Everyone Drop What You’re Doing And Watch This

everyone drop what you’re doing and watch this

“dear harry,”

read “dear sirius” first

Hey kiddo, relax. I’d be quite the hypocrite if I got mad at you for losing points. Just be careful next time, please. Maybe stick to smuggling items on Filch’s banned list as opposed to fire-breathing, sharp-toothed illegal magical creatures. Also weren’t you wearing the cloak? How’d you get caught?

Does McGonagall still wear that tartan dress robe? If so, please tell her to upgrade her wardrobe to the 90′s.

I cannot wait to see you at the Quidditch match. Is the new broom holding up well? Either way, I know you’re going to smash it!

Love,

Sirius

Dear Harry,

One “Defending Yourself and Others- the Practically Perfect Way” is enclosed, my studious child. You owe me five Sickles by the way- I told you he’d be nuts. And no, I have no desire to learn what that crackpot’s favorite colour is. I’d much rather have one-on-one tutoring with Snape for the rest of my life, which is something I never thought I’d say.

Love,

Sirius

Dear Harry,

Do I need to get you a Remembrall? Slip is attached, although I’m not sure you even need it. Didn’t you memorize all of the secret passageways by the time you were 9? I would like it on the record to that you did that of your own volition; I had nothing to do with it.

And I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sugar Quills? I don’t touch the stuff. It’s bad for the brain, you see. And my brain needs to be extra sharp in order to keep up with you and your shenanigans.

(Although if you happen to see them, I’m sure the extra-long lasting ones would be excellent. Just to see what they’re like, of course).

Love,

Sirius

Dear Harry,

Not to worry my young worrywart, we will wait to open presents, drink hot chocolate, and make my famous Christmas pancakes until you get home. Father Christmas normally waits for no one, but this year he’ll wait for you- I’ve put in a good word (although I’m tempted to take it back as payback for calling my decor horrid).

Now for the Ball, it’ll probably help to not refer to any possible date as “stupid”. They’re much more likely to say yes that way, you see. Other than that, I suggest asking someone (boy or girl, doesn’t matter who) that you generally get along with and enjoy speaking to. It’ll make your night at least a little less painful. Perhaps one of your Quidditch teammates? Or someone from your classes?

Don’t ask someone only because you think they’re attractive. It may lead to awkward conversation, awkward dancing, and awkward excessive butterbeer consumption that leads to a night spent on the toilet. Not that I’m speaking from experience, of course. But if I was theoretically recounting my experience I would like it to be known that it was not me who ended up on the toilet. It was my theoretical date.

As for dancing… I’m quite pants at that even with the forced childhood lessons. Maybe ask your date to give you a tutorial? Or at least a practice dance to make sure you don’t muck up the opening.

Also I checked for your dress robes- they’re not here. Are you sure they’re not buried at the bottom of your trunk?

Best of luck, kiddo. Don’t forget to send pictures at the Ball- I’m running low on blackmail material.

Love,

Sirius

Harry-

I’m coming to see you and bringing DMLE folks. Be in Gryffindor common room in half an hour.

Don’t worry, I’m on my way.

Sirius

P.S. Thank you for telling me. I’m proud of you

135 notes View Post

scatteredbeans

3 years ago

as @theresthesnitch already said, the tears are definitely back!!

gosh i love this so much-

Fault Lines pt. 5

Read Fault Lines parts 1-4 here (links to part 4 but everything else is there)

In which Remus and Sirius are divorced and raising harry and doing their very best.

(this one is about 5k and pretty mild.)

(one more installment to go after this.)

September 1st, 1991

The scarlet steam engine slowly disappeared from Sirius’ view as the tightness in his chest grew. He knew this day was coming, and it was so much worse than he imagined it. He had driven to the platform with Harry, his newly eleven-year-old reminding him so much of James as his mouth ran a mile a minute with questions, excitement in every word. Remus was beside Sirius in the passenger seat, and Sirius watched as the other man reached behind to put his hand on Harry’s leg to keep him from bouncing too much. Not that the movement bothered either of them, but because it was far more likely Harry would hit his head on the roof of the car and that would delay the trip to Hogwarts. Something about Remus’ touch could tether both of them so easily.

I’m so proud of you whispered into messy black hair.

I’ll send a lot of letters, I promise, can I go now said back, even though pre-teen arms were still wrapped around Sirius’ waist.

We love you

And then Harry was gone with the train and Sirius was fighting back tears he hadn’t expected, locked like a statue on the platform for several dozen minutes.

“This…is the worst day of my life, I think.” Sirius finally spoke, turning his head towards Remus who was standing next to him, lightweight cardigan thrown over a t-shirt, and worn loafers.

Remus’ eyes met his own somberly. Maybe it was the worst day of his life too. But then the corners of his mouth turned up in a wry half-smile, “James and Lily dying.”

“I think this is slightly worse.”

“Remember when we got divorced?”

“Oh, this is definitely worse than that.”

“We…also got married,” Remus said lightly and Sirius finally managed a tiny laugh, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Most of the other parents had already left the platform, Remus and Sirius standing there feeling like the only two people left on earth. The last time Sirius had felt that way had been November 1st, 1981 when everything went from bad to worse and he held onto Remus even as he was being taken away to Azkaban, fingertips touching until they couldn’t anymore. The tension between them had leveled out. Broken glass on the floor of their relationship--what they were calling co-parenting-- cleared away and they both remembered to put on shoes now before walking to avoid getting cut.

Conversations drifted back into being pleasant.

They both dropped their wands.

They had lived through one war by the skin of their teeth, they didn’t cause another with no one else to blame but themselves. A truce that felt similar to forgiveness.

“Harry leaving is still worse but…that may get precedent over James and Lily,” Sirius said lightly.

“I was thinking the same thing. It was so fucking hot that day. I was actually sweating the entire time. Really that should’ve been the sign.”

“The pianist rushed too. I swear you were running down the aisle towards me.”

“Quick and painless. Like pulling off a bandage.”

Sirius laughed again, looking down at his feet to scuff the toe of his black boots on the ground. “Thanks.”

Dark humor to brighten a dark situation and to keep Sirius from slipping away into the darkness as well.

“I just didn’t want you crying in public, that’d be embarrassing.”

“I know.”

“You want to go?”

“Not really,” Sirius shrugged thinking of his haunted house in London. Harry was gone and the ghosts would surely come back. “…you wouldn’t want to go get absolutely plastered, would you? Black out and forget this day ever happened?”

He waited for Remus to tell him he had work tomorrow. Hell, Sirius had work tomorrow and an entire day of taking notes on the wizarding world's legal system. But managing a hangover and focusing all of his energy on staying awake tomorrow seemed better than going home to emptiness.

