Sensory Magic is an uncommon and often misunderstood ability, allowing a witch or wizard to perceive the magic of others—not only sensing its presence but also measuring its strength and the power behind a spell before it is cast. While all magic wielders have a faint sense of this, true mastery is rare, appearing in only one out of a hundred. Those who possess it with clarity can read the magical signatures of others, predict spellcasting with precision, and even detect hidden enchantments or curses woven into objects and places.
Yet, despite its rarity among ordinary magic users, some group is always gifted with Sensory Magic—werewolves–
Remus shut the book at once, sending up a small cloud of dust that made him cough. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. So, his guess had been right. Ever since he had learned to control the full moon better, the pain had lessened—but something else had taken its place. Something strange.
He had started feeling things.
When someone was about to cast a spell, he would sense it before their wand even moved. A warmth or a chill would creep over his skin. The scent of damp earth, burning wood, or salt carried on an invisible breeze. It never came from anywhere—just from magic itself. He suspected it had something to do with sensory magic.
He hated it.
Remus exhaled, the sound quiet but heavy in the stillness. He pushed himself to his feet, tucking the book under his arm. His footsteps echoed against the stone floor, each one landing with a dull finality. The silence pressed in around him, thick and absolute.
The library—usually buzzing with murmured conversations and the rustle of turning pages—felt abandoned, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. But that was fine. He preferred it this way.
He stopped in front of one of the old shelves, its wood dull and unremarkable—probably the least magical in the entire school. Without a second thought, he slid the book back into place. His fingers traced over the spines, skimming title after title, searching for something—anything—to pull his mind elsewhere.
Lost in the rhythm of reading and reaching, he drifted into another section, too focused on the books to notice where his feet had taken him. When he finally plucked one from the shelf, a small gap remained where it had been. Through that narrow space, in the dim glow of candlelight, he caught sight of someone sitting at a working table—A book hovered in front of him, its pages turning slowly, almost thoughtfully, as if the words inside were alive. The only sound in the room was the soft rustle of paper, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across the boy’s face. On the table, two other books lay open, their pages dense with markings and notes, ignored for the moment as his focus stayed fixed on the floating one.
Remus didn’t need to look twice to know who it was.
It wasn’t just the books or the posture; it was the magic. Dark, steady, and ever-present, like the dense fog of a forgotten forest, hanging in the air with weight but no urgency. It wasn’t flashy or demanding—it was quiet, like it was waiting.
Remus smirked quietly, feeling the pull of it. He walked toward the table, his steps calm, not hurrying, taking in the moment. Without a word, he slid into the seat across from him, dropping his book with a soft thud onto the table. His eyes glanced over the pages, but he didn’t read. He waited.
Regulus Black, one of his best friend’s younger, prickly brother. A clever lad, truly—he wasn’t hard to look at either. Sharp features, piercing grey eyes, dark, curly hair—he could almost be deemed perfect if it weren’t for that infuriating personality of his.
Finally, Regulus let the book drop onto the table with a soft thud. His gaze lifted, meeting Remus’s, and he scoffed—scoffed—like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Waiting for my attention like a dog?” Regulus mused, his voice dripping with mockery as he barely spared Remus a glance. He twirled his quill between his fingers before returning to whatever he was writing. “I guess they’re right. Wolves are just another breed of dogs, huh?”
The words were casual, but the bite in them was unmistakable.
Oh, right. There was that—Regulus knew. About his very important, very well-kept secret.
It had happened by accident, really. Sirius talked too much, the Marauders got too comfortable, and Regulus was just too damn observant for his own good. A poorly planned prank had given him the last puzzle piece, and before Remus could even think of a decent lie, the little smartass had already figured it out.
Which led to a rather tense moment that ended with Remus making him swear a vow of silence—not that Regulus would have told anyone anyway.
Remus groaned, rolling his eyes. “Say it louder, why don’t you?” He shot the younger boy a look of pure frustration. “Why aren’t you in class, Reginald?”
Regulus’s gaze snapped up, sharp as a blade. His lips pressed into a thin line. “Call me that again and die.”
Remus smirked to himself. Getting a reaction out of someone as composed as Regulus Black? Satisfying.
“I was dismissed from all my classes to write a research paper for Mystech.”
Remus frowned. “The hell is Mystech?”
The confusion must have been obvious because Regulus groaned, rolling his eyes like it physically pained him to explain. “Imbecile. It’s a journal dedicated entirely to the science of magic. Some of the greatest wizards of our time have published research there.”
Remus raised an eyebrow. “You’re not a famous wizard, though.”
Regulus scoffed, turning back to his work. “I’m not one yet. Besides, they select one student every year and allow them to submit a paper. This year, I was chosen out of a hundred applicants.” Pride dripped from his voice.
Remus leaned back, crossing his arms. “And your last name had nothing to do with that?”
Regulus barely shrugged. He wasn’t denying it, but he certainly wasn’t confirming it either.
“What are you even writing about?” Remus asked, tilting his head.
Regulus’s quill didn’t pause as he answered, “Sensory magic in different creatures—vampires, sirens—” He finally glanced up, locking eyes with Remus. “Werewolves.”
Remus froze. His breath hitched just slightly—not enough for most people to notice, but Regulus wasn’t most people.
