What if I can't be all that you need me to be?
We've got a good thing going, we have some promises to keep.
But my addiction, it can be such a detriment.
Please believe in this my dear, I am more than penitent.
His life felt like it was revolving around paperwork.
When James took this promotion nearly ten years ago, he'd never fathomed it would require this much bloody parchment to sort through on a daily basis.
Everyone wanted something—requests for time off or purchasing, pending warrants, and even personnel transfers. Every last one of them required his review, and subsequent signature.
He'd debated charming a quill to sign the bloody things for him, but the Ministry required his physical signature—even going as far as to use charm-resistant parchment on certain documents.
Cracking his fingers, James flexed the ache from his bones as he rolled his head, eyes firmly planted on the length of parchment before him that contained a rather extensive list of recent releases from their holding cells. He needed to sign off on their release and the paperwork needed to expunge the charges from their records.
And while he clearly had no issue with that, he felt obligated to double check the roster, wanting to make sure that every person was accounted for. Truthfully, he probably should have asked Sariah to do it for him—something so bloody tedious wasn't really a smart use of his time.
But that daft Potter-white-knight syndrome won out over logic, per usual. He felt responsible, after all, it had been his signature on the warrants that landed them in the holding cells in the first place.
Picking up the beautiful pheasant feather quill that lay on the corner of his desk, he curled his fingers around the elegant shaft, and just as he dipped the metal tips into the purple pot of ink beside his parchment, his office door burst open without warning.
"Bloody hell!" James jolted, knocking over the ink pot, splashing purple across the parchment and his writing pad beneath. Tossing his quill on his desk, he fumbled for his wand, frantically trying to stem the flow of ink that was cascading down the length of his desk, threatening to ruin the crisp white of his oxford.
"Evanesco!" The sparkle of blue magic burst from the end of his wand, spreading across the purple ink like wildfire before the mess—ruined parchment included—was gone with a flash.
"I'm going to murder Pius, and then I'm going to hex that fucking cunt in the Magical Marriages Division!"
James' head snapped up, wand still poised in his hand as he gawked at his wife who had already begun pacing the width of his office. Her heels snapped on the marble floor, while her hand curled around the periwinkle piece of parchment she was animatedly waving in front of her.
"I can't bloody believe they're doing this to me—after everything I've done! Everything I gave up! Because of what? A little bit of accidental magic?!" Her jaw was set, whiskey colored eyes lost in the fog of her ire as she moved quickly in front of his desk like a caged lioness just waiting to pounce on its prey.
"Hermione, what—what are talking about?" James rose from his chair, letting his wand fall down to his desk with a soft clatter as he moved around to shut the door she'd left wide open. He flashed a halfhearted, contrite smile at the Aurors who sat outside his office, most of whom were trying to organize their own documents with a newfound interest as they listened in on her rant.
"They're putting me on leave, James!" She spun on her heel, nostrils flaring as she thrust the periwinkle parchment against his chest. "Indefinite leave—which is really code for fucking firing me, but Pius clearly doesn't have the spine to put that into writing."
James stumbled backward under the push, hands scrambling to catch the wrinkled parchment before it hit the floor. He lifted it up, adjusting his glasses higher his nose, hazel eyes flicking over the typeface that splashed across the page in black ink thick, well-saturated into the parchment. Whoever authored this intended to leave zero confusion about its meaning—they were going to try and quietly shuffle Hermione out of Ministry employment.
"Wow…this is—"
"A load of Hippogriff shite!" Hermione finished for him, physical manifestations of her magic snapping around her like firecrackers, sending sparks skittering across the marble floor. "Well, this obviously can't happen. I won't let them! They can't just—just force me from my work because I don't agree with their daft amendment."
James swept his tongue across his lips, slowly lifting his eyes over the parchment to watch as she began to pace once more. It was like he could see the gears spin within her mind—whirling at a break-neck speed to keep up with the rapid pace of mind as it moved from one thought to the next.
The way her mind worked was captivating. James could spend hours just listening to her explain the intricacies of mermaid territory feuds, and the way the House Elves' relationship with magic was more pure than wizards. It was all so captivating—the way her eyes would shine when she'd lose herself in thought, and her mouth would form that little 'o' when some new thought fluttered to the forefront of her mind. James simply couldn't believe how lucky he was to have found a witch like her.
Beautiful and smart.