“Two conditions.”

“Hm?

“You’re buying and we leave the pub by 4.”

Sirius grinned slowly, “Easy enough, Moons.”

November 1992

It had been ages since Remus had truly seen Sirius lose every ounce of composure and unleash every swear word under the sun at someone else. Parenthood and time had made Sirius think before rushing into situations and opening his mouth when there needn't be a response. It had been even longer since he had heard Sirius use his last name as influence and pressure to get something done, thinking back to Sirius arguing with the ministry on his behalf to amend a custody agreement.

My fucking vault funds half this place. You’ll do what I’m asking, Fudge.

Remus often wondered if roles were reversed if he would have it in him to move as strong and sure as Sirius did in the world, or if Remus would still pause and hesitate.

Remus stood in the hospital wing, wincing slightly as he listened to the conversation Sirius was having with Dumbledore and McGonagall in the hallway, barely behind a closed door while keeping an eye on Harry in the hospital bed. Their pre-teen looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there with his good hand over his face, the other arm wrapped and in a sling.

“His best intentions? Bullocks! My godson’s arm was turned into jelly and you call that the best of intentions? This man is responsible for teaching children? I want him fired. Immediately.” Sirius shouted from the hallway.

“Mr. Black, I understand you’re upset with the result but we simply cannot suspend a--” Professor McGonagall started, their former Head of House trying to reign in the thunderstorm that was Sirius Black. She had once been an expert at it, the only professor in all of Hogwarts able to get Sirius to stop talking with a single look; the only one who had perhaps taken the time to see the wounded insides of the eldest Black boy. Remus distinctly remembered Sirius giving her a hug at graduation and McGonagall wiping away a tear at something he had said to her.

“Like hell, you can’t,” Sirius said, “I will call a Board meeting right now and he will be voted out so quickly you won’t even be able to say “lemon drop”! I don’t want to have to go over your head and do that. I’d rather we come to an understanding right now.”

“Make. Him. Stop.” Harry muttered, looking wide-eyed at Remus, “He never does this.”

“Oh, you’re mad if you think I’m getting involved,” Remus told Harry, “You want me to go into the fire?”

“At this rate, he’s going to get Dumbledore sacked too for hiring Lockhart in the first place!” Harry pleaded, “It’s just a…broken arm.”

“He did vanish your bones, Harry.”

“It’s fine. If Lockhart's fired, Snape or something is going to cover the class and then I’ll have two periods of that greasy-git--”

“Hey, he is a professor.”

“Yeah, and a greasy-git. Two things can be true.”

Remus bit back a snort and raised an eyebrow, “You’ve been talking with your godfather too much.”

“So you call him Severus?”

“Let’s not go that far, love…” Remus paused to listen again, as Harry's grimace returned at the unmistakable sound of Sirius slipping into French every other word. “They don’t know French, Remus! Please, go do something before everyone's sacked!”

“Okay, okay, you’re right.” Remus held up his hands in defeat before walking out of the hospital wing towards the direction of the argument. Sirius was in the hallway, clad in a burgundy sweatshirt, his hair pulled back with a glittering gold scrunchy and Remus couldn’t help but find it impressive that Sirius was scolding two very well-respected educators within an inch of their life in such ridiculous attire.

“I assure you, Sirius, we are not taking this incident lightly,” Dumbledore spoke in his calm voice that Remus knew drove Sirius up a wall.

“So you have a three-strike system? Fucking idiot gets to--”

“He is a teacher, Mr. Black,” Professor McGonagall interrupted.

“Yeah, and a fucking idiot too. Two things can be true at once,” Sirius told her and Remus pinched the bridge of his nose at the familiarity of the dialogue. Too much time around his godfather had been right. “Is your plan just to hope that he doesn’t do something like this again? Or wait to see if he does something worse? I’m sorry, Albus, but that’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard and if you honestly believe that’s the best solution then you’re a fucking idiot--”

“Sirius,” Remus finally said, putting his hand on his ex-husband's shoulder, “You have made your point, very loud and clear. We get it.”

“So tell me why Lockhart isn’t packing his trunk?” Sirius folded his arms and looked at Remus, his jaw clenching in a way that was very seventeen and not thirty-two.

“Finding a replacement teacher in the middle of a school year is challenging, Mr. Black,” explained McGonnagal, her face looking relieved at the intervention.

“Remus can do it,” Sirius said immediately.

“I--what? Sirius, come on, be reasonable.”

“I am. You’ve been teaching for years now, he’s a private tutor, you know what you’re doing, you got a NEWT in Defense…Remus can do it.”

“I promise you, that isn’t necessary, he’s being belligerent,” Remus kept his hand on Sirius’ shoulder, as he looked at the faces of his former Headmaster and Head of House. It was just supposed to be an innocent game of Quidditch; there were plans to take Harry out to dinner for celebrating and even more plans that involved a joint and a bottle of wine at Grimmauld Place after. It had become their own tradition since Harry had been on the team. They hadn’t missed a game and they hadn’t missed an opportunity to rejoice in a victory or wallow in a loss with expensive alcohol. There had even been an occasion where Remus baked edibles, and he woke up the next morning in his pants sprawled out in Sirius’ sitting room couch. Of course, Sirius had made it to his bed that evening but had also decided to garden in the dead of night, his ex-husband absolutely horrified at the fig tree in the middle of the kitchen the next morning. Remus was still hopeful it would end that way, assuming Sirius could get control of his temper and also assuming Dumbledore and McGonnagal caved to his request of having Lockhart sacked.

Otherwise, there would be a Board meeting. Remus had no doubts about that.

“May we have until the end of term, Sirius?” asked Dumbledore.

“No, but I’ll give you two weeks.”

“I would take that, it’s only going to get worse,” Remus offered, “I’m not…going to accept the position but if you do need assistance with proctoring exams, I am more than happy to help, sir.” Sirius made a small noise in the back of his throat at the title. There was once a time all of them had thought Dumbledore to be the most powerful wizard they had met; the person who had all the answers. Remus wasn’t so sure anymore, holding onto the last kernel of faith, but Sirius had abandoned all of that somewhere in the middle of the war. Somewhere between getting refused a trial and thrown into prison at the hands of the other man even if it was just twenty-four hours. When Harry had been delivered to the doorstep of Lily’s sister without taking Remus into consideration.

“Thank you, Mr. Lupin.”

“I’ll be in touch in two weeks,” Sirius’ tone was brisk, and without an ounce of respect, grey eyes focused on the retreating backs of Dumbledore and McGonagall, robes trailing on the ground.

