I’m Spiteful Ok. I Need Someone To Write A Fic Where Theres The Whole Dramatized Everybody Mistrusted

As someone who loves to touch, grab, and lock hands with others 24/7, can I just say that Wilhelm and Simon make me feel so validated.

the hands!!!

the arms around the waist!!!!!

head leaning on shoulder!!!!!

AHHH

You know what I love right now? Birthday cakes. I mean the homemade circle ones that are a bit sloppy but made with love. The icing is a bit messy and too sweet. The candles on top are dripping down and the messy handwriting reading “happy birthday” is illuminated. Its messy and full of knife strokes but it’s cozy and made of love. And in that moment, everything feels like it will be okay and good.

Nora Holleran Aesthetic

“It’s full of books and plants she tends to with complex spreadsheets of watering schedules. Tonight, she’s sitting on her living room floor in a glowing circle of screens like some kind of Capitol Hill séance.”

I always see in Slytherin aesthetics+hc’s+tropes about not showing emotion and being cold and calculating. They are stereotyped as these unfeeling people Slytherin’s are genuinely the most emotional people in the whole series????

- Draco Malfoy literally threw tantrums and showed fear so openly??

- Snape wasn’t good, but he was mean and snarky. Not unfeeling.

- Bellatrix Lestrange literally cried, screamed, shrieked like a sociopath. She was so driven by her emotions.

- Slughorn was jolly and laughing all the time.

Slytherins are not cold and hard, they are the characters that feel so much.

Put Your Money on Me

Fugitive Sirius Black x Bounty Hunter Remus Lupin

___

Remus grimaced at the bitter taste of the cheap beer and pushed the plastic cup away from him. The bar in which he was currently situated was grimy and filthy, although the dark red and black tones hid it quite well. Unfortunately, the inferiority of the beer could not be hidden. 

He sighed quietly, discreetly glancing at door. His patience was running thin and the dodgy nature of the rough-faced men sitting around him was putting him on edge.

Many times in his twenty-five years of life, he had found himself questioning why he made the choices he made. Why had he, at the tender age of eighteen, decided to pursue a degree in Criminal Justice rather than sequestering himself in English Literature? Why had he not gone to Law school, Grad school, or any of the other places he could have gone? Instead, he had found himself writing an exam, and rubbing shoulders with bond agents.

All this had led him to this exact moment where he sat in a grubby bar, waiting for his informant, a shifty-eyed man named Arthur, to arrive.

Not for the first time, he cursed Sirius Black.

Depending on who you asked, Sirius Black was the heir to the criminally rich, Black crime family, but he was also the black sheep, stepping out of his family’s footprints, and joining the opposite, clean side of the law, at least for a while.

The one thing that everyone could agree on was that six months ago, Sirius Black had, through many eye-witnesses and his DNA found on the murder weapon, brutally murdered Peter Pettigrew, a fellow cop, in the back of a Knockturn Alley, a drug-breeding ground. 

The story was that Black had a change of heart, and had turned his back on the law, following in his family’s footsteps. He had been dabbling in drug distribution, and Peter had found out. It was believed that Black had gone mad after the death of his estranged, younger brother, Regulus, leading to his actions. Technically, there was no actual evidence found proving that Black had done anything illegal, well anything illegal other than the eventual murder.

Peter had notified the police force, but being a new, nervous rookie, he had wanted to prove himself. He had followed Black that day, and Black, trying to cover up his crimes from being discovered, had shot Pettigrew. 

Sirius had then been apprehended by his fellow officers, but Pettigrew, who had fled with a bullet wound was no where to be found. The Leuitenant, Barty Crouch, had later confirmed that Peter had been found dead. 

Remus didn’t care much for the details of how and when. Despite the homicide charges, Black, through his influential name, and many connections, had managed to get out on bail. This is where Remus had come in the picture, when five months ago, Sirius Black had not shown up to his court date. 

An extended search had been done, but Black had disappeared into thin air. He had taken a large sum of money and had fled, officially making him a fugitive.

Remus, a bounty hunter, had been contacted by a cop named James Potter, Black’s partner, to help hunt him down. For reasons, Remus didn’t want to ponder, Potter had promised to pay Remus a hefty fund to find Black before the FBI did, 

Remus personally did not really care for the details. He was here for the check and the check alone. Well, before atleast. Now he thought mournfully of the money he would never get, based the ways events were unfolding. 

“Remus?” rang out a voice from behind him. 

Remus spun in his seat to see a short, chubby man with a receding auburn hair line. Mentally matching him with the profile in his head, he nodded. 

Gesturing for Arthur to take a seat, Remus fixed the collar of his black trench coat and raked back his brown hair, scanning the bar one more time for any eavesdroppers. 

“Thank you again Arthur, for reaching out. Any information you share, small or big, will be very helpful.” 

Arthur simply fidgeted in his seat, looking down at his lap.

Remus, mentally sighed, before softening his voice more, “I understand you’re nervous but I’m not a cop. I’m not going to arrest you, Arthur, I’m paying you, remember?”

At the mention of money, the cost Remus would have to pay for Arthur’s words, the shabbily dressed man looked up with resolve in his gaze. 

