— 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.
Despite James' repeated and insistent invitations for you and Remus to spend the holidays with him and Sirius at his house, you reluctantly declined his offer to take some time for yourself to get your bearings and simply recover from the loss of your home. You didn't want to intrude on a last-minute appearance, but more importantly, the thought of seeing James and his family enjoying themselves when you and Remus could've had the same just adds to the void in your already deeply carved heart.
Remus, of course, left you no room for discussion when he decided he wasn't leaving your side to spend Christmas alone. You couldn't help but feel bad for making him miss out on celebrating with his friends, but you were grateful for his presence all the same.
Remus chuckles, the beautiful sound reverberating through your body and down to your toes. "You're right. Hearing Pads and Prongs singing at the top of their lungs and drinking off their arses for two weeks would be a death sentence."
"Certainly dodged that one," You say with a smile, bringing the glass to your lips then offering the rest to him.
He eyes the liquid amber twirling in his hand. "You know, now that Snape's expelled, Prongs has pretty much given up trying to convince us to play on the younger students."
"Never thought I'd see James bored out of his wits in this lifetime."
"I noticed he's been spending quite some time with Lily, too." He looks up at you with a cheeky grin. "I think she's finally warming up to the ruddy 'ol git."
"I think so, too." You nod, smiling to yourself as you wrap the blanket closer around you. "Lily gave him a pair of hand knitted socks with a snitch and broomsticks on it as a Christmas present."
"And she got his badly written love poem in exchange," Remus adds.
"It was an effort," You say, giving James the benefit of the doubt. You could tell James was trying, but he obviously needed to double down on the work of his grand gestures when his feelings were on open display for anyone to notice.
"Before you know it, they start dating, get married and have kids."
You blink in surprise, almost choking on your words. "Sweet Merlin, James Potter a father? I'll be damned if I see the day." Despite the awkward lingering atmosphere that settled on both of you at the mention of the subject, you nervously laugh.
"Do you think..." Remus trails off, looking away to avoid your gaze. "Do you think you'd ever want to have kids?" he pauses with a brief hesitation. "Considering, y'know."
Considering that you're Maledictus. You gulp, taking a moment to gather yourself, to desperately search for an answer to such a weighted question. But in truth, the answer was simple. It should be obvious. The answer has been right in front of you since the day you found out about your affliction.
"And risk the fifty-fifty chance of passing down my daughter this curse?" You let out a bitter laugh, feeling the burn at the back of your throat.
"But you still could—"
You turn back to face the flames, remembering a time when you believed a normal life was possible in the future. You let out a heavy sigh and shake your head. "No, that dream was long gone before I even had a chance to actually think about it. I don't want a child of mine carrying this century old burden," You eventually say, giving a proper answer. "It's... it's alright, though. There's so much else I want to do before permanently becoming a swan. And becoming a mother would only get in the way of it."
It takes him a moment to consider your words before he nods in understanding. "That's one way of seeing it."
You'd never considered the prospect of having a future with Remus or Sirius. You were so caught up in the jumble of your feelings for both of them that you didn't see what could happen if you started dating. Is it possible that a relationship with them will last long enough to lead to marriage? To have children at all?
No, having children was out of the question.
And all of a sudden, you're blinking away tears that you hadn't realised were forming around your eyes.
You clear your throat, desperate to redirect the subject onto him. "What about you? Do you hear pups howling in the future?" You quickly shove down the sudden harsh squeeze around your heart at the thought of Remus having children with another person.
He momentarily opens his mouth to answer until he clamps it back shut. He stares at the plush carpet below him, and you could visibly see the gears turning in his head as he processes his answer. "I—Well, no one's ever heard of such a thing as inheriting lycanthropy," he finally says, mindlessly pulling at a loose thread between his fingers, "but I am scared of that possibility."
No one knows if lycanthropy can be passed down in more ways than just a bite. There hasn't been any studies or references of it in the library being hereditary. But you understand his worry in line with yours.
It was disheartening to know that neither of you can leave a mark of your existence save for only footprints on a barren forest floor, but even then, over time, those too vanish without a trace.
You have no choice but to admit that fact. That one cruel and unforgiving truth.
"And I'm sure we could speak for Sirius when I say that he'd be absolutely terrified of ending up like his father," You say hoarsely, scooching closer to Remus and propping your head on his shoulder. "He wouldn't hesitate buying a ticket out of this country just to avoid the responsibility."
"After all, the bloody bastard grew up in a shite household. I'd be scared of becoming my own father too if I was him," Remus admittedly adds, wrapping an arm behind you, his hand settling at your waist.
He takes a brief pause before looking down at you with tenderness in his gaze.
Your heart skips a beat when you see him staring at you adoringly. "What is it?"
