Chapter Text
✯ Round 1 ✯
Remus feels like he’s going to be sick.
Since his job at the Daily Prophet reassigned him last minute to cover one of their sports journalists almost exactly four years ago, he’s grown to love the sport he once only followed very loosely as more than just a fan and a spectator, but as someone who pays close attention to every maneuver and pass of the quaffle. There’s something about actually having to pay attention to team dynamics and each of the players’ strengths and weaknesses that Remus quickly became addicted to. Over the years since then, he’s become a backup of sorts when they need someone to fill in at the last minute for a match. Until now.
When his boss had pulled him aside a few weeks ago and handed him a new contract, the first words out of Remus’ mouth were, “Are you serious?”
“Is that a yes?” Kingsley, his boss and chief journalist at the Daily Prophet, had said from behind his desk, clearly trying to hide his own smile.
“Yes! One hundred percent. Thank you. I won’t disappoint you, sir.”
“I know you won’t. Now get out of here,” he’d said with a laugh, waving Remus away.
He knows it’s ridiculous to be feeling so nervous about something he’s done dozens of times before, but in the past there’s always been the fallback of him just being a fill-in. If his interviews or his articles were terrible, it could be brushed off because he’s a book critic and lifestyle journalist, not a sports journalist, he was just filling in. But now? This is his full time job. When his articles are published, it will say sports journalist in the byline, not just journalist. And that small difference has his insides in knots as he waits beside the pitch before the first match of the season between Puddlemere United and the Appleby Arrows, his media pass hanging from a lanyard around his neck.
Just when he’s thinking about what his nearest exit is if he does need to run off to a bathroom to be sick, the door in front of him opens and the Puddlemere team begin to file in. Remus has done this enough times to know how it works; one person from the team will come over to chat to the press while the rest of them continue with their pre-match warm ups and rituals; quidditch players are a surprisingly superstitious bunch. It’s always a lucky dip of who is going to be the chosen player, Remus has often wondered whether the team draw straws before leaving their change rooms.
Today, the lucky – or unlucky, if Remus’ drawing straws theory is true – player is Regulus Black.
“Regulus, hi. First match of the season, how are you feeling?”
“Feeling good. The break is always nice, but there’s no feeling quite like getting back out on the pitch so I’m excited to be back.”
“How has the team been shaping up in training? You have a couple new recruits this year, which I imagine shakes up the team dynamics?”
“Training has been good. It’s always a bit of an adjustment when you have new people join the team, though less so for me as seeker. But as seeker, I feel like I have quite the unique opportunity to be able to observe the team a little more during play. It’s been great to see how they’ve fit themselves in and I think we’re in a really good position this year.”
“You made it to quarter finals last season, any predictions on where you think you’ll end up this season?”
“I mean, obviously we’re gunning for the top and I think we’ve got the skill and determination to get there. But we’ll just have to wait and see what the other teams bring this season.”
“Thanks, Regulus. Best of luck out there today,” Remus says with a smile, Regulus giving him a nod and a smile before rejoining his team.
Remus is packing away his quick-quotes quill and about to head up to the media box when he sees someone approach in his periphery. When he glances up, his eyes meet grey.
“Remus, yeah?”
“Yeah, Remus Lupin. With the Prophet,” he replies, hoping he doesn’t look too gobsmacked that Sirius Black, quidditch heartthrob and one of Puddlemere’s beaters, remembers his name.
He’s interviewed Sirius a handful of times over the last couple of years and he’s always been very friendly, very charismatic, and of course, very beautiful. His hair is usually tied up for matches and today is no different, his waves pulled up into a bun, a few stray strands tucked behind his ears. His navy robes are pristine, two crossed reeds standing out against his chest in gold embroidery. It’s one of the better looking uniforms in the league, in Remus’ opinion. And that’s not just because it’s Sirius wearing it; though if he’s being totally honest, he thinks Sirius could pull off even the ghastly red and green stripes of the Caerphilly Catapults.
“I remember,” Sirius says, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. “You’ve filled in a few times for Dorcas, yeah?
Dorcas is one of the other sports journalists at the Prophet, covering the Tornadoes and Wasps game tonight.
“Yeah, I have. Though I’ve been moved to sports full time, so I’ll be around a lot more this season,” Remus says
“Oh, that’s great. Congrats,” Sirius says, before gesturing to his team behind him and adding, “I should probably…”
“Of course. Good luck!”
“Thanks Remus,” he says with a grin and a nod, before turning on his heel and rejoining his team, swinging his beater bat a couple times before resting it on his shoulder as their captain, Frank Longbottom, starts his pre-match pep talk.
It’s a long walk up to the media box, but it’s always worth it when he gets to see the view. He remembers the first match that he covered, stepping into the media box and not being able to stop the way his jaw dropped at the sight of the pitch spread out before him. It’s not a sight that Remus thinks he’ll ever get totally used to, his breath taken away a little each time, but at least he’s able to keep his mouth closed now.
“Hey Pete,” Remus says, clapping his friend on the shoulder as he joins him, sitting down in the armchair beside him.
“Remus! Congrats on the full time gig, Dorcas told me!” Peter says, looking up from where he’s fiddling with settings on his camera to give him a smile.
“Thanks mate. Who would have thought, hey?” Remus says with a laugh, thinking back to the first match he covered, confessing to newly appointed sports photographer Peter that he was certain he was going to royally fuck up the whole thing and be fired. “Good summer?”
The room steadily fills around them as they catch up, Peter telling him about his trip to North America which sounds much more exciting than Remus’ trip back home to Wales to spend time with his parents.
Soon enough, the crowd erupts into a chorus of cheers as the commentator’s voice fills the stadium.
“Welcome to the first match of the 2024–25 season of the British and Irish Quidditch League Cup!”
—
Remus has just finished interviewing Frank, recapping their first win of the season, when his eyes catch on Regulus and Sirius stepping away from their team’s celebrations to run over to the edge of the pitch.
Standing on the sidelines is a man Remus immediately recognises as James Potter, Regulus’ husband, an adorable toddler perched on his shoulders. James captures Regulus’ lips in a kiss before squatting down so that the boy is at eye level with Regulus, giggling as Regulus kisses his cheeks. The boy’s attention is soon captured when his eyes land on Sirius, squealing in delight as he reaches towards him with grabby hands. Remus watches fondly as Sirius reaches up to take the boy off James’ shoulders, spinning him around a couple of times before settling him on Sirius’ back, little arms tight around his neck.