“Feel better?” Remus asked, catching Sirius’ gaze in his own, and Sirius rolled his eyes. “No, no, please tell me. Did that make you feel good?"

“Okay, I…might have lost my cool.”

“Might have?” laughed Remus, and Sirius cracked a smile running his hand over his hair and taking out the gold scrunchy, putting it on his wrist, “I think you just taught Harry at least three new swear-words.”

“Did…did I not put a silencing charm up?”

“No.”

“Fuck.”

“Sirius.”

Sirius’ smiled grew, after taking a moment to look mildly ashamed as he reflected on all the words he had spoken, “On the positive, I think I also got you a job?”

“Impulse control is at a zero sometimes, I swear, Sirius..."

“His arm had no bones, Remus! None! Nothing I said was untrue and I stand by that.” Sirius said pointedly, “Now do I…wish…I had been able to calmly state my dissatisfaction? Sure. But…I think I was effective.”

Remus shook his head, “Some things don’t change, hm?”

“So you disagree with what I said?” Sirius asked, “You think he’s a perfectly competent man and I was being too harsh?”

“Oh, no, I think he is also a…what did you say, oh, yeah, fucking idiot, but that doesn’t mean I’d advertise it.”

“I did it for both of us. I believe that is what one calls, taking one for the team.”

Remus laughed again, finally moving his hand from Sirius’ shoulder to pat the side of his face, “Hothead.”

“Yeah. I know. Take it up with my mother.”

“And you’ll have a word with your godson about being respectful and--”

“YOU HAVE TO GIVE A WRITTEN APOLOGY, SIRIUS. AN APOLOGY TO ME FOR BEING EMBARASSING!” shouted Harry from his hospital bed and Sirius laughed even louder, the anger that was once there evaporating into thin air.

“Kid is so lucky. One of us is going to teach at Hogwarts, and the other one is on The Board of Governors and causes scenes in hallways…” Sirius mused, “Of the things we’ve done, James and Lily would be most proud of this moment.”

“You definitely gave Lily a run for her money with that dressing down…”

March 1993

“Cheers to the youngest seeker of the century and a winning game!” Sirius raised his glass of whiskey up to Remus’ butterbeer, the two of them sat at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade after another Gryffindor victory. Remus had been mortified when Sirius had imposed the idea of him teaching at Hogwarts upon Dumbledore and McGonagall, but when a letter came two weeks later asking if he would be interested in the position, Remus was surprised at how inspired he felt.

Teaching at Hogwarts had always been the dream. It had been Remus’ favorite place as a kid. It had been where Remus had fallen in love with magic and the idea of teaching in the first place. And even if the position had been offered to him the pressure of a persistent and furious Sirius Black who had more money and influence than he knew what to do with, Remus was nevertheless willing to take the meeting.

This was the shake he had been waiting for. The wake-up call.

The change that he needed to get him out of the routines that he had set up, and the rut he had unconsciously gotten himself in despite trying to put himself out there. Accepting the position had forced him to move; had forced him out of his carefully curated comfort zone; had made space for him to grow and it only took a week of teaching for him to floo to Grimmauld Place and say thank you with his arms around Sirius.

Remus was grateful more often now. Making up for the years he hadn't said it at all.

“Cheers,” Remus responded, taking a sip out of the bottle, taking in his surroundings. A few of the other professors not on duty were trickling in as well, Remus giving them nods in greeting as they walked in.

“So now that you’re on the other side of the equation, is Snape still as big of an asshole? Do you put spiders in his porridge in the morning?”

“That’s childish, Sirius.” Remus told him, “But there was one day I kept charming a pebble to lodge itself in his shoes because he kept interrupting my lesson with un-urgent matters.”

Sirius laughed, a few of the professors looking in Remus’ direction at the sound of joyful thunder, “You always had the best ideas.”

“The best part was he couldn’t point fingers at me without sounding insane.” Remus grinned, taking another sip, “It’s…nice having…colleagues though.”

“Is that what you’re calling them?”

“What?”

“Who’s the one you keep making eyes at?”

Remus choked, a little, and Sirius grinned mischievously, “I don’t…I am not making eyes,” Remus told him, though as he was speaking his eyes were very much trailing over to the other staff table. Professor Andre Babbling had been appointed the new Professor for Ancient Runes at the start of this year, joining the rounds of younger faculty at Hogwarts. A few years ahead of Remus in school, in Ravenclaw, Professor Andre Babbling was definitely easy on the eyes with his dark skin and brown eyes that caught morning sunlight just right at the staff table. Remus had stuck with pleasantries initially when he sat at the staff table his first month of teaching and tried not to escort himself to the hospital wing for heart failure when Babbling smiled at him and a flush blossomed over his entire body.

He had always been a fucking fool for a smile and Babbling happened to have a dimple which made matters much worse.

But Babbling turned out to be talkative and passionate about a subject Remus had found dry while taking it, though he was incredibly thankful for the NEWT he deemed useless because it gave him a leg to stand on. Remus could pretend to be interested in something if it meant he could be in close proximity of a smile and a dimple and brown eyes and long, lean forearm muscles that poked out from under his robes. In fact, Remus could pretend to do a lot of things if it meant that someone was looking at him again the way Babbling did.

No one had looked at Remus like he was made of something special since Sirius. He had tried--random dates and meetings at coffee shops ending in calling cabs and making up excuses to leave early and wishing them away to the opposite end of the world so Remus could avoid them entirely--but none of them burned Remus alive with desire or possibility. Babbling looked at Remus like he was a divine entity, and Remus didn’t want him to stop. He missed what it felt like to be the center of someone else's world, and he missed what it felt like to look across a room and know someone else would be looking back.

“I mean, I can always make a show and turned around and look and guess myself, if--”

“No, please don’t do that,” Remus said, his hand shooting out to keep Sirius from turning obviously over his shoulder, “It’s…the Runes professor. The one next to Sinastra?”

Sirius hummed, “You always had good taste.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I wasn’t, I was referring to that bloke before me, what was his name…Cresswell? He was handsome too, in an odd sort of way. With the blonde hair and all.” Sirius shrugged, “So what's your plan?”

“Plan?”

“He’s making eyes back. The chemistry is palpable.”

“I cannot believe you’re instigating this.”

“It’s one of my better qualities.” Sirius took a sip of his whiskey, “You should go sit over there.”

“W-what? No, I…I can’t.”

“Why not? You work here. You can join their lunch table or whatever, you’re cool enough.”

“I…what…about you?”

“I’ll finish my drink and be on my way. Don’t worry about me.”

