4. We Both Think David Bowie Is A Wizard! (ATYD Ref, Suck It If You Dont Get The Ref!)

the vocabulary of loss is the dictionary

wake up,

open tumblr,

get my heart fucked,

sleep.

oh and repeat! :)

<333

Sirius: you’re idiotic

Remus: well, you’re stupid

Sirius: half-witted moron

Remus: dense dimwit

Sirius: brainless imbecile

Remus: my beautiful boyfriend

Sirius: my gorgeous lover

James: ..wHat

His brightest star I wanted to draw Sirius in casual clothes.

@dimiclaudeblaigan asked for a tutorial on how to begin drawing. Good news! If you can draw a funky looking stick man, you have already started!

I think that stick people are a great starting point for artists because of the things you can learn from them that will be important later on.

If you are able to draw a circle and a couple of lines, you can easily put together a stick person.

Congratulations! You have started to draw. :)

A stick person is a very minimal artistic representation of a real life person. It is simple yet recognizable, and is widely used in art, media, and signage.

But what can a stick person teach us about drawing people that look more like… well, people? Lets have a look!

By simply adding a few more lines, we can add a pair of eyes and a mouth. Maybe even a little triangle nose! Or half circles for ears. We can now draw a face, which provides a basis for all sorts of expressions.

These simple additions can allow us to explore the wide range of human emotion and individuality.

This may seem like the basics of the basics. But that is what we want! In order to get to the point where we are able to draw complex, elaborate representations of humans and objects, we will need to start with simple shapes like lines and circles and build our understanding from there.

For instance, lets give our stick person some cool new features, such as hands and feet. I chose little squiggly circles to represent hands, and triangles to represent feet.

We can go a step further and modify the body of the stick person to include shoulders, hips, elbows and knees. These parts of the human body are quite complex in real life But here, all we need to do is add a few simple lines and dots to our stick person.

The lines provide some additional structural elements to our stick person's body, which are the shoulders and the hips. The dots indicate the points of articulation - elbows and knees, the places where the arms and legs bend!

Now we can use our stick person to show us an even wider range of human movement, action, and expression.

Our little drawing of a human being is evolving! All it took was adding a few more lines and shapes here and there.

By elongating some of the existing lines and making the head an oval instead of a circle, we can give our stick person proportions that resemble that of a real life human.

By this point, we have managed to add more complexity to our stick person simply by using our ability to draw lines, circles, and other basic shapes!

These basic ideas are the building blocks that will enable us to create more complex shapes.

The next part may be a considerable step up if you are absolutely new to drawing, but I have decided to include it in order to show you how complex objects like the human body can be built from shapes that are a bit more complex than circles and lines.

For example. Two ovals and a rectangle can be combined to create a cylinder.

Six squares can be combined to create a cube, or a box. Here, each square is distorted slightly depending on which way the cube is facing.

Note that the back faces of the cube and the bottom of the cylinder are hidden. These shapes allow us to visualize that which should not normally visible.

A sphere from all perspectives can be represented by a circle. But we can make it more like a sphere by adding lighting and shadow if we so desire.

Cubes, cylinders, and spheres are examples of 'solid shapes' because they consist of 3 dimensions.

Lets see how these solid shapes can be used to compose the human body.

By stacking three cylindrical objects, we can create a torso. Two spheres have been added to form shoulders, while a smaller cylinder forms the neck.

An arm is an alternating sequence of spheres and cylinders connected together. Note that the hand has been simplified for this example.

We can apply these solid shapes to the rest of the body to give us a more recognizable representation of the human form. It doesn't even have to be perfect. And just like that, our stick figure now has a silhouette that is unmistakably a person!

In the above examples, notice that we kept the stick person at the beginning while building up the shapes and solids around it. This is because the stick person serves as a guide for positioning the body and its various parts -> also known as posing.

You can do the same thing to everyday objects! Here, I drew a wine glass by stacking these three dimensional solid shapes.

The cup and its contents are two ovoid shapes that were cut in half. The stem is a very thin cylinder shape. The base is a cylinder with a slightly wider bottom.

