You Make Me Live (Remus Lupin x Reader One-Shots)

Say You Love Me

(While there is no smut in this book, things can get a little spicy up in here, so I am instating a new rating system. Chapters that are a little more spice than fluff will be tagged NSFE - Not Safe For Elio, in honor of my brother, who should not read these chapters and has no desire to. If you share these opinions, feel free to skip any chapters rated Not Safe For Elio. This one will be the first. For reference, -20 degrees Celsius is around -4 degrees Fahrenheit, and pyric is defined by Merriam-Webster as "resulting from, induced by, or associated with burning". Enjoy!)

I had never thought much of Valentine's Day when I was a child. Living abroad, it didn't seem to mean anything more than my parents preparing a nice dinner. When I went to Ilvermorny, I was surprised to find that students were expected to exchange cards and sweets, and that there was always some sort of drama about who was dating who and what plans were being made. But even when I was part of the celebrations, I felt lost in the swirl of conversation hearts and flowers and cheesy pick up lines, and mostly used the holiday as an excuse to shower my friends with gifts instead. That is until I met Remus. Then, to quote the overused but still terribly relevant phrase: all the songs made sense. The problem was, neither of us were exactly exhibitionists in any sense of the word - public displays of affection weren't off the table, just awkward for us both. Beyond a head on the shoulder while walking together, or a quick stolen kiss behind a tapestry, we tended to reserve our physical manifestations of love for a more private moment. But it was Valentine's Day, a day of big gestures. I knew James and Lily would have us all feeling sick with jealousy, Lils had been talking about their shared plans all week, and that didn't count the surprise James had been hinting at since last July. My fingers shook as I buttoned my blouse, overwhelmed about what to do, what to wear, what to say. Then I got an idea. . .

Heading to the library, because I knew that was where he'd be on a Saturday morning, I felt confident, comfortable, and everything I'd thought impossible just twenty minutes beforehand. I was wearing a tight little corduroy mini skirt, Gryffindor red, with one of his sweaters hanging from the rest of my frame. I didn't have much in the way of jewelry, and nothing felt right anyway. I wanted to get something that represented him, that would mean something to me so I could wear it like a talisman, and the thought of him could comfort and protect me when I was anxious or scared. But unfortunately I hadn't found such a thing yet, so my fingers, wrists, neck, and ears were bare (not that he'd mind).

He was studying at one of the long tables under the windows on the East wall, the morning sunlight pouring over him, illuminating him in a halo of gold like a holy figure in a manuscript, reflecting off of his hair, his skin, his scars. I saw as I got closer that even his eyes were filled with the glow, as if collecting it to shine out again on some glorious day. I could see the flecks of honey and hazel that evaded me in low light, the shadows olive green and stormy grey. Mesmerized by the sight and struck by his beauty, I forgot to greet him when he looked up at me, smiling over his shoulder and reaching out for me. His hand was just starting to fall to his side when I snapped out of my daze and took it.

"Hi," I whispered, as against his smiling lips I pressed my own, covered in a thin layer of cream blush and chocolate chapstick to cover the nervously bitten splits and raw patches. If he wasn't upset or distracted, he would always kiss back like he'd do so forever if I let him, and this morning was no exception. Reluctantly, he broke away to stare at me in return. "Happy Valentine's Day." I said, so quietly we could have been imagining things.

"Is it-? Oh, shit." he began frantically closing his books and in my state of anxiety and distraction I overheard his thoughts for a moment. Demeaning self-insults and a brief mention of 'can't believe you managed to fuck this up, Lupin' had me reaching out to stop him.

"Sweetheart, it's okay. Do you have something you need to study for? I'll do it with you."

"Not really, it was just force of habit, I - yes. Fuck. I have my Potions exam on Monday and I haven't even touched the chapter on antidotes. But I can do it tomorrow, it doesn't matter. It's a Hogsmeade weekend, let's just go." He was tearing his fingers through his hair, his face pale and his eyes wide. I felt like Psyche once she'd spilled the hot oil on her sleeping husband. It was a terrible thing, to disturb such beauty and steal it for myself. And like the goddess of the soul with her many labors, I was determined to undo what I had done.