Sirius begins the walk back to the change rooms, hands holding onto the boy's feet while the little hands grip his hair, Regulus following behind them tucked into his husband’s side, an arm around his shoulders.
As they walk by him, Remus calls out, “Congrats on the win! It was a great game.”
Eyes lighting up, Sirius responds, “Thanks. See you next week?”
Smiling, Remus says, “Yeah, see you next week.”
—
By Sunday night, Remus is exhausted, but he has never been happier.
After the Puddlemere and Arrows match on Thursday night, he covered the Wanderers and Falcons match on Saturday afternoon, and the final match of the round between the Catapults and Cannons this evening. When he wasn’t attending one of the matches, he was hunched over his computer writing.
He’s drunk two cups of tea and eaten a couple of chocolate chip cookies by the time he finishes writing the weekend’s recaps, submitting them to his editor before opening Twitter and typing out a post.
@rjlupin
Pretty stoked to be back out on the pitch this weekend. Catch my post-match recaps over at @TheDailyProphet for a rapid fire summary of all the action (plus a few well placed quidditch puns, of course)
Remus attaches a photo he took of his media pass, Remus Lupin – Daily Prophet written clearly across the front with the bright lights of the quidditch pitch visible in the background, before posting. He doesn’t have a huge following online, but he’s definitely gained a few more followers since working at the Prophet, and imagines that he might get a few more now that he’s found his niche; consistent quidditch posts are decidedly more appealing to fans of the sport than the mismatch of various topics he’s written about in the past.
Going about his evening as normal, Remus is surprised to find the slew of notifications filling his home screen when he checks his phone barely an hour later. He’s sure his eyes must be popping out of their sockets when he opens Twitter to find over 300 new followers. In an hour?! Scrolling further back in his notifications, his eyes catch on a notification from 43 minutes ago.
@siriusblack
@rjlupin glad to have you on board, Lupin!
That would explain it.
Remus tries to hold back the smile threatening to take over his lips but is unsuccessful, a wide grin on his face as he likes Sirius’ reply.
✯ Round 2 ✯
The crowds were electric at Puddlemere Stadium this week, where Puddlemere United welcomed Isle Of Skye’s Pride of Portree to their home ground for an exciting clash of blue and purple in the skies. The match started out with an impressive goal in the first three minutes by Portree’s seeker, Dougal McBride, though their lead was short-lived, with Puddlemere’s trio of chasers—
“Why did I have to go with the funny angle last week?” Remus groans, leaning over to rest his forehead on his desk. “I’m not even a funny guy.”
“Maybe not, but you killed the funny angle. Who knew people liked puns so much?” Dorcas says from her cubicle opposite him.
“But that was week one, how am I supposed to recreate that for the rest of the season? I don’t even know any more quidditch puns.”
Dorcas’ head pokes up over the wall between their desks, resting her arms over the ledge as she says, “I’m sure we can come up with some more. What were the ones you used last week?”
“He’s a keeper,” Remus rattles off from memory.
“A classic. Next.”
“But there’s only broom for one team at the top of the ladder.”
“Ha, good one.”
“What a load of quaffle.”
“And you say you’re not a funny guy,” she laughs. “Okay, how about – hm, payback’s a snitch.”
Remus laughs out loud at that, “Oh, that’s really good, actually. Doesn’t work for this week, but I’m definitely keeping that in my repertoire for later.”
“Which match are you writing up?” Dorcas asks, peering over Remus’ work to try to catch a glimpse of team names.
“Thursday’s. Puddlemere versus Pride of Portree.”
“I’ve got it, I’ve got it!” Clearing her throat, she says with a grin, “Pride of Portree? More like Pride of Portkey with the way their goal scoring disappeared after the first half.”
He snorts, “Scale of one to ten, how likely I’d get fired if I printed that?”
“Mm, fifty-fifty I’d say. Probably too high a risk, even for an excellent pun, if I do say so myself.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he sighs. “Back to the drawing board.”
—
@siriusblack
“One thing is for certain, Sirius Black definitely isn’t bludging his way through this season if the first two rounds are anything to go by.” Such kind words from @rjlupin I’m blushing
@drcsmdws
@siriusblack it was the bludger pun that did it, wasn’t it?
@siriusblack
@drcsmdws alert the press that the way to a man’s heart is no longer through his stomach, but through quidditch puns
@drcsmdws
@TheDailyProphet please update your records accordingly. Two weeks in the job and you’re already changing history @rjlupin
@rjlupin
@drcsmdws my parents will be so glad to know that my journalism degree is being put to good use
@siriusblack
@rjlupin I’m sure Mr and Mrs Lupin must be very proud
@rjlupin
@siriusblack next time I’m home I’ll check to see whether they’ve framed my puns beside my baby photos
@drcsmdws
@rjlupin I request photo proof of either outcome please
@rjlupin
@drcsmdws the day I post baby photos of myself on the internet, you can assume I’ve been hacked
@drcsmdws
@rjlupin I’ve never been more disappointed that you’re an only child
✯ Round 3 ✯
“What an incredible win for Puddlemere today. And what a catch from Puddlemere seeker, Regulus Black!” the commentator calls over the loudspeaker. “Oh – he’s coming right this way. Regulus, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
The crowd are all laughing as the cameras pan to where Regulus has flown right up to the commentator’s box, holding his hand out for the microphone. Shrugging, the commentator turns the microphone out towards the pitch, where Regulus leans in and begins talking.
“Hi, London. Thanks for a stunning turn out tonight. Before you head home, I just had a bit of a request,” he says, smirk on his face. “Today happens to be someone’s birthday, and I wondered whether you might be willing to help me sing happy birthday to my dearest older brother, Sirius?”
The cameras close in on Sirius’ face as he realises what his brother is doing, eyes going wide as he covers his face with his hands.
Regulus turns the microphone back to the commentator and then turns around to face the stadium once again, his hands raised like a conductor, and like magic, the entire stadium bursts into a chaotic chorus of happy birthday. Remus himself is laughing as he joins in, pulling out his phone to film as Frank forces Sirius to drop his hands from his face, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a side hug and ruffling Sirius’ hair.
Remus thinks Sirius is handling it pretty graciously – Remus doesn’t even like it when his friends and family sing for him, let alone a stadium of nearly 40,000 people – but he supposes that when you’re a professional quidditch player, you probably get used to having all eyes on you.