His attraction to Hermione was more than skin deep. James valued her mind just as much as her beauty—if not more.
But it was moments like these—ones where she was so consumed that he was truthfully just a little scared of the power she possessed.
"How about you take a seat, love? I'll have Sariah pick up some sandwiches from the canteen and we can discuss—"
"What?" Pulled from her train of thought, Hermione turned to face him, thin arms crossed over her chest, fingers tapping a rapid rhythm against her bicep through her flowy blouse. "No. I don't have time to sit and eat lunch! I need to go see the Minster."
"I'm sorry—come again?"
"The Minister, James! You know, that daft clown you answer to." Hermione waved her hand towards the framed picture that hung upon his wall of him and Pius. It had been snapped the day his promotion was finalized. Both men looked happy, eager to forge a new partnership and create a better, safer Wizarding Britain. Of course, that was several hundred grey hairs and countless glasses of firewhisky ago.
Before Voldemort's public return.
Before that fucking mess of a Triwizard Cup.
Before the second wizarding war.
Before he'd watched his only son die and resurrect.
Before this bloody Decree.
It felt like a lifetime ago, and while the picture hung on his wall as a reminder of the reason he took this promotion in the first place, it was beginning to feel more like a long forgotten memory than a keepsake.
"I don't think that would be a good idea, love." James shifted his weight between his feet, shuffling awkwardly beside his closed office door. His left thumb fiddled with his wedding band, spinning it around his ring finger as he watched her stiffen at his words. Merlin help him, this wasn't going to be easy. Based on the fire that engulfed her eyes, James could sense the upcoming blaze that awaited him.
But he couldn't take it personally.
She was upset.
Hermione loved her job. He knew this. She was just upset.
"Excuse me?"
"I just think you might want to cool off a bit before requesting a meeting is all." James lifted his hands innocently, waving the proverbial white flag as he leaned against the wall. "Pius is clearly playing hardball, and you're…Well, you're not in the right state to walk into that office, love. You've already had to be escorted from the Ministry once this week and— "
"Are you…are you implying I'm overreacting?" she interrupted, her jaw clenching as a new wave of magic snapped from her fingertips, sending silvery wisps shimmering across the floor like cracks in ice. It spiderwebbed along his floor, ending just at the toes of his polished loafers.
"What? No! Gods, of course not," James rushed out. "Hermione, I—"
"Because if I'm being bloody honest, your lack of reaction is rather upsetting. I was just put on leave because I wouldn't sign their bloody paper!"
"Technically, you were put on leave because you assaulted another employee."
James was smart—sometimes.
However, this was clearly not one of those times, because the moment the words left his mouth, he realised how bloody stupid they were. Magic sliced through the air, the sulfuric sizzle stinging his nostrils before he had to duck to avoid a bolt of energy that rolled off her like lightning, striking the door with a loud crack!
"Assaulted?! I didn't bloody assault her! Merlin, James, are you even listening to what you're saying?! You're practically defending him! The Ministry and Pius have no place in our marriage, and yet you're—you're willing to follow their edict without even a second thought!" As if the frantic energy that poured off her and penetrated his soul wasn't bad enough, the tears in her voice immediately brought James to heel.
"Hermione, no. I—I'm not defending him I just...you have to understand that this is complicated for me." He moved half a step towards her, hand outstretched, lingering just before her wrist, scared to close the distance or spook her. "I love you—Gods, I do. More than anything, but this is my job, and I love what I do as well. I just...I mean, I don't see the problem with signing that paper. We can still be together, it just won't be through their eyes."
The sizzle of magic in the room vanished, like a blown out candle, and in turn, the feeling of Hermione's presence inside him seem to retreat, leaving a vast emptiness that surrounded his heart. For the first time since their union just a few short weeks ago, James was painfully reminded of what he felt like before being with Hermione.
Empty.
Cold.
Lonely.
He stumbled back from the suddenness of her magic's departure, a hand moving to rest against his chest as he tried to remember how to breathe without her essence playing with his own.
"I can't..." She paused, her voice unsteady, thick with tears, and James could hear the pain penetrating each gasp she took. He watched, helpless to the wave of emotion that began to cloud his mind. "James, I can't believe you'd even suggest that."
He fucked up.
There was no fire left in her eyes, no fight clouding her judgment. Instead, the woman who stood before him looked pained. Broken. Fragile. Like she might shatter into a million little pieces if the wind blew in just the right direction.
