Yup Happens Every Single FUCKING Time-

break me!!! why dont you-

The Best Worst Thing to Have Ever Happened pt. 1

An AU in which James/Lily are somehow still alive, and Harry chooses to continue living with Sirius and Remus. (this one doesn't hurt, not so much; similar to Fault Lines, it will also be posted in installments on tumblr because it's just a dribble.)

"What's it like to be living my life, Sirius?"

--

June 1995

Sirius had always been susceptible to things that went bump in the night. Remus joked that Sirius didn’t know the meaning of a good nights sleep and had been saying it for years. But usually, when Sirius sat bolt right up in bed, a chill running down his spine and heart racing, it was nothing. Black magic was just particularly paranoid and sensed every movement.

Every noise.

Every unwanted whisper.

“Sirius, go back to sleep…” Remus mumbled next to him when Sirius had reached out to grab his husband’s shoulder, communicating a sense of urgency. A fire when there wasn’t even a spark. Remus had become an expert at navigating the imaginary emergencies and quieted anxiety half-asleep.

Sirius sat still though, listening and hoping to narrow in on magical or muggle.

A lost postman.

A stray animal--that had happened before.

But there was nothing.

Still, he kept his hand on Remus’s shoulder.

“Baby…” Remus rolled over to face Sirius, one eye cracking open a sliver, “Everything is fine.”

“I…don’t know.”

“Do you hear something?”

“No.” Sirius felt Remus’s hand snake out from underneath the covers, placing it gently on Sirius’s chest. He was sure his husband could feel his racing heart, a breath away from taking off his shirt just for more space. “It’s just a feeling.”

“What kind of feeling?”

“Like…something terrible is going to happen today. Or…not terrible…I don’t know.”

Remus shifted, moving out of the cocoon of blankets realizing Sirius wasn’t as quick to settle this time around. More awake than he wanted to be at four in the morning, but climbed on top of Sirius’ lap nonetheless.

It was a faint buzzing.

This feeling.

A paralyzing sort of ache that made Sirius want to stay in bed, his mind drafting a letter into work for why he couldn’t have the hearing today. Everything was going to have to wait until the feeling passed and Sirius was sure the sun would come up. Right now he wasn’t so sure.

“You get these feelings every year just before Harry comes home.” Remus’s face was mostly shadows, eyes catching hazy morning light every so often, but otherwise Sirius was looking into darkness. If it wasn’t for Remus’s body on top of his, he might have drifted there altogether. “Every year it’s fine, right?”

“Yeah. Mostly. He’s getting taller and moodier so... I dunno if that’s fine.”

“It’s not terrible.”

“No.”

“Might just have to trust me, love. It’s just a feeling.”

“I…” Sirius sighed, “No, you’re right.”

“No, tell me.”

“It feels like magic. Like someone’s trying to get in here…except not…really. Do you feel it at all?”

“No,” Remus shook his head, “I’m sorry.”

It was probably nothing. Just like every year, when he felt the feeling and it had been nothing then.

Remus usually could pick up traces of magic if there were any to be found, even without Black magic.

“It’ll pass?” asked Sirius.

“I think so.” Remus nodded and brushed his fingers through the dark curls that were sticking to Sirius’s forehead from sweat. “I love you.”

“One more time.”

“I love you,” Remus repeated without hesitation, coaxing Sirius back down in bed.

The feeling didn't pass, though Sirius managed to get out of bed, disappearing to his desk at the ministry hoping to drown out lingering worry with legal procedures. Until mid-afternoon when a patronus came.

A report to the ministers office.

Wizarding council robes swirling around his ankles, wondering if this was the day that Sirius would lose his job for saying bullshit instead of objection in a hearing room.

Remus was there as well when Sirius arrived in front of the Minister’s office.

Harry.

Sirius knocked, and the door opened by magic, two people already seated in front of the minister and Albus Dumbledore.

Messy jet black hair that didn’t belong to his fourteen year old.

A violent swear from his husband.

“I should’ve stayed in bed…” Sirius muttered, the door behind them shutting as the minister invited both of them to take a seat next to Lily and James.

--

James couldn’t talk about it. What had happened.

James would start and immediately stop and Sirius wasn’t sure if it was because there was magic involved preventing him from doing so or too much weight behind the words. His tongue not strong enough to carry it, or not willing to pass it off to someone else.

Knowing James, it was probably the latter.