For a moment, he just stared at the younger boy, dumbfounded.
“Fantastic topic,” Remus mused, suddenly swiping the notebook right out from under Regulus’s quill.
“Oi—”
Ignoring the younger boy’s protest, Remus muttered, Legere Velox, under his breath. The ink on the pages seemed to shift, words unraveling and pouring into his mind at an unnatural speed. His eyes flicked over the parchment, absorbing information faster than he could normally process.
Regulus huffed but didn’t try to snatch it back. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching Remus with sharp, expectant eyes.
“Well?” he prompted as soon as Remus closed the notebook.
Remus blinked, still processing. “It’s—Regulus, this is brilliant.” He set the notebook down, sliding it back across the table. “I mean, wow. I’ve been doing some light reading on sensory magic, but nothing—nothing—was this detailed.”
“Yeah? I only have some interviews left, and I’ll be done months before the deadline.” Regulus smiled—a small, rare smile.
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Remus asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Not for me.” Regulus shrugged. “Blacks are dark wizards, so.” He said it so casually, like it was a fact of nature. “I’ve already sent out some letters—I should hear back any day now.”
Remus opened his mouth, clearly about to protest, but Regulus was faster. “Why the sudden interest in sensory magic?” he asked, steering the conversation elsewhere.
Remus narrowed his eyes. “If you don’t want me snitching to your brother, we will go back to that.” He crossed his arms, unimpressed.
Regulus hummed, tilting his head. “How did Evans say it goes? Snitches get stitches?”
“Do not threaten me.” Remus snorted, his hand now on the table.
“Right, forgot how sensitive you are.” Grey eyes didn’t back down. His lips tugged upwards, and Remus unintenciouly lead forward. He couldn’t reach him from where he was; Remus knew that, and yet.
–
-
“And while the process might seem dangerous, if you follow the book step by step—” Slughorn’s voice carried through the dimly lit dungeon, his rotund figure moving leisurely between workstations. He peered into bubbling cauldrons with a critical eye, adjusting the flames under a few with the flick of his wand. “—you will manage to brew a perfect Amortentia.”
A heady mix of scents—burnt sugar, crushed rose thorns, and the sharp bite of valerian root—lingered in the thick, humid air. The dungeon’s torches flickered, their glow bouncing off the swirling potions, casting distorted reflections on the damp stone walls.
Remus groaned, stirring his cauldron with the exact counterclockwise motion the book described, but the potion refused to swirl properly. Instead of a smooth, pearlescent shimmer, the surface rippled unevenly, stubbornly refusing to take shape.
Lily frowned across from him, flipping furiously through Advanced Potion-Making, her red hair sticking to her forehead. “I don’t get it. We followed the instructions exactly.”
Remus resisted the urge to glance toward the other side of the classroom. He already knew what he’d see.
Sure enough, Snape’s potion was already perfect—that signature mother-of-pearl glow twisting above the liquid, shimmering with unnatural beauty. Of course, Snape had done it flawlessly. His hands were steady, his measurements exact, his mind razor-sharp.
But for once, Remus wasn’t irritated by Snape.
No, his problem sat beside Snape, looking infuriatingly at ease.
Regulus Black leaned back in his chair, twirling a silver quill between his fingers, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal faint ink stains on his wrists—the only visible sign that he actually put effort into anything. Unlike the rest of them—tense, frustrated, sweating over their cauldrons—he looked utterly unbothered.
Worse still, he wasn’t even working.
Severus was handling most of the brewing, measuring ingredients with his characteristic precision, while Regulus simply sat back, observing, occasionally offering a low-voiced suggestion. When he finally moved, it was only to reach for the crushed cloves—adding them without measuring, without hesitation, with the kind of certainty that made Remus’s teeth clench.
Then, Regulus looked up—right at him.
And smirked.
That bastard.
“They are so annoying,” Lily sighed, slamming the book shut in frustration. “How come they’re so good at this? We’re both top of our class, and here we are, suffering.”
“Slytherins,” Remus muttered dryly.
“That’s stereotypical.” Lily groaned, dropping her head onto the table. “But yeah. Bloody Slytherins.”
As if on cue, Severus raised his hand.
“We’re done, Professor.”
Slughorn beamed. “As expected from my top students!” His eyes practically sparkled as he approached their workstation. The delighted nod that followed was painfully predictable.
“Ah, flawless. I would like the rest of you to take this as an example. I’m sure Severus and Mr. Black followed the book’s guide, and in the end, they were the first to finish—and done perfectly, I’m certain.”
Remus bit the inside of his cheek.
Lily, however, leaned slightly toward him and whispered, “Did you notice how he called Sev by his first name, but Regulus as Mr. Black? If he doesn’t grade us, we could always say he hates half-bloods and Muggle-borns and blackmail him.” She grinned, her voice all sugar-sweet mischief.
Remus smirked, shaking his head. “Lily, don’t you know? We shouldn’t pay particular notice to the difference of our blood, or it will irritate those who believe in pure-blood society’s superiority and send the movement of exclusivity backwards.”
He mimicked the pompous, condescending tone of that Daily Prophet article—the one that had pissed them off so much they’d written a scathing rebuttal. Their response had not been well-received.
Lily snorted. “Merlin, I hate this school sometimes.”