The song finishes with a very drawn out youuuuuu before everybody claps and cheers. Being the good sport he is, Sirius waves to the crowd, placing his hand over his heart as he flashes a bashful smile. Remus can see him mouth thank you where he’s projected on the big screens, offering another quick wave to the fans before shoving Regulus playfully as he lands beside him.
“Who knew we had a choir on our hands, bravo! Thanks for joining us here at Puddlemere Stadium this afternoon. Please make sure to take all your belongings with you. Portkeys and apparition points will be on your left as you exit, all other forms of transportation, including the Muggle Tube, will be on your right.”
—
@rjlupin
Shout out to @regulusblack for the highlight of my night; a stadium of 39,385 fans singing happy birthday to an only slightly embarrassed @siriusblack
[Video attached]
@drcsmdws
@rjlupin actually devastated that I missed this
@regulusblack
@rjlupin it was my pleasure :) glad you enjoyed it
@siriusblack
@regulusblack a touching gesture, but next time a birthday card will suffice
@siriusblack
@rjlupin please feel free to wipe any record of this from the internet
@regulusblack
@siriusblack and miss out on the opportunity to embarrass you in front of an entire stadium of fans? What sort of little brother would I be then?
@siriusblack
@regulusblack a nice one
✯ Round 4 ✯
The first few weeks of the season have flown by in a blur of quidditch, coffee dates and dinners with Lily and Pandora, nights spent in front of his laptop until the wee hours of the morning, him and Dorcas working side by side at their respective pods at the office.
He’ll admit it’s a lot more work than he’s used to, but he’s getting into the swing of things and even building a bit of a rapport with the players, many of them knowing him by name now. It helps, being on good terms with the players; the pre and post-match interviews are flowing much better, more like an actual conversation rather than a stilted back and forth of awkward pauses. He finds that he’s getting more genuine, thought out responses from the players now too, some even throwing in a bit of banter.
“Lupin!”
At the sound of his name, Remus’ head spins around to pinpoint the voice in the crowd. It’s Saturday night, and Remus has just finished covering the Magpies and Tornadoes match; he’s already looking forward to the write up of this one, the match ending in a draw after the Tornadoes scored a goal right as the Magpies’ seeker caught the snitch.
He’s not sure who he was expecting, but it wasn’t a very casually dressed Sirius Black. Upon meeting his eyes, Sirius smiles and Remus wants to groan because how is it possible for someone to be so attractive? He’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, a corduroy jacket rolled up to the sleeves and black boots, which is nothing fancy, but his hair is down – Remus has never seen him with his hair down – and it’s doing something funny to his insides.
“Sirius, hey!” Remus says in greeting. “What are you doing here?”
Sirius laughs, “I’m here to watch the match.”
“I would’ve thought when quidditch is your job, it ruins the fun a little and you might not want to spend your day off at the pitch,” Remus shrugs with a half smile.
“I am a quidditch fan first and player second. Though technically not my day off, we had training all morning. I could say the same to you though, your job is literally watching quidditch,” Sirius says, eyebrow raised in question.
“Touché,” Remus laughs.
“You’re right though, I don’t often come to other matches. But I had a free evening and the morning off tomorrow, so I wanted to come and support Marls.”
“Marlene McKinnon?” Remus asks; she’s one of the chasers for the Tornadoes.
“Yeah, we played on the same team at school.”
“She absolutely killed it on that final goal tonight.”
“Right?! Bloody amazing shot, that was. I couldn’t believe it.”
The crowd filters out around them as they chat about the match, until James Potter appears behind Sirius, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Pads! There you are, I thought I lost you,” James says.
“Have you met James? My best friend turned brother-in-law,” Sirius says by way of introduction. “This is Remus, from the Prophet.”
“Not officially. It’s nice to meet you,” Remus says with a smile.
“You too! Big fan of your match recaps,” James beams, and Remus likes him already. “Anyway, I should get going. Apparently Harry’s been a nightmare to get down tonight and I wanna give Reg a break.”
Sirius nods, turning back to Remus, “Are you working the match tomorrow?” and Remus is perhaps a little delusional, but swears that his voice sounds almost hopeful.
“Not this week. I’m covering the Falcons and Wasps match during the day. Dorcas will be at yours.”
“Shame,” Sirius says, and Remus silently agrees with him.
With a wave, Remus makes towards the exit before Sirius calls out after him, “Aren’t you going to wish me luck?”
“Sorry, I’m a Harpies supporter! It’d be sacrilegious to wish the competition luck.”
Remus can’t help but laugh at the way Sirius’ mouth falls open in fake shock, a hand coming to his chest like he’s been wounded.
“Just you wait, Lupin! The Harpies don’t stand a chance.”
—
@rjlupin
Taking off my unbiased journalist hat for a moment, go @HolyheadHarpies!!! Better luck next time @PuddlemereUTD :))))) #round4
Remus chuckles when he reads the notification that pops up only a few minutes later.
@siriusblack
@rjlupin you wound me, Lupin! And here I thought we were becoming friends :(
@rjlupin
@siriusblack I’m loyal to the girls first and foremost. What sort of Welshman would I be, otherwise?
@siriusblack
@rjlupin a losing one when @PuddlemereUTD end up on top of the ladder this season ;)
Remus starts to type out a reply before realising he probably shouldn’t roast one of the best players in the league publicly when he is supposed to be an objective third-party. Deleting his half-written response, he clicks on Sirius’ profile before clicking on the DM button and rewriting his response there.
rjlupin: You’re awfully cocky for someone who just lost a match 310 - 90
siriusblack: Hey, bring it up with my brother! I am but a measly beater, who has absolutely nothing to do with scoring whatsoever
rjlupin: I’ll remind you of that the next time you win
rjlupin: Sorry, I mean the next time Puddlemere win, because you have absolutely nothing to do with scoring whatsoever
Remus laughs out loud when Sirius just responds with a slew of middle finger emojis.
✯ Round 5 ✯
When Kingsley had owled him asking if he could cover Dorcas’ matches this week, in addition to his own, because Dorcas was out sick, he hadn’t even hesitated before saying yes.
But now, as he drags himself out of bed for match five out of six, he’s beginning to regret that decision. He loves his job, he really does. But apparating cross-country multiple times a day, four days in a row takes its toll. Not to mention the extra time he’s spent writing his articles in his down time, or what little down time is left.
He thought he was doing a pretty good job of not letting his fatigue show, at least, not wanting to appear unenthusiastic so early in his new position. Well, he thought so until he bumped into Regulus as they were both walking into the player’s entrance at Caerphilly Stadium.