Solid shapes help inform us how objects and parts of the human body may appear from different perspectives.

For example, a sphere can be used to demonstrate how the human head appears when looking up or down, turned to the side, or tilted at an angle.

With these examples, I hope I have managed to convinced you that if you can draw a circle and a couple of lines, you can draw a person! You just have to train your eye to recognize the simple shapes within complex objects. Try it with everyday objects as well! Or even your favourite media! A drawing subject can be as simple or as complex as you envision it to be.

Once you have mastered that, there are many aspects of drawing you can explore from here that may require you to seek additional resources or a fellow artist's advice.

Last of all, remember that drawing is an iterative process. Even if you draw something correct the first time, you will need to draw it again and again to get it right all times! And by making small changes like the ones we explored in this tutorial, your drawings will gradually transform!

I hope what I've demonstrated here are enough to provide the basics of how to get started with drawing objects and people, and also to help refresh more experienced artists. :) Hopefully I didn't go too off topic with what was requested, and let me know if there are any more questions I can answer.

Cheers :3

how can you even frikin think abt a 'good day' after THAT-

You know what’s so sad? Sirius Black was probably so loved the day he was born. And then the love slowly became less and less the more he began to grow and form his own opinions.

Anyways have a good day guys!

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.

BRUH -

where were you all this timeee???! we are practically soulmates-

hey i'm lina, i'm 17 and i draw shitty things

she/her

bi

english isn't my first language so forgive me for the mistakes i will make🙏🏻 gonna try my best

you can find me:

on twitter @/xoktyabrskaya (shitposting on russian lol)

on Instagram @/xodeadlina (my art acc)

some information about my fandoms from my carrd <3

and ends when it was cold but it wasn't winter yet

the story starts when it was hot and it was summer

(this prompt was sent to someone who wasn't me ((thank you @lunapwrites and @impishtubist for this)), and i...ran with i...feel like i should apologize? also hoping i did it justice <3)

about 5k.

-

They gave out pamphlets.

Leaflets.

Pastel-colored booklets with images of smiling children plastered on every side, hoping to bandage bad news the same way they bandaged injuries. But Remus’s arm kept on bleeding through the dressings and his mother hadn’t stopped crying. There was no way to put a bandage on this bad of news.

Your kid is a monster, better get used to it.

Remus didn't remember a lot about the first few weeks after he was bitten, aside from the pamphlets. He wondered if any of the children had just been turned into something they never asked for or if they had merely caught a cold. In any case, the pamphlets were left around his house, his parents gathering all and any reading material they could find in hopes of figuring out how to make this new...thing...more bearable for their son. The way they talked around it, through fake smiles and stickers that matched the color palette.

Remus also remembered what the Healer had told his parents when they thought he had been asleep. The side effects that weren't in the booklets.

Chronic joint pain

Vomiting

Hyperhydrosis

Fatigue

Early death. Shortened lifespan.

And that last one, Remus remembered loud and clear as he stared at his three new friends, his three best friends, that he made at boarding school who weren't tiptoeing around the secret Remus had managed to keep for all of half a year. Too clever for their own good. Too caring. Too much time on their hands.

Or they had gotten too close.

"You all don't....know. You don't get it," Remus said, looking down at his hands as he sat on his four-poster, knees tucked under his chin. He tried to remember the last time he looked down at his fingers and didn't see bandages and bruises, only to find he couldn't.

"No, we do get it!" James said indignantly, staring at him with hazel eyes and glasses too big for his face, "You're our friend! What else is there to get. You're not a monster, you're not a big scary thing, you're our friend."

"Best friend," Peter agreed, and Remus looked up from his hands to see the small blonde boy nodding. Remus's eyes looked to Sirius, who had been quiet as the nervous confession spilled out of Remus's mouth, mumbled and garbled and Remus was sure he had drooled at one point. Arrogant, privileged Sirius Black, was quiet and listened, dark, thick eyebrows knitted together softly. And even after James and Peter continued to cheer him up, make him laugh, make him feel like maybe they did get it, Sirius stayed quiet and Remus would catch him glancing at him every so often, with the same look that Remus couldn't read.