Remus sighed and looked back at Severus and Regulus’s table. Snape raised his wand for the finishing touch, and that’s when Remus felt it.
The sensation of Severus’s magic—cold, distant, precise. But his element was fire.
Remus groaned again. He was getting used to this bullshit, that didn’t make it any easier though.
Slughorn said something, it was Regulus who answered, his voice smooth and detached.
“Amortentia is a dangerous potion that can take away a person’s free will. Though it is now considered a crime, it was often used in ancient times for forceful acts of lust and even marriage. Despite that, it is said that it smells differently for everyone, as each person has one soulmate or, quote-on-quote, ‘true love.’”
He said it like he was being held at gunpoint.
Remus almost respected that.
“Excellent, my boy! Why don’t you smell it and describe it to us?” Slughorn chuckled. “Both of you, if you wish.”
Severus stiffened. Then, deliberately, he looked away.
“You go ahead,” he muttered to Regulus, waving his hand dismissively. Avoiding one particular redhead in the room.
Remus heard Lily inhale sharply. From the corner of his eye, he saw her fingers twitch. In silent support, he pressed a hand to her back, rubbing a slow circle.
Regulus blinked once, then exhaled sharply, as if this entire ordeal was some great inconvenience to him. He leaned forward, inhaling deeply over the cauldron.
For a second, there was nothing. Just the soft flicker of candlelight, the shifting of shadows.
Then, he leaned back, voice smooth and uninterested. “Smells like the sea in summer. Strawberries in May. And fags.”
Slughorn coughed.
Remus turned his head just in time to see Lily gripping on the text book, her green eyes narrowed into slits.
“What?” Regulus drawled, feigning innocence. “Professor, we were encouraged to use more Mu–” His gaze flickered briefly to Lily, then to Remus, and there it was—that smirk again. Self-satisfied. Calculated. “muggle terms in Muggle Studies. ‘Fags,’ if you didn’t know, means cigarettes.”
Slughorn sighed, looking toward the prefects—unfortunately, Remus and Lily.
Lily was already rising from her seat. “Professor, may we be dismissed? We need to retrieve a dictionary for a certain someone.”
Regulus scoffed, crossing his arms. “Oh, come on. You’re not even my House’s prefect.”
Remus, who had been entirely too tired for this from the start, simply looked at him and said, “Regulus.”
The name alone carried weight. A quiet warning.
Grey eyes studied him, unblinking. Then, with a theatrical sigh, Regulus stood, gathering his books with deliberately slow movements.
They took him straight to the astronomy tower. The whole way, each of them was silent.
Lily sat on the ground leaning back, taking her pack and a lighter, offering one to Remus, then to Regulus. Both of them took it.
“So, baby black, I, with a give authority and responsibility, am required to read morals to you and explain how a word you used and a word you implied you like to use are offensive.” She started as Regulus sat next to her, Remus on her other side. Remus cringed at her formal tone.
“Evans, save it.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t really care.”
“Oh, he doesn’t care, lils,” Remus mused, taking a drag and blowing it into the air. The sun was shinier than most days for some reason. “I guess that makes it okay then.”
“It surely must, Remus.” Lily’s tone seemed lighthearted, but her eyes were anything but. she looked ready for murder “I mean he doesn’t care so we should turn blinde eye to his blood purist ass-”
“I’m not a blood purist, I have muggle born friedns” He mcoked, wrong move on his behalf, both Remus and Lily’s head turned to him at instent “I’m fucking around, relax” He rolled his eyes “Listen, I don’t believe impure blood makes anyone less of a witch or a wizard, I believe all magical creatures have same amount of magic, it’s just-” He sighed “Let me put it this way, if there was a word that would potentially offend purebloods I would use it to get rise out of them”
“I’m sure you would,” Lily hummed. “I realize now we can’t talk the years of beating and brainwashing he got from his blood-purist parents, so we might as well enjoy the free period.”
“Translation–she hates you and doesn’t think you’re worthy of a lecture.”
“I kind of got that. Thank you, Lupin.” Regulus nodded his head, leaning back on the cold wall. “I have never been here in the daytime; it’s weird.”
“I have never skipped a class with a blood purist and yet-”
“I’m not a blood purist-”
“Yeah, he’s just Regulus-purist.” Silence. Remus could almost feel confusion. “It means he believes the superior one is he, and everyone else is below him-”
“Stop saying odd shit” Lily put a hair behind her ear “For the love of god,”
“Yes, I beg, never repeat that.”
“Whatever, change of topic, how’s your research project going?” He asked, ignoring the redness that crept onto his face.
“Well, actually, I heard back from Vampires just yesterday. I don’t think I will have any luck interviewing sirens, though. I’m still hoping to hear back from werewolves, and well yeah, elves agreed with ease.”
“What is your research about?” Lily stopped for a moment. “Wait, you’re going face-to-face with vampires? Isn’t that kind of scary?”
“Sensory magic and not for me. Blacks are dark wizards.”
“You should still be careful, you brainless snob,” Remus shot back. “Aren’t vampires very sex-oriented creatures?”