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth when he softly says, "I just think you'd make a great mother."
"I guess we'll never find out," You say coolly, shrugging as you try not to make a big deal out of a compliment that would only render useless in the future.
He chuckles, reaching out to refill the glass with his other hand until he raises it in front of the both of you. "To no children then," he declares, taking a sip then handing it to you.
You take it from him, imitating the gesture. "To no children and to being the cool godparents." You drink, throwing your head back to finish it in one swallow.
About three hours into the start of Christmas day, and more than halfway through finishing the bottle of Firewhisky, you and Remus not once made a move to return to your respective dorm rooms. The two of you go on wondering what the both of you wanted to do after Hogwarts, seeing as you only had a year left before leaving.
When werewolves are usually viewed with fear and disgust by wizarding society, Remus was unsure of himself. People tend to believe that werewolves still pose a threat even in human form. There were just too many prejudice and discrimination to his kind, because of it, it presented very limited opportunities to work.
Before you could reassure and promise that things will be alright, he quickly redirects the question to you, clearly wanting to steer clear of the imminent future ahead of him. You manage to say that you wished to be a potioneer. Whether it be a professional brewer, studying or inventing potions, or teaching, you wanted to be surrounded by ingredients. To collect, gather and just make things happen that no spell could with your hands.
Remus listens attentively to you enthusiastically talking about your ambitions, commenting here and there how you'd definitely excel at it, how he'd encourage and support all your endeavors, how he was half willing to participate in your trial experiments. Eventually, he sprawls himself out on the floor with his head resting on your lap, content to keep the other company and refusing to leave each other's side.
As he twirls a strand of your hair between his fingertips, you notice Remus has gone silent for a time. Something was worrying him, judging by the way he was holding his breath and pondering whether or not to speak his thoughts.
When you ask him what's wrong, his voice is low when he finally speaks, "I don't know if it's the alcohol talking or my feelings for you or just me taking advantage of the whole situation while Padfoot isn't here," he pauses, "but can I be honest?"
"Of course. Always, Remus."
Remus lets go of your hair, turning his body to the side so he could bury his face in your stomach and wrap his arms around your waist.
"I understand that loving you means accepting the fact that I won't have your whole heart, at least not yet. And that stings a little. But at the same time," he pauses, "picturing you with Pads doesn't bother me." His muffled voice vibrates through the fabric onto your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Maybe it did at first, but there's something different about it now. I'm well aware of his poor track record, but I also understand that he's better when he's with you."
And then you're back in the Hospital wing, replaying their conversation, their burning debate on who was the better man for you.
You hold on to your breath, waiting for him to go on. Remus lets out a breath, tilting his head just slightly to meet your gaze above him. "But, on the other hand, I know that I am, too."
You knew at some point the issue needed to be addressed, but was it really necessary to do it during the peak of the holidays? No. It is. You have to say it out loud for them. Sirius and Remus have been struggling with their own feelings just as much as you have.
A shuddering sigh escapes you as your fingers slowly lace through the softness of his hair. "I know you are. Both of you are. Remus, as much as I love being with you, love what we've built together," You pause hesitantly, swallowing thickly. "I also can't stop liking Sirius."
His eyes flutter shut, savoring the sensation of your touch on his scalp but also bracing himself to ask the question he wasn't entirely eager to hear the answer to. "Have you thought about answering him? I know he asked you to be his girlfriend."
"How'd you—" You blink, your hand briefly pausing its movements.
Remus' unblinking, searching gaze, waiting patiently for your response as if expecting the worst, catches you off guard before you can wonder how he came around to hearing about it. And suddenly, you feel conscious under his watchful eye. You turn to look back at the fireplace, watching the trail of sparks emanating from the fire as you resume stroking your fingers through his hair.
"No, I don't have an answer to give him, and I don't think I will," You finally hear yourself say. "I know it sounds absurd and completely selfish of me, but I'll never be able to choose between the two of you. And I have no desire to do so. Having to choose one of you is like taking a lung out of me. I might survive with one, but I'd be tied, restricted in my ability to live because I'd still be looking for the other half no matter what just so I can breathe the same."
Your eyes glisten as tears begin to pool once more as you turn to face him. You shift slightly in position, leaning over to bury your face in his hair to cover your embarrassment. The blanket rolls off your shoulders as your arms delicately wrapped around his head, fingers grasping on the strands of his hair for comfort.
"I know I'll always have feelings for you both, and it wouldn't be fair to end up with one while still loving the other," You murmur, feeling the heart slamming in your chest.
And all of a sudden, you begin to realise just how much your indecisive feelings have cost you and the strain on their already unlikely friendship. The guilt pouring from your chest for loving them both, the added burden of rivalry you've put on their shoulders because you can't choose between them.