Until they were alone in the bathroom, brushing their teeth, James already asleep and Peter close.

"Are you going to say anything?" asked Remus finally, "If you're...I know what you must think, I know--"

"Oh, please, go on, tell me what I think."

"You think I'm...dirty. No good. Half-breed. Don't you? Too proud to say it, especially not since James was so good about it, and Peter too. It's all over your face."

"I don't think that."

"Then say something!"

"What can I say?" Sirius asked softly, "What do you want me to say?"

"I dunno..."

"James already told you we're still friends, so you've heard that bit. Peters told you we'll wait up for you on full moons and take good notes during class. If you want to hear that I agree, then you've got it. We're still friends and I'm the only one of us who takes legible notes and you know, I....don't sleep so, the staying up part is already done."

Remus softened the arms that were wrapped protectively around his body--the last barrier he had between himself and his friends--dropping stupidly to his sides in front of Sirius Black who was perhaps the only person Remus had ever met who could maintain any sort of dignity in a dressing gown. "You don't have to."

"Shut up."

"Why have you been so quiet?"

"Why have you?"

"You're frustrating, you know. Answering my questions with questions when I'm the one who basically revealed the world's biggest secret today! I'm the one who's....sick and whatever! I'm allowed to have kept that to myself, you of all people should know what the worst looks like."

Sirius's eyes darkened for a split second and then it was just gone, replaced with an easy half-smile, "You're so dramatic, really?"

"I'm telling you all, you don't get it! It's not just a once a month thing--"

"Then tell us."

"I could die early, you know. You want to be friends with someone who could die when their sixteen? I could keel over next year for all I know!"

"Well...currently, I'm also friends with," Sirius held up his hand to count on his fingers, "Peter, who burps Irish folk songs, Marlene...who has more hair than I think anyone should and talks so fast I think she could win an award, James who does morning affirmations--"

"You've done them a few times," Remus grinned a little looking down at his feet.

"I will deny it. And then...my little brother, who is...ten and an artist. He paints." Remus laughed again this time a little louder, a little hard, "It's...watercolors? I don't know, he sends me cards sometimes. I've never had friends before this year, I'm not sure how friendships are supposed to go but...you fit right in with what I've gathered so far. Bloke who dies early."

"...Is...that better or worse than an artist?"

"Better. Definitely better."

--

Remus didn't think of the pamphlets again, not for many years. Because he made it to fifteen and suddenly there wasn't just Remus, there was Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Because he made it to seventeen and fell in love with the boy who had told him he was definitely better than a ten-year-old artist though he had substituted silk dressing gowns for sweatpants and nights in Remus's bed. Remus never let himself make plans, convinced they were going to fall apart anyway and he'd find himself in a hospital bed with his mother and father holding onto his hands, just waiting for the end to come sooner rather than later. But with James? Remus made plans to be around for a baby in the middle of a war. Plans that involved staying alive, and building cribs. And Sirius?

Remus made all the plans with Sirius.

Study plans.

Dinner plans.

Moving plans.

Wedding plans.

Secret plans that had Remus slipping out in the middle of the night, kissing the top of Sirius's cheekbone as he slept, hoping it didn't wake him up (it always did; Remus did it anyway).

Unexpected plans when Sirius didn't return to their tiny, weathered flat, and Remus had to find out through a long-winded grapevine that his best friends had been murdered, and his almost-fiancee had been the one to do it.

Remus didn't make plans after that, for the opposite reason. Not because he thought he was going to die, but because he had no reason to live. Day in and day out, dead-end jobs that paid next to nothing, sweaters unraveling thread by thread, and Remus couldn't have cared. A rock stuck on the side of the stream, unmoving until a visit from Albus Dumbledore made Remus remember what it was like to have something to look forward to. Until that same summer, Sirius's face was on the front page of the Daily Prophet--though not in the way Remus ever thought his stunning, beautiful, charismatic, almost-fiancee-husband-life partner-better half-soul mate would be pictured in a paper.

Everything picked up. Remus met Harry, 13 years after he had first met him in a tiny blanket in his mother's arms.