Sirius didn’t ask him to explain after a third attempt. There was no pressure, even as the sun started to come up and it was made clear that James wasn’t going to just vanish into the light. It wasn’t an odd fever dream. It wasn’t like the other times Sirius had gotten drunk off his arse and made-up conversations with his best friend in nearly the same spot. Sirius kept unconsciously reaching a hand out to touch James’ face as he spoke; kept his eyes open afraid that if he blinked James would disappear again. But James would just smile--that stupid wide one he had seen on his kid for the past fifteen years; the one he had missed the most on days dark clouds rolled in and promised nothing but storms--and return the touch, warm hand touching Sirius’ face. And how could Sirius make that up? How could he make up Lily’s obnoxious cackle from the next room as she talked with Remus?

If it was a fever dream, it was a really fucking good one.

Sirius would gladly let whatever illness this was consume him if it meant he could have his best friend next to him for the rest of his days.

James looked older than when they had last seen each other, more facial hair too, Sirius remembering teasing James to no end when it took him three months to get anything that resembled a five o’clock shadow. James had been so proud.

Sirius wondered if James was proud this time around, even if no one was around to share it with him.

Of course, Sirius looked older too. They all did after…after surviving a war and doing their parts to rebuild themselves in a world that had opened wide and swallowed them all whole.

“Don’t…be mad at anyone,” James squinted up at the sunlight,

“I’ve been mad at Dumbledore since he let me spend a night in Azkaban…” Sirius muttered, “Being angry at him for this is just another reason.”

“You’re right. I’m impressed you haven’t killed him yet.”

“Shouted at him? Definitely. I’ve tried to get him sacked a handful of times too but…I’ll settle for having the board micromanage him…” Sirius grinned softly, “This doesn’t feel real.”

“Lily stopped me from writing so many times just to say that we were okay…so many times, Pads, you have to believe me, I tried.”

“I would’ve tried too.” Sirius swallowed, “I’m not mad at you. Least of all.”

Sirius left out the part where he had spent a whole month angry at a person who was no longer living because they had left him.

How dare you leave me like this?

What about me?

What am I supposed to do without you?

Sirius had figured it out--how to live in a world without his best friend who had loved him when he thought it wasn’t possible--after years of scrambling and searching for dry land.

“You’re different,” James told him, “I think…same but different.” A not quite comfortable silence enveloped them.

“It’s been fifteen years, I should hope I’m different. You are, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” James nodded, “So…how’s my kid?”

And that was when it hit him.

You could be unbelievably happy for something having worked out…and unbelievably hurt at what was about to unravel at the same time.

This was the terrible, sinking feeling.

Sirius shoved down the slight hurt at the phrase my kid. Because Harry…Harry had been Sirius’ kid for years and years. Sirius was the one who was there fore the late-night fevers and trips to St. Mungos; Sirius had been to every Quidditch game and hung up every exam score. Sirius’ desk at work at a picture of the three of them--Remus, Harry, Sirius. His family. And in a few hours…in a single sentence, this shifted.

Pushed from the cliff, falling down to the ground in a heap because it occurred to Sirius that Harry…had his parent’s back. The ones he was supposed to have before the worst thing to have ever happened, happened, and he was put into Sirius’ care.

Suddenly, Sirius was sixteen all over again, out cold on the streets running aimlessly and searching for someplace to go.

I’m lost.

Who will want me now?

Where do I belong?

Because his kid…might not be his anymore.

Sirius never expected to feel this way again at 35. Not when there was a wedding band around his finger. Not when there was a tattoo of July 31st on the underside of his wrist and a bedroom upstairs decorated in Quidditch posters and a desk in the parlor with art supplies.

“Alright?” James asked, breaking Sirius out from racing thoughts that had just come to fruition.

“Yeah. Sorry…” Sirius pasted on a fake smile, “Harry’s the best. I…was just thinking I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

--

Happiness was so incredibly fleeting.

People talked of happiness like it was some holy grail destination. A white whale. And once you captured this elusive happiness it would be yours forever and never leave.

But that wasn’t true.

Happiness was an emotion, just like sadness or anger, ebbing and flowing like the waves on the shore.

One moment Sirius was happy to have his best friend back; Harry was overjoyed to meet his parents, their dinner table of three turning into one for five. A week of pure elation and laughter with shared memories and time spent playing Quidditch in the backyard.

The innocent getting to know you questions and the high of the happiness rollercoaster all coming to a screaming and startling halt when a different sort of question was posed.

So, how would you feel if next week we took Harry home?

Sirius wanted to scream.

And he did, when he got on his bike under the impression he was taking a joy ride and for once there were plenty of adults to supervise a teenager with insatiable curiosity. He yelled as loud as he could, masked by the sound of an engine, choking on exhaust fumes until his throat felt it would bleed.

This is his home.

He’s already there, can’t you see that?