“No offence, Lupin, but you look like shit.”
“Wow, and I thought I was putting on a good poker face,” Remus laughs.
“Big night?” Regulus teases, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“Yes, but not the kind you’re suggesting,” Remus says through a yawn. “The Wanderers and Magpies match didn’t finish until 1am last night.”
Regulus let’s put a low whistle, “Yeah, I saw. Harry wouldn’t settle so we were up watching it. Bit rough for them to send you here today after covering last night?”
“Actually, Dorcas is out sick so I’m covering the whole weekend.”
“Jesus, I’m surprised you don’t look worse.”
“If I don’t look it, I feel it, believe me,” Remus laughs, coming to a stop when Regulus does outside the away team’s change rooms.
“I’ll try my best to make it a quick match today for you,” Regulus says with a little salute.
“I’d appreciate that, thanks,” Remus says. “If you catch it in the first five minutes, I promise I’ll name my first child after you.”
“Unfortunately, I am but a mere mortal. Let’s aim for thirty, yeah?”
He catches it in 29 minutes and 12 seconds.
—
“Whatever bet you made with Reg before the match, thank you,” Sirius laughs when he steps off the pitch, eyes bright and smile beaming from their effortless win as he stops in front of Remus.
“Don’t say it too loudly or word will get back to the Prophet that one of their journalists is bribing players and they’ll revoke my media pass,” Remus jokes. “It was all Reg though, the bet was just a joke.”
“Joke or not, it worked because that’s the best I’ve seen him fly all season. He said you’re covering all the matches this week, you mad man. How are you still standing?” Sirius asks, poking Remus in the chest dramatically like that might actually topple him over.
“From sheer will and a powerful work ethic. And a concerning amount of coffee.”
“Coffee, what a hero. The muggles were onto something with that one,” Sirius says wistfully. “Where are you off to next, then? It’s the Harpies playing tonight, right?”
Nodding, Remus sighs, “Yeah Harpies and the Bats. If only it was a Harpies home game so I didn’t need to go all the way out to Ballycastle.” He’s already tired just thinking about the apparition jumps.
“Oh yeah, Ballycastle is a bit rough,” Sirius winces. “We played them at Puddlemere this season, thank god. I mean you were there, obviously.”
“How could I forget after the stadium-wide rendition of happy birthday,” he teases.
As expected, Sirius groans and buries his face in his hands, mumbling something intelligibly.
“What was that?” Remus laughs.
With a sigh, Sirius drags his hands slowly down his face before repeating, “I said, please don’t remind me. It was embarrassing enough to live through it the first time, and then again all over social media, to which you so kindly contributed. I don’t need to relive it again.”
“I thought it was very sweet. Though I’m glad it was you, and not me.”
“I guess that’s what I get for choosing a career in the public eye. And for letting my little shit of a brother follow in my footsteps,” he sighs, though there’s a fond smile on his lips. “What’s the plan until tonight’s match, then?”
“Set myself up in a comfortable chair and hope I don’t fall asleep?” he jokes.
“Want some company?”
Remus almost brushes him off until he looks at Sirius and notices the look on his face is genuine.
“I appreciate the offer, really. But you must be exhausted, surely you just want to go home?” Remus says, trying to offer him an out; what would he and Sirius even talk about for…two hours?
“No offence, but you look worse than I feel,” Sirius teases, bumping shoulders with him. “As long as you don’t mind me in my gear, I’m more than happy to stay.”
Which is how he finds himself an hour later, legs hanging over the arm of the chair he’s set himself up in, mirroring Sirius who’s shedded his robes and is equally draped across his armchair in his navy pants and undershirt, head tilted back over the arm to look at Remus upside down.
“How about,” Sirius muses, chuckling to himself before he says, “You can’t beat-er beater.”
Remus snorts, but writes it down on his parchment anyway.
“Wait, wait! I’ve got one. Quid-ditch your Catapults membership and support Puddlemere instead,” Sirius says, laughing to himself as he says it.
“The beater one I may actually use in some variation, but I’m not even going to bother writing that one down. I have standards to uphold. And I’m supposed to be unbiased, remember?”
They both go quiet for a minute, Remus eating the popcorn he bought from the vending machine in the stadium cafeteria, Sirius twirling his wand with his fingers with the same grace he does with his bat. Remus is surprised by how comfortable the silence is between them; he doesn’t feel the awkwardness he usually does in situations like this, waiting with baited breath for someone to say something.
“How are you finding the job? Not sick of watching us fly around in circles yet?”
His default response to this question when asked – by his parents, by his neighbour Gladys, by the barista at his regular coffee shop – is yeah, of course, I’m loving it. Which is true, really. But Remus thinks that Sirius deserves a more genuine answer than that.
“In all honesty, the more I work and the more matches I watch, the more I want to work and watch matches. There’s just something about having a better understanding of the sport that just makes it, better, more fulfilling. Getting to know the team dynamics and learning the players’ histories and strengths and seeing how that plays out when you put it all together. It’s magical, don’t you think?”
When Sirius doesn’t respond, he turns his head to find Sirius looking at him with a small smile on his lips and wonder in his eyes.
“What?” Remus asks sheepishly.
Sirius lets out a whoosh of air and shakes his head slightly, “I just can’t believe you’re here trying to brainstorm puns for your funny articles when you can string together deep poetry like that.”
Remus can feel the heat in his cheeks, both from the compliment and from Sirius’ gaze. His normal response to this sort of conversation would be to laugh it off, turn the attention away from him, but there’s something about Sirius that makes him alter his usual course of compliment aversion.
Instead, he says simply, “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome,” Sirius says, just as genuinely. Before his mouth lifts into a smirk and he says, “Now, feel free to use that skill to wax poetic about how beautiful my black locks look flying in the wind in your next article.”
“You wish,” Remus laughs, throwing a piece of popcorn at him that hits him squarely in the forehead. “Besides, that would be a lie. You fly with your hair tied up.”
Plucking the piece of popcorn from where it landed on his chest, Sirius pops it in his mouth as he says, “Okay, you’ve got me there.”
Remus is surprised by how quickly the time has flown by when the alarm on his phone goes off, telling him it’s time to start the trek up to Ballycastle.
“Duty calls,” Remus sighs, getting to his feet, locking his fingers together and stretching his arms up above his head. “Thanks for keeping me company, by the way. You didn’t have to, but I really appreciate it. It was fun.”
