Where All The Poets Go To Die || 𝖂𝖔𝖑𝖋𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗

Sirius and Remus always hold hands. Even as tiny first years, the Hogwarts castle feels a little less scary with their fingers laced together. When Sirius wants to show Remus something, he doesn’t poke his shoulder like he would with James; he grabs his hand and tugs him over. When Remus is reading in the library, sometimes he absentmindedly plays with Sirius’ fingers underneath the table. It stays like this for years, but then Sirius’ palms get clammy whenever they clasp their hands together, and Remus starts to miss the curve of his fingers when they’re apart. When the both figure it out, Sirius’ veins crawl with electricity as he slowly brings their intertwined hands up to his mouth, pressing a delicate kiss on Remus’ knuckles.

It’s the first kiss. But not the last.

My Love

Sirius Black called everyone love, it was just his thing.

No one was certain how or when it had started, but by the end of fourth year, it had become his thing.

When Peter would suggest a prank,

"We should hide dungbombs in the Slytherin common room—"

"Love, this isn't second year."

When Marlene would ask for advice,

"I just don't know why she's upset with me!"

"Have you even asked Dorcas?"

"...Well, no—"

"Marlene!"

"I thought you could ask her!"

"Love, I'm not a mind reader, ask her yourself!"

When he would plan parties with James,

"Don't ya think this is enough alcohol for one party, Pads?"

"Do you know who you're planning this party for? Gryffindors can drink, love."

When he would study with Lily,

"How do you get this so easy?"

"It's a natural gift, love—okay, fine, I looked at Remus' paper."

But there was one person Sirius found felt unnatural calling love, and that was Remus Lupin.

It wasn't that Remus would make a face, or squirm, or had ever said anything about it, but Sirius found it odd to say around the boy.

Perhaps it was the odd feeling he got around his friend, or the weird feeling he got when the word rolled off his tongue when he called Remus, love, but whatever it was, Sirius found himself getting flustered by saying the word.

He quickly realized why when Remus had ever said it one day to Sirius.

They had been studying for OWLs in the library when without looking up, Remus casually said,

"Can you pass that book, love?"

Sirius' head shot up and he felt his heart race as he fumbled with the book in his hand.

It was just a four letter word that he said to everyone, why was he so flustered when Remus said it back?

The more he thought about it, the more he realized his true feelings for the particular boy.

When he would say call everyone else love, sure he loved them—of course he loved his friends—but with Remus, it was because he was in love with him.

The more time he had spent analyzing his friendship with Remus, the more Sirius realized there were obvious signs that Remus felt the same way.

Remus would smile whenever he saw his friends in the hospital wing after a full moon, but he would smile the biggest once he saw Sirius.

When Sirius would be explaining something, Remus would stare at Sirius, carefully watching every way Sirius moved his hands in the air as though it helped him comprehend whatever Sirius was saying.

Remus would happily help Sirius whenever he needed it, even if he had already ranted about how much work he had.

Remus would loudly cheer Sirius on at each quidditch game and even the practices despite showing zero interest in the sport before.

Remus would smile and blush whenever Sirius would pass a note in transfiguration or whatever other class they sat beside each other in.

He would share almost everything of his with Sirius, even his secret chocolate stash.

It was all small things that Remus would do and once Sirius had finally picked up on them, he grinned at the thought of how he would subtly tell Remus he knew.

The idea was small and at first, Sirius wasn't certain if it had worked, but after three days, he knew it had when Remus pulled him aside on their way to charms.

"What's going on?"

"What are you talking about?"

Remus furrowed his brows.

"Sirius, c'mon. I know I'm not imagining it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, my love."

Remus' eyes widened as he pointed at Sirius with his finger.

"There it is! You just said it!"

Sirius smirked and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Why do you keep saying that?" Remus continued.

Sirius shrugged, "Because I can."

"You're referring to me as 'my love' because you can?" Remus slowly said, the faintest blush forming on his cheeks.

Sirius shrugged again and tried to act as though none of this bothered him when in reality, his heart was pounding from his chest. "And because I love you."

Sirius watched as the blush on Remus' face darkened until his entire face was crimson.

"S'what are you gonna do about it?" Sirius boldly asked above the ringing in his ears.

There was a smirk on Remus' face as he ever so slightly shook his head.