“Sirius, really, it’s okay, I don’t--” but Sirius rolled his eyes, tossing back the rest of his whiskey, and stood up from the bar, putting several galleons on the counter for their check. There was no bitterness in grey eyes; not a drop of resentment or fear that Remus was moving on after years of holding on to a golden safety net of consistency. For better and for worse, Sirius was his last connection to familiarity. One more step and all that was gone.

It was terrifying. And exhilarating.

Is this how Sirius lived his life? On the edge of becoming all the time?

“I’ll see you next time, Remus. Let me know how it goes, yeah?”

“I…just…what do I say?”

“Maybe start with Hi? And then…end with I am very well hung.” Sirius teased giving Remus a wink and a cheeky grin.

“You’re…impossible,” Remus muttered but Sirius just gave him a wave and walked out of the Three Broomsticks, going to find his motorcycle that was parked in the village. Remus took another sip from his butterbeer and a deeper breath to steel his nerves.

He took the final step, the solid ground falling out from underneath his feet and he grabbed a helmet, ready for a crash landing as his eyes connected with deep brown ones from across the room once more.

June 1993

“Did you know Remus has a boyfriend?” asked Harry almost as soon as he got in the car, no longer on the platform and in a safe place. Remus had would be at Hogwarts for a little longer, finishing up grading and end-of-term exams.

“I…heard rumors.”

“What does that mean?” Harry asked, a scowl on his face as he buckled his seatbelt and Sirius raised his eyebrows at the gruffness of the response.

“It means of the things that is better for us not to talk about in extensive detail, dating is one of them and I have only heard whispers in passing of this boyfriend,” Sirius explained putting the key into the ignition.

“Yeah, well, it’s another teacher. At Hogwarts.”

“I know.”

“It’s weird.”

“Him dating or the teacher part?”

“The teacher part…” Harry shifted in his seat, slouching down further and Sirius smiled a little as he backed out of the car park. Thirteen was around the corner and was apparent in every inch of Harry’s demeanor. “I dunno. It’s different.”

“Have you talked with him about it?”

“He talked with me about it…so, I guess.”

But there was a reason Harry had chosen him for this conversation.

“I’m listening, kid.”

“Not a kid…”

“You’re my kid and I love you.”

Harry softened, at the phrase, apparently never too old and mature to hear those three words. “It’s…is he all of a sudden going to start coming to Christmas? Or when I turn thirteen is…he going to be there? Or if we all go to a Quidditch match, will you get another ticket for him?” he asked in rapid succession, “I know you see people but they don’t exactly stick around and you’ve never had me meet them. And…Remus did? Sort of? Or I already kind of knew Professor Babbling from around school. I’m just not sure what to make of it.”

“Love, I think these are questions you can ask Remus.”

“I’m asking you.”

“If…I buy tickets to a match, I’ll ask you who you want there. You don’t even have to bring me if you don’t want. I’ll buy the tickets and let you go with Bill Weasley as your responsible guardian.”

“The twins? They’re older.”

“Not a chance,” Sirius grinned, “And…it’s your birthday party, you get to decide who is there. And as for Christmas dinner at The Weasleys…that might be up to Remus, or… whoever extends the invitations, but…our holiday can still be just for us if that's what you want.”

“I don’t want to make Remus sad if…I dunno.”

“I promise, we can take it, Harry.”

December 1993

“Is…he always like that?” asked Andre, walking with Remus outside into the winter snow, just outside Grimmauld Place. His dark eyelashes had snowflakes clinging to them, the magical drive disappearing as they got closer to the street where there was a portkey he could take back to his flat. Remus had wanted him to meet Harry outside of school. Remus wanted him to meet Sirius at all, the two of them only saying hello in passing prior to dinner that evening when Sirius would call on the mirror or be in Remus' office at Hogwarts for tea on the weekends.

“Who Harry? He’s thirteen. I think he’ll be like that until he’s eighteen or so say the adolescent development books. Teenagers shouldn’t be a surprise to you.”

“Not Harry. He was…how I expected him to be.”

“...Sirius?”

“Your ex.” Andre confirmed, “Is he always like that?”

“I…think you have to be more specific,” Remus said, brows furrowing as he tried to think of infractions or tears Sirius might have caused throughout the evening. He had set the table for Remus; he made polite conversation and told appropriate stories to Andre about them back in Hogwarts; he had kept Harry in check, intervening with a light touch on Harry’s shoulder or asking their teenager for help with someone minor just so Harry could have a break from meeting my parent’s new boyfriend when his ex-husband was in the room. Remus actually had every intention of rushing back inside and expressing endless gratitude for Sirius, unable to comprehend that the evening had gone so well when he had been tossing and turning about it for days. It seemed so silly to have lost sleep over it now.

“I don’t know. He’s just…kind of a lot? Does he always offer to take your plate? Or…did he offer to make dessert for this evening or did you ask him to? Playing music you liked? All the stories and asking me questions--the eye contact was…was that an intimidation thing or is he just like that?”

Remus stared for a moment before laughing at the absurdity of Sirius’ eye contact ever being intimidating. Thinking that if Sirius had wanted to ruin the evening, he very well could have and it wouldn’t have been with eye contact. Laughter was apparently the wrong response, Andre’s hand pulling from Remus’s instantly.

“You’re..you’re serious?”

“I don’t like you laughing at me. I just had dinner with your ex-husband and you’re laughing?”

“It’s just Sirius,” Remus explained, “That’s just…the allure of Sirius Black. I promise it wears off.”

“It seems to me like he’s still into you.”

Remus had to clear his throat violently to keep from laughing again, “Andre…I know how Sirius looks on the outside. But…that’s just what he does.”

“Takes care of you?”

“You have to understand we have a lot of history and we have a kid together. Of course, he’s going to take care of me but it’s not like we’re super crazy close and have a bunch of inside jokes and…”

“But you do.”

They did.

“Okay…so we do. That doesn’t mean--”

“Remus, I fancy you quite a lot. I’d like to spend more time getting to know Harry and spending time with you. I just can’t see where I fit into this if he’s in the picture.”

“We’re co-parents Andre. He has to have a place in my life.”

“You’re not just co-parents. You’re best friends. And…I don’t know if I can stick around if your best friend is him.”

“It’s not a competition. It’s not…I have love to give to both of you. It’s not either-or.”

“I guess I don’t see it that way.”

What they don’t tell you when you stand at an altar with someone, holding onto their hands and watching eyes mist up with emotion is that when it all ends, you’ll spend the rest of your life comparing people to them. Unintentionally, but it happens. Remus did it with Andre, making lists of qualities that mimicked Sirius’ thinking Merlin, I have a type; making a contrasting list of qualities that couldn’t be more different and seeing which one he preferred. He stared back at Andre and the hands that were now hidden away in coat pockets.

