Older Wolfstar Fic Recs: (older In Age That Is)

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

yeah, once upon a timee..... where's marlene tho???!

once upon a time in the gryffindor living room… 🍾💋

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.

reblog if you wear glasses. too many mutuals don't know they have glasses wearers in their midsts

fuck yeah!

red white and royal blue has some raw ass quotes that make me lose my ever loving mind such as:

“I thought, if someone like that ever loved me, it would set me on fire. And then I was a careless fool, and I fell in love with you anyway.”

and

“history, huh? bet we could make some.”

and

“on purpose. i love him on purpose.”

but it also has:

“bitch mcconnell”

and

cornbread the turkey

and

“Exploring your sexuality: Healthy, but does it have to be with the Prince of England?”

summary of act 1

Fiction & Poetry:

A Life Apart, by Neel Mukherjee

A Thousand Dreams Within Me Softly Burn, Sahil Sood

Babyji by Abha Dawesar

Blue Boy, by Rakesh Satyal

The Boy and the Bindi, by Vivek Shraya

Cinnamon Gardens, by Shyam Selvadurai

The City of Devi, Manil Suri

Funny Boy, by Shyam Selvadurai

My Magical Palace, by Kunal Mukherjee

Ode to Lata, Ghalib Shiraz Dhalla

The Paths of Marriage, by Mala Kumar

The Pregnant King, by Devdutt Pattanaik

Quarantine, by Rahul Mehta

She of the Mountains, by Vivek Shraya

Stealing Nasreen, Farzana Doctor

Swimming in the Monsoon Sea, by Shyam Selvadurai

The Two Krishnas, by Ghalib Shiraz Dhalla

The World Unseen, by Shamim Sarif

Non-Fiction & Anthologies:

AIDS Sutra: Untold Stories from India, by Amartya Sen and various authors

Because I Have A Voice: Queer Politics in India, edited by Arvind Narrain and Gautam Bhan

Dirty River, by Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

Gay Bombay: Globalization, Love, and (Be)Longing in Contemporary India, by Parmesh Shahani

Impossible Desires: Queer Diasporas and South Asian Public Cultures, by Gayatri Gopinath

The Invisibles, by Zia Jaffrey

A Lotus of Another Color, by Rakesh Ratti

Love’s Rite: Same-Sex Marriage in India and the West by Ruth Vanita

Loving Women: Being Lesbian in Unprivileged India, by Maya Sharma

Made in India: Decolonializations, Queer Sexualities, Trans/National Projects, by Suparna Bhaskaran

Me Hijra, Me Laxmi, by Laxminarayan Tripathi

Neither Man Nor Woman, Serena Nanda

Sakhiyani: Lesbian Desire in Ancient and Modern India, by Giti Thadani

Same-Sex Love in India, edited by Ruth Vanita and Saleem Kidwal

Sexual Sites, Seminal Attitudes: Sexualities, Masculinities and Culture in South Asia, by Sanjay Srivastava

Sex Longing and Not Belonging: A Gay Muslim’s Quest for Love and Meaning, by Badruddin Khan

Shikhandi and Other Tales They Don’t Tell You, by Devdutt Pattanaik

Queer Activism in India: A Story in the Anthropology of Ethics, by Naisargi Dave

Queering India: Same-Sex Love and Eroticism in Indian Culture and Society, by Ruth Vanita

With Respect to Sex: Negotiating Hijra Identity in South India, by Gaytri Reddy

da FUCK?! awh man dun expose me like dat-

just saw a tik tok that said all unstable queer teens are obsessed with at least one of the following fandoms: dead poets society, the raven cycle, all for the game, six of crows, or the marauders. what does it mean if i’m obsessed with all of them😳

dude did you just 'or' harry potter????!!!! anyway the point is THERE IS A HELL LOT OF US!!

Hey yo,

Where my queer, formerly gifted besties who have at one point hyper fixated on Marvel, Sherlock, Merlin, Good Omens, She-Ra and/or Harry Potter at?

Just wanna make sure I’m not alone. :)

*Bonus points if you listen to girl in red, Taylor Swift or the Neighbourhood*

Edit: holy fuck there are a lot of us 😅

(wrote this because i wanted to; wrote this because i think sirius would know when harry was missing his parents before harry knew himself)

--

Sirius had long since made himself comfortable on the grass, legs crossed and leaning backward onto his arms. Harry hadn't. Harry had been slouched, with his hands shoved deep into the front pockets of his jeans since they had arrived, his almost seventeen-year-old pitching a colossal fit when he realized where they were.

No, fuck you, Sirius!

Had been shouted so loud in a public place, Sirius nearly pulled the whole thing to drag his godson back home and have a conversation. Mr. Potter had always told Sirius that foul language was never warranted, but Sirius vividly remembered what it was like to be a teenager who felt they had no control; who felt out of control; who felt every last thing in the world was unfair and thought that some situations...definitely warranted a swear word or two.

This might have been one of them for Harry. Ambushed and brought to his parent's gravesite.

Harry was allowed to be angry at Sirius for this, but Sirius was allowed to sometimes play the I'm your godfather and I know it doesn't seem like it now but you'll thank me for this later card that he held in his hand. An ace up his sleeve he rarely revealed, but the days leading up to Harry's seventeenth felt like the time to. Sirius hoped this would be one of the times when Harry came to thank him an hour later, instead of years.

"Can we go?" he asked.

"No."

"This is stupid. It's a perfectly good day and you're having us waste it at a stupid gravesite. I could be playing Quidditch! I could...I could be meeting with my friends, I coul--"

"Did you have plans?"