"I'm sorry." His whisper cracked his throat, sounding harsh and tinny, and when he leaned forward to reach for her once more, Hermione backed up. Whisky-coloured eyes flashed down to his outstretched palm before she looked up with a shake of her head.
"Don't." Lifting her hand, Hermione took another step back, heels clipping the tile. Her lower lip quivered, tears already streaking down her cheeks. "Just don't."
"Hermione—"
"No!" Her arms wrapped around her frame, fingers curling into the soft fabric of her blouse. "I thought…I thought I'd made myself clear. I thought you knew how I felt. Why this was so important. But you don't care. Not about me, or Harry, or—or what we have."
"I do! I just…I—"
"You want to choose your work over us. You're prioritizing the one place that has turned its back on you multiple times, James. You're choosing the Ministry over your family." The words cut far deeper than he cared to admit. He'd had this same fight with a woman he'd loved decades before.
The blow to his heart made his knees weak as memories of that night—that fateful bloody night where he ran off to join the chaos of the first war instead of staying home—replayed in his mind.
James was not a man without fault. No, he had plenty, even he knew that, but he'd assumed he'd outgrown the most detrimental flaw—the one that had literally ended his marriage.
He could feel his own tears collect on his lower lids as he watched Hermione crumble before him, wet streaks traveling down her splotchy red cheeks, dripping onto the pretty pink of her blouse, staining her attire with the evidence of their row.
His mouth opened and closed several times. At each instance, he thought he might know the words to utter to bring her into his arms. The words that might be able to fix the grave error he'd made, but he found them all inadequate.
The truth was he had prioritized his work over her.
He had done exactly what she was accusing him of, and there was not an ounce of his person that could deny it.
"I'm going home…I—I'll see you later." She brushed past him, knuckles already dragging under her eyes to wipe away fallen tears, and before he could so much as reach for her, she was gone.
His office door swung, the soft clatter of his metal blinds snapping against the glass pane, and he turned to watch her move through the row of Aurors' desks that lined the walkway, curls bouncing with each hurried step as she approached the exit.
His magic sought hers, grasping, searching to fill that empty space inside his heart, but he knew without any doubt she wouldn't respond.
Not now.
Not while the wound he left was still so fresh and raw.
He could feel eyes on him, peering over the tops of parchment stacks, and behind propped up legislation books. Judging him. But whether it was for making his wife cry, or for staying married to a woman who was also wed to another, he'd never know.
Tightening his jaw, James gulped down the lump in his throat and forced back his unshed tears. "Alright, back to work," he barked to the room, hand curling around the cold brass doorknob. With one final sweep over the crowd, making sure that everyone was back to work instead of frozen like the statues that lingered in the atrium, James shut his office door with a snap. Only once he'd made sure the blinds were drawn, and that no one—absolutely no one—could see him, he allowed himself to crumble.
He'd sworn to himself that he'd never make the same mistake again—that he'd never put anything before the ones he loved.
But by trying to protect them, he feared he might have just cost himself more than what it was worth.
Some habits were hard to break, especially after years of practice.
He still bit his nails.
He still tapped his toes whenever he was nervous.
He still ate the gummy slugs in order of the colours in the rainbow.
And just like every over habit in his life, whenever James found himself in trouble, he sought out his best friends: Moony and Sirius, his forever companions.
Once upon a time, they'd had a fourth member in their little rag-tag bunch, but time was fickle, and Voldemort's reign reached further than any of them had ever dreamed.
Even still, the three friends persisted. Through decades. Through tears. Through strife. They were, as Minnie once clucked during her bi-monthly tea with the group, everlasting.
"So, what did you do this time?" Sirius cocked a brow from the end of the couch. He sat with his socked feet up on the table, a hole worn through the bottom left heel, with a casual indifference about James' sudden appearance.
Draping his coat over the back of an armchair, James let out a soft chuckle as he claimed the space on the opposite end of the couch. "It's nice to see you too, Pads."
"Play nice, Sirius," Remus clucked from the entryway, where he levitated a tray behind him. On it sat three sandwiches hastily thrown together. Always the mother-hen of their little circle of friends, Moony had practically jumped up to gather lunch provisions for his visit when James stumbled through the Floo. "This is the first time Prongs has come to visit since his wedding—wouldn't want to scare him off for longer."