Funny how history could repeat itself.

I don’t know how to make it fit anymore. I don’t know if we fit anymore.

Harry was in his bedroom, running upstairs as soon as Remus and his guest had walked out the front door, leaving Sirius to clean up the kitchen on his own. He left the pie and bottle of wine out, pouring a glass for Remus whenever he walked back in while he got his own glass of whiskey.

Remus had his arm around someone new, and Remus was happy for it. The golden hour light that Remus had radiated in their teenage years-- the light that Sirius had fallen for in the first place-- had returned with a vengeance, with the arrival of a man who was well-read and just as dry. Professor Babbling was growing flowers in the places Sirius had just made holes. Remus’s garden had flourished after all the years spent watering it with heartache and nurturing it with his own delicate hands, and Sirius was glad for it.

Sirius jumped up onto the counter, piece of pie in hand and he heard the front door open and close, followed by footsteps. Remus walked in looking crestfallen, his arms wrapped around his body. Coat still on, hands slightly blue.

Sirius put his fork down and tilted his head, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Remus said simply looking up to meet Sirius’ eyes.

“Alright?”

“I just broke up with my boyfriend after…I thought tonight went surprisingly well.”

Sirius made to get off the counter but Remus held his hands out. A nonverbal signal not to come any closer. He stayed where he was.

“I…thought it went well too.”

“You’re too much,” Remus told him.

“What?”

“That’s what he said. That you were too much. You…did too much for me. You...made dessert? And…” Remus looked down at his feet, mismatched socks on the tile floor, “You don’t even know you’re doing it, but you do it, and…I forget how brightly you can burn sometimes because I’ve gotten used to it. And I think about how lucky I am to be in a position where I’m just used to reaping the benefits of all the shit you do, all the time, but you’re too much, Sirius.”

Voices from his past crept into his memory; ones that sounded more like his mother and father than he cared to admit.

You take up too much space.

You’re too loud. Be quiet, Sirius.

Don’t ask so many questions. Speak when you’re spoken to.

You’re a headache, Sirius.

Get out my sight, Sirius.

One that sounded like the shell of Remus when their marriage had gone on way too long and neither of them could see a way out. Before the counseling. Before admitting defeat.

Just stop, Sirius. I don’t need you to do things for me anymore.

You can’t fix everything.

“I’m…sorry.” Sirius told him, “I…I can take a step back, Remus. I won’t be here, next time? Make myself scarce. You didn’t need to…you should be with him. It’s my fault."

Sirius always admitted fault first. Willing to take the fall for someone else's sins after an easy life of never having to be accountable for his own. Privileged, arrogant, Sirius Black. He could take it.

It could be his fault. Even if it wasn’t.

He could dig the grave. Even if he knew there was only space for him in there.

Ice the bruises to make the swelling go down faster.

Bandage Remus’s fist and even his boyfriends. Heal the scrapes and the cuts and let them take another swing. Remus had always been worth the hurt.

It could be his fault. Sirius was too much, after all. He had been told that before. It wasn’t anything new.

Remus shook his head, picking at his nails. Sirius wanted to stand up and put his hands over Remus's to stop the movement. But he stayed. “We’re…not in love anymore, you and I. We’re not, and I don’t want to be either. But…I don’t think I can go on in this life without you. The bloke who I can sit with at a table and say what I’m thinking. I’ll take that over another brush with love.”

Sirius would too.

Every time.

52 notes View Post

scatteredbeans

2 years ago

The Best Worst Thing to Have Ever Happened pt. 5

read parts 1-4 here (links to part 4 but the rest are there)

AU in which Jily is still alive but Harry chooses to stay with Wolfstar and everything is worse now.

December 1995

James held his arms open as he saw Harry walking towards them off the Hogwarts Express, only to be left standing empty-handed, looking foolish. Like mounting your broom to try to fly, only to realize the hem of your Quidditch robe was caught in something, or your teammate was standing on it as a joke.

It felt terribly unfunny, though, watching his son fly into his best friend's arms before even acknowledging James' existence. He could see the same look plastered all over Lily’s face, trying to bite back disappointment that even after months of exchanging letters, attending Quidditch games, and spontaneous dinners in Hogsmeade as an attempt to clear muddy waters, Harry still ran straight to Sirius. Remus would’ve been next had he been waiting on the platform as well and not finishing up work at school. James got a high five. James was allowed to take Harry's trunk.

“Was the train ride okay?” James asked, trying to catch his son’s gaze that was decidedly looking anywhere but at him and Lily.

“I guess.” Harry shrugged, putting his hands into the pockets of his trousers awkwardly, “Are we going to dinner?”

“I made something special, it’s at home--”

“You mean your house,” Harry corrected him, “It’s not my home.”

“James made dinner, love, and he’s a much better cook than--” Sirius started, his hand pushing back dark hair from Harry’s forehead and out of his eyes. A gesture James wished he could do.

“We always go out when I get back though,” Harry’s voice pitched upwards, dangerously close to a whine as he looked up at Sirius in protest. As if returning to a house with a homecooked meal was a fate worse than death. James was about to open his mouth and tell Harry that they could do whatever he wanted, despite the way Lily’s expression changed at the whining their kid was doing, but Sirius bent down low to say something into Harry’s ear.

It was odd. Really.

James remembered his own father doing something similar when James was a teenager and complained in public spaces. The hand on his shoulders, a gentle but firm voice in his ear to Mind your manners, James. Your mother is just asking a question.

When Harry was born, James saw a life ahead of him, practicing how his own "very stern father" voice would sound. But not Sirius. It was strange to see his best friend be the one to quiet a teenage tantrum. Though it seemed that there hadn't been a warning at all, a smile crossing Harry's face at whatever Sirius had said.

“Really?” asked Harry, turning back to look at Sirius, the four of them walking away from the platform together, tattooed hands still on teenage shoulders.

“Yes, really.” Sirius said, and inclined his head towards James, “You can ask if you don’t believe me.”

“Sirius says the curry recipe he makes was your Mums? And you do it better? Did you make that?”

“I know you wanted it to be a surprise,” Sirius said off-handedly, and James stared in awe for a moment at his best friend. The selflessness; the what’s mine is yours, don’t question this, even after arguing for the past month and cold shoulders and colder showers and crawling his way out of a bottle that James had unintentionally put him into. Perhaps intentionally. Maybe.

“I…did, and it was,” James grinned slowly, “I don’t know about better but…I do know I have loads more recipes.”

“Cool.”