"Well, no, but it's the principle of the thing, and now you're--this is kidnapping."

"You're free to go, Harry."

"You drove me here!"

Sirius nodded, "I did, but I'm not holding you, hostage," he brought a hand up to shield his eyes from the summer sun, "There's a bunch of shops...I'm sure one has a floo. You're welcome to go take a walk and figure it out...you are almost seventeen after all."

Harry scowled, "This is stupid."

"It can be stupid," Sirius shrugged, and turned his attention back to the decorated tombstone, with his best friend's name written across it. There were fresh flowers there, though less than when Sirius had first started visiting. Sirius wondered if there would come a day, 5, 10 13 years down the line where he'd come to pay James and Lily a visit and find nothing left behind and find their grave growing moss from visitors. He wondered how the names would look when the stone started to decay, fossilize, crack and turn. Do people still exist if no one is around to remember them? Would Sirius have to leave a will behind that stipulated every generation visit James and Lily just so they wouldn't be forgotten or be diminished to names whispered in passing like a rumor in a hallway of a boarding school?

"It's stupid."

"Yeah." Sirius patted the spot next to him on the ground for the fourth time since they had arrived, hoping this time Harry decided to join him. There was an eye roll and a final bit of protest, but Harry sat down, sitting cross-legged, and immediately started picking at the grass.

"Why are we doing this?"

"Thought you might have something to say."

"Well, I don't. It's s--"

"Stupid. I know," Sirius nodded, and sat up, bending his knees so he could rest his elbows on them. He took a breath. Harry wasn't wrong. Sirius felt foolish every time he did this and had for years. The first words were the hardest--as if those were the ones James was listening most for. If they were good enough, wise enough, funny enough maybe James would appear again. Like the magic words. A curse that could be broken with, "Hey, mate."

Harry snorted.

"Hey, mate. Lils. It's...me. Sirius," Sirius started, "I know I look a little different these days, but...it's me, I promise. We...live in a world where we don't have to prove our identities to other people now. When I open the door--"

"You still put your wand in people's faces if they come to the door," Harry interjected

"Fine, when Remus opens the door, we don't have to play a quick game of twenty questions. It's...nice, sort of. I haven't been able to shake my paranoia." Sirius said, watching as Harry's hands continued to pick at the grass, making a tiny pile next to a white trainer. "Been missing you lately, I think," Sirius continued, "...More than usual. I did the stupidest thing the other day--"

"Talk to a gravestone?" muttered Harry

"--I went to a bakery, there's a new one in Diagon Alley, this little witch makes tea cakes and I got a bunch to try, and I put an almond one in there. Didn't even realize until I brought the box home and Remus asked me why...." Sirius trailed off, tapping his fingers against the bone in his elbow.

Why did you get an almond one? We all hate almonds.

It's for James

Sirius had said it without even thinking. Done it without even second-guessing.

"Sixteen years and I'm still thinking of you...all the time. And your kid? Fucking spectacular. He's seventeen in a few days, and you know that means I can finally drop the whole parenting thing..." Sirius said lightly, "Boot him out and the like...tell him to get a job or something."

"Hey," Harry said, though it didn't have any of the bite from earlier, "He's joking. He told me last week that I had to stay at the house until I was forty-two, at least."

"Ah well, that was before you told me to go fuck myself."

"I didn't say that, I just said fuck you, if you're going to tell Mum and Dad that I was a brat at least make it accurate..."

"So sorry, babe," Sirius said, "Anyway...I love you both, and...supposed I just wanted to let you know that we're all doing alright, even if we miss you." Sirius looked at Harry, inclining his head as means of encouragement.

"I dunno what to say."

"I didn't exactly prepare a speech."

"I..."

"How about I give you some privacy."

"No," Harry's hand shot out to grab Sirius's own, immediately, and didn't move it, "Don't...don't go."

"I'm right here."

Harry looked at the tombstone, studying the flowers and the stone and the grass growing happily around it, "Hi Mum...Hi Dad. It's...it's me, Harry. I...think I have more hair from when you last saw me. That's what Moony says anyway...and...I'm...this is stupid. And I'm sorry I'm saying it's stupid, but Sirius always tells me just...to call something what it is and it helps make it better so I'm calling it stupid...because it is stupid that I'm about to turn seventeen and I have to sit on the ground, in the mud, on a hot fucking summers day to talk to my parents instead of getting to walk down the hall."

Once Harry started he couldn't stop.

Once Harry said I miss you, memories from birthdays gone by surfaced; his OWL exams, his best friends, his ex-boyfriend who hung the moon for him and then broke his heart, his current boyfriend who put the moon back together and gave it to him in a ceramic box labeled handle with care. The three of them came to visit once a year, but usually, Harry was too overwhelmed with tears to say much; they had come Harry's fifth year just after Christmas and it had been the same, though Harry had wanted to stay for hours, Sirius certain they were all going to catch their death in the cold despite the warming charms continuously being put up. This time was different though, and Sirius just sat and listened as his godson, his kid, poured every last thought he had, every last I love you onto his parent's gravestone, not bothering to catch the falling tears.

That's how gardens grow.

Sirius wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders, pulling him into his chest as he finished, teenage body wracked with sobs and emotion that hadn't been released until that moment.

"This is stupid," Harry sniffed, making a point to wipe his face on Sirius's t-shirt.

"It can be stupid."

"Missing people is stupid."

"The stupidest thing in the world, love."