“That’s because of their sensory magic. They feel strong desire once they get attracted to magic, intimacy helps them suck it out better than blood drinking, it does help that it’s enjoyable for them too,” Regulus stated as if that was the most normal thing ever “Besides their sex drive is way higer because of their sensory magic”
“Actually,” Lily’s cigarette fell from her mouth, but she caught it just in time. “Wizarding world is fucking werid, you can’t go there alone, what if they will want something weird from you”
“I will just say no.” Regulus shrugged
And Remus didn’t find it reassuring at all.
“When are you meeting them?” He said, his voice tired, annoyed.
“Tonight, I have to sneak out, so-”
“Fucking hell” He put his head on Lily’s shoulder as he put out his cig “I will come with and if you don’t want your bother finding out, you will have no complaints”
-
-
“Where are you going, Moony?” Pete asked; he seemed hesitant to hand over the map.
The candles were already lit up, light seemed to be dancing on the shiny, velvet, red curtains. Chubby boy was sitting on the bed, his face flushed and sleep already seeming to creep into his eyes.
“I’m meeting up with Pad’s annoying brother for a potion assignment” Remus glanced back, smiling at his friend while still packing his backpack “I need to make sure we don’t get into trouble mate, I wanted to grab James’s robe but you know how protectuve he’s of that thing”
“For a good reason, moons, that thing is antique, EEffy would have his—and then our—asses if something happened to it, besided you know he only lands that to Sirius” Peter grinned before passing the map to Remus.
“Sorry, Worms, you’ll have to stalk your girl later.” Remus couldn’t help himself but tease, he dodged the pillow that was thrown his way and walked outside.
Ignoring the chatter that drifted out of the common room, he went into the dark, cold dungens, the warmth of his own dorms seemingly luring him in. Damn Regulus Black for disturbing his usual, peace filled, warm evening. Even the paintings didn’t seem energetic enough to ask Remus why he was out.
With a grumble, he tapped his wand on the map. “I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good.”
It was still not done yet, so it took a while for everything to show. His eyes scanned it for a while before finding Regulus Black, standing in front of the kitchen with Dorcas Meadowes and some elf. So he did listen and didn’t run off on his own. Remus almost thought he’d have to catch up to the younger one.
Echos of these steps were the only audible sound, the candles lit up along the way, Remus’s eyes were glued on the map so he wouldn’t accidentally bump into Flitch.
He followed the sound of whispers, Regulus was talking with Meadowes, he looked almost bored.
“Cas, no matter how much your family believes in some muggle god, I won’t take any silly crosses with me, It doesn’t actually work on them-”
“Actually, in antique time, orthodoxical and catholic crosses used to be made with enchanted metal that did affect vampires,” Remus chimed in, going closer to two “Meadowes,” he said, his tone formal.
He had to be civil but not friendly towards the older girl, according to Marlene’s ‘freidship rules’. The seventh year and her have been on each other's necks ever since Dorcas became a captain of Slytherin’s quidditch team, for what reasons? Remus was sure even they couldn’t remember. Though Meadowes was graduating this year, Remus hoped he wouldn’t have to hear Marlene’s bitcing anymore.
“Lupin,” She nodded her head, her hair following the movement. “Bring him in one piece.” Her eyes narrowed, cold, threatening, and for some reason, Remus found it believable enough.
“He’s not my keeper,” Regulu rolled his eyes. “Can we go, actually? Kreature doesn’t have all night.”
Kreature? As in Sirius’s house-elf? Remus looked around only to find an old elf silently standing by Regulus’s side, looking at Remus with disgust.
“Yeah, what would you do if Mommy Dearest didn’t wake up and immediately got feet rubs?” Dorcas mocked, pushing her braid away from her face
“Do not talk about my mother’s feet.” He cringed. “Remus.” He grabbed Remus’s sleeve and then turned back to the other girl. “If something happened, Kreature would alert you right away, yeah?”
“I know. Evan and Barty will be on guard too; be careful.”
Regulus felt a sudden hit of cold air, a magic so powerful it hurt to feel; his organs felt like they were crushing, he closed his eyes and when he opened them, just in seconds, they were in the forest, Regulus let go of his sleeve, Remus fell on his knees, the grass grounding him, making him snap out of it.
“Kreature isn’t welcome any further. Please scream if you need my help, young master,” He said, his eyes only on Regulus, who was too busy helping Remus up.
“Thanks, Kreature.” Regulus’s voice was so soft, he seemed affected by sudden teleportation. “I would appreciate a warning next time, though.”
“Of course,”
With steady steps, they walked deep into the forest, though it was starting to look less and less like one, a trail that started out as grey asphalt was turning into colorful crystals.
“What was that?” Remus asked, breaking the silence all of a sudden. His hands were holding onto the strap of his bag, too shaken to let go.
“Simple teleportation spell,” Regulus said. “Though elves are powerful creatures, their magic is one of the oldest and strongest. You sensed Kreature's magic, right? You weren’t shaken by teleportation but rather by the magic behind it, right?” He glanced at Remus
“I don’t get it, It felt like someone shot me. If elves are so powerful, then why are they-”
“You should know better than anyone,” Regulus mused, looking bitter all of a sudden. “Whatever looks like a threat to use, we either try to control or try to isolate.”
Remus bit inside of his cheek, looking up, he grabbed a fag from his pack and lit it up with ease, taking a drag or two, sometimes he forgot who he truly was, letting himself get lost in the normality of the life he has gotten.