They were complete opposites.
It should be easy.
But it wasn't. You didn't want to pick a path, didn't want to walk down just one road, you didn't even want to be on this stupid crossroads. It was beginning to be all too much.
You go on, whispering with much finality you can muster in your trembling voice, "So, please don't make me." You shake your head, pleading. "Please don't make me choose."
"I..." Remus starts, but the words never get past his throat.
Sirius was right.
What if she refuses to pick one of us, what happens then? What if she decides it's either both of us or none at all?
His lingering question was aimed straight, right and true at the target. It was either Sirius and Remus reach an agreement, or they'd be stuck in a continuous loop of battling doubt and triumphs for the position of your favorite person for the day, or they'd both have to give up entirely. Though, Remus is hoping he wouldn't have to make the latter happen. He realised he'd have to talk this through with Sirius when he returns.
The rules of the game had changed. Now that you've given Remus a clear answer. It all boils down to whether or not the two of them were capable and willing to share you in a three-way relationship.
Remus reaches out, blindly placing one hand on your cheek through your hair, silently urging you to look at him. You're surprised to see his eyes are gentle, filled with understanding when you lift your head.
"I won't." His thumb softly traces small circles on your skin when he whispers, "I promise."
And then his lips press against your forehead, a reassuring answer as relief washes over you. He takes his time trailing down your face to brush a tear away, to softly plant a kiss on your cheek, and then his mouth hovering over yours.
It was a featherlight touch. A tentative whisper of a kiss.
His lips barely touch, waiting and making no movement to completely kiss you. He's trying to hold it in together, but he's making it so that you could pull away if you want to. But you don't.
You study his face, his mouth, his deep green eyes, and suddenly your chest is filled to the brim. It feels as if the space around your heart and up to your throat is about to burst open. When Remus raises his other hand and slides it in place at your nape, it feels like his hold is the only thing that can keep you contained—that can save you.
When you don't make a move to pull away, he tilts his head, and his mouth is eagerly capturing yours. Your eyes flutter close, and then you're positioning yourself above him, straddling his hips with him fully lying on his back on the carpet floor all without breaking contact. His hand leaves your cheek and drifts down to settle on your thigh.
You melt into his warm body, around his arms as he breathes adoration into his lungs. Your palms flat on his chest, skimming the hard lines of his torso. And then, almost instinctively, he's rolling the erection in his pants between your legs. You let out a sharp breath, parting with his mouth for a brief moment before he's forcefully pushing the back of your nape to kiss you again. He makes a noise low in his throat in response, not wanting to break away from you for even a second.
Your bodies press up against each other. His tongue is searing, licking your bottom lip, swirling with desire deep in your mouth, tasting you as if it was the first time until you're dizzy and delirious. His hand leaves your nape, snaking down to your side to cup one of your breasts through your thin camisole top.
Remus' grip on your thigh tightens, nails digging in your soft skin.
"Merlin." His voice low and gruff as you feverishly grind him in return from above.
You could feel yourself getting wet. He could feel your cunt throbbing for him. Lightly putting pressure with his thumb, he slowly rubs circles over your breast at the same time that he continues to thrust his hips sharply into yours, and at the dual sensations, you throw your head back with a gasp before dropping into the crook of his neck.
"Did you ever imagine us as kids to this?" You whisper breathlessly, warm air against his skin.
The corners of Remus' mouth quirk up in a small smile as he kisses the side of your head. "For the longest time, the border between friends and anything else felt more like a wall to scale than a line to cross. But I think it was easier for us because we've done everything else."
"Well, I wouldn't say everything," You say, rolling your eyes as you raise your head until your noses are next to each other.
"I meant everything friendly. Of course, there are more..." he pauses, "intimate things to figure out. And I want to know you, completely... and for you to know me that way, too." He gives you a peck on the nose. "But I don't mind taking our time with that."
And you know he means it because his gaze tells you he's not in any hurry to move things forward even when his actions tell you otherwise. He wants to wait, take things at your own speed because he respects you, respects your need to be comfortable with him. Nevertheless, it makes your heart skip a beat while making your insides clench for him.
"What if I wanted to pick up the pace?" You say quietly, voice filling with desire and giddiness.
Remus freezes, his breath catching in his throat, eyes taking in all of you. "Are you sure you know what you're saying?"
The multitude of feelings he sees clashing in your eyes made him nervous in a way he's never been before. He's afraid that you'd immediately take it back, but he's just as equally terrified that you'd say yes.
In the grand scheme of things, this part of your relationship is relatively new, but everything about it feels like coming home again, coming home to him.
"Yes."
Mischief Managed
Get ready for a long spicy chapter! 🥰