You can’t take him

Sirius didn’t know how but he had managed to maintain his head. Legally, it wasn’t as simple as just taking Harry home. Which is how they all ended up in the sitting room of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Lily and James on one couch, Sirius and Remus on the other, Harry caught in the middle on a chair looking at his hands.

“There’s no pressure either way, Harry. It’s your choice, who you want to stay with,” James’s voice was thick with emotion as he spoke, holding onto Lily’s hand so tight Sirius could see light knuckles from across the room. He was holding onto Remus’s hand in a similar way, already preparing to have the rug pulled out from underneath his feet.

“...I don’t want anyone to be mad at me,” Harry said. Sirius pulled his eyes away from James to look at Harry who was looking the floor. Caught in the middle of a game of tug-of-war he didn’t ask to play; keeping score and tallying up points when he just wanted to enjoy being there. He knew Harry had hoped for a forfeit, and Sirius had hoped for one as well…even if it ended badly in his favor. For some sort of legality and clause in ancient ministry rules that stipulated what took precedence--adoption papers or biology. But the ministry was unsure of which one to void, laws coming up empty, and it was instead put into the hands of an almost fifteen year old.

It seemed irresponsible.

It seemed unfair to give an impossible, bone crushing weight to a child (though Harry would disagree if those words were ever told to him).

But there they were.

“I won’t be mad at you, love, they’re your--” but with an elbow to his side Remus, Sirius stopped speaking, realizing for the first time that Harry had picked his head up and was looking at James and Lily. Not Sirius. Not Remus.

“You…seem very nice. I...like getting to know you, ” Harry said, “but you might as well be strangers to me. I’m…sorry.”

Sirius watched as James and Lily put on the same fake smile Sirius had been wearing since that day in the ministers office. The smile he used to pretend everything was okay when he had seen this coming from the very beginning.

A rift.

The feeling was back.

The paranoid, lingering feeling that something…terrible was going to happen returned as he walked James and Lily to the door of Grimmauld Place after Harry left to go to his bedroom.

“Good for you. You’ve…obviously made him really happy.” James words were harmless but his tone said otherwise. His face gave him away, looking at Sirius with an odd sort of mixture of betrayal and confusion.

What’s it like living my life, Sirius? You always did fancy being a Potter.

“You don’t mean that.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

one of my classmates called me pretty, and that made me really happy. :)

oh my god!!!! this is the sweeeteest!!!! i wish you and your family a very happy life <33

“May I?” “You may.”

having a quiet life is so.. underrated. i don’t mean it in the sense that people who’re open and loud and busy aren’t important, but when our culture has significantly put so much emphasis on the definition of success as fame, extraordinary accomplishments, greatness and importance and excessive wealth, i think there is so much power to be found in our own anonymity. in the silence of life. in not being constantly perceived, analyzed and performing for the world. in being able to take a walk, smile at strangers and just notice the world without all that noise. taking the biggest pleasure out of the smallest joys, like a cup of coffee or blowing out birthday candles. knowing that our lives don’t have to be a grand spectacle for others in order to have worth and cause a good impact.

Previously we had seen Sirius surprising Remus with a kiss Today we’re witnessing Remus surprising Sirius with a hug ^ω^

@mollyraesly that is exactly how i felt when i read your jilly fics!!!!! forever grateful. <3

How it feels to read a really good fic and find the author has dozens more like it 

ayeeee!

"You're in my seat."

(a jilytober drabble)

"You're in my seat."

"Sorry?"

"My seat. You're sitting in it."

Hazel eyes dance. "I didn't realize they assigned seats beyond secondary school."

Green eyes narrow. "I've been sitting in this seat all term. It's mine. A fact which you would know if you'd turned up at any point instead of only on exam days."

A smirk joins the dance. A stomach flips. "I have been here all term as a matter of fact. And I have, indeed, seen you sitting here." 

Teeth grind. "Glad we've sorted that. Now please move."

The boy infuriatingly does not, of course. If anything he settles in more firmly on his—her seat. "What's so special about it anyway? I've been dying to know."

"And that's why you're here?"

The boys smirk twitches wider momentarily. "One of the reasons, yes."

She doesn't care to ask for the others. There are only ten minutes until the exam is due to start. Every minute speaking to this trouble-maker is one fewer for her last minute notes review.

Her pause is long enough to welcome him to continue. "I think I've determined why you like this spot so much. First off, it's perfectly positioned by the heat vent—not directly underneath to make you too warm, but close enough to pull the chill out of the air. It also has a lovely but not too distracting view of the courtyard outside. And, I suppose, once old Sluggy gets here, the acoustics are probably top notch: loud enough but not too loud."

"You're mad," she says, blush creeping up her cheeks. How did he do that?