“Yeah, I had fun too,” he says, getting to his feet as well, draping his discarded robes over his arm. “Good luck tonight. Try not to fall asleep during the match.”
“I’ll word Pete up to kick me if he notices me nodding off.”
“Bye, Remus.”
“See ya, Sirius.”
—
Remus has barely made it through his front door later that night before he’s toeing off his shoes, leaving a trail of his beanie, scarf, gloves and coat down his hallway, before crawling into bed and letting sleep drag him under.
It’s not until the next morning that he sees the message that had come through the night before, sometime between him leaving Ballycastle and possibly the best sleep of his life.
siriusblack: Just checking that you survived the match and made it home okay?
He’s quick to type out a reply, heart tugging fondly at Sirius’ kindness.
rjlupin: Hey, sorry for leaving you hanging. I survived, but crashed the moment I got home
rjlupin: Appreciate you checking in though
Remus jumps in the shower then, standing under the scorching water until it runs cold. He’s standing in the kitchen in sweatpants and the knitted jumper his mum made him for Christmas last year, making a cup of tea and avocado on toast when his phone buzzes on the counter.
siriusblack: Thank Merlin, I was worried that you were dead in a ditch somewhere, trampled by angry Bats fans after the Harpies’ win
rjlupin: Ha ha
rjlupin: Thankfully not dead, trampling sounds like an awful way to go
siriusblack: I agree, definitely not in my top 5
rjlupin: You have a top 5 ways you want to die?
siriusblack: Doesn’t everyone?
Idiot, Remus laughs to himself.
✯ Round 6 ✯
“Remus, wait up!”
Remus pauses with his hand on the door handle, ready to start the climb up to the media box, turning to find Sirius jogging over to him.
“Sirius, hey. Got another pun to add to the write up, do you?” Remus says with a smirk; speaking to the press is normally a hassle that most players try to avoid, especially before a match, so it’s odd to actually have a player seek him out.
“Still working on the puns, I’ll get back to you. I just wanted to ask,” Sirius starts, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “There’s a few of us going out for a drink after the match if you wanted to join us?”
Remus is taken aback, “With the team?”
“Yeah. Well, not all of us. Me, Reg, Fab. Marls and Alice as well. And you. I mean, if you want to.”
“Yeah, yes. I’d like that.”
Sirius’ face breaks into a grin as he nods, “Great. It’s gonna be fun! Meet you by the gate after the match?”
“Okay, sounds good,” Remus says. “Good luck.”
“Oh, so I get your luck today?” Sirius teases.
Shaking his head, Remus laughs, “I have no personal stake in this match, so yes. Now go warm up or something before I take it back.”
With a salute, Sirius rejoins his team as Remus ducks out of the room, still smiling to himself as he starts his ascent.
—
In the end, Sirius didn’t need Remus’ luck. Puddlemere was in top form tonight; in less than fifty minutes they’d scored countless goals and blocked just as many of the Tornadoes’, and Regulus had caught the snitch seemingly without even breaking a sweat, bringing the match to a close as the crowd erupted.
“Regulus, how are you feeling after the win? That was an excellent catch tonight,” Remus asks, standing off to the side of the pitch with the Puddlemere seeker.
“Good, feeling really good,” Regulus says with a smile, running a hand through his short curls to push them off his face; he keeps his hair shorter than Sirius but it’s still no less perfectly tousled. “There’s always a little extra satisfaction catching the snitch when you’re not going toe to toe with the other seeker.”
“I don’t think most people even knew you had your eye on the snitch until you held it up in your hand. Had you been tracking it for long?”
“Not ages, maybe five minutes? When I first spotted it, it was actually right by Tornadoes seeker, Christina Vane, so obviously I didn’t want to dive right for it because then she’d notice and being closer, would probably have sealed the deal before I did. So slow and steady was the way to go and, well, it clearly paid off,” Regulus laughs, gesturing to the stands where the Puddlemere fans are singing their theme song as they filter out of the venue.
“It definitely paid off. Congrats on a great game, really well played.”
“Thanks Remus,” Regulus says, clapping him on the shoulder and setting off towards the change rooms at a jog.
It’s maybe thirty minutes later that Remus is waiting by the gate outside the team entrance. It’s one of the first properly cold nights and Remus can’t help but shiver as he pulls his beanie further down over his ears.
“Lupin, you are kidding me!”
Looking up, Remus finds Sirius with an incredulous smile on his face as he stares at Remus.
“What?” Remus says, genuinely confused as he looks down at the same outfit he’d been wearing earlier; he’s not sure how a knitted jumper, jeans and boots could be so shocking.
“This,” Sirius jokes as he plucks the beanie off Remus’ head. “I can’t be seen out with someone wearing Harpies merchandise, what would the press say?”
Remus can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him, snatching the beanie back and putting it on, “I am the press, and I say it’s five bloody degrees out and I’ll wear whatever I want.”
“Okay, I’ll allow it this time. I’ve gotta get you some Puddlemere merch.”
Remus gasps, pressing a hand to his chest in mock shock as he says, “And betray the girls? I would never.”
“The blue would suit you.”
“You can’t soften me up with compliments to try to sway me. The green and gold suits me just fine.”
The smile on Sirius’ face is genuine when he says, “Yeah it does.” A pause. “Anyway, offensive attire aside, are you good to side-along?”
Nodding, Remus takes the hand Sirius is holding out to him, giving Sirius a reassuring smile before his head spins and they disapparate with a crack. Landing on the footpath outside a pub, Remus steadies himself with his hand still clasped in Sirius’, meeting Sirius’ eyes with a quick smile before letting go.
“One last thing before we go in,” Sirius says, giving Remus a mischievous smirk. “You have to promise that nothing I say or do tonight will get written up in one of your articles, because you’re here as my friend, not a journalist.”
Remus laughs, “You’re an idiot. Hand on heart, anything you say is for my ears only. Can we go inside now? I’m dying for a beer.”
Sirius bumps his shoulder against Remus’, nodding his head towards the door, “Then let’s get you a beer.”
Remus thinks that this must be a regular meeting spot for Sirius and the team, because as soon as they’re inside Sirius is heading towards a booth on their left and sure enough, sat around the table are Regulus, Frank and Alice.
“Lads! You know Remus?” Sirius says by way of greeting, stepping aside and gesturing for Remus to take a seat in the booth.
There’s a round of waves and hello’s as Remus slides in next to Regulus, Sirius pulling up a stool and sitting beside him.