It was meant in jest, James knew, but he couldn't prevent the grimace that twisted his face. "I'm a shite friend, aren't I?"
Sirius dropped his feet to the floor and sat up straight when Remus nudged him, gray eyes flashing fondly at the werewolf, before he turned his attention back to James. "I mean…You're not perfect, but no one can expect to meet my level of excellence."
"You're fine," Remus snorted, rolling his eyes as he claimed the middle cushion on the couch, laying the tray on the coffee table before he began to hand out the plates he'd put together. "I would imagine work has been a bit…hectic."
"I think ghastly might be more precise, but hectic will do." James set his plate on the arm of the couch, casually lifting the top of the bread, double checking that his friend hadn't tried to sneak any vegetables, or worse, mustard into his sandwich. "How are you two? It feels like ages—how is everything going?"
Remus and Sirius shared a look, something torn between humour and hesitation.
"You want the honours, Moony?" Sirius questioned as he fished a crisp off his plate and popped it into his mouth. "Or shall I?"
"What?" James frowned, glancing to the other wizards.
Remus shrugged, poking his crisps around on his plate until they were lined up just so, before he dared to lift his jade green eyes to find James' quizzical stare. "Um...Padfo—Sirius and I have some news."
"...Uh-huh."
"Well, the Decree...It sort of brought an unexpected change to our lives." Remus leaned forward, laying his plate on the coffee table before turning to face James directly, tucking his leg underneath him. "One that neither Sirius nor myself really fully understood until…well, until we were all married."
"Wait—just give me a moment," James rushed out, his tongue darting nervously across his lips. "If you're about to tell me one of you is madly in love with Ginny, I'm going to need something a lot stronger than fizzy drink."
"Baby Weasley? Ha!" Sirius barked out a sharp laugh before taking a large bite of his ham sandwich, chewing loudly on the mouthful as he shook his head. "No, Ginevra was all too happy to step aside."
"Padfoot!" Remus's words sliced across the room, and James didn't even need to see Moony to know the look he was giving their friend.
Swallowing with an audible gulp, Sirius wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "What? You were taking too bloody long!"
"I was trying to break the news delicately."
"Well, I hardly think Prongs needs kid gloves." Sirius rolled his eyes, hand still holding his sandwich gesturing towards him, causing a bit of the ham to flap about with each jostle. "He's been friends with us for ages. I doubt the change in our relationship status will matter much."
"Relationship status?" James echoed, his brows creeping up his forehead as he glanced between his two friends with growing curiosity. The inklings of attraction between the pair were hard to ignore. Even James, who was easily the most oblivious Marauder, had been able to see the way Remus and Sirius looked at one another.
Like they needed each other to breathe.
Like the centre of their universe began and ended on the opposite.
Like they were kismet.
"Yes, you see, Sirius and I—"
"We're in a relationship. Sharing the same room, raising Teddy, shagging—the whole bloody deal," Sirius interrupted Remus, kicking his feet up on the coffee table, nearly knocking James' plate to the floor. "Honestly, Moons, I don't see why you're making a big deal about this."
"Sirius Orion! Are you fucking kidding me?" Remus growled, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took in a deep breath. "Because this is a big deal, you bloody buffoon."
"To whom? We didn't spend much time deliberating—and Merlin knows Teddy doesn't think much of it when he crawls into our bed in the morning. I'm beginning to—"
"Padfoot." James tried his best to suppress his laugh as he watched the pair begin to quarrell, acting as if he wasn't literally on the same couch with them. "Moony?"
"—hide you? Salaazar's sack, like that's even an option. Sirius, you're more bloody flamboyant than Liberace!"
"I'm not sure who he is, or if that's an insult, so I am choosing to take it as a compliment. Just so you know."
"Exactly my bloody point! You're a walking neon sign."
"Guys!" James' sharp tone cut through their row, quickly pulling their attention back towards him. Pushing off the couch, James waved his hand over his plate, vanishing it before he claimed the spot on the coffee table so he could face both of his friends.
A small smirk was already lifting his lips, hands clasped between his knees, and his elbows pressed gently into his thigh so his spine curled. "I don't bloody care whom you date—I mean, I care but not…entirely?" When his words only seemed to drain some colour from Remus' cheeks, James quickly realised his error. "No! I care! I do. I just—this isn't surprising? I love you both, like brothers, but it's been fairly obvious the way you two feel about one another isn't…well, let's just say it's not very brotherly?"
