#remooseloopins

“Lupin! I asked you a question. Answer me.”

“I am not sure how else you expect me to explain,” Remus replied evenly. “From what I’ve been told, Sirius took advantage of the extreme weight loss he suffered in Azkaban, and slipped through his cellar door. The rest… Well, that is unknown.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Calista retorted. “The rest is unknown,” she mimicked, taking another sip from her glass before setting it hard on the table. “Where exactly d’you reckon his first stop is, hm? Maybe to see his best mates? The one’s who framed him and succeeded in seeing the Potters dead?”

Her teeth mashed together, grinding to the point of pain. “We both know Pettigrew’s safe. He’d cut off a leg if the Dark Lord asked it of him. He won’t let his most loyal servant be harmed. But you,” she trailed off, giving him a meaningful look before gripping her glass hard. “You’ve not done anything particularly special since.”

He turned slightly from her, and she could see his jaw clench as she spoke. “I will be at the castle in two week’s time. I’ve made it this far, have I not?” he asked. “Continued to stay in Dumbledore’s good graces for over thirteen years, and you call that nothing?” he scoffed, lifting his own glass to his lips.

Walista

Who’s the one to wake up the kids: Wynn, even though Calista threatens to castrate him each time he does. She swears they’d sleep longer, and he swears they’re minutes from waking up on their own anyway.Who makes breakfast: Calista does as much of the prep as she can, but typically swaps with Wynn so he can cook while she takes over with the chillens.Who’s the more discipline parent and who’s the more lenient one: They try to stay on equal parenting grounds so that when they’re older, the kids won’t feel like they have to go to one parent over the other when things go wrong.Who helps with the science fair: WynnWho does baby talk: CalistaWho wakes up for midnight feedings: Wynn is the lighter sleeper, and would bring the nugs to Cal in bed before he was able to just give them formula.Who’s the one who always worries: Both.Who picks up the kids early from school for some fun: CalWho’s the competitive parent: CalWho kisses the ouches: Calista, but only because she’s around more bc stay-at-homeWho’s the sucker for the puppy eyes: WynnWho makes the “dad jokes”: … duh. Wynn. I imagine he masters the dad jokes on like day 3 of being a dadWho embarrasses their kid for fun: BothWho’s the over protective one: CalWho’s the “take a sweater!” parent: Wynn

Falista

♔ : Finding your character wearing their clothes

Calista hated Christmas.

Aside from the cold and sharp wind that bit through her jumpers and chilled her bones, she couldn’t get past the blatant ploy by corporate Britain to get people to put themselves in debt buying supposedly necessary gifts to give their loved ones in a half-arsed effort to show them that they cared. 

Growing up, Christmas wasn’t ever celebrated in the way she’d heard her friends discuss; there was no ceiling-high tree (due to her allergies) and no cornucopia of holiday biscuits smelling up her home (due to her mum’s constant dieting). Christmas simply meant a time where she wasn’t forced to go to school, but instead could hang out with Avery at his home while her mum got knee-walking drunk with whatever boyfriend she’d snagged that year. It wasn’t the sort of thing anyone would write stories of, but she was happy to continue her life never giving a second thought to tinsel or carols or bleeding gingerbread houses.

Because of this, she couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out why she’d agreed to attend the yearly McKinnon Christmas fete. Truly, she needed to look into lobotomies the moment she made it back to the castle.

The night wasn’t a complete bore, much to her relief. There’d been the terrible rendition of ‘Deck the Halls’ hashed out on the piano by who Calista could only assume was a drunken McKinnon uncle, and she’d taken immense pleasure out of watching Magnus shove Marlene out of the way when he’d noticed her and Mulloy standing under some mistletoe their mum had hung.

From her spot in the corner, she observed the usual suspects from Gryffindor Tower mingle and joke and tell what had to be completely made up stories– truly she found the majority of the things that came out of Potter’s mouth to be completely asinine. Her eyes flittered over the faces– some familiar, most not– before landing on– wait, why was her Art Professor here? And wearing what had to be, hands down, the foulest Christmas jumper she’d ever seen? She watched as Marcas clapped a hand on Wynn’s shoulder, laughing at said hideous jumper, before turning on her heel and heading towards the back of the house.