Harry had made up every excuse in the book to get Sirius to stay at this house-his house? New? Or temporary? Harry wasn’t sure--as long as he could. But eventually, Harry couldn’t stifle the yawns as the evening got later, and Sirius was giving him the look that meant to take himself up to bed even if James and Lily hadn’t said anything yet. Maybe that would be a benefit.

One home with a bedtime and rules about picking up his towels after he showered.

One house without those things.

Without Sirius and Remus.

Harry wasn’t sure he liked the odds of the trade-off, but let Sirius go anyway determined to be brave and stay put. Because that’s what he had to do. Because he didn’t want Sirius to get in trouble if he somehow insisted on staying the night every night at Number 12. He didn’t want to cause any more trouble than he already had, Harry pretending not to notice the way the air crackled around Remus whenever he brought James and Lily up or the way Sirius was being extra convincing about this new arrangement. Like the way Sirius used to explain maths equations with exuberance when Harry would groan at the kitchen table.

Harry groaned alone in the bedroom that was technically his but also wasn’t, after saying goodnight to James and Lily, wishing Sirius was there to convince him it wasn’t so bad, just one step at a time, Harry. The sheets weren’t as soft. There was no enchanted ceiling to look up at with constellations. There was no Remus and Sirius just downstairs in case anything happened. Not that anything did. Harry rolled around in his bed, on pillows that weren’t broken in and didn’t smell like the soap Sirius used, fighting against his racing heart in the dark.

He was fifteen.

He could do this.

He could fall asleep.

Harry squeeze his eyes shut and gripped at the blanket over his shoulders tightly.

Go to sleep, go to sleep, it’s okay.

Legs kicked under the covers in frustration at the hot tears behind closed eyes.

Stop it.

But he couldn’t, his breathing becoming irregular as he lay frozen in bed clinging to covers that weren’t his own with two people down the hall who also weren’t his. Were this Number 12 and there were worrying things in his mind keeping him from sleeping, Harry would move downstairs and climb into bed between Sirius and Remus. Remus would mumble incoherent nonsense from his slumber, but move his arm so Harry could burrow into his side; Sirius would tell him everything was okay until he could fall asleep, even if it took hours. Even if it meant Sirius didn’t sleep himself.

Harry stuck a tentative hand out to his bedside table and grabbed his mirror.

“Sirius!” he said in a hushed whisper, not wanting to alert James and Lily to the fact that he was up and calling home like a baby.

“Hey, my love,” Sirius responded.

At that was all it took.

Seeing Sirius on the other end, one of Remus’s hands on his chest, showing Harry that they were in bed together too. Hearing Sirius’s voice. Hearing my love like Harry was the most important thing in the world to him. The hot tears poured out of his eyes, Harry diving under the covers in hopes of muffling the noise.

“Oh…Harry…”

“I-I-can’t sleep, and my sheets smell different and-and-I even liked dinner! I can’t help--” Harry choked out words one by one, not sure if he was making sense or if it was just garbled together, “I’m sorry, I d-didn’t--”

“Shhh, hey, can you take a breath for me?” Sirius asked gently and Harry took a shaky inhale. “Good. Do you want me to come pick you up?”

“N-n-no.”

“Okay.”

“C-can…you just…can you just stay on the mirror? Until I’m as-asleep?” His voice was thick, his nosy running and he used the edge of the blanket to wipe his eyes.

“Of course.”

“Can you just talk?”

Sirius nodded, and Harry watched in the dark as Sirius settled against his own pillows--sheets even softer than Harry’s, always fluffed to perfection-- and pulled back the mirror so Harry could see Remus too, head not far from Sirius’s own. “Did I tell you I played a bit of a joke on one of my colleagues?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“They have some suspicion it was me, but you know, we’re all fans of a legal system here and they do say innocent until proven guilty,” Sirius told him, his voice even and calm. Harry put the mirror next to him on the pillow, muscles releasing tension as he drifted off.

Christmas Eve 1995

The day had been one of the best so far. James had come over to Number 12 early with Harry to help make Christmas dinner, including the countless cookies that had become tradition.

“Can I help?” James had asked

“Yeah but you get the snowflake apron, the reindeer are mine,” Harry responded, throwing a pale blue, frilly apron across the room at James who just laughed, eagerly coming to the counter. Lily arrived much later, Sirius halfway listening to her and Remus in the other room. Harry bounced between all of them, teasing James about the mess he made and his clumsiness in the kitchen, moving into the sitting room to tell Remus about a book he had just started with Lily. It was something that resembled peace. Family. Just a group of people united by love.

It was the first day Sirius had felt like he had James back; the one with the bright smile and unfailing optimism; the one who made Sirius laugh until he couldn’t breathe, this time with the added benefit of Harry joining in; the one who wasn’t interested in competing with Sirius and was just happy to be together. Christmas had always been the best day of the year to James and Sirius had been trying to capture all of the joy James and the Potters had given Sirius for the past fifteen years, hoping that would be adequate compensation for Harry.

It had been so nice. Until…it wasn’t.

“Where’s Harry?” Lily asked, some point after dinner, coming to find Sirius in the kitchen where was cleaning up, away from The Weasley children, and the guests still in his home. James was at the table pretending to help, though he and Remus were more content to make more mess, dropping sweet wrappers onto the floor. Flashbacks of his best friends dropping their socks on the floor of the dormitory. “I can’t seem to find him?”

“Oh, he’s outside with Cedric…” Sirius said absently.

“With his boyfriend?”

“Yes?”

“That’s…a little inappropriate don’t you think?” and Sirius turned to face the redhead from where he had been putting wrappers into the bin. She was looking to James for support, and Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“He’s fifteen…I don’t think it’s inappropriate for him to go snog his boyfriend, no.”

“Alone? Unsupervised?”

“You would rather supervise the snogging? Bit weird, Lils,” Sirius attempted a joke to avoid the argument. He just wanted one day. Remus was already gripping the table, prepared to see this through even if Sirius put a stop to it. His husband had the patience of a saint, and it was being tested nearly every day, Sirius moving moment to moment wondering when it would finally tip and Remus would unravel.

“No, I think it’s inappropriate for him to be alone with his boyfriend when we’re supposed to be spending time as a family, and he has guests over.” Lily crossed her arms, “Who knows what they’re doing out there.”

“Snogging.” Remus told her so Sirius didn’t have to, “He’ll probably be back in fifteen minutes or so.”