Sirius snorted, his hand slapping loudly against his thigh. "Bloody hell, Prongs, you're really shite at this sort of thing, aren't you?"
"Oh shut it. He's fine." Remus leaned forward, laying a hand on James wrist, a fondness twinkling in his jade eyes. "Thank you."
"For what?" James laughed, a hand already ruffling the hair on the back of his neck—a nervous tell that he hadn't been able to shake, even after decades on the force. "Sticking my boot in my mouth?"
"For accepting us—for not thinking it odd that we want to be together after years of friendship."
"I think you two ending up together is probably the least odd thing to come out of the Decree." Perhaps it should have felt odd, but seeing them together, the way Remus wrapped his hand around Sirius' and gave it a little squeeze, it felt like the most natural thing—like they'd always been together. "What…uh…How is this all working out with Ginny and you both? Technically speaking, isn't she supposed to choose one of you?"
"She already did." Sirius lifted Remus' hand, pressing a soft kiss against the back of his palm. "Submitted the paperwork the day after we got it in the post."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Moony was waffling over what we were going to do and she came waltzing in with everything handled. Smart witch, that one." Sirius gave Remus' hand one last kiss before snatching his wand off the end table, and with a quick flourish, he summoned an envelope from across the room.
Plucking the levitating letter from mid-air, Sirius held it out for James to take before he draped his arm across the back of the couch in a relaxed lean that reminded James of the many nights they'd spent spread out in the Gryffindor common room all those years ago.
Unfolding the letter, James held it aloft as he scanned the words. It was a response to Ginny's selection, announcing that they'd accepted her decision, and congratulating her on her nuptials with a Mr Remus J. Lupin.
"So, you're married to her?" James cocked a brow, hazel eyes lifting over the top of the letter to look at his friend.
"In name only." Remus folded his hands in his lap, fingers smoothing the wrinkles from his trousers. "She didn't figure the Ministry would reassign anyone to Padfoot—what with his panache for the dramatics. So, she opted to take my family name. Until we can divorce that is."
"And she's okay with it? Being married to a man who's dating someone else?" James wasn't entirely sure what the proper term for what Sirius and Remus were doing was. After all, if one looked at it subjectively enough, they might consider the first thirty years of the pair's friendship as foreplay for the rest of their lives. Dating felt so juvenile considering they appeared to still be living together—never mind the fact that it also clearly meant Sirius was becoming more of a parent to Remus' son instead of the fun-loving uncle.
"Hardly. She saw this as the perfect opportunity. She can continue her career without having to deal with actually being forced to participate in a marriage she doesn't want, and we can be together without the Ministry's disapproving glare," Sirius explained, fingers tapping an uneven rhythm on the back of the couch. "Speaking of—how's all this working out over at the Potter household? Last I heard, Hermione was quite happy being made the middle of a father-son sandwich."
"Oh dear Gods, Padfoot." Remus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "After all these years, you might assume I am used to his lack of discretion, but no. No, I don't think I'll ever grow accustomed to it. I should apologize for him, now that I'm officially claiming him, but honestly? I'd rather not."
"Wouldn't make a difference anyway. He'll never stop." James straightened his spine, a bashful smile lifting his lips as he leaned back on the coffee table. "But it's…uh…Well, let's just say my pop in today wasn't exactly spur of the moment."
"That bad?" Remus' expression softened as he turned his attention away from Sirius. "I know you've fancied her for quite some time—"
"Did everyone bloody know?" James groaned.
"Yes," Sirius deadpanned. "Everyone knew."
"Great. That's bloody fantastic."
"We never minded! She's a grown woman and—I don't know. It was nice to see you had a pulse after being single for so bloody long." Remus was far from wrong and James knew it. It had been ages since he'd felt like that about anyone.
The feelings Hermione spurred felt new—yet familiar. Like two opposing sides of the same coin. They waged a war inside him, battling for dominance, and begging him not to let her go.
He didn't want that. Merlin, he wanted to keep things precisely as they were. As unconventional as it was, James found happiness in sharing his wife with Harry. Seeing them together didn't stir feelings of jealousy or ill-will. How could it when he'd seen the way they were destined for one another for so many years? Instead, he found himself happy to see them so content with one another. He wanted them to be together, as long as it meant there was still space in her heart for him as well.
