"You are the sweetest feeling I have ever know."
In which ••• a werewolf stuck on the ground, falls for a raven, wishing for the sky.
•slow/kinda slow burn
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#1 in ocxremuslupin (6/3/23)
#3 in sweater weather (6/2/23)
#7 in oliviacooke (5...
YEAR FIVE - SEPTEMBER 1975 "Tell me it's haunts you too."
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Sirius sat twisting his quill between his fingers, staring at the sheet of paper in front of him. Words he didn't know the meaning of sprawled across the page, configuring a spell he would have to cast. James wasn't very far off from his friends, the messy haired boy quietly fiddled with the point of his quill, looking anywhere but his paper. There wasn't much he could do with words he couldn't pronounce.
Being a Quiddich Seeker, James had to keep his scores high to stay on the team, he'd practically beg for Rhylara or Remus to do his essays for him, often bribing them with sweets and favors. He had barely scraped by last year, McGonagall threatened to kick him off the team if he didn't pull his scores up quickly.
Rhylara felt so bad for the boy that she finished all of his missing papers in two nights, very much against Remus' wishes.
"Do you think we could just not do the assignment and get away with it?" James whispered to the Black boy, whose hand was slowly becoming covered in quill ink. The boy drew stars and birds along his fingers, smiley faces in the crook of his thumb and pointer finger. Sirius scoffed, glancing at Professor McGonagalls desk, where the woman sat marking papers.
"I hate to say it mate, but I don't think we can pull another fast one on McGonagall." James threw his head back in anguish, a cry of sorrow filling his throat. He really did not want to do this paper, and his friend mimicked his feelings. It wasn't that they thought Transfiguration was a difficult class, it was more of time consuming and boring, filled with students scratching away at textbooks to find the proper pronunciation of a word. That's the catch about the class, if you didn't pronounce the spell and wave your wand correctly, there was a chance you would turn the wrong thing into another wrong thing. Peter Pettigrew once turned his quill into a burning heap of coal. Being the last class of the day didn't aid much in its excitement either.
"Maybe Rhylara will do it for us, she did all of your stuff last year," Sirius looked across the room to see the girl in question holding a book open between herself and Remus Lupin, who stroked the head of her cat. "What did you do to get her to do it?"
"I almost got kicked off the Quidditch team, she felt bad and did them all." James sighed, running his hand through his unruly hair, pulling loose a few strands of the curls. "Plus, I don't want to add more onto her plate right now, she's been stuck in a million bloody textbooks her O.W.L.S." SIrius looked puzzled.
"But those aren't till the end of the terms, why is she studying so early?" James shrugged, shifting his eyes to the brunette in question, still reading from a tattered book with Remus, whose eyes were not on the page at all. Instead, the honey brown eyes were watching the lips of Rhylara move as she read a line from the book, and how her eyes lit up as she spoke. Sirius saw his cheeks blush, before turning his head towards Sirius again.