“Well, I--”

“You are more than welcome to go find him, Lily,” Sirius flicked his wrist to magically start the dishes, leaning against the counter, and he watched as Lily stuttered. James and Lily hadn’t had to do any of the hard things yet. Sirius had been stepping in despite Remus’s voice telling him to stop saving the day, let them lie in the mess they made. Sirius was learning to be better, especially if Harry wasn’t going to be hurt by it. If Harry wanted to stay up late because a bedtime hadn’t been enforced? Fine, James and Lily could navigate the rough waters of an overtired teenager; if Harry didn’t pick up the bathroom or do his holiday schoolwork? That was on them. Sirius couldn’t help but roll his eyes when Lily made no move to follow up on her desire to go find Harry and interrupt the snogging, even though he knew that was going to irritate her, and James was going to get upset that Sirius was being rude to his wife. A snowball effect, rolling down a hill, ruining an otherwise good day.

“It’s your house, I don’t want to--”

Sirius laughed, “I don’t have a problem with it. You do. You can go find him, but you don’t get to use me to go do the dirty work. You don’t get to pick and choose the parts of being a parent.”

January 1996

Harry had come into the world and Lily could look at the tiny bundle in her arms and pick out the parts that were James and the parts that were her. As he grew, she continued to play the game--hair that came from James, eyes from Lily; curiosity from Lily, an easy sense of humor from James, baby Harry giggling at everything under the sun--until she couldn’t play it anymore.

She had imagined how it would be when he got even older, and Lily hoped to see her husband's kindness, and athleticism; she imagined looking over one day at an older version of Harry and seeing herself in the way he moved his hands or asked questions.

But she didn’t. Those images vanished and no matter how hard she tried, Lily couldn’t find any parts of her and James in their son aside from physical appearance, the fifteen-year-old in the bedroom down the hall could’ve been just another kid on the street he was so different than what she imagined.

Instead, she looked at Harry, sitting for breakfast, and saw Sirius. She saw Sirius in the way Harry held himself up straight and tall at the table, with his napkin in his lap, dripping with manners that Lily had never been taught or would have even thought to teach her child; in the way Harry asked where are the salad forks? When going to set the table. James laughed but Lily had felt so embarrassed that their home didn’t differentiate. She heard Sirius in the way Harry laughed, loud and unapologetically. She saw Remus too, in the way Harry found scraps to use as bookmarks, and the way Harry took his tea. There was Remus in the way Harry spoke with his friends or talked about school work. And Lily hated it. And she hated herself for hating it.

It wasn’t supposed to be that way.

Every second she looked at Harry, was another step backward. Her son slipping away into someone that wasn’t equal parts her and James. Especially when Harry returned from a trip to Diagon Alley, shopping bags in hand and Sirius in tow, a wide grin on her son's face that was only ever seen when Sirius or Remus was present. The conversations she had with Harry only feature one-word answers or shrugs of shoulders, neither of them sure what to say.

“Where’s James?” asked Harry immediately, and Lily pretended it didn’t hurt that her husband wasn’t Dad. In fact, Sirius was Dad, her son peppering in the name throughout dinner time conversations or deliberately in front of them when making requests. To prove a point. Because according to Remus, Harry only had used Dad on rare occasions until this month. Lily hated that too.

Dad, can you hang this up for me?

Dad’s working until late, did he tell you about the court case?

“Dad got me new gloves for seeking and a snitch to practice with! It can be spelled for the wards and do a bunch of stuff!”

“He’s actually out back right now trying to magic our outdoor floo, I’m sure he’d love to…” Lily trailed off Harry running sock footed down the hall to reach the backdoor where James was, leaving the other bags with Sirius and Remus. “What’s all this?”

“Bit of shopping.”

“He just got plenty of gifts for Christmas, Sirius.” When Sirius explained they usually went back to school shopping with Harry and asked if Lily and James wanted to come, Lily didn’t anticipate them returning with so many bags. Maybe some books. Perhaps some school supplies. Certainly not new seeking gloves and a practice snitch. “When you said back to school shopping, I didn’t think it included buying out Quality Quidditch Supplies.”

“I…didn’t,” Sirius spoke slowly, “I told you we went shopping, Lily.”

“What’d you buy him?”

“Some fun Quidditch things…I don’t know, a new pair of shoes, a new bag for his books? What’s it matter?”

“Did he need new shoes? We could have bought him some.”

“No, he didn’t need--”

“He has plenty, Sirius, you are spoiling him!” Lily exclaimed and she could feel Sirius wave his arm to cast a silencing charm around them.

Sirius’s grey eyes went wide at her statement before he laughed, “Lily, you’re being--”

“He didn’t need a new bag, or new shoes. He’s fifteen, not going to business meetings, and--”

“This is about shoes?”

“He's grown up thinking he can have everything he wants!”

“Because he can,” Sirius told her without hesitation and Lily’s vision clouded with nothing but red.

“And also has grown up with an arrogance to match yours,” she spat, watching the remark land in Sirius’ body language. As if shouting at Sirius, breaking down his proud posture would help her stand a little taller; as if that would bring her son closer to her. Because her son moved like Sirius in the world with a quiet confidence in his upbringing that Lily also never had. Harry had gone to a posh, private muggle school before Hogwarts; Harry arrived every term with shiny new shoes for his robes and a new bag for his books; Lily had returned every year with the same bag that was patched and patched with whatever fabric her father had lying around. Lily would look at Sirius and James with contempt and she hated herself for looking at her son in the same way.

It was easier to hate Sirius.

She would’ve hated Remus too if he was standing there and not recovering from a full moon.

“Have we met the same kid?” Sirius asked, “I’m not going to apologize for making sure Harry knows who he is in this world. Don’t confuse that with arrogance just because it comes with a fucking bag, Lily.”

“It’s not just the bag, Sirius! It’s all the gifts and the parties and the fact that he went to a private school and--”

“You’re being ridiculous. Of all the stupid things…I’m not going to apologize for sending my kid--”

“He’s not your kid! And it seems like you didn’t even bother once to think about what James and I would’ve wanted for him!”

If you were going to take down Goliath, and all you had was a pebble, you wound up as many times as you could.

Lily wound up, he’s not your kid, echoing in the room, ringing in both their ears. She regretted it the second it fell from her mouth but she couldn’t take it back. The letters and words and sounds were lying there on the floor between them. She watched as Sirius dropped the shopping bags on the ground, looking at her with his jaw set. She could see the way he swallowed, and the way grey eyes had become so cold and distant. The way Sirius got when he wanted to protect himself from more hurt, like all the time she had seen Sirius at thirteen and fourteen walking to meet his parents on the platform.

“I feel sorry for you,” Sirius told her evenly, voice low as the silencing charm was broken, “That…you are so angry with me, for making bad decisions, that…you’re not able to see how great of a kid you have.”

