*in Class, Brewing Amortentia*

I’ve got a clear vision in my head of a young Remus coming back from full moons and missions for the Order with only the strength to put on slippers before he’s out like a light.

“I hated the lot of them: my parents with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal… my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them… that’s him. He was younger than me, and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded.”

w o l f s t a r f l u f f f f f.

Forgot I did this and never posted it, ♥️

James: Have a nice gay!

Sirius: Don't you mean day-

James *pushes Remus into Sirius's arms*: Nope

Sirius: Perfect

playing with style a bit :)

this was.. *chief kiss*

just plain beautiful

vivre d'amour et d'eau fraîche || s.b. x reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: smoking, fluff, me not knowing french

a/n: extra translations at the end

—————

The air was thick was the scent of smoke, the curling of which held your attention. It wisped gently above you, nearly a dance, and your fingertips itched with the urge to mingle with the tainted exhalation. But you were weighed down by the effects of lethargy, slipping in and out of consciousness.

Sirius’ fingers chose indolence as their nature, combing through your hair and trailing down your spine, recurrent actions that lulled you. His free digits were attending to the lit cigarette, his lips spilling comfort from such perfume.

“You still tired, baby?” he murmured, noticing your half-lids. His ministrations paused to help tilt your head up, your chin seating on his chest.

You managed a slight nod. The common room was empty, the students blissfully stuck in classes—exactly where you and your boyfriend were also meant to be.

He made a soft sound, brushing the strands from your forehead. His eyes held adoration—the sort you rarely saw without such privacy. It was pure. He offered you the tobacco, a subtle lift of his wrist, but you declined it, instead turning your head back down and staring into the perfunctory fire.

“How many more exams?” he asked, taking another drag.

You sighed, “Two? Three? I don’t remember.” Your nails drew along the fabric of his button-up, the cotton soft.

Skipping class with Sirius was a common pastime, and it only grew more regular as exams finished. Often, he drew you into the common room, laying across couches and pillows, letting you rest; it was one of the few times you could do so serenely, nights dedicated to studying. The two of you would sleep, or speak, or merely stare into space; there was no pressure, no worries, no intrusions.

“Doing so well, love,” he murmured, stubbing the cigarette out on the nearby ashtray. He left the paper there, letting both arms wrap around you. “I’m proud of you, you know. You work so hard.”

The praise settled any anxiety that prevailed, and you smiled, pressing a spare kiss to his collarbone. “Thank you.”

Sirius’ own lips found the crown of your head, lingering for only a moment, just as his fingers dragged along your side. “Of course, ma vie.”

Those words, the endearment, curled your mouth further; his French was something few were privy to, the side of him he kept hidden—remnants of who he truly was, where he came from. It was all the push you needed, getting the energy to squirm and sit up.

Sirius followed you, pushing to be propped against the armrest, then pulling you to be straddling his lap. You reacclimated, then grinned, smoothing down his hair and playing with his tie. His hands settled on your hips, and his head cocked in question.

“Tell me something in French,” you said, dusting your touch across his shoulders.

But one of your hands was quickly removed, courtesy of his own grip. His other stayed on your torso, thumb rubbing circles on your waist. “Je vois la vie en rose,” Sirius hummed, placing the tips of your fingers to his lips. “À cause de toi.”

He finished with a kiss to the pads, though didn’t move to extract them.

“What?” A soft giggle tumbled out, your index dragging over his cupid’s bow. “Je ne comprends pas.”

He grinned at your poor attempt at the language, leaving one more kiss to your knuckles before dropping the appendage to his chest. His brow raised in amusement. “You’ll just have to learn to find out, then, won’t you?”

Ignoring the taunt, you quickly scooted closer. The sun that filtered in highlighted the scene, nearly picturesque; smoke still rose behind him, and you absently loosened his tie, getting comfortable. “Teach me?”

He considered you for a second, chin raising, then: “What do you want to know?”

You tapped a staccato to the hollow of his throat, thinking. “How do you say…‘I love you’?”

“Really?” he laughed.

Your mouth turned down, a pulled frown, but affection lit his pupils, his head shaking.

“Je t’aime,” he answered.

And this time, it was his fingers that traced your lips. “Je t’aime,” you repeated. When he smiled, you continued, “What about…” you paused once more, “...‘I always think of you’?”

His eyes flickered. “Je pense à toi tout le temps.”

Slowly, you fumbled the words back.

It earned another chuckle. “What else?”

You rolled your eyes, but did melt further into his body as he shifted down the couch. Your lips poised over his left pectoral, the steady beat lying there. “‘You make my heart race.’”

“Tu fais battre mon cœur.”

“Tu fais battre mon cœur,” you echoed, easing your eyes shut, his tenderness too much a balm. “‘I want you.’”

“J’ai envie de toi.”

You murmured it back, voice muffled. After, you remediated, “‘I want to be with you forever.’”

Sirius trailed a thumb along your bottom lip, letting your limbs entangle. He joined you in such relaxation, sunlight and studies draining you both of all energy. One arm curled around your waist, legs slotting, but he kept the hand grazing your face. “Je veux être avec toi pour toujours.”