Taking a look around the bar, like a ghost would jump out from the corner, Arthur began telling Remus what he knew.

Arthur was an, alleged, member of the Death Eaters, the most notorious gang in the city of Gryffindor.

Perhaps through a final attempt of honour and honesty, Arthur had reached out to Remus, revealing a different tale to Remus, one that the Daily Prophet, had not been telling.

__ 

Hours later, Remus felt drained, staring blankly at the dirty bar counter, long after Arthur had scurried off into the night. The knowledge that Arthur had confirmed sat heavy on his chest. 

He tightened his coat around him as the cold, night hit him when he walked out the bar. Despite the late hour, the city was mostly silent around him. Even the partygoers of Gryffindor knew to not stay out too late. You never knew who would find you. 

Remus, still and stealthy in the night, cut through the side streets, one hand firmly around a sleek, black gun, under his coat. 

Pausing in the corner of an alley, as a patrolling officer passed by, Remus glanced up at the night sky. Despite the smog that covered downtown, Remus glanced to where he knew he would otherwise see the bright, constellation Regulus, and felt emotion bubbling in his throat. 

Shaking himself out of it, he stepped back out on the street and slinked around the block. 

He only relaxed and released the gun, firmly hiding it’s shape from sight, when he stepped into his apartment complex. 

It took him a few minutes to find his key in his messy pocket, but he quietly inserted it, swinging open the door of his apartment, and immediately turning around and re-locking the three locks on the door. Throwing the keys into the bowl beside the door, he kicked off his shoes, and stepped into the kitchen, not bothering to flip the light on. 

Moonlight filled the apartment from the now slightly open blinds, that Remus swore he had fully closed before leaving. 

He busied himself looking for a snack in the cupboards, humming quietly under his breath.

Remus stilled when he heard a noise from behind him , and before he could blink, someone had wrapped themselves around him.

Remus gasped before he smiled, relaxing into the hold. 

Sirius’s arms wrapped themselves around Remus’s waist and Remus leaned back into his broad and warm chest. He sighed happily as Sirius placed his chin on the top of Remus’s head. 

Taking a minute to breathe in the man’s comforting scent, Remus spoke, “I thought I told you you to not open the blinds. Anyone could see you!”

Sirius let out a laugh, “Someone is going to see me in the dark room, in the middle of the night, on the sixth floor, through the barely open blinds?”

Remus huffed, “Siriu-“

Sirius simply tightened his hold on Remus, nudging him for a kiss. At the last moment, Remus turned his head so that Sirius’s lips met his cheek instead.

Sirius sighed before murmering, “Ok, I’m sorry, my love. I’ll be more careful. I'm just-, I'm getting a bit antsy in here.” 

This time when Sirius leaned down for a kiss, Remus happily obliged. 

He pushed out the thoughts of his troubling conversation out of his mind. That was something for tomorrow, tonight was just for them. 

___

This idea would not leave me alone until I wrote it. I'm not sure if I intend to write more or leave this as a oneshot. Let me know what you prefer!

I was reading a happy lil muggle fic with a cute wolfstar romance and then realized that there was no happy ending and Remus and Sirius have been dead for over 23 years. They’ve been gone for a very long time. 

Fun stuff

Henry: I feel so comforted knowing that my ancestors are looking up at me from beyond.

Alex: Um, don’t you mean looking down at you?

Henry: no, they sucked

Draco Malfoy’s Instagram

Domestic Wolfstar Post-War

-a small cottage with a messy front lawn from too many Weasleys and Potter children visiting.

- a quaint backyard with perfectly grown fruits that Sirius plucks after a full moon to make warm tomato soup for Remus.

- chipped floral china filled with a different flavour tea each morning made by Remus, delivered each morning to Sirius who still lays in bed, messy hair sprayed over soft cotton pillows.

 - an old leather couch beaten from too many nights where Remus and Sirius lay close, hands clasped, under one wool blanket, and a muggle movie on.

- a bookshelf that cover floor to wall, filled with mystery crime novels bought by Sirius for Remus to enjoy.

- a small bench overlaid with thick ivy where Remus reads aloud and Padfoot lays with head in his lap, just listening. Just listening to the sounds of being alive and here and now and in love.

- cold rainy days where they stay in bed, drowning in warmth from the crackling fire in the corner of the cozy room, that eases their weary bones. 

- fresh flowers on the window sill each morning that Sirius brings when he comes from his daily morning walk. Roses, and daffodils, and Cornelias. And sometimes Lilies as well.

- sweet smelling candles on the dinner table, lit every night when they enjoy home cooked meals.

- cooking together in their small kitchen, constantly bumping into each other and laughing each time. Wearing matching aprons bought by Harry and over stirring the stew and eating all the batter before it goes in the pan.

- sitting on the front steps each night, just looking at the stars, fully in love.

- countless photo albums filled with birthday parties and Christmases, and New Years, and summers, and dinner parties, and weddings and joy and love because they’re here, and healing, and happy.

- because they’re alive.

Sirius is tall in canon.

That’s it. That’s the post.