Remus made himself believe that Sirius’s odd behavior was because he missed Harry. Spending an afternoon with him and then not being able to bring him home was surely the root of Sirius’s distance and the way he had to pause mid-sentence to compose himself, seemingly on the verge of tears. But then Sirius brought a tea tray up to their bedroom where Remus had been recovering most of the day, except to move to take a hot bath, and Sirius’s hands were shaking so badly, it spilled everywhere.

Sirius didn’t spill.

Sirius certainly didn’t cry over spills. Except for one time first year when he spilled an inkpot on accident in Transfiguration and had started shaking so bad, he was asked if he needed the hospital wing. Afraid of what was going to come, though nothing did.

But Sirius stood in their bedroom, sobbing with a tray in hand, liquid spilling onto their carpet just as quickly as tears came out of his husband's eyes. Full moon aches and pains could be cured, this needed more attention, and Remus stood up from bed, levitating the tray out of Sirius’s hands and onto the dresser. Remus’s arms went around Sirius’s body to the best of his ability, not able to take Sirius’s weight as well as he usually did, the two of them landing on the ground together.

One hand at the back of Sirius’s head while he cried into his shoulder, not speaking English when asked for an explanation. Kissing Sirius’s dark curls was all Remus could do until calm settled over. Just incoherent, garbled French and tears that soaked through Remus’s sweatshirt. The one he had put on today because it belonged to Sirius and having him close was the best thing when recovering from a transformation.

“Baby?” asked Remus gently into the side of Sirius’s head, “Did something happen?”

Sirius didn’t cry when he was upset, not if he could help it, though these past six months had Remus questioning everything. Sirius teared up when he was happy--Remus loved seeing those tears when he was so touched that he was rendered speechless, like when Remus and Harry had thrown Sirius a surprise party after completing his legal coursework; or their wedding day when vows had turned into Sirius staring at Remus with tears in his eyes for ten minutes. They said enough. But upset was different. This was different and Remus had an all-consuming feeling he knew exactly what had caused them.

Sirius’s hands fisted into the sweatshirt, but he didn’t lift his head. Remus hadn’t moved his arms. “I thought we did alright. By Harry. I really thought we did alright.”

“Sirius, we did.”

“He-he’s happy?”

“He’s a happy kid, baby. We did alright by him, why--”

“I’ve been feeling so guilty, all the time, that we just didn’t do enough. And I'm not enough for him and I couldn’t do enough ever for him as a kid because…” Sirius choked out, inhaling slowly, “I really thought we took them into consideration, I…we did the best we could, right?”

“Who told you we didn’t?”

Sirius didn’t attempt to stop Remus from flooing over to the Potters' home unannounced. Remus said he was going and Sirius nodded, eyes red-rimmed, hands still shaking as he laid in bed. Remus’s bones were aching, he had a tension headache and all the potions he took earlier that day were wearing off. The second round was supposed to happen but his husband crying on the floor took priority.

His kid took priority.

Remus could handle broken bones, he had been managing those since he was seven. Blood didn’t bother him, unflinching when Harry had fallen off his bike as a toddler or had been in the hospital wing from a Quidditch injury. A broken home? That was a different story.

He landed in the sitting room, Lily, James, and Harry all gathered together. James and Harry were in the middle of a game of wizards chess, Lily watching with earnest.

“Moony!” James and Harry greeted together, identical grins on their faces. It would’ve been cute, it would’ve been a mental snapshot to save for later had Remus not been so furious. The water that had been on a simmer was now a full boil, bubbling rapidly, determined to burn everything in sight.

"Are you feeling better?" James asked.

“Harry, go to your room,” Remus said immediately, not bothering with a greeting, “Pack a bag. Don’t leave until I come and get you.”

“What? Why, I--”

“Don’t argue with me, do as I say, please,” Remus wasn’t looking at Harry, his eyes fixated on Lily who was standing, James oblivious from his spot on the floor, but Remus’s tone was enough. The stern tone he used with his class. The one that was quiet and calm and deadly that Harry listened to without hesitation. Remus waited until he heard Harry’s bedroom door shut, casting a silencing charm. “How fucking dare you? Where the fuck do you get off telling Sirius any of that?”

“Remus--”

“No! I don’t give a damn what you actually have to say because you were way out of line. You’ve been dead for fifteen fucking years Lily! Both of you! Do you think either of us expected to have a kid at 21 after barely surviving a fucking war and you somehow find it in you to critique the choices we made? WE, made mind you?” Shouted Remus, “Do you know how many fucking parenting books Sirius read? We have THREE SHELVES IN OUR FUCKING LIBRARY FULL OF THEM. Or how many Healer appointments we made because neither of us were sure what was normal and Harry cried for a month after you died. Did you know that? And when he finally stopped, Sirius was convinced something was wrong? But it just turns out that he was happy again and it took fifteen bloody Healer appointments to connect that!”

“What is going on?” asked James again, his voice now hinting at concern over confusion.

“What’s going on is both of you have acted selfishly this entire fucking time and I am done with it. He was concerned about what you would think and what you would want every step of the way. Me? I didn’t fucking care, I couldn’t have cared less what you thought because you were dead and we were all Harry had. Sirius was the one who put his life on hold so he could stay at home with Harry; Sirius was the one who decided we should buy a big fucking Christmas tree every year and host dinners because that’s something you would’ve done. That’s all he considered for years and--”

“We would’ve never--”

“Get off your fucking high horse, Lily! This is about money? This about Harry having nice things? Or Merlin forbid Harry have thoughts and opinions that are different than yours? But yeah, sure, lets blame it on Sirius! Even though he is the only reason you even have time with Harry right now because I wanted to go to court. And we both know damn well how that would’ve ended. Do you really think the ministry would’ve sided with you? Are you that fucking delusional?”

“What is going on?” James asked for the third time, now standing between Remus and Lily, watching as sparks crackled in the air, trying to diffuse a situation he knew nothing about.

“I’m taking Harry home, is what’s going on. And you can talk to your wife as to why. I’ll let you know if I decide to let him come back. Because I can make decisions without Sirius, and with Sirius and contrary to what you might think.”

“I didn’t mean, that you--”

“I picked the ruddy school Harry went to, out of all the ones we looked at. Because it had an after-school art program. Did you know he likes to draw? And paint?”

“....I…no.”

“I didn’t think so.”

229 notes View Post

scatteredbeans

3 years ago

but my ass still doesnt wanna move and lie down on the comfy bed! life is hard dudes-

592K notes View Post

scatteredbeans

3 years ago

WOLFSTAR>>>>>>>>>>>>

Re-blog this if:

- you’re gay - can read - support gay people - want to hold a match between your fingers as you wander the halls of an ancient castle because it’s your only source of light amidst the ghosts of people long past - are an antelope - or want a chocolate bar.

No one will know which applies.

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