James's smile.

Lily's eyes.

James's curiosity.

Lily's persistence.

Whiplash, moving back and forth between two people he would never see again, forming a connection with someone he swore he would never meet properly, his own cowardice to blame. Harry had more words now and Remus felt like he was making up for the time he hadn't heard any of them. And in one single night, everything changed. Just like that.

--

"We're in the middle of a war," Remus said.

"Deja vu, hm, babe?"

"Sirius..."

"You said yes before."

"You never asked me officially before."

"My coffee proposal was just as good as this." Sirius was smiling at him, down on one knee and ring in his hand. In the middle of the sitting room of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, while they listened to the wireless for war reports, waiting to see if they would hear Harry's name.

"I dunno, I do love coffee..."

"I love you."

"Yes."

Remus's knuckles hurt more these days; Remus noticed when Sirius put the ring on his fingers how tight it was. but Remus made plans.

--

"What do you mean I have to go back to school?" shouted Harry abruptly, pushing back from the kitchen table roughly, "I graduated."

"You didn't graduate, Harry, you have--"

"I don't care about NEWTS! No one gives a damn if I have--"

"I give a damn," Sirius said, pointedly looking at Harry firmly, "I give all the damns that you go back to school and you learn all the damn things that you didn't get to learn because you had a Dark Wizard on your back," he said.

"And the damns Sirius doesn't give, I'll give. I think I have a few lying around," Remus said and Harry rolled his eyes.

"The Auror department just said I can walk in and I have a job. I saved the entire bloody wizarding world! What's it matter if I don't have NEWT's? Isn't the point to get a job?"

"The point is to be proficient at magic, Harry," Sirius told him, "Are you?"

"Are you?" Remus snorted. Like father, like son, James was never the best at arguing either.

"I graduated," Sirius responded. "And, you can go ahead and be angry at me for this...but it's already been decided."

"What?! Why even bother asking me! Family discussion my arse! This is bullshit!"

"Mhmm," Sirius nodded but didn't flinch. Only picked up his cup of tea and took a sip, making eye contact with Remus over the top. Remus raised his own cup in response.

Remus remembered Harry crawling into bed with them that night after spending the afternoon giving both of them the silent treatment. Harry cried into Sirius's chest, his hand gripping Remus's arm tightly until he fell asleep. The next morning Remus woke up and noticed the red marks on Harry's hand-- the bruising he had to use paste for that had Sirius worrying when he looked at it.

Are you sure we don't need to go to the Healers?

They didn't.

They had other plans.

--

And Remus realized. One thing was better than making the plans.

Executing the plans.

The wedding in the backyard of Number 12. The wedding night that ended with Remus's head in the lav, and Sirius pressing a cold washcloth to his neck.

Vomiting.

Watching Harry graduate and take a breath to think about what he wanted for themselves.

Painting the kitchen. Remus had to stop every hour, even doing it by magic.

Fatigue.

Planting flowers in the backyard that Remus wasn't able to keep alive.

Planning a second wedding--this time for Harry and a boy with a big smile and a bigger heart that was able to hold Harry with care. Wedding in the middle of winter, because they had met around Christmas, and Remus was sweating through his suit.

Hyperhydrosis.

It wasn't just around full moons anymore, Remus noticed as he aged. It was all the time.

Vomiting.

Fatigue.

Hyperhydrosis.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

--

Remus woke up screaming one morning after a full moon that lasted longer than it should've in his opinion. Wolfsbane, while the most wonderful invention in his twenties, even in his early thirties, was miserable in his forties. You get to keep your mind. Remus didn't want his mind, Remus didn't want to know, or feel, or recognize any part of himself as he transformed, and tried to make his way back to being human. It would've been easier if he could just turn it off. But he couldn't. Especially when everything was getting worse. His shoulder, throbbing, aching, burning, singing the loudest amongst the other pains throughout his body.

"Baby, baby, sorry, I know it hurts," Sirius said, and Remus could barely make out his husband's face, barely registering his touch on his body his vision was so blurred.

"Sirius."