“Remus, hey!” Marlene calls out with a grin as she sets two jugs of beer on the table, and Remus is surprised to see Dorcas appear behind her with a stack of glasses in hand.
“Hi Marlene. Dorcas,” Remus says, raising his eyebrows at Dorcas as if to say we’ll be talking about this later. Which they definitely will, Remus will make sure of it.
While Remus had been a little bit nervous about hanging out with Sirius and the team, he finds himself slotting in with the group pretty easily and is soon relaxed back in the booth, smile on his lips as he sips his beer and laughs alongside them.
Sirius is his usual boisterous self, arms waving as he tells a story. It would be easy for him to get carried away, but Remus is pleasantly surprised at how inclusive Sirius is, pausing frequently to fill Remus in on whatever backstory is needed to understand whatever joke or tale they’re telling. Remus is also surprised by how outgoing Regulus is at his side; usually fairly reserved on the pitch and during his interviews. But he doesn’t hesitate to join in the conversation, more than once leaning over Remus to glare at Sirius or give him a shove when Sirius starts to make fun of him.
“Little Reggie here just couldn’t help but follow in his dear older brother’s footsteps, could you?” Sirius teases.
“Piss off,” Regulus laughs, giving Sirius the finger before looking at Remus. “Lupin, if you print that, I will find a way to get you fired.”
“Print what? That you followed in Sirius’ footsteps or the name little Reggie?” Remus says, biting down on his bottom lip to stifle a laugh.
“I hate you. Who invited you again?” Regulus groans, downing the rest of his beer.
“Ignore him. I like you,” Sirius says close to his ear, his breath fanning across Remus’ neck as he laughs, sending a shiver down his spine.
It’s not until later in the night that he actually gets the chance to speak to Dorcas, her slipping into the booth beside him when Regulus and Sirius head over to the bar for another round.
“I have to say, Dorcas, I was pretty surprised to see you here tonight. On your day off, no less,” Remus says. “Care to share how that came about?”
Before she even speaks, Remus’ suspicions are confirmed. Dorcas is blushing as she says, “Marlene and I are friends, we hang out sometimes.”
“Okay, sure. The eyes you’ve been making at each other all night would suggest otherwise.”
“Says you. Don’t pretend like you and Black haven’t been making eyes at each other all night,” Dorcas accuses, nodding her head towards Sirius at the bar, who just so happens to choose that moment to look back at their table and smile at them.
“I don’t make eyes.”
“Maybe not, but the two of you flirt like your lives depend on it.”
“We don’t flirt, we banter.”
Dorcas lowers her voice as Sirius and Regulus return to the table, giving him a knowing look and saying under her breath, “From where I’m sitting, same thing.”
—
If you’d asked Remus this morning how he thought his day would turn out, sneaking into Puddlemere Stadium after hours was definitely not on the agenda. Which is why he’s blaming the handful of beers he’d drunk earlier for the position he’s found himself in now; in the middle of the frost-covered pitch with Sirius Black holding out a broom to him.
Remus has never been fond of flying, even as a kid he much preferred to keep both his feet solidly on the ground.
“You know, I think I’ve actually sobered up since we left the pub and I’m beginning to see the errors of my ways in agreeing to this.”
“Come on, Lupin. It’ll be fun,” Sirius pleads, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
There’s something contagious about Sirius’ excitement, that has Remus smiling along with him as he wraps his fingers around the broom.
“If you laugh at me, I’m never writing a nice thing about you again, by the way,” Remus warns, watching as Sirius mounts his broom and kicks off with more grace than Remus has ever shown doing literally anything in his entire life.
Sirius mimes locking his lips, throwing the imaginary key into the air and hitting it with his beater’s bat.
He tries not to get distracted by the smirk on Sirius’ lips as he mounts his own broom, white-knuckled grip on the handle, taking a deep breath and kicking off the ground. He doesn’t look up at Sirius until he’s feeling steady, having done a few circles barely six feet above the ground. He’s expecting Sirius to be holding back laughter so is genuinely taken aback to find Sirius looking at him almost proudly?
“What?” Remus questions.
“Nothing,” Sirius says quietly. “You were nervous for nothing, you’re a natural.”
Remus scoffs, “I know that’s a lie but I’ll allow it for my dignity.”
“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m actually a professional quidditch player. I know, I know. Huge shock, but as a professional quidditch player, I think I know what I’m talking about.”
“Yeah, yeah. Now are we playing quidditch or not?”
Playing quidditch is a stretch when all they’re doing is flying low laps around the pitch, side by side as Remus concentrates on not falling off while Sirius talks about everything from the play he’d mucked up earlier that day to his plans to teach Harry how to fly when he’s older.
“It’s become a bit of a bet between us all, what position he’ll play when he’s older. James was a chaser at school, and obviously Reg is gunning for him to be a seeker. And obviously I think he should be a beater,” Sirius says with a chuckle. “Just you wait, the little shit will become a keeper just to spite us.”
“Or he could decide he doesn’t want to play quidditch at all,” Remus teases.
“Take that back!” Sirius gasps, spinning so fast to face him that Remus almost crashes into him, only saved from falling from his broom by Sirius’ hand coming out to grasp his upper arm.
Heart racing from the near miss, Remus jokes, “Merlin, are you trying to kill me?”
Releasing his grip on Remus’ arm, Sirius does look slightly apologetic as he says, “Sorry. But if you had fallen, you would have deserved it for the blasphemy that just came out of your mouth.”
“Blasphemy, really? It’s quidditch we’re talking about, not religion.”
“Oh Remus, that’s where you misunderstand. Quidditch is my religion, surely you know that by now,” he says, smiling that dazzling media smile at him as he twirls his bat in his hand.
“My mistake, I’ll make sure to pray to the beater’s bat next time I’m in church.”
Sirius throws his head back with a laugh that carries across the otherwise silent pitch, echoing around the stands.
“Well, if you’re going to be worshipping it, you need to know how to handle it,” Sirius says, flipping his bat around and holding the handle out to Remus.
Remus looks from Sirius to the bat and back to Sirius, who gives him a little nod of encouragement.
“Oh no! Getting me on a broom was one thing, but I’m not going to let you release bludgers on me.”
“I’m not going to release bludgers on you. Not today, anyway. That’s lesson two,” he winks, poking Remus in the chest with the bat handle, until he finally relents and wraps his fingers around it tentatively.