Your words, whilst slurred, still copied him. “Je veux être avec toi pour toujours.”

Sirius shifted under you, and you looked up, finding his gaze already on you; you, the slope of your nose, the angle of your jaw, the face he would know blind. He gave you a more personal smile, letting your admission ring a few moments more. “Moi aussi, ma chérie. Je veux passer ma vie avec toi.”

Your brow furrowed, mouth heavy with the new phonetics. “What does that mean?”

“Me too, my darling,” he responded, English this time. “I want a lifetime with you.”

You met his smile with one of equal ardor. You adjusted so you could lay on his shoulder, then within the crook of his neck. The smell of smoke wafted off of him, and it reminded you of home. “And that’s what we will have.”

The seconds ticked by, no disruptions. It was only you, him, midday light blooming through the common room. Cigarettes and kisses and mirrored French. Your arms and his legs and the lips that met once, twice, three times.

Lids weighed heavy, dragged down in satisfied fatigue; relaxation you earned. And, as always, you were asleep first, curled against him, later to be found by James, Remus, and entertained smirks.

But before he let go, Sirius let his unfinished sentiment depart, unbeknownst to your half-awake state—the state that caught onto the unfamiliar words. “Tu fais partie de moi,” he breathed, a tongue he hadn’t spoken in so long, “Je t’aimerai pour toujours.”

—————

translations:

ma vie — my life

Je vois la vie en rose. À cause de toi — I see life in rose. Because of you.

Je ne comprends pas — I don't understand

Tu fais partie de moi — You are a part of me

Je t’aimerai pour toujours — I will love you forever

—

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Two words. James Potter.

Where all the poets go to die || 𝖂𝖔𝖑𝖋𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗

Summary: Remus and Sirius write each other letters, while he’s in Azkaban.

Warnings: none

A/N: This is a fanfiction, which will be multiple chapters long. You might want to follow me for updates. I would also greatly appreciate some feedback or your thoughts on my writing in general.

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

(𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝟏)

Remus never felt so completely and utterly lost in his whole life before. He didn’t intend to tell anyone about the part, that’s tearing him apart and yet he’s sitting on the soft cushion of a chair, that belongs to no one other than the Weasleys. Like now, in quiet moments of reflection, he feels tears spring into the corner of his eyes and he quickly wipes away the ones, that have unknowingly begun to fall down his face. The room is silent, except for a kettle, which is quietly cooking on the kitchen stove. Through the open window, he can smell the cold autumn wind. It drifts over his head and when he closes his eyes, he comes up. Again and again, he comes to him and the once loved memories, the ones he now so despises, come crashing over him and ripple throughout his body.

"I never felt about anyone, the way i feel about you," Sirius says, thumb caressing Remus' cheek as they lie on the bed in their shared apartment. He’s tucked into Sirius' lap, resting his head against his chest how he did on that fateful day. "Nothing in the universe will ever tear us apart."

How wrong Sirius had been, Remus thinks. Swallowing, his eyes close tightly and he tries to find a way to drown his thoughts out. Sirius is gone and all he left him with is his crumpled heart. How could he join Voldemort’s side and betray both James and Lily? It feels as if he’s always on the verge of waking up from a bad dream and sometimes, when it all becomes unbearable, he thinks about giving up. Falling apart at the seams, knowing he’ll never be who he once was, but there’s a whole other side that he’s desperately holding on to. The part he fell in love with. The side of him that created a ‘happily ever after’ in his head. But then the realization hits. The realization, that it’s all been an act. He loves and was never loved back and the hardest part of this process is trying to reconcile the two seemingly polarised sides.

Before he was alone. Distracted by his own thoughts and emotions, but now, two figures stand by, observing quietly from the shadows. Molly Weasley gazes down upon him with concern and quiet understanding. The wonder of what to say lives in her mind. She startles slightly, as the teakettle begins to whistle and a few seconds later, the face of her husband comes into sight. Remus seems slowly return to reality, as Arthur Weasley kneels down with a cup of freshly brewed tea and eyes him worryingly.

“Remus -”

The silence lingers, the voice numbing his senses. He glances around before reaching for the cup.

“Thank you.. Arthur,” Remus whispers.

The tea soothingly warms him from the inside and it’s almost too much. He has gotten so used to the newfound cold within.

“Are you alright? Is there something you need?” The concern drips in Molly’s voice and Remus frowns. His wounded self screams at the back of his head. They don’t understand. He’s been hurt in ways, he never excepted to be hurt and there’s no way out.

“I’m fine,” he mutters instead. A sad smile curving his lips.

Molly just continues to look him concerningly due to her well known nurturing and caring nature. She and Arthur give each other a silent look and a nod before she leaves and Arthur takes seat in the chair opposite from Remus.

“You have to make something out of all these feelings within you,” Arthur speaks up. His voice is silent and raw and the fact that he sees him in such a vulnerable state, makes Remus' heart swell.

“Have you thought about writing him a letter?”

