moongnome
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“You don’t know the first thing about me.”
“I could say the same to you.”
“You’re pretty easy to figure out,” Remus snapped, “Spoilt rich boy drinks himself to death every night and terrorises the locals. It’s a bit of a stereotype, isn’t it?”
Eyes glinting, Sirius tilted his head, and he was speaking, but Remus was too distracted by how close their faces suddenly were, by how he could feel the heat radiating off Sirius, and what he could smell; coconut-scented shampoo, his aftershave, and a dark lick of smoke.
“Am I terrorising you?” He whispered.
Remus bit down on his tongue, “Yes.”
“How terrible,” Sirius tilted his head to the side, “Someone should stop me.”
Remus is stuck in his painfully whimsical home-town, juggling multile jobs while dreaming of a future beyond it all, when Sirius Black arrives, carrying a dangerous amount of personal baggage and a penchant for trouble. To put it lightly, they don't get on.
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"If he closed his eyes, he could have been there again, back in the cold river, water rising up to his shoulders, with a beautiful boy who wouldn’t leave him alone."
It is 1865.
Stuck in his house with his overbearing parents, Remus Lupin cannot shake the feeling that he's missing something.
Returning from abroad after the death of his mother, Sirius Black is now the owner of a massive estate and he has the attitude to match. He has everything, including people who are determined to take everything from him.
It takes seconds for Remus to know he will never hate anyone as much as he does Sirius Black.
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“Your dry wit does not help me, Moony!” James twisted to frown at him, threading his hands through his thick hair in visible distress. “I just want to understand what I’m doing wrong! Do I not shower her with affection? Do I not give her flowers? Do I not write poems–”
“I didn’t know you’d written poems.” Peter popped his head up from the armchair with a loud, resounding hiccup. “What kind of poems?”
“Limericks, mostly.” sighed James. “The occasional haiku if I’m feeling inspired.”
“Let me try.” Slouching against the sofa, Sirius grinned, his legs spread wide. “There once was a redhead named Lily, who made young James Potter act silly! She jinxed him with bats and bogeys and rats, but James only thought with his willy!”
Remus threw a cushion at Sirius’ face.
The summer of '76. Remus wants Sirius. Sirius doesn't know what he wants.
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A shiver trembles through Sirius, racing up his spine, and he blames the crisp air. Remus leans closer, and his lips are parting-- and Sirius shrieks as a chunk of wet, numbing snow is rubbed into his cheek. He squirms beneath him, twisting his head away, but Remus only presses him harder into the glacial ground.
When Remus sits back, Sirius glowers darkly, using his freed arm to wipe his face with his sleeve. He can't quite remember how to breathe, and Remus is still over him, their legs tangled and bent at odd angles.
"You were a lot nicer to me when you were sick." Sirius says.
"I was weak." Remus smiles, and the warmth from his body fades as he gets to his feet. "Don't get used to it."
Of pub quizzes, old films, Chinese takeaways, broken arms, and impassioned discussions of literature: Remus is confusing, and Sirius is just trying to figure him out.
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The swallow of Sirius' throat is distracting. Everything about him is distracting. His dark, curling hair, his clear eyes, his skin, his wrists, his collarbone slipping out from the open neck of his shirt. Remus hates him. He aches with hating him.
After The Prank, Remus knows he will never forgive Sirius. Sirius, to his credit, makes this very difficult.
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“You want me to come with you on the holiday that you specifically booked for you and your girlfriend?”
“Ex-girlfriend,” Sirius corrects.
Remus looks at Sirius searchingly, and once again, several emotions flicker across his face; only this time, his expression lands on something like hope.
“Yeah. Okay.”
or,
Sirius is dumped by his girlfriend and drags his best friend on a holiday across Europe. And somewhere between Berlin clubs, Parisian boulevards, and Transylvanian villages, they fall into each other.
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Bookmarked by moongnome
22 Aug 2024
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In 1965, Voldemort became Minister for Magic. In 1968, the leadership of the Order of the Phoenix was destroyed, the remnants of the terrorist organisation driven underground. By 1970, all was well in Great Britain.
The year is 1984. Sirius Black has just turned 25. He's rich, he's powerful, and most importantly--he's bored.
But all of that is about to change.
8/24/23
PLEASE DON'T POST MY FICS ON GOODREADS/STORYGRAPHS/ETC.PLEASE DON'T REPOST MY WORKS ON ANY OTHER SITES.
PLEASE DON'T PRINT OR BIND MY WORKS USING THIRD PARTY SITES THAT MAKE A PROFIT - DO IT BY HAND OR NOT AT ALL. DO NOT SELL BOUND COPIES OF MY FICS.
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Bookmarked by moongnome
21 Aug 2024
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Bookmarked by moongnome
23 Apr 2022
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Peter was discovered as the spy, the Order defeated Voldemort in time to save the Potters, but not before everyone turned on Remus. Now he is back in London for the first time in three years.
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Bookmarked by moongnome
01 Apr 2022
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“Are you calling me a bitch, Regulus Black?”
Remus looks back at Regulus, who’s now tilting his head teasingly and grinning at him. He rolls his eyes, for probably the tenth time this morning already, and slumps against his dresser. “Aren’t you trying to ask a favor of me, right now? I hate to break it to you, young Reg, but this is not how you get that done.”
Regulus’ grin is wiped off his face immediately and he swallows, “Right... Well, I was saying that Sirius, out of every Slytherin in this school, is most likely to cooperate with you.”
“Which I still don’t get, but... say I were to help you out…” he crosses his arms, “What would be in it for me?”
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A story in which Remus Lupin is the nerdiest asshole you will ever meet, Sirius Black is insufferable, and little Regulus Black has a few tricks up his sleeve.
(takes place in 5th year)
Bookmarked by moongnome
24 Mar 2022