“Why don’t the rebel?” He wondered, getting cold feet all of a sudden. Were elves and him the same? He didn’t like the idea of that–didn’t like that at all.
“Submission has been beaten into their breed, to the point where they are happy to serve, as stupid as that is.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Tell me how your sensory works. Do you feel someone’s magic before or after they use it?”
“Depends,” Remus shrugged “on the time I mean, when it’s that time of month I usually feel everyone near me, but after the fool moon it’s just when someone uses magic, I feel the nature of it” He shook his head in frustration, slowing down his steps “It’s hard to explain”
“Explain it later,” Regulus whispered, taking out his notebook and mechanical pencil, a very muggle pencil. “We’re here.”
“Yeah, I got that.” He fixed his jean jacket, suddenly wishing he had brought something warmer.
He let the cigarette fall, putting it out with his foot.
The trail ended.
-
-
“We didn’t think you’d bring the wolf with you,” One that sat right in front of Regulus said. They were sitting on the wooden chair, a wooden, old-fashioned table in between them. Only Regulus and Vlad, the russing vampire, were sat down, a candle lit up in the middle. Two others were standing beside Vlad, completely covered in robes. Remus was leaning on the wall, his eyes closed. He kept the close ear to their conversation, though.
“Other than that, it was a pleasant exchange of information, I hope.” His accent was thick and sickening. Remus didn’t like Vlad at all. “Your family, young Black, had alway been a good partners.”
“Yes, my family has always been good at magic and business.” He started packing already, putting away his notebook with one movement, he locked eyes with Vlad “Thank you, Vlad, I guess vampires are good hosts”
Vlad and two other vampires laughed.
“Я имею в виду что-то другое, но он еще молодой,” He said in between laughter “что мне просить у него? кровь я не хочу” he smiled slyly and Remus got a very bad feeling, with slows step he went closer, keeping a distant that wouldn’t give him any attention but he’d be fast enough if Vlad tried anything.
‘I will be fine’ his ass, Regulus Black was an idiot.
“Хотя он хорошо пахнет.” Remus’s muscles tensed.
Vlad’s fingers twitched, reaching—
Before he could touch Regulus’s hair, Remus’s hand shot out, seizing his wrist with bruising force.
Silence fell.
Remus opened his eyes, slow, deliberate. His grip tightened.
“Excuse me,” Remus said, voice edged with something sharp. He tightened his grip on Vlad’s wrist, feeling the unnatural cold of his skin. “Wolves are very territorial creatures.”
Then, with deliberate force, he wrenched his hand away, letting the vampire’s wrist drop with a harsh finality.
He turned to Regulus, eyes burning. “Consider this our goodbye.”
No hesitation. He grabbed Regulus by the arm, dragging him up from his seat, and they bolted before Vlad could utter a single word.
The candlelight flickered violently in their wake, shadows stretching and twisting across the walls.
The room exploded into motion behind them. Footsteps—light, inhumanly fast—pounded against the floor, gaining on them. A low snarl curled through the air. Regulus yanked his wand free, breathless but steady.
A vampire lunged—
Remus twisted, his grip on Reguus’s wrist never loosening as he flicked his wand. A burst of white-hot magic sent their pursuer crashing back against the wall, stone splintering on impact.
The night swallowed them whole.
A silver moon hung high, pale light spilling through the dense canopy, their only guide through the labyrinth of trees. But behind them, the shadows twisted unnaturally—more vampires emerging, their movements eerily smooth, eyes glinting like polished glass in the dark.
Remus didn’t think. Instinct took over.
He grabbed Regulus by the collar and yanked him into the underbrush, tumbling behind a gnarled tree. The scent of earth and damp leaves enveloped them. He pressed Regulus against the rough bark, a hand clamping over his mouth before the younger boy could so much as exhale.
Remus’s pulse pounded. He barely breathed.
He could hear them—light footsteps, the whisper of fabric, the sound of something moving too fast yet too silent.
He shut his eyes for a fraction of a second, letting the forest claim him. Letting his scent bleed into the wilderness, becoming nothing more than damp earth and wind.
But Regulus—Regulus still smelled like himself. Like cold magic and ink-stained parchment.
Too distinct. Too human.
Remus curled around him, pressing closer, shielding him with his own body. His fingers twitched against Regulus’s jaw in warning—stay still, stay quiet.
The air tightened. A figure glided past, only meters away.
Remus held his breath.
One more step.
The vampire paused. Sniffed.
Remus’s grip on Regulus tightened.
Another second. Another eternity.
The creature turned, vanishing into the night with an unnatural swiftness, chasing phantoms further into the forest.
Only when silence crept back did Remus dare to breathe again. Slowly, cautiously, he removed his hand from Regulus’s mouth.
“You’re an idiot,” Remus muttered, exhaustion settling deep in his bones. His voice was hoarse, raw from adrenaline and the biting night air. “What the fuck, Regulus?”
He pushed himself up, brushing dirt and leaves from his jacket, though his hands were still shaking.
Regulus, unbothered, took the offered hand and pulled himself to his feet. He patted his pockets, finding his notebook still there, and exhaled in relief. He didn’t even bother dusting himself off.
“The situation got out of hand,” he admitted, his voice maddeningly calm, as if they hadn’t just barely outrun death. “I will admit that.”