It’s heavier than he imagined it would be, surprised by the strength it takes to swing it around, even as pathetically as he does now. In a moment of bravado, or perhaps stupidity, Remus has a shot at twirling the bat like Sirius so often does, though it barely makes it a quarter of a spin before Remus fumbles it and it falls to the ground beneath them.
Sirius is trying to hold back laughter when Remus meets his eye, hands held up in surrender like he’s saying I promised I wouldn’t laugh and I’m keeping that promise.
“Maybe let’s just stick to flying, yeah?” Sirius chuckles, gasping in feigned shock when Remus gives him the finger.
He’ll never admit it out loud, but he actually doesn’t hate flying as much as he remembered, though that might have more to do with Sirius rather than the flying itself.
“You alright to get home?” Sirius asks as they step out into the street fifteen minutes later; bat recovered unscathed, brooms locked away and Remus’ feet safely back on the ground.
The moon is high in the night sky above them; though between the match and the pub and the impromptu quidditch lesson, you could hardly call it night anymore when the sun will be rising in only a few hours.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Remus says, all of a sudden feeling a bit shy despite having spent an evening laughing together and embarrassing himself. “Thanks for inviting me tonight.”
“Thanks for saying yes. To the drinks and to quidditch,” Sirius smiles, and Remus’ stomach starts doing flips again. “Will I see you next week?”
Nodding, Remus says, “Yeah, I’m covering your match Friday and then both on Sunday.”
“I look forward to it. Get home safe, Remus.”
“You too,” Remus says quietly, watching as Sirius turns on the spot and disapparates.
✯ Round 7 ✯
Remus must have done something to stir up bad karma if the headache he has is anything to go by.
He hates calling in sick, and feels terrible about having to get Dorcas to cover for him, but when even his mum’s pain potions won’t work, listening to a stadium of screaming fans all evening is the last thing he needs. Instead he sets himself up on the couch, tea in hand as he watches the Wanderers and Puddlemere match on mute.
Unsurprisingly, Puddlemere wins. Which isn’t a shock in the slightest, given the Wanderers’ terrible record so far this season, having only won one match versus Puddlemere’s five – now six.
He can’t help but smile as he watches the footage of Puddlemere celebrating their win; a shot of Regulus flying a lap around the pitch with the snitch held high, a shot of the team clapping each other on the back in congratulations, a shot of Sirius landing next to his brother to pull him into a hug.
It’s maybe an hour later, Remus curled up on his side on the couch, contemplating how sore he’ll be in the morning if he ends up just sleeping on the couch, that his phone buzzes with a text.
Dorcas: Hope you’re feeling a bit better
Dorcas: A very handsome beater was asking after you, seemed genuinely worried ;)
Remus: Sure, Dorcas
Dorcas: I’m being serious! He was all like “Wait I thought Remus was covering this match? Where is he? Is he okay?”
Dorcas: It was actually very endearing
He rolls over to press his face into the couch cushion to hide his smile; not that there’s anyone there to hide it from, maybe he’s hiding it from himself.
Remus: Thank you
Remus: For covering for me tonight. And for this…information
Dorcas: Anytime babe x
Remus stares at Dorcas’ messages for a while. He’s well and truly given up on trying to hide his smile at this point, instead embracing the warm fuzzy feelings in his stomach when he thinks about Sirius being worried about him. Perhaps it’s this warm fuzzy feeling that has him pulling up his messages on Twitter.
rjlupin: Congrats on the win
He’s going to leave it at that, but before he knows it his fingers are tapping away on his screen and sending another message. Later he’ll blame it on the pain potions.
rjlupin: A little birdy tells me someone was worried about me tonight
It’s not flirting, he tells himself. Just banter.
siriusblack: It’s hard to gauge tone through a message but it sounds like you’re teasing me
siriusblack: I’ll forgive it this once because you’re sick
siriusblack: But really, are you okay?
rjlupin: You’re correct, I am teasing you
rjlupin: And yeah I’m fine, just a headache
siriusblack: “Just a headache”
siriusblack: You were practically on death’s door the other week after covering every single match and still showed up to work. That doesn’t fill me with confidence that you’re fine, if this is even worse that you needed Dorcas to cover for you
Remus really was just teasing, thinking Sirius would respond with a haha and that’d be it. He wasn’t expecting Sirius to genuinely be worried – part of him thought that Dorcas had been exaggerating – let alone so plainly admit it.
rjlupin: It really is just a headache. I don’t know if you’ve noticed in your years of being a professional quidditch player, but quidditch matches are kind of loud
rjlupin: Thousands of screaming fans and a headache don’t really mix
siriusblack: Ha ha
There it is.
rjlupin: A good night’s sleep and I’ll be right as rain in the morning
rjlupin: Which is what I’m gonna do now before I fall asleep on the couch and wake up with a crook back tomorrow
rjlupin: I can’t remember what my schedule is next week, but I’ll probably see you. I seem to pretty much always be scheduled for Puddlemere matches these days
siriusblack: We have a bye next week </3
siriusblack: An early start to the Christmas break this year
He’s surprised by the disappointment that sinks in as he realises he won’t see Sirius until the season returns in January, six weeks away. He’s gotten quite used to seeing Sirius every weekend, their back and forth banter after Remus posts each of his recaps.
rjlupin: Oh
rjlupin: Well, I’m sorry to have missed your last match of the year
siriusblack: You can admit that you’re going to miss me, you know? I promise I won’t tease
He knows that Sirius is joking, but it hits him like a freight train, the realisation that he actually will miss Sirius. And isn’t that a realisation? A realisation that he doesn’t have the mental capacity to deal with right now.
rjlupin: Piss off
siriusblack: Go to sleep
siriusblack: I’ll see you next year ;)
rjlupin: It’s still November, it’s too early to start making see you next year jokes
siriusblack: Not when it’s true
siriusblack: Sleep well, Remus
✯ Round 8 ✯
It’s the final week of the season before Christmas break, and Remus is really looking forward to some time off. The last seven weeks have been amazing, but Merlin, they’ve been exhausting. He’s glad to hear it’s not just him feeling this way though, both Dorcas and Peter – who have been doing this much longer than he has – expressing that they’ve been counting down the days until the buzzer blows on the final match of 2024, the beginning of a blissful four weeks away from quidditch stadiums and tens of thousands of screaming fans every weekend.
As is apparently tradition, after they’ve wrapped up interviews with a very happy Caerphilly Catapults and a not so happy Pride of Portree, the three of them end up at the muggle pub across the road, cheersing pints as they dig into their fish and chips.