In one motion, Remus brought his bag from his shoulder to the floor, swiftly cupped Sirius' face, and brought their lips together.

From then on, Sirius had an actual reason to refer to Remus as my love, and naturally, he said it whenever he could.

It continued even after they had finished Hogwarts and for years, it was the only way he would refer to Remus.

It was his thing and it became useful and not just endearing in the midst of the war.

On the night of October 31st, 1981, Sirius was on their doorstep, banging on the door with a bundle of blankets in his arms.

When Remus finally opened the door, his eyes widened.

"Sirius—"

"Remus, I-I can explain—What are you doing?" He cut himself off as Remus had backed further into their flat and almost shut the door.

"You called me by my name. You haven't called me that—"

"Since the end of fifth year when I told you I loved you, now will you please let me in, my love?" Sirius rushed.

In one night, they had not only lost their best friends, but they became parents to their Godson.

As the years passed, the only way Sirius would address Remus would be with those two words.

My love.

And if it wasn’t my love, then it was darling, sweetheart, Moons, but it was almost always my love.

After a particular bad moon, Remus was confined to their bed while Sirius did his best to keep Harry away from Uncle Moony, but that was easier said than done when raising a five year old.

Eventually, Sirius gave up in trying to keep Harry away from Remus when the boy ever suggested cuddles in bed. It wasn’t as though Sirius could refuse cuddling, especially if it was with his two favorite people in the world.

He sighed and Harry reached for his hand and dragged his Uncle Padfoot to the closed bedroom door.

Sirius quickly pulled Harry to his hip as he fumbled with the child lock on the door and as soon as the door opened to reveal a bandaged up Remus, Harry squirmed in Sirius’ arms.

His heart had seemed to swell as he watched Harry run to the bed and bring himself under the covers, curling up to Remus’ side with a concerned look on his face. He followed the boy and climbed in the bed, leaving Harry in the middle, and slowly brought his hand through Remus’ curls.

He watched as Remus had begun to wake, his brown eyes slowly opening and he tried to force a smile once he saw Sirius looking down at him.

“‘m sorry, my love, but someone insisted on cuddling Uncle Moony.” Sirius whispered as Harry carefully snuggled up into Remus’ chest.

Remus smiled and gently kissed the top of Harry’s head.

“Are you okay?” Harry quietly asked, the words mumbled against Remus’ chest.

“I will be. With you and Uncle Padfoot, I’ll be better before you know it.” Remus softly assured, his voice still raspy. His eyes began to droop as he slowly pulled an arm around Harry.

“Cuddles can make anything better, my love.” The small voice said and suddenly both of the adults were wide eyed.

“Harry, what did you just call Uncle Moony?” Sirius softly asked.

Harry pulled himself away from Remus’ chest and turned to look up at his godfathers.

“His name.” He simply said then turned to directly address Remus. “I mean that is what Uncle Padfoot calls you, right?”

Remus immediately turned his head to Sirius, both of their eyes filling with tears.

They both kissed the top of Harry’s head and if the boy was confused, he didn’t mention it—though random head kisses were normal in the Black-Lupin-Potter household.

When they pulled away, their tear filled eyes met again as Sirius quickly reached over Harry and gently cupped his partner’s face before softly bringing their lips together.

“Don’t ever stop saying it.” Remus whispered against Sirius’ lips.

“For you, my love, of course.” Sirius whispered as he pulled away with a smile on his lips and happy tears streaming down his cheeks.

Me: :(

*Ben Barnes talking on instagram live about being the fancast of Sirius Black*

Me: :')

Dmm just thinking about how exile by Taylor Swift are Sirius and Remus most inner thoughts/feelings, when Sirius was in Azkaban after thinking Remus was the spy. 😓✋

The exact moment when Sirius realized that he would live for Remus. Moony and Padfoot on my parents’ house near the lake. - James Potter. 16. Winter.

i face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. — r.a.b.

Sirius (to Remus): You taught me that a man can rule his emotions, but i can't. I can't help, that i love you more than i've loved anything in my entire life.

Oh, my Wolfstar heart. <3

remus lupin: ‘astronomy’ sketch practice

ib: neimi kanani on pinterest

drawn by me <3

Remus Lupin Reading Headcanons

We’ve got the obligatory classics: Wuthering Heights, The Picture of Dorian Gray, at least one Shakespeare (Twelfth Night is there, I get a vibe, no I will not elaborate) and a fair bit of Austen (though he prefers the Brontë sisters).