Remus barked out a hollow laugh. “I will be fine,” he mocked, twisting his voice into a terrible posh accent. “I’m a Black—nothing will happe—fucking idiot.”
Regulus rolled his eyes, but before he could retort--
A rustle.
A shift in the bushes.
Their eyes met.
No hesitation. They ran.
The trees blurred, the forest warping around them, until the ground beneath their feet began to change—crushed leaves giving way to the hard, unfeeling press of asphalt.
They had made it back.
Remus nearly collapsed then and there.
Kreacher stood waiting. Without a word, he snapped his fingers—Regulus was cleaned up in an instant, his robes pristine once more, while Remus remained covered in dirt and dried sweat.
The castle loomed ahead, bathed in the soft hues of early dawn.
Regulus flipped open his notebook, already scanning the pages. “We found out good stuff, at least. This will be the cherry on top for my paper.”
Remus stopped walking.
Anger burned hot in his chest, curling in his gut like something volatile.
Not the fact that they had nearly been torn apart? Not the fact that they had barely escaped?
Regulus didn’t even look up.
Fury surged.
“Yeah, Regulus, sure.” Remus’s voice was tight, sharp, but he turned on his heel and walked off before it could break. He waved his hand. “Just tell me when the next interview is.”
-
-
“AND MEADOWES SCORES AGAIN! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, ARE WE EVEN SURPRISED?”
Peter’s voice echoed through the stadium, far louder than necessary. Remus sometimes wondered if he realized he didn’t need to scream into the microphone.
“Slytherin is going to win for sure,” Marlene muttered bitterly, sinking into her seat. “They’re going to make us work for the cup.”
“Especially since it’s Meadowes’s last year.”
James, ever the strategist, had his big glasses on, practically glued to the game. He’d spent hours analyzing plays, coming up with new strategies, and poring over player stats. He was obsessed—Remus respected it, even if it was borderline terrifying.
“BABY BLACK SAW THE SNITCH!”
James’s grin split wide as he punched Sirius’s arm.
Sirius shot up from his seat. “LET’S BLOODY GO!” His voice boomed through the stands, loud, raw, and utterly shameless. “SEE THAT? THAT’S MY BROTHER!”
Remus and Lily exchanged an amused glance.
Even from up here, Remus could see the mortification creeping up Regulus’s neck. A deep cherry-red flush—half exertion, half pure, unfiltered embarrassment. His grip tightened on his broom, probably already plotting Sirius’s demise.
And somehow, that made the moment even better.
“Well, he doesn’t need a microphone, that’s for sure,” Mary McDonald quipped, snapping Remus out of his thoughts.
“We should keep one away from Sirius as far as humanly possible,” Lily muttered, tightening her ponytail.
“I don’t get it,” she continued, frowning. “Why is Regulus spotting the Snitch such a big deal?”
James leaned back smugly. “It gives him the upper hand. Sniv—Severus and Rosier will keep tossing the Quaffle high, playing it safe, knowing they don’t have to worry about Reggie. Because he already knows where the Snitch is.” He grinned. “He’s just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.”
Marlene groaned. “Bloody brilliant. Annoying, but brilliant.”
“AND REGULUS BLACK THROWS HIMSELF INTO A DIVE—HE’S CHASING THE SNITCH AT THE SPEED OF AN ENCHANTED—”
“Someone shut Wormy up,” Remus groaned. “He’s going to deafen me.”
“Moons, let the man do his job.” Sirius waved a lazy hand in Remus’s face, watching the field with laser focus.
“This is such bullshit,” Remus muttered. “We know he’s going to catch it. We should be out there setting up the prank before it’s too late—”
“Quit your bitching, Moony,” James demanded, snapping his fingers. Then, his grin turned feral. “He’s got it.”
“REGULUS BLACK CATCHES THE SNITCH! NO ONE IS SHOCKED! I HOPE HE WAS AS FAST AS LIGHT, AS SNEAKY AS THE SNAKE—”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP” Reguus yelled, too occupied by cheering cowed to look at Peter but he did flip the guy off.
Remus blinked. So aggressive.
He liked it.
Down below, players were already swarming Regulus, cheering for him. Two particular Ravenclaws—Pandora Lovegood and Barty Crouch Jr. of all people—were practically jumping up and down, somehow even louder than Sirius, despite their own team’s loss.
Remus’s gaze drifted back to the center of it all.
Regulus was grinning, breathless, hair wild from the wind. His Quidditch robes clung to his sweat-dampened skin, his face still flushed from the effort. And in that moment, under the golden glow of the sun, Remus thought maybe the sun was useless after all.
He must’ve been staring dumbly because Lily’s voice cut through his thoughts, sing-song and entirely too smug.
“You’re staring,” she teased, not-so-subtly looking at Regulus herself. “I’m so disappointed in you.”
“I have no idea what you mean,” Remus shot back, but he still didn’t tear his gaze away from the youngest Black.
“Well.” Sirius threw an arm around both James and Remus, smirking. “Time for a congratulatory present, boys.”
Across the stands, Peter caught Sirius’s eye and winked.
Remus grinned to himself. The prank they had come up with was genius—and, miraculously, harmless. A rare combination for the Marauders.