“To an exhausting but great first half of the season!”
“To Christmas break!”
“To not having to sit next to Josiah Plunkett and listen to his loud chewing every goddamn match!”
“To Remus joining the fray!”
“To Remus’ crush on Sirius Black!”
Peter ducks as Remus throws a chip at him from across the table.
“What?” Peter laughs, throwing the chip right back at him. “I’m just stating the truth.”
“I do not have a crush on Sirius Black,” Remus groans.
“Come on, I thought we’d made it out of the denial stage already,” Dorcas teases.
“Like you can talk, what do you have to say about McKinnon, then?” Remus counters, trying to get the attention off him, though cringing when he realises his words are essentially a camouflaged admission.
Though, he wasn’t really counting on Dorcas saying, “I have a huge fucking crush on her. I don’t think that’s a surprise to anyone.”
“That’s not what you were saying two weeks ago,” Peter says.
“Well, that was before McKinnon admitted that she also has a huge fucking crush on me too—”
Whatever else Dorcas was about to say is cut off by celebratory cheers from him and Peter, loud enough that the family sitting at the table next to them all pause with cutlery halfway to their mouths to stare at them.
“I knew it!” Peter says with a fist pump.
“Alright, alright. Pipe down, idiots,” Dorcas says affectionately. “Can we get back to Remus and his big, fat crush on the league heartthrob?”
“No, we can’t. Because I don’t,” Remus jumps in, cutting them off before the two of them can get started again.
Dorcas and Peter share a look across the table, like they’re trying to decide whether they give in to Remus’ wishes, as good friends would do, or continue badgering him.
Hands held up in surrender, Peter says, “Okay, we’re done pestering you about the crush you definitely don’t have.”
“Thank you,” he sighs, and thankfully the conversation segues back pretty quickly to what they’re each looking forward to over the break, what their plans are for Christmas, what their predictions are for the rest of the season.
By the time Remus makes it back home, many pints, laughs and a slightly wobbly apparition later, the conversation about his not-crush on Sirius is all but gone from his mind. That is until his phone buzzes with a message from Peter while he’s brushing his teeth, hand holding onto the counter to steady himself as his head spins.
Pete: [Image attached]
There’s no text, just a photo. Remus assumes it’s going to be a photo of Peter’s bonsai tree that they were talking about earlier. Spitting out his toothpaste and rinsing his mouth, Remus opens the message as he switches off the bathroom light and walks back into his bedroom, freezing only a few paces from his bed when the photo opens on his screen.
It’s not Peter’s bonsai tree.
It’s a photo of him and Sirius.
The photo is clearly from a quidditch match but he’s not sure which one, though it’s clear that it’s a photo Peter had taken on his camera if the high resolution is anything to go by. Sitting down on the edge of his bed, he takes in the photo. As it moves, it shows Remus throwing his head back with laughter, eyes crinkling shut as his shoulders shake.
But what has him stunned into silence is Sirius. Sirius, who’s still dressed in his navy and gold Puddlemere robes. Sirius, whose hair is windswept and cheeks flushed. Sirius, who’s laughing alongside Remus. Sirius, who’s watching Remus with a look in his eyes that has present-day Remus frozen in place, unable to look away as his breath hitches.
He’s been staring at the photo for a minute – or ten minutes, or maybe even thirty minutes – when his phone buzzes again.
Pete: I know that you don’t have a crush on Sirius
Pete: But if you did. I thought you might appreciate this
Remus: Very subtle, Pete
He exits out of his messages before reopening it only a few seconds later.
Remus: Thank you
If he hadn’t had one too many – or several too many – pints at dinner, he wouldn’t even dream of opening his Twitter messages and typing out what he does now. But, alas, he did have several too many pints at dinner, and the photo from Peter has him acting unchecked.
rjlupin: Missed you this week
rjlupin: Sorry had too many pints
rjlupin: But I did
rjlupin: Miss you
rjlupin: And had too many pints
Noxing the lights, Remus crawls under his covers and plugs his phone in to charge, about to place it on his bedside table when the screen lights up with a notification he wasn’t expecting to receive at 2:31am.
siriusblack: He admits it! I’m so flattered
siriusblack: I haven’t had any pints
siriusblack: But while we’re being honest, I did miss you this week as well
rjlupin: Are you just saying that
rjlupin: So my hungover self doesn’t feel embarrassed when I read this in the morning
siriusblack: Maybe
siriusblack: Doesn’t mean it isn’t true
✯ Christmas break ✯
Remus is surprised to wake up on Christmas morning to an owl tapping at his kitchen window, a paper wrapped parcel held in its beak. He doesn’t recognise the owl, a tawny brown and black. It’s definitely not his parents’ or Lily’s, and he can’t think who else would be sending him a package on Christmas morning. Maybe his sleep-addled brain had done some online shopping one night when he couldn’t sleep.
Opening the window, he takes the parcel from the owl, giving it a scratch before it flies off. On the wrapping is his name in handwriting that he doesn’t recognise. Sitting down at his kitchen table, he pulls on the twine holding the parcel together, unfolding the wrapping and laughing out loud when his eyes land on what’s inside the mystery package.
Nestled in the brown paper is a Puddlemere beanie, in all its navy and gold glory, the number 3 embroidered on the cuff. He knows before he even opens the note nestled inside exactly who this is from.
As promised, a replacement for that ghastly green and gold one.
Happy Christmas, Remus.
Another laugh bubbles out of him as he reads the note.
rjlupin: I’m going to ignore the Harpies slander in favour of saying thank you
rjlupin: Happy Christmas, Sirius
siriusblack: No need. It’s as much a gift to me as it is a gift to you
siriusblack: asdfnvbrgggggg
siriusblack: Sorry, Harry stole my phone
rjlupin: Hi Harry, asdfnvbrgggggg to you too
rjlupin: Are you spending the day with Reg then?
siriusblack: Yeah at Reg and James’ place. James’ parents are coming for lunch later
siriusblack: You seeing your parents?
rjlupin: Yeah I’ll be heading to theirs after breakfast. Will probably stay for a few days
siriusblack: Don’t forget to bring your new beanie. I hear Wales is cold this time of year
rjlupin: If I showed up to my parents’ place in a Puddlemere beanie they’d send me packing before I even made it inside
siriusblack: Reg and James would be happy to have you here if your parents kick you to the kerb. As a backup, in case your ears get really cold
rjlupin: I’ll keep it in mind