammed the little cup rattling with pills in front of Remus.

“I don’t have-“

“Here” James said as he slammed a bottle of water on the table in front of him.

Remus opened his mouth but James spoke up again.

“And before you say that you need to take your pills with food, you don’t. I checked beforehand and even if you did, I have a sandwich and a granola bar neatly wrapped in my bag”.

“Ok but”-

“The sandwhich is ham and cheese, no Mayo. The granola bar is chocolate chip and doesn’t have any nuts in it. Yes I remembered your food allergies and preferences. Now take the damn pill”.

Remus scowled but inwardly felt a flood of relief and love for James. He snatched the granola bar and ripped it open as James watched him with a small grin on his face.

Anxiety

James looked over in annoyance. Sirius was bouncing his knee and picking at this hands during history of magic. Walburga had written a letter this morning that had left Sirius red faced at breakfast. He didn’t know it was that bad until he saw some blood on Sirius’ nail beds from the constant picking.

James leaned down and grabbed a marker from his bag. He pulled his sleeve up and handed the marker to Sirius.

Sirius looked down in confusion.

“What is this?”

“Stop picking your skin. Just doodle on my arm. Lily says it helps with anxiety.”

Sirius averted his eyes.

“No James, that’s em-“

“Anxiety isn’t embarrassing and I don’t mind. Just stop picking at your skin and at least try to look like you’re paying attention”.

Sirius uncapped the marker and started drawing on James’ arm, occasionally looking up and pretending he was paying attention. He felt the panic and anxiety slowly flood away as he worked on designs from James’ wrist to his elbow.

“Oh and if you draw a penis on my arm, I’ll smack the shit out of you”

Sirius laughed quietly as he put the finishing touches on a life-like ball sack on James’ forearm.

“Too late”.

Sweater

Remus tried. He genuinely tried to hide his shivering. They had been at Hogsmeade for about an hour and Remus was freezing. James’ had told him various times to bring a jacket but he kept ignoring him and now he was shaking in his tee shirt. He tried to hide that he was cold because he hated proving James’ right. But he knew James noticed when he saw the scowl on his face.

“James, don’t say it-“

“I told you! I told you it was cold but you never listen to me”

Remus rolled his eyes. “I’ll survive-“

James had already taken his quidditch sweatshirt off and was pulling it on Remus.

Remus struggled against him and turned slightly red as Sirius and Lily laughed at them. “James stop. You’re going to be cold”.

James shrugged as he finally pulled it over Remus’’ head, messing his hair up in the process. “I have more muscle mass and I don’t get cold. Scrawny ass motherfucker”.

He’d try to illustrate, to draw out his feelings of absence, of lack, of no longer being the positive but the negative mold of the space around him.

The tension of presence and absence when he’s spent so long being the absence being the void being the other and the wrong and the betrayer and the hated.

Can he find himself again by setting the earth on fire? By building up walls of himself, pressing his back into the sand or the mud? Building himself out of twigs or bones?

He’ll let the sea or the wind or the animals clear away the failed selves or maybe not failed but slightly somehow wrong selves, off color selves. Selves he could have been in another time in another life.

soon the ritual transformed from recycling old school things to a menagerie of marauder memories; along with their notes, they collected chocolate wrappers and labels from firewhiskey and butterbeer bottles (Pete's idea), leaves from each full moon (james' idea), clumps of fur from a particularly raucous full moon (sirius suggested this with a laugh), and loose strings from their robes and jumpers (remus, of course). An aggregate of souvenirs that turned to pulp and became an unassuming, private scrapbook.