"I'm not the only one, I reckon," the boy replies, now standing. She has to crane her neck to maintain eye contact and boy does she find herself wanting to. "James, by the way, James Potter."

He stretches his hand out but she eyes in, faking repulsion.

"Am I supposed to care?"

He—James Potter—laughs. "I guess not. Well, that's what I get for waiting all term to talk to the prettiest girl in class. Maybe we'll have a class together next term and I can steal your seat then, too."

He steps around her, agile despite his wide shoulders, the grin never leaving his face. He sends a wink toward her before jogging up the steps to a desk in the back row.

She can't help but watch him plop down in the seat, an easy grin still on his face as he waves to her. She turns away in a huff, gently sitting down in her seat, angry more at herself than him for the fluttering in her stomach that tells her he isn't the only one hoping they share another class next term.

say whatever you need to, but please. STAY.

Share. Please. In honor or this nameless hero whom because of this letter he or she sent me, could save a life tonight. 

again, my box is always open.

70′s wizard kids (click on for better resolution)

my parents are looking at me weird cuz i burst into tears in the middle of economics revision!!!

𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘

- When they first got Harry, Remus wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Everything had happened so quickly, he had no time to grieve the loss of his friends before he was handed a small human with no sense of how to look after it. At first he panicked, never holding Harry, always letting Sirius look after him, shutting himself away so he didn’t have to acknowledge the situation they were in.

- He soon realised that that wasn’t fair on anyone, and began to spend more time with Harry. 

- It took a while, but they began to fall into a routine, Sirius would look after Harry in the morning (Remus couldn’t get out of bed before noon), and Remus would give him attention in the afternoon. They would go out into the village, play with new toys, read stories, plant flowers in the back garden. 

- It was on a summer afternoon when Harry said his first word. Remus was playing with him, swinging him around in his arms whilst Harry giggled and squealed, clutching his hair with his tiny fists. He tugged on his curls as Remus stopped to put him down, opening his mouth and gurgling “Moomee.” Remus froze, and Harry laughed again. “Moomee, Moomee, Moomee!”

- “Sirius! Sirius, come here!” 

“What, what’s wrong?” 

“Listen, go on Harry, say it again, Mooooony.” 

“Moomee!”

“Holy shit. Okay Harry, say Padfoot. Pad-foot.”

“Moomee!”

“I think he just likes me better, Pads.”

“Bullshit.”

“Bullshh!”

“No!”

- They had a ‘party’ that evening, celebratory noodles and garlic bread, Remus even gave Harry some of his chocolate bar, much to he Sirius’ dismay. “How come he gets your chocolate! All he did was say a few words!” “He’s a baby, Sirius.”

- After that day, Harry started speaking more, and soon enough they had a small child of four running around and grabbing their legs. He was a good kid, helped Sirius cook meals and cuddled Remus after full moons.

- He would wait outside Sirius and Remus’ bedroom door, waiting until Sirius allowed him to come in, before climbing carefully onto the bed where Remus was laying.

“Padfoo said Moomee’s sick,” he said, frowning at Remus. 

“Moomee isn’t feeling very well at the moment,” Remus replied, smiling weakly.

“Like when I have stomach bugs?”

“Yes, like when you have stomach bugs.”

 Harry scrunched up his face. “Want a hug? Paddy said you feel better with cuddles.”

“I would love a cuddle.”

-  It wasn’t long after Harry turned five when they decided to tell him about his parents. 

- They’d been putting it off until he was old enough where he could full understand, but not old enough that he would believe that they’d been lying to him for his life. That was the last thing they wanted. They started the process slowly, telling bedtime stories about James and Lily, showing him photographs and letters. 

- “That’s my mummy?” he questioned one evening, pointing to the photo they had presented him with.

“And that’s your dad,” Remus said.

Harry looked up at them with wide, green eyes. “You’re not my dad?”

“We’re your dads now, little sprog,” Sirius said with a small smile, “But that’s your real dad, that’s why you look just like him.”

Harry nodded, holding the photograph in front of his face and giving both James and Lily a kiss. 

“Kisses for mummy and daddy!”

He didn’t fully understand when Remus started crying.

“I made Moomee sad,” he said when Remus left the room. 

“You didn’t make Moomee sad, Prongslet,” Sirius reassured, pulling him for a hug. “Moomee just…he just misses your mummy and daddy.”

“Because they’re gone?”

“Yes. Because they’re gone.”

“Do you miss my mummy and daddy?”

Sirius swallowed the lump building in his throat. “I miss them lots and lots.”

“Do I make you sad?”

“No,” Sirius said, shaking his head. He ruffled the boys mess of hair, making him giggle. “You make me very, very happy.”