anon we have the same brain fr because i looked at this and had the same thought. (and so did others because i have 2 more asks w this exact premise)

i hope u like this! personally, it’s one of my favs 🙈

x

Sirius cut his way through the post-dinner throng of students as swiftly and efficiently as he could, resisting the urge to case a wide-area Blasting Charm to clear the route faster. His destination was the large gathering of students in the middle of the courtyard, jeering and chanting.

As he got closer, the voices floating from the centre of the circle became more distinct, making his face twist into a grimace.

“Think you’re so much better than us, don’t you, Potter?” An unfortunately familiar voice was taunting, though it sounded a bit funny, muffled. A part of Sirius knew, even before he pushed through the crowd, that it would just be Snape putting his nose somewhere it had no business being. Usually, it wouldn’t be such a big deal for Sirius who couldn’t care less about him if he was held at wand-point. But today, today he’d decided to go needle James.

Who was already in a terrible mood this week. It was a combination of everything—Effie and Flea’s declining health, the constant chatter in the castle, the pressure from the Quidditch Cup, Lily’s taunts, McGonagall’s nagging—all of it building and building and building until it reached a boiling point. Sirius had been waiting for him to blow this entire week; it’s only unfortunate that it happened the one day they’re in different classes, on opposite ends of the castle, and at the hands of Snape at that. Sirius had heard that something was going down in the courtyard, could only catch James’ name in between the gasps and giggles before promptly booking it out of there.

And sure enough, he got there just in time to see James send his fist into Snape’s jaw with a ridiculous ‘crack’ that Sirius can hear all the way to where he’s standing, making him wince slightly. Clearly, this isn’t his first, because there’s a stream of blood running down Snape’s nose, pooling over and around his mouth. There’s a scratch-bruise situation on one of his cheekbones that he’s guessing is from James’ Potter Ring.

James is…not entirely blemish free—there’s a wicked bruise blooming on his temple—but in comparison? He looks practically untouched.

It’s no wonder, though, because despite Snape’s mouthing off, it’s clearly an act, put upon for his own sake just as much as for others. Now that Sirius is right in front of them, he can see exactly how terrified the guy looks, though he’s made a valiant effort to hide it. One look at James and he immediately understood why.

James had Snape lifted up against the wall by his collar, teeth bared and a feral tinge to his eyes. His hazel eyes were almost black as he said, “Say something like that again, Snape, I dare you.”

Clearly, the Slytherin had lost the few brain cells he had left because he actually opened his mouth to answer. James didn’t give him the chance, only pushing him harder into the granite. “I will end you, Snivellus, don’t try me. Stop fucking running your mouth if you can’t deal with the consequences of it.”

That was the point Sirius decided to step in. It didn’t seem like anyone else would—Remus and the other prefects were standing on the far end of the hallway, huddled and whispering furiously; no teachers were present—and judging by Snape’s rapidly reddening face, he was less than a minute away from getting his face fully bashed in. Sirius didn’t want James to deal with the aftermath of that in his current state if he actually went through with it. There were too many people around, anyway.

“James,” he called, stepping forward. He could’ve sworn he heard at least three different sighs of relief but all his attention was now fixed on the way James’ fists clenched harder at the sound of his voice. He sighed—so it was like that, was it?

He stepped up to the two of them and placed a hand on James’ forearm. It was taut with tension, like steel to the touch, almost blazing hot. Ignoring the fact that James was deliberately ignoring looking at him, he started massaging his arm with a light touch, gently working his way down from his elbow to wrist, feeling the muscles loosen with each second. Once he’d repeated the action a couple times, he started rubbing circles with his thumb on the bottom of his palm, increasing the pressure with each rotation.

Eventually, it didn’t take more than a minute before James’ shoulders sagged, almost imperceptibly, and his fists unclenched. Snape, who’d been uncharacteristically silent so far—perhaps showing some of that Slytherin self preservation and realising Sirius was his best bet to getting out here without further harm?—quickly slid out from under his arm, going to stand a safe distance away. He opened his mouth, forgetting that distance meant nothing when James was as good with a wand as he was, but Sirius quickly put a pin in that one.

“Piss off, Sniv,” he muttered, not even bothering to look in his direction.

“Black you—“

“I said, piss off,” Sirius growled, arm moving so fast that Snape couldn’t track the wand now pointed between his eyes if he’d tried. “Now.”

With whatever was left of his tattered dignity, Snape tucked tail and fled. Good riddance. Without sparing a single glance towards the rapidly growing crowd of students, he tucked his wand back in its holster and wrapped a hand around James’ wrist, pulling him away from the courtyard and into one of their hidden alcoves on the ground floor. It was quite removed from the rest of the castle and the most traffic it saw was when the Bloody Baron and Grey Lady decided to rehash some centuries old fight.

Once they were properly inside, he dropped his bag to the floor and pushed James agains the wall, pressing as tightly against him as physically possible, not willing to let a single inch of space between them. For a few minutes, they did nothing except look at each other, James’ breaths sounding like heavy pants in the empty room.

Sirius held James’ face with both hands, hard enough that his fingers pressed indents into his skin, knowing the pressure grounded him. “What can I get you, James? Do you need water? A hug? Some space?”

James stared at him as if seeing through him, eyes unfocused and far, far away. Sirius pressed harder, curling his fingers for his nails to dig in, willing James to come back to him. And of course, James did.

