𝐒𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 ♡ 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ♡ 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧
【 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 】Suggestive and explicit sexual themes, and mild offensive language. This is a Poly/Ménage story. Reader ends up with 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 characters.
Two halves of a full mo...
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— 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟔
It's Christmas.
A day for celebration, a day to surround yourself with family, to pass and hear untold stories and exchange heartfelt gifts around the carefree table. You think back to your last Christmas celebration with the Lupins when everything had yet to fall apart: Lyall playing a soulful sound on the piano as you help set and prepare the table with Tibly; Hope's mouth watering roast turkey at the center of it, lined with boiled potatoes and buttered peas; Remus' gentle voice reciting his favorite line from one of his many purchased poetry books.
If it hadn't been for the gift crushing weight of reality in the form of your late foster mother's body and a disintegrated childhood home, everything would have remained the same this year. But here you are, a year later, sitting on the carpeted floor of the dim quiet common room in the Gryffindor tower with nothing to keep you company but the soft snoozing of the portraits and a thick plush blanket over your shoulders. Your knees tucked to your chest as you watch the gentle blaze of fire softly crackle a few feet in front of you from the floor.
It's well past midnight when you continue to wait for Remus to return from his prefect duties — the night on Christmas Eve where he's needed to mingle with the professors in the Great Hall along with the few other students that remained behind for the holidays.
"Care for one?" You hear Remus over your shoulder.
With a bottle of Firewhisky and a glass in hand, Remus places his school robes on the back of the couch and walks over to you. He spreads the items out on the floor in front of you and undoes a few buttons of his dress shirt to loosen the knot in his tie. He bends a knee and props an elbow on it as he settles on the floor beside you, giving you the half-filled glass.
You raise an eyebrow, taking the cup to cradle it in your hands as you take a small sip and make a face. "Firewhisky instead of eggnog for Christmas?" You ask, offering it back to him.
He shrugs, drinking what's left of it in one swig before setting it beside the bottle. "That's what all Padfoot left behind. I guess he figured we'd be needing this more than him. Unless you'd rather I run down to the kitchens and fetch us something else?"
You give him a small reassuring smile, shaking your head. "No, Firewhisky would be perfect."
"It feels weird, huh? Spending Christmas here." He leans back on the cushion of the couch behind him. His tired emerald eyes stare heavenward when he sighs, "First time for everything, I suppose."
You silently watch him, suddenly aware of your shoulders brushing each other.
"There are worse places to celebrate the holidays," You say, grabbing the bottle to refill the glass.