These are the books that he’s been gifted, and there are some really nice copies from friends that would have cost a lot.

He has books on Egyptian history: Library of Alexandria, the many Pharaohs, massive books on specific Gods, gruesome books about the embalming technique (you can bet for at least a year Remus would threaten to embalm people like the Egyptians and they were half scared he would)

There are so many old poetry books he picked up for 50p in charity shops and second hand bookstores (but not the fancy ones, because who can afford that?), with all his annotations in. 

These annotations range from detailed analysis of the use of iambic pentameter to little notes just saying ‘savage’. 

And of course he uses random notations nobody else can understand, because it’s faster to write. 

He’s also got loads of travel books

Half the ones aren’t even for places he wants to go, but he saw the book and had to get it, because that’s what he does

He’ll flick through it, make note of the most interesting places, and then keep it on his bookshelf forever (f o r e v e r)

He never throws books away

He’ll lend them out to his friends, lose them and then forget they exist, put them in his bag and then just leave them at the bottom next to old papers, make nonsensical piles of books all over the dormitory which he’ll never touch, and so many other things

But he will never, ever, ever get rid of any of his books. 

He also never buys books new

They’re too expensive (especially in hardback) and he likes the character of a book with pages falling out and marks from previous owners (although usually it’s just food stains rather than witty notes)

He’s also got a weird system about books that nobody except him understands (people genuinely think that he’s making up half his rules when they borrow his books)

Like, he folds the pages and writes in the books in pencil, but if anyone dares bring a pen or highlighter near his books there’s a chance they’ll be murdered brutally

And you can read books in the bath/shower (since water dries) but you can’t eat messy food with books (because tomato sauce stains don’t wash out)

If the cover starts peeling off naturally (it happens, especially when you throw books at people, which he does) then it’s fine, but if someone defaces the cover (or just rips it) then, again, prepare for death

And then between the poetry and travel books we have trashy novels

And these are the kind of things that he’ll read when he’s too tired to think properly

He doesn’t read them for the intellectual stimulation, just for enjoyment, but as soon as anyone starts slagging people off for exclusively reading these kinds of books, he’ll fight them

He’s against book shaming (as we all should be) and will slap a bitch to defend someone’s reading honour (is that a thing? we’re going with it)

Anyway, after the one-time-read novels, we have the notebooks

He keeps notebooks on his bookshelf, because that way he can at least find them

(Except his journal and poetry notebooks, which he hides)

He’s got notebooks for language learning, since I firmly believe he’s a linguistic superstar, and they have his notes and practice sentences

And then there are just filled up notebooks, where he’s written to-do lists and played games of hangman

Of course, he doesn’t throw these away either, and he has quite a collection building up

In fact, he has so many books in general that they’re everywhere

We’re talking a completely filled bookshelf, a pile of books next to his bed, a pile for his To Be Read Soon books, a pile for his I Swear I’ll Read Them Eventually books, a pile for his I Need To Read Them Again books, a pile for the books he wants to lend to people but keeps forgetting, a pile for the books that he wants to find a specific quote or paragraph in, a pile for his books that he has yet to sort, and a pile for the books that he just throws down as soon as he walks in the room

He has a reputable library building

And this kind of irritates other people, because they can’t walk around without tripping over a pile of books, but they don’t mind too much because he’s just so passionate about them that they feel bad complaining

And anyway, when they eventually mention that they’re in a bit of a reading slump, he’ll immediately run off and come back with five or six books that they’d like

When they thank him he’ll just mumble and walk off, but he actually loves choosing books for people

And when they come back to him and say that they thought the book was amazing, he basically dies

He considers being a librarian for a bit, but then he realises he’d also have to deal with the defaced books, so decides against it

He’s still known as the informal librarian, anyway, and people always respect his book rules, so he doesn’t have to kill anyone for ruining the front covers or highlighting sections

Sometimes people will give him more books as thank you gifts for recommending them all books, and it’s genuinely the biggest compliment he could be given.

Some cozy boys in the common room ❤️

Reference image from my favorite wolfstar cosplayers, Jack-o-dandy and Robin