“I need you.” Rough hands grabbed the front of his robes, pulling him forward abruptly and with a little too much force. Sirius had to grab onto James’ shoulders—not that he was complaining—just so he didn’t topple them both sideways. Gently, he shifted his grip until one arm was curled around James’ and the other was buried in his hair, cradling the back of his head. He tucked James’ head under his chin, trapping his hands between them, holding him as tightly as he could.

He knew James needed to be clutched when he was like this, that he loved being surrounded on all sides—as if someone was holding all of him, refusing to let any part of him go. He craved safety, comfort, when he got overwhelmed and this was the best way Sirius knew to give it to him.

1774-1776

I’ve posted about these two quite a bit, but I have yet to compile a complete record of all the information we have on the relationship between Francis Kinloch and Johannes von Müller. Since I just found a book with lots of new information, now seems like a pretty good time to do this. @john-laurens first posted about Müller and Kinloch’s relationship here and here, and gets 100% credit for first researching and posting about this relationship. 

I hope that this is helpful for anyone who is interested in Kinloch and/or his relationships outside of John Laurens. I’m going to split this up, a bit like my De Végobre essays, because there are two main time periods where Müller and Kinloch were physically in the same place, 1774-1776, when Kinloch was still in Geneva after John Laurens left, and the early 1800s, where Kinloch returned to Geneva with his family. I’ll also have a post about the period in-between these, where Kinloch and Müller were writing letters to each other. 

However, in this post I’ll be talking about the earliest of the above times, Kinloch and Müller’s relationship from 1774, when they first met, to late 1776, when Kinloch had to leave to go fight in America. Kinloch and Müller were living together for most of this time.

According to Johannes von Müller, 1752-1809: Bd. 1752-1780 by Karl Heinrich Henking, Müller and Kinloch first met at the house of a mutual friend, Charles Bonnet, in 1774. Madame Bonnet was apparently thrilled that Müller and Kinloch had become such fast friends, and “they were soon treated like sons of the house[.]” 

They began to study together, Kinloch assisting Müller in English.

Müller at this time was working as a tutor for the Tronchin family, but was unhappy. Kinloch, knowing this, devised a plan in which he and Müller would live together for the foreseeable future. Perhaps because Kinloch enjoyed studying together, but perhaps also for... other reasons.

Anyway, it was worked out, and so Kinloch “rented a small country house with six rooms in the village of Chambésy on the right bank of Lake Geneva, an easy hour from the city, halfway between Geneva and Versoix...” (Johannes von Müller, 1752-1809: Bd. 1752-1780 by Karl Heinrich Henking.) Müller was very happy there, and even more so when Charles Victor de Bonstetten came to join them.

And with the introduction of Bonstetten, now is probably a good time to examine Müller’s sexuality a bit. Johannes von Müller’s sexuality is not really a mystery. Pretty much everything I’ve found which talks about his sexuality states that he was homosexual, and very open about it for his time period. Later in life, sadly, this openness was exploited in a series of love letters and requests for money from a fabricated duke. (I post about that here.)

In Outing Goethe and His Age, edited by Alice A. Kuzniar, it states that, “For present purposes, however, it is most important to know that Johannes von Müller was out as one inclined to Socratic or Greek love to an extent unparalleled in eighteenth-century Germany.” In other texts, Müller is more casually referred to as homosexual, and in older texts his sexuality is not really mentioned, but the consensus seems to be pretty clear.

When Müller’s actual relationships are discussed, the name that comes up is always Bonstetten. Müller and Bonstetten exchanged many letters, and were generally quite close. (a good summary of their relationship can be found here.) But as I hope you’ll find in these posts, it is possible that Kinloch’s name should be included as well.

So! Kinloch, Müller, Bonstetten, and a man named Alleyne Fitzherbert are living in this six-room house in the summer of 1775. But that August, Kinloch and Müller started traveling around Switzerland together. You know, like all friends do. Müller used the trip for a bit of research, seeing if the writings on differences between the parts of Switzerland were accurate.

After returning to Geneva, Kinloch and Müller lived with the Bonnet’s for a while, their old home having been moved into. In November of 1775, Müller and Kinloch “returned to their house in Chambésy, but then rented another apartment in May 1776 very close to Bonnet's home in Genthod to be closer to their esteemed older friend.”

Side note to say how much Müller admired Charles Bonnet. He wrote to Bonstetten, “Herr Bonnet is truly a demigod; I do not know a more practical philosopher, a more noble-thinking and lovable man, neither in history nor in the world, and what is most beautiful is that all of this happens from the strength of his philosophy, not from mere impulses.”

It is during this time that, at least according to, Johannes von Müller, 1752-1809: Bd. 1752-1780, Müller was at his happiest. “...free of economic worries, he was able to live entirely in the sciences with which friends conduct an extremely extensive reading, which focused on the classical literature of antiquity and works of the English, French, Italians, and in some cases also the Germans in the fields of history, the Politics of constitutional law and economics related.”

Clearly, Müller and Kinloch’s relationship was far from purely emotional; they apparently also enjoyed studying and reading together. This parallels De Végobre and Kinloch-- De Végobre mentions in a letter to John Laurens that, “...I read speclator, Clarissa, Milton and Shakespear, besides some philosophical books. Never, never in my life have I been so well entertained as when I read Milton; and why? First, for poet’s excellency and secondly and chiefly because I read it with Kinloch. My beloved, my dearest friend is Kinloch; how happy am I, when I teach him some part of natural philosophy, when I read with him both English and French poets, when I talk with him about various matters plainly and heartily as with a friend!”