‘Don’t know why you thought this was a good idea. This is– it’s positively bizarre’, she thought to herself. ‘Like one of those dreams where nothing makes sense, but you’re the only one to realize that.’

Snagging two beer bottles from the kitchen (one for now, and one for when the first was finished), she hurried up the back staircase that lead to the second level of the McKinnon home. Pausing a moment, she struggled to remember which door led to Marlene’s room. Naturally, it was the last door she tried. Muttering profanities to herself, she pushed open the door as she took a drink of her beer, before nearly spatting at the sight in front of her.

After several quiet moments, she managed to eek out, “Lupin,” before pausing for another long second. “Why– in the hell are you wearing my shirt?”

As she spoke, Remus’s eyes trailed down to his own chest, frowning before looking back at her and clearing his throat. “Thought– ah– thought this was Sirius’s shirt,” he explained. 

When she offered nothing in return, he continued. “Spilt my eggnog on myself and came up here looking for something clean,” he said, his fingers fidgeting at the hem of the shirt, clearly uncomfortable.

“It was,” she finally answered. “Sirius’s shirt, I mean.” Seeing his eyebrows furrow further, she rolled her eyes and took another drink.

“’s not what you think. Didn’t take it with me after some shag or anything like that. We went through a phase of going out together, completely platonic of course, and just like you, I spilled an embarrassing, disgusting drink down my front. He let me borrow that shirt and I suppose I never gave it back. Seems only fitting you get it now,” she finished.

The silence between them sent small, uncomfortable jolts through her stomach. With no idea what else to do, she stepped further into the room and sat on Marlene’s bed, toeing her shoes off and reaching for a magazine on the ground.

“You done with the party?” Remus asked, staring between her and the noise floating up from downstairs.

Giving him a sheepish smile, she shrugged. “It’s not really my thing– hanging around a bunch of people that don’t particularly care whether I’m there or not. Sort of the Christmas spirit, yeah? Feigned camaraderie?”

Calista flipped through the magazine, searching for something more interesting than ‘10 Quidditch Moves that Translate to the Bedroom’ when the felt the bed shift below her. Glancing over the top of the magazine, she arched an eyebrow at the now-seated Lupin.

“I-- ah-- I understand. Not liking parties, I mean. For completely different reasons, but,” he seemed to struggle to find the right words. “Sometimes, I am not a fan of large crowds in small settings,” he managed finally.

Considering her options (the most and least agreeable being she go into the middle of the party and use the fireplace to floo back to the castle), Calista eventually leaned down back towards the carpet. Righting herself, she handed her second beer over to Remus before sitting up further and setting the magazine by her side.

YES. COME BE A MASSHOLE W/ ME!!!

1: Hot, Steamy Kiss

“You know, Lupin, I’ve always liked you.”

From her chair, Calista watched Remus intently across the table. His jaw was clenched so tightly, she thought he might crack some of his teeth. There was dirt mixed with a bit of blood streaked across his forehead, and it seemed to make him look even wilder.

As soon as she’d walked into the interrogation room, Calista was surprised at the man seated before her. She’d expected small, docile, pensive Remus Lupin to be strapped to the chair, but instead sat a man that looked practically animalistic. His eyes were wild, the veins in his throat pulsing, and his arms straining. It was enough to make her thankful for the thick leather straps, as well as a few binding spells, keeping him strapped to his chair. She was still new to this, but her superiors believed she had a knack for getting information from people, so they’d sent her in to deal with him. In reality, she was more better at getting men to let their guards down, and then beating them into submission.

“If I take that gag out, will you behave yourself?” she asked, putting on her best professor voice. One small nod was all it took for her to slide from her chair and around the table to perch on the ledge in front of him. Her hands slipped behind his head and loosened the soiled fabric tied across his mouth. She pulled back as he reflexively opened and closed his mouth, working the soreness from his jaw.

“Would you like some water?” The question was barely out of her mouth before he was nodding rapidly. She smirked as he leaned his head back, happily accepting her offer as she tilted the glass in his mouth. She gave him just enough to coat his throat before pulling back, earning an annoyed look from her captor.