Remus takes a while to answer, too taken aback by his suggestion. A letter? How could he factor all his anger and frustration into just a mere letter? Besides, Sirius doesn’t care. He never cared. He took everyone down with him and did it on purpose.

“Well... i don’t know how,” Remus finally says with a shake of his head.

He feels Arthur’s big and warm hand on his arm, grounding him. His dark blue eyes full of concern.

“Write to him.”

Remus eyes stay fixed on him, feeling that Arthur isn’t wiling to let this go. He notices a tightness throughout his body and he didn’t even realize, that he had been tensing up and holding his breath.

“He betray-” Remus stops mid sentence. His heart pounding in his chest and tears burning in his eyes. “You don’t think there’s a chance that he could be innocent, do you?”

Arthur clears his throat. “I refused to believed it at first, but witnesses saw him... twelve Muggles.. an extremely powerful explosive curse....”

To hear it out loud, makes Remus fall still, eyes slowly closing.

“You have to free some of the anger and hurt, that lingers inside you. I can see it’s killing you,” Arthur says in a soft voice.

Remus looks up and nods, knowing that it’s true. He knows that Arthur is right and that all the memories inside his heart could break him in half. Shatter him.

“If there’s a way, i’ll write him. I’m sorry for -”

“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for,” Arthur interrupts him, while he shifts slightly in his chair. “Prisoners are usually not permitted to correspond with the outside world, but i'll talk to Dumbledore. You can use Asora, our owl, as well. Don't hesitate to ask us anything.”

Remus heart almost burst with untold affection for this man. “Thank you. For everything,” he says.

The slight hint of a smile he receives in return, makes him forget everything for a mere few seconds and Remus knows to treasure it well. Sincere or forced, it mattered little — The gesture was appreciated all the same.

“Anytime.”

He feels his heart unclench. A few minutes of silence pass by, until Remus gently nods towards the door.

“I better be leaving. It’s been a long day.”

He gets up off the chair and before he heads out the door, he gives Arthur a quick hug.

"Say thank you to Molly for me."

"I'll. Just keep holding on, Remus. We’re waiting for you."

With a tiny hint of a smile on his lips, he slips through the doorway and lets the sweet cold air reach his lungs. Arriving at home, alone, he warms himself in front of the fireplace, where a bright and cozy fire burns. It’s been a long day and all he wants, is some peace and quiet, but Remus feels a restlessness he can’t shake. Nothing is bothering him. No sound, no smell, nothing. Everything is calm, except him. Slowly, his eyes drift to his writing desk. Though his body doesn’t want to move, keeping still seems an impossible task. Finally, he just gives up, sits down at his desk and pulls out a jar of ink and some paper.

~*~

To Sirius Black

November 12th 1981

It’s almost impossible to forget you.

Your absence and betrayal is the most painful thing i had to ever go through. Being so close and watching you disappear hurts the most. James and Lily are dead because of you. How could you, Sirius? I’ve been lied to by the person, who has always treated me with the most daring respect, who listened to my interests and even for a little while, made me feel and know love in a way that no one else ever has. How could i’ve been so blind? I can’t take it anymore. I wish to depart so far and free. Is it easier to stay? Is it easier to go?

Truth is, shatter my heart and soul, i never wish to see you again. Sometimes, i long to feel the same one more time, but it hurts. My soul is frozen and there’s no sun to warm it.

You weren’t just a star to me, you were my whole damn sky.

I love you, but i hate you so much. You’re nothing but a liar, making us think that the friendship and love we shared was real and then you turn your back on us and betray us in such a vile manner. Your sins will never be forgotten.

Everything reminds me of you. Your scent is a sweet felony. Sometimes i wonder, if i'll ever fall in love again. I wonder what it would look like. How would i act? Is it the same as the first time? Or more cautious? I’m curious. I have this feeling, that i want to feel it again, but i don't at the same time. I’ve been hurt so deeply and i wish you a lifetime of coming to terms with the pain you caused. I hope you can live with yourself, even though i wish you’re constantly reminded of what you’ve done.

Farewell, Sirius.

Remus

There's a sinking feeling in his chest as he finishes the letter. For a while, he remains emotionless in his seat, while he processes every syllable.

His own words bring him to tears and suddenly it all seems too blurred in the way that his heart sinks everytime he thinks of Sirius in their bed. Waiting for someone who will never be his, who will never come to him. He picks the letter, reads it a second time and his salty tears burn the little scar, that rests on his chin. He goes to bed on an empty stomach that night, crying until his pillows are soaked.

omg i’m in my feels

Thinking about how Remus and Sirius are soulmates. Not in the “they’re really good for each other and compatible” kind of way, but in the “souls are real in this universe and my soul is wound up with your soul; we are fated for each other; this was our destiny since before we were born; we will fall in love with each other again and again and again whether we like it or not” kind of way. The way that they stayed together throughout the First War, stayed in love despite thinking the other a traitor, stayed in love despite prison, stayed in love despite another war. Their love has been through time and space and distance, through war and prison and death, and yet it has persisted. If not soulmates, if not fate, then what do you call it?

can’t wait to visit someday

Shakespeare and company is my new favorite place in Paris