And without recourse, that nagging realisation that he just might have ruined his chances at finding a lasting happiness with the one witch who'd stolen his heart after many years of being woefully alone sunk in.
Because as much as it scared him, as much as he wanted to deny how unhappy it would make him, James knew, without a shred of doubt in his mind, that he couldn't part from Hermione.
Not legally, and definitely not figuratively.
"Yeah, well…don't get too used to it." James let his eyes drop to the floor, staring at the scuffed toes of his loafers as his hand rose to ruffle the hair on the back of his neck.
"What did you do?" Sirius' baritone took on a level of protectiveness that brought forth a small tickle of laughter. They would always be friends—more than friends, truthfully. Brothers. But James knew very well that the loyalty Sirius had developed for his wife surpassed their own friendship in some ways.
Sirius found a common bond with the witch, a long lost sister that he felt he needed to protect. He took her under his wing when she needed it most, and somehow, through the process of building her up, Hermione managed to weasel her way into the most aloof Marauder's heart. She brought forth a humility from Sirius that he had never possessed before, and Circe, she was the only person James was aware of that could literally scold him into submission.
She was, by all intents and purposes, Sirius' only family member, and it was clear in his tone that he would not stand for anyone hurting her—even James.
James slowly lifted his eyes to find Sirius already perched on the edge of the couch, elbows pressing into his thighs as he leaned towards him. The look was intended to be menacing, to let James know he meant business, but it was all James could do not to burst out in laughter.
To others, the look might've inspired hesitation. Maybe even fear.
However, all James could see was a narrowed gaze that looked closer to one he wore when he'd eaten sweets too quickly than real fury.
"I might have encouraged her to end our relationship and choose Harry."
"And I take it she doesn't want that?" Remus lifted a brow.
"You could say that. She likes our current arrangement, and truthfully, I would be hard pressed to deny the comfort of what we've come to know over the past couple of weeks."
"Then why on earth would you encourage her to be with Harry?"
Sirius tossed his hand towards James with an exasperated sigh. "Because he's a self-sabotaging idiot that enjoys misery."
"Well, that's a bit harsh, isn't it? He was trying to be noble. Do right by Hermione." Remus leaned forward to pat his knee gently in a gesture that felt more akin to something his mum would do than something his friend of three decades would.
"Doing right by Hermione would be respecting her wishes. She can make up her own damn mind about whom she wants to marry." Sirius crossed his arms over his chest, falling back on the couch with a dramatic puff of air. "Beyond the blatantly obvious way you two are quite literally perfect for one another, I'd also like to point out how bloody vocal she has been about her happiness with you both. I've only seen her a handful of times since she moved out, but every damn time, she's made sure to mention how idyllic her life is with you and Harry."
James sighed, his eyes drifting down to the floor once more. "I wouldn't go that far."
"Neither would I, but those are her words, not mine," Sirius snapped back. "Look, Prongs, I love you and I love her, so for Nimue's sake, could you put a pin in that foolish notion about ending things and just be bloody happy for once."
"It's not really that easy, Padfoot. My job—"
"Your job is to run the DMLE, not be a bloody martyr."
"Pads is right. You're allowed to be happy, James. And if being in a polyamorous marriage is what makes you happy, then why fight it?" Remus began. "You've dedicated your life to helping the Ministry of Magic—maybe it's time to put your own desires ahead of what Pius wants."
"And how the hell am I going to do that when what I want—what Hermione and Harry want is illegal? It's literally in direct contradiction to what we are supposed to be enforcing."
Sirius let out a quick laugh that felt too harsh to be born of anything but incredulity. "You follow the law, but don't make it easy. No one is asking you to go start a riot in the atrium, but don't sign the bloody papers until you're absolutely forced. And even then, find a way to delay it until you can have the type of life you want. Legally. You fight them from the inside, Prongs. Just like we used to."
Author's Note:
Song: Little Hell by City and Colour
So I know a lot of you were very keen on the Remus/Ginny/Sirius and I hate to crush your dreams—but I hope my humble offering of WolfStar is enough!
As you might have noticed, I started a new fic, so my updates on this are going to back to once per week (Thursdays) as I am going to update both fics each week!—I know, I know. I'm technically late this week. Blame The Witcher & my inability to not turn the thing off! I hope ya'll enjoyed today's update. I think you'll like where this is going. ;)
Until next time. xx