“REGULUS BLACK, EVERYONE!” Peter’s voice boomed through the stands once again. “ONLY THE SECOND TO GRYFFINDOR’S SEEKER—”
Before he could finish, Regulus hurled a Bludger at the commentary box. It crashed through the glass with a spectacular shatter.
James whistled lowly. “So violent.” They slipped away, ignoring Lily’s protests.
No one was on the field yet. Perfect.
Moving quickly, they scattered small enchanted buttons across the ground—when stepped on, they’d explode into massive water bombs.
A few minutes later, the teams finally landed, and then—chaos.
Water everywhere. Squeals, shouts, curses, players slipping and scrambling. James doubled over laughing, leaning against Remus for support. Sirius wiped tears from his eyes.
In the middle of it all stood Regulus Black.
He had already stripped off his Quidditch vest and was left in just a very form-fitting black shirt. His hair was a damp mess, water dripping from his jawline. And—Merlin help him—he was smiling, watching them from across the field.
He mouthed Genius.
Remus suddenly understood.
Why he’d been so angry last night. Why he’d enjoyed their fights so much. Why he’d followed Regulus to that stupid interview.
Sirius was going to end him.
-
-
The library was quiet at this hour, save for the occasional rustle of parchment or the distant laughter filtering in from the party downstairs. The glow of enchanted lanterns cast a soft, flickering light over the wooden desks, turning the space into something warmer, something that almost felt like a secret.
Remus dropped his books onto the desk in front of Regulus with a thud, making the other boy glance up with mild disapproval.
“Shouldn’t you be at the party?”
Regulus set his quill aside, tilting his head just slightly. “Shouldn’t you be not talking to me?”
Remus scoffed. “What can I say? You’re irresistible.”
Regulus considered that for a moment, then gave a single, satisfied nod. “So I’ve been told.”
Remus huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he slumped into the chair.
“The party got boring,” Regulus continued, tapping a finger idly against the edge of his notebook. “Figured I’d get some editing done.”
Remus let out a long, theatrical sigh. How did he end up liking this absolute loser?
“Any fun interviews I should know about?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Not any you should care about.”
Wrong answer.
Remus reached across the desk before Regulus could stop him, swiping the notebook out of his hands. He flipped it open, ignoring the scowl being thrown his way.
“Really?” Regulus deadpanned.
Remus smirked but didn’t respond, scanning the page instead. He saw an envelope neatly tucked in the middle of the pages, he opened it.
“You got a letter from the local pack?” His voice wasn’t accusing, but it wasn’t exactly neutral, either. If Regulus went, Remus couldn’t follow him there, and packs weren’t known for being kind to wizards, especially snobby ones like baby Black.
Regulus grabbed the notebook back, tucking it under his arm. “I’m not going, so don’t get your panties in a twist.”
He said it with the usual air of detached boredom, but something about the way he wouldn’t meet Remus’s eyes gave him away. For just a second, his lips pressed into something almost resembling a pout.
Which was absurd because Regulus Black did not pout.
Remus sighed, dragging a hand through his hair before tossing himself back in his chair.
“Tomorrow,” he said suddenly. “Come-and-Go Room. Seven o’clock.”
Regulus frowned. “Why?”
Remus met his gaze, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’ll give you that damned interview.”
Regulus stared at him, his mouth opening just a little. “And what if they connect the dots and realize there’s a werewolf at Hogwarts?”
“Then write it well enough so they don’t,” Remus replied easily, crossing his arms.
Regulus blinked, then let out a sigh. “No pressure, then.”
-
-
Regulus Black didn’t know when to give up. He didn’t want to give up. The very idea of surrendering to anything felt alien to him. Giving up wasn’t a luxury he could afford, not now, not with this article hanging in the balance. Mystech had to see that he was capable of more than the rest, that his research would be the finest work to ever grace the page.
He had buried himself in books. Fifty, maybe more—on sensory magic, the deep, twisting histories of magical creatures, the very magic that flowed through them. He’d almost died in a botched interview with a vampire, nearly suffocated by the relentless affection of the elves, and while he had respect for their culture, getting them to speak about themselves was like pulling teeth. Sirens? He hadn’t even dared attempt. But werewolves? That was different. He wasn’t backing down from them.
The pack, their leader, he was planning on going in secret, but when Remus offered himself up, Regulus hadn’t expected the relief that flooded him. Remus was a safer bet—
So, he arrived at the Come-and-Go Room early, preparing the space as though it were a ritual. Coffee brewed slowly, filling the air with its rich scent. An ashtray sat on the table, along with two packs of cigarettes and a well-worn lighter—small comforts, things that made him feel like he had control. His fingers ran over the mechanical pen Dorcas had gifted him.
He waited. And waited.
Remus arrived ten minutes late. Typical.
The door creaked open, and Remus stepped inside, looking effortlessly disheveled, as always. His brown hair fell just over his forehead, curling slightly as if it had its own idea of how things should be. His presence filled the space in a way that made Regulus’s breath hitch, just like it always did. It was absurd. But Remus—he had that way about him.
Taller than most, with a sharpness in his gaze that could almost slice through you, his quiet, almost bored confidence was contagious. And for some reason, it always got under Regulus’s skin.