"I'm trying, baby, I'm trying, your shoulder, I can't get it back in, this is over my head."

Transformations got harder. That wasn't in the pamphlet. Remus even went back to check the pamphlets, making an absent comment to the Healer about how their reading material hadn't changed as the Healer put his shoulder back into place, though it didn't quite move the same after that. There should've been something in the leaflets that addressed what happened when you didn't die at 20, despite all odds, and now had a million things that you'd be leaving behind.

A script for Remus to follow.

Because he was coming up empty.

--

He could feel it. He could tell it was coming. His shoulder was useless. He had lost one of his canine teeth, though Sirius insisted it made him look cool. He was tired all the time, ending most days by 7pm and starting them at 10am.

He stopped teaching.

"You love your job."

"It's...an early retirement," Remus told Sirius for the millionth time. Sirius still slept on top of him and Remus was grateful that even this version of his body wasn't adverse to Sirius's touch. "Stop looking at me like that..."

"Like what?"

"Like you're trying to figure me out. I've known you forever, I know that look."

The pinched dark eyebrows, the set jaw.

"I want you to be happy. Will you be unhappy if you stop teaching?"

"Are you here?"

"Sometimes."

"Then I'm happy."

"Remus..."

"I'm happy, Sirius. I'm fine."

--

"Remus--"

"I'm fine, Sirius."

"This won't stop bleeding."

"It will."

"Remus--"

"Kiss me."

--

"Is Moony okay?" he heard Harry ask one evening. Remus had fallen asleep on the couch, just after dinner with Harry and his own family. Remus hadn't planned for grandchildren, and now they were here and Remus used every bit of energy he had on them. Harry's oldest had a loud laugh. Harrys youngest loved to run. Remus's eyes were half-closed and he desperately wanted to open them and reach out and comfort Harry.

The person he had started thinking about plans for all those years ago. Because he had time then.

And now he was running out.

Sand through an hourglass, grain by grain.

"He's fine, my love," Sirius said, though it wasn't a terribly convincing tone.

"He's..." Harry paused, "The...Dursleys had a cat... he was old. I remember. And he would sleep more and more as he got older and--"

"Hey," Sirius said softly, "Remus isn't a cat. He's always loved sleeping and now we're both ancient. I found three grey hairs the other day."

Harry gasped, "Three!? Terrible news."

"It was, I debated shaving my entire head," Sirius said, "Moony's fine, Harry."

"Would you...would you tell me if he wasn't?"

"Yeah. I would."

"Okay."

But what if I don't tell you?

--

"You're the only kid I like," Remus told Harry one afternoon when they were outside in the sun together. The only place Remus felt remotely okay anymore. Until he got too hot anyway. "I hope you know that."

"You taught."

"Teaching is very different than...birthday parties. Still the only kid I like..."

"Still?"

"My kid."

--

Remus thought back to that first conversation with Sirius at eleven, swallowing wolfsbane with shaking hands as he looked at his husband across the table.

First, he was Remus.

Then Moony.

Then my love, darling, baby, my moonlight.

"Sirius?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"I..."

I'm going to die wasn't something that could be stirred into morning coffee.

"Alright?"

"I just love you."

"I love you."

You're the only reason I bothered making plans wasn't something that could be said casually, not like the way they talked about taking a walk or sitting in the sun together.

He got to be Moony again-- this time said differently from a kid who agreed to be his at fifteen. Moony from cradle...to grave.

Then finally husband.

And Grandad Moony.

Remus got to be a lot of things.

He was sure there were more things he could plan for....but he was out of time.

This was it.

"Baby?" Remus managed, watching as the moon out the window began to rise, and he could feel it deep in his bones that this was it.

Shortened lifespan.

Early death.

"You're alright, I'll see you soon, okay?"

"I'm the bloke who dies early."

Remus held on just long enough to watch as Sirius's face registered what was happening before his eyes, a tattooed hand reaching out to Remus's face.

It wasn't his mother and father there holding his hands. It was Sirius. His last touch.

"Remus..."

"Still better than an artist?"

"Just--"

"I'm sorry."