Kingsley Shacklebolt

Send ‘✩’ for the following:

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Who trashes the house? Do either of them get physical? How often do they argue/disagree? Who is the first to apologise?

Sex:

Who is on top? Who is on the bottom? Who has the strangest desires? Any kinks? Who’s dominant in bed? Is head ever in the equation? If so, who is better at performing it? Ever had sex in public? Who moans the most? Who leaves the most marks? Who screams the loudest? Who is the more experienced of the two? Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? Rough or soft? How long do they usually last? Is protection used? Does it ever get boring? Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? 

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? If so, how many children do your muses want/have? Who is the favorite parent? Who is the authoritative parent? Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? Who goes to parent teacher interviews? Who changes the diapers? Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? Who spends the most time with the children? Who packs their lunch boxes? Who gives their children ‘the talk’? Who cleans up after the kids? Who worries the most? Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from?

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? Who is the little spoon? Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?   How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? Who gives the most kisses? What is their favourite non-sexual activity? Where is their favourite place to cuddle? Who is more likely to playfully grope the other?  How often do they get time to themselves?

Sleeping:

Who snores? If both do, who snores the loudest? Do they share a bed or sleep separately? If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? Who talks in their sleep? What do they wear to bed? Are either of your muses insomniacs? Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Who wakes up with bed hair? Who wakes up first? Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? What is their favourite sleeping position? Who hogs the sheets? Do they set an alarm each night? Can a television be found in their bedroom? Who has nightmares? Who has ridiculous dreams? Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?  Who makes the bed?  What time is bed time?  Any routines/rituals before bed? Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? 

Work:

Who is the busiest? Who rakes in the highest income? Are any of your muses unemployed? Who takes the most sick days? Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Who sucks up to their boss? What are their jobs? Who stresses the most? Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? Are your muses financially stable? 

Home:

Who does the washing? Who takes out the trash? Who does the ironing? Who does the cooking? Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? Who is messier?  Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Who forgets to flush the toilet? Who is the prankster around the house? Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Who mows the lawn? Who answers the telephone? Who does the vacuuming? Who does the groceries? Who takes the longest to shower? Who spends the most time in the bathroom?

Miscellaneous:

Sirius had figured if it was lurking in his messaging system, passing it to a computer for better study would be as easy as sending an email. “Easy,” however was a figure of speech when talking about a virus that effectively put his contact list on randomize. He sent himself blank emails about ten times before finally receiving it on a laptop that meant nothing to him. It was empty, used only for coding monsters, and older than sin. 

But finally. He had found it. 

It pressed its weight against the mirror of DOS the old Dell ran on, line after line of code, morphing every time he opened it; in a new location every time he left it alone for more than a few hours. He had never seen a virus more active; more certain of where to go to find secure information; more prolific. It made his stomach clench and his heart pump. 

They said it had come from the government. Whoever had been designing this could have been the most knowledgeable spy on the planet had they managed to develop it into something invisible. Even less than Sirius wanted to know what the virus would do next did Sirius want to know why the government had made this a project and on whom the government had hoped to have it unleashed. 

On his couch in the relative darkness gifted by his black-out curtains, Sirius balanced the laptop on one knee and a bowl of cereal on the other. He watched it, trying to read it as fast as the code sped across, scrolling at times, but usually too afraid to lose his place. If he could understand it, he could know where it might go next or at least how it jumped from place to place. 

In the middle of his mesmerized observance, Sirius heard a firm knock on his door. A simple 1-2-3, impersonal and startling. His muscles siezed for a moment to keep him from jumping and spilling everything in his lap, then he turned toward the sound. The knocking came again, not that of anyone he recognized, and Sirius forced out a breath. With one last glance at the code, he pushed the laptop and bowl away from him, putting them onto the coffee table, then stood. 

He opened the door, blinking at the light of the day. He kept the door close to him, only opened enough to show all but the arm poised to slam the door  back shut. When he saw the blue robes of an auror at his door, his arm twitched as if to do so. It was an effort not to let the door close, not to lock it with deadbolt and chain, and not to run. He had never trusted Aurors, and Moody hadn’t exactly made their case. 

This auror knew his address and full name. 

Sirius swallowed to rewet his throat before answering, “Yeah, that’s me. Something I can help you with?” He knew he looked messy: black jeans, tshirt. His hair was a mop from the many times he’d run his hands through it. He hadn’t exactly been sleeping well, either, half of his energy on his internship, the other half on the virus… the virus that was written all over his screen. He swallowed again, remembering how they’d gotten Septima. 

Merlin, let the man not look at Sirius’ computer. 

Not everyone was trapped in the same way he was though, or even if they were they left it all behind without a care for the scandal. Though he doubted without a care was accurate, but seemingly at least. He’d kept a hold of a piece of information that had been leaked in the latest Excrabalis explosion. It had been passed off as an indecipherable bit of personal shorthand, but something about it had kept a hold of it rather than discard it. He’d been out following a tip that went cold; when he finally made a decision regarding the list that had been bothering him. Officially and technically he should have sent a request to have Sirius show up at the office, but Kingsley wasn’t sure he was ready to put this on the books just yet. This was a bit of a shot in the dark and even if he was right that didn’t mean Sirius would go on record saying so. Considering these days Kingsley was starting to think the system might be as reliable as his own father he couldn’t exactly blame the younger man if he didn’t want to. 

They’ll have to:

Rate on a scale of 1-10 how much they don’t want to answer that question.

“When’s your sister arriving?” Remus vaguely remembered seeing a flight ticket on one of the accounts, but didn’t remember if it was Kingsley’s. If so, then hopefully it was only that, information that Kingsley was willing to divulge in any case. “And me, I’m doing alright, trudging along as always, trying to pick up the pieces from this new virus.”

“Delilah?” Kingsley repeated the name as if he hadn’t been the one to bring her up, but despite his own apprehension since the newest leak the thought of her made him smile. He knew all things considered he got off easy. If someone really wanted to they could put together some of the pieces, but it would seem like a stretch. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. “She gets in at 3, if everything is on time. Which, I have learned that it rarely is; however, the one time I am late will be the one time it isn’t.” His hands slid across his jeans, he’d been an auror for too long to have ticks or tells, but he reminded himself that Remus wasn’t a file on his desk. “It’s one hell of a mess it’s stirred up. For just about everyone it seems, how are you doing after it?”