His clothes always looked like they were someone else's, always worn out, too big, he always carried a book or a cigarette with him, his tanned skin was filled with freckles and the scars–one that fascinated Regulus most was the one stretching from the corner of his lip to his chin. He was strong, too. Didn’t look like it, but he was. He could easily lift up a chair, never complained when he had to carry heavy books, and looked like he could even pick Regulus up with ease (and he could). Regulus especially liked it when he wore short sleeves, showing off his toned arms just enough.
The first time Regulus ever felt a pull toward Remus was when he overheard him muttering to himself about quitting smoking, thinking no one could hear. The next day, Regulus asked for a cigarette, and Remus teased him, asking him if wasn’t he supposed to quit. That tiny moment, the way he listened–Regulus had found it ridiculously hot.
“You’re late,” Regulus caught, tapping his wristwatch. “Sit.”
“So demanding.” He had his usual lazy smile on. He put his bag away, looked down at the table, and licked his lips.
Fuck him, Regulus though, fuck this fucking fuck-
“You know me too well.”
“You’re just predictable,” Regulus shrugged simply, watching as Remus helped himself to coffee and waited for him to light up a cigarette before starting. It felt like he was moving slowly on purpose. “Okay, let’s start off easy. When did you start feeling other people's magic?”
“Two months ago,” he said as he put some sugar in his paper cup, “transformation became less painful as the wolves got used to my lot running around with us in their forms.”
Regulus hummed, looking at Remus thoughtfully.
“What?” The older one laughed
“That makes sense, werewolves run around in packs because it becomes less painful when their other part starts to feel less lonely, but blinded by the instincts they can’t see who they are runninga around with so it would make sense for werewolves to have sensory magic naturally,” He started writing everything down “Remus that means wolf finds your iditoic friends presence and magic comforting enough to not-”
“You’re freakishly smart.”
Regulus blushed. He couldn’t help himself, really; it was given at this point.
-
-
Hours had passed. Four full packs of cigarettes were now scattered across the floor, their butts like tiny, scorched reminders of the time spent in the thick, heavy air of the room. Regulus had finished up with the questions, his notebook now closed, the ink on the pages smeared in the dim light. Remus, standing by the curtains, looked tired, his frame slouched slightly, as if the weight of the night had finally caught up with him.
Regulus stretched, trying to shake off the stiffness in his limbs. “Say,” he started, voice rough from too much talking, “What does my magic feel like?”
Remus didn’t even flinch, the usual smirk curving his lips as he glanced over at him. “It feels like slime, like a million slugs crawling on me and spitting—”
“Shut up,” Regulus groaned, rubbing his eyes. “I meant seriously.”
Remus laughed, that lazy, low chuckle that always made Regulus’s chest tighten. “I’m fucking with you,” he said, shaking his head. “It feels cold—but in a pleasant way. Like spring, like the first breeze when the flowers are already bloomed. It feels pleasant. You know?”
Regulus blinked, taken aback by the answer. “I don’t,” he admitted, his voice quieter than before. His lips twitched as he tried to suppress a smile. “But it’s nice to hear.”
Remus, unbothered, stepped closer, his shadow falling across the pages of Regulus’s notes. His hand grazed his back—light, casual, like it was nothing. But Regulus felt it, the heat of it seeping through his shirt.
“I can’t wait for this to get published,” Remus said, leaning over his shoulder to peer at the scribbled words.
Regulus shifted uncomfortably, the proximity suddenly too close. He swallowed, trying to focus on the words in front of him. “Me neither. I don’t know how you can trust me this much.”
Remus raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
Regulus bit his lip, the words hanging in the air like a challenge. “I mean, I’ve given the vow, sure. But nothing’s stopping me from leaving hints, is there? With your medical reports, one could easily connect the dots.”
Remus’s amusement deepened, and he leaned in just a little closer, his breath warm against Regulus’s ear. “Nothing stopping you?” he asked, his voice a low, teasing whisper.
“Nothing,” Regulus breathed out, heart thudding in his chest.
There was a beat, a pause where time seemed to stretch thin. And then, Remus was crouching down, his face hovering inches from Regulus’s.
Regulus’s breath caught in his throat as he looked up. His chest tightened, and his face flushed, the heat creeping up his neck. He could feel Remus’s gaze on him, could feel the proximity closing in, the air thickening. He couldn’t quite bring himself to look away.
He hoped, prayed, that Remus would take the hint.
And he did.
The kiss came with an intensity that knocked the breath from his lungs. It was electric—sudden and raw, magnetic in a way Regulus hadn’t anticipated. Remus’s bigger hand gripped his waist, pulling him closer, while the other cupped his cheek, the touch soft but firm, like he knew exactly where to hold him.
Regulus didn’t know what to do with his hands. They stayed still at his sides, his fingers twitching, unsure, out of place. He had plenty of experience, but Remus Lupin was different.
-
-
Both out of breath, flushed, driven by lust, locked eyes. Remus was still cupping Regulus's face; he went closer for another kiss, but Regulus stopped him.
"You like me?" He asked dumbly
"I thought that much was obvious," Remus breathed out, leaning in for a kiss again before Rgulus stopped him. Again.
"You like my personality?" he said as if that was the most unbelievable thing in the entire world.
"I was as surprised as you." Remus nodded, and when it looked like Regulus was about to open his mouth, he didn't wait, kissed him breathless for a minute too long.