Dipping her fingers into the water glass, she brought her hand up to wipe away the mess on his forehead. He stared at her confused, finally finding his voice. 

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice gruff, like it was strained from shouting.

“Why am I helping you?” she countered. “I told you, Remus,” she continued, sliding to sit across his lap, “I’ve always liked you,” she finished, saying it like it was an obvious answer.

The look of confusion on his face only grew as one hand laced into his hair, and the other settled on his chest. Her head tilted towards his and met his mouth with a hungry kiss. She’d done this before-- but this was the first time she could recall an interrogation suspect responding to her positively. Her hand crept up to his neck as she momentarily forgot her purpose, before she snapped back to reality and pulled back; this time it was her turn to look confused.

“I didn’t think you’d enjoy that so much, Lupin,” she stated with a smirk, her breath coming in small pants.

Her eyes followed his as he glanced out the small window to her left. “Well,” he said, sounding a tad distracted, “I’m not really feeling like myself right now.”

19: Forceful Kiss

“Do you think that for once in your life you could quit dicking around?!” Calista spat. Her chest felt hollow, save for the lump lodged at the base of her throat. The corners of her eyes stung with tears, but she’d be damned if she’d let him see her cry.

Eventually, he lifted his head to look at her, doing his best to maintain a neutral expression. “Ya? Well, wha’ are ye’ planning to do about it?” he asked, and she could’ve smacked him right then and there.

“What am I going to do about it?” she repeated, verging on hysterical. “We are both in this situation, Mulloy. Have you thought about what you are going to do about it?”

“It was only one time, Walker–” he tried to say, but she cut him off by slamming a cabinet closed.

“Don’t-” she started, “Don’t pretend like it was a one-time mistake. Don’t lie to me, Niall,” she pleaded, crossing the space between them, grabbing him by the nape of his neck, and pulling his head to meet hers with a forceful kiss. He tried to protest, she could feel like trying to pull back, but she wouldn’t let him. All the things left unsaid, the things she was too afraid to say, she hoped she could communicate this way.

After a few moments, the need for air was too great, and Calista pulled back a fraction of an inch to search his face. Whatever it was she was hoping to find, Niall didn’t oblige. He spoke softly; his voice like gravel and for the first time showing emotion that wasn’t indifference. “And just wha’ am I supposed to tell Marlene? I can’t just go home and announce over supper, ‘By the way, Maggie’s going to be a big sister. Well, half-sister.’ Do ye’ have any idea what tha’ would do to her?”

Calista couldn’t stop the wince from crossing her face. “And what about me? You can’t pretend this was the result of some drunken mistake. All the times–” she paused, loosening her grip on his neck. “It wasn’t always about a shag, Niall. Every time you came here, every time we sat and talked and laughed and polished off countless bottles of whiskey, you were choosing me. You well could’ve gone and done that with her, but you chose to come here instead. Stop acting like that meant nothing to you,” she finished, leaning up and intending to kiss him again.

4: Forehead Kiss

As she finished reading the last few words on the page, Calista glanced up to scan Wynn’s face, smiling slightly at the dreamy look affixed to it. She closed the book gently before setting it on the table to her left. Her knees protested as she stood, shaking out the soreness and running a hand through her hair. She didn’t need to look at the clock to know her time was up.

Wynn didn’t react to the movement; he kept the same serene expression on his face, the same one he wore whenever he was having a good day. Thankfully, today had been one of those good days. Even better, she’d not had to share it with any of her children or grandchildren– it’d been just the two of them, like it was in the beginning.

Her hands smoothed at imaginary wrinkles in his blanket, not yet wanting to leave, but knowing he’d need to sleep soon. It was hard to believe that he could be even thinner than in his younger years, but as she smoothed back the hair on his brow, she couldn’t ignore the ashen hue in his cheeks. Sometimes it felt like just yesterday he’d begun complaining of headaches. Five years later, it wasn’t any easier to make this trip; to see him like this, the way he’d seen his mother for so many years. The way he’d never wanted to end up.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she leaned forward slowly to place a gentle kiss to his forehead, whispering against his skin, “I love you, you know that, right?” She was met with the uncomfortably familiar silence that seemed to follow her questions more and more these days. Giving him one last smile, she turned towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, dear.”