Oh that wound would leave a mark, you knew that for sure, being in your front door, curls completely disheveled, months after you broke up and mentioning things you told him back in Hogwarts while you were both teens. That alone made you twist your nose in an attempt to distract your eyes and avoid the tears from coming. Keep that piece of me safe, hm? You would always say every time you told him something you never told anyone before, something about your past, some darkness about your parents, something silly about yourself you were embarrassed about even, and he would always kiss his fingers as if they were keys and pretend to be locking his heart, keeping your pieces safe. "James, please, I can't do this again." It was hard enough the first time, and it has been hard the other times he begged, it only hurt the both of you and it never changed your mind, because you loved him but your made your choice, and when you graduated and he decided to enlist the Order and fight the war and be part of Dumbledore's suicide mission he knew it was over for you two. And he made his choice as well. You loved his morals, you loved how he put the greater good above all else, and when he chose the Order instead of you, you knew surely that yes, that was the James you fell in love with, but that wasn't you. After the childhood you had you reserved yourself the right to peace, even selfishly, you were not going to spend years every night waiting for letters hoping and crying that when an owl showed up, it wouldn't be his obituary. He looked so vulnerable and broken, and it was desolating to watch it and know it was your doing. But it had to be done. So you took both of his hands on yours, warming him up for a few moments, leaned in for a chaste, lingering kiss, "go fight your war, find a soldier, forget me, please." And you let go of him, closing your door. And that was the last time you saw James Potter alive.

"Wait wait, what's that?" You hear his voice far from you when he was supposed to be following you to the kitchen, you walk back and see Sirius pointing to your glass protected shelf, filled to the brim with CDs, a silly hobby turned into a very serious and loved collection. You shrug, thinking you had already mentioned it to him, "my CD collection, mostly classics, y'know? Beatles, Bowie, Fleetwood Mac, some Rolling Stones," you mention the first ones that come to your mind, but you know there are many more than that, still, those already make his eyes shine like the star he's named after, his fingers fidgeting the glass begging to open their enclosure and see it all up close, you think for a while, but eventually comes closer, taking his hand out so you yourself can open the glass door. "Be careful or I'll kill you." Still, the threat slips your lips but to him it sounds like a song and his best way to sing along is to kiss you for the first time, a quick, teasing one, and he smirks into it before letting you go and going back to your collection, taking a bunch of cds out to explore.

It's become sort of an inside joke, whenever you wear Perfect by Marc Jacobs, one of your favorites, Sirius gets extremely touchy, his hands on your waist, his face on your neck, compliments falling from his lips even easier than usual, "doll, you smell... Divine," he always says in the most dreamiest tone, kissing your neck and making an effort to leave his mark there, you joke around and ask him if you didn't smell good the other days then and he laughs with you, surely, but turns you around so you can look him in the eye, and you know he's gonna melt you with what he's gonna say, and you know he knows it too, the charming son of a bitch, "baby, y'always smell like a goddess, but this one... You smelt like that when we met." You roll your eyes and sigh at him, Sirius replies with a smirk and a kiss to your forehead because he's very aware he's got the result he was aiming to: You even more lovesick. Just like him for you.

Sirius doesn't even notice it at first, the way he always takes the seat behind you in class and how he always makes room by his side for you during meals. He doesn't notice how many times you had been yelled at for not paying attention to the teachers, instead your head turned around to face him, or your arm at his table for him to doodle. None of you are aware of how your thighs seem to be glued together whenever you're sat side by side. It's impossible not to see it though, when holding hands while his arm was around your neck made you both smile, and when he warned you late at night that he was going to kiss you, you didn't stop him, instead you knew you wanted to be close to him like that forever.

You both met at a record shop, fighting over the last Please Please Me vinyl they had (Sirius ended up losing that fight, offering to buy it for you if you gave him your number, long haired, tattooed hot guy? Much like your type) so that's why you don't understand why he's so shocked to see your collection when you bring him to your small apartment after your third date. "Baby doll, I would marry you right now," you can hear awe in his tone, but he's not even looking at you, his fingers brushing lightly through your precious collector's pieces. You reply him with a chuckle, moving your hand to touch his and pull him away from the shelf. "Play me something with that guitar of yours, and then we talk about marriage." You shoot him the most mischievous of smirks, and he's not sure if you just want to get him away from the vinyls you're so protective over, or if you're actually showing your preference for musicians. Probably both. But he doesn't really mind, as long as you let him stay.

"You're blushing, mon trésor." His voice merely a whisper, his lips still so close to yours you can feel the warmth from him inhaling and exhaling so smoothly, so effortlessly, his hands on your waist, his forehead glued to yours.

And oh, you were blushing, you were panting, that wasn't your first kiss by any means but you've been flirting with Sirius for months now, glancing at each other at parties, and you always having an extra hair tie on your wrist for when he started to seem bothered by his strands attaching to his face when he began to sweat, and you would gently go through his hair and tie it up for him, and he would thank you with the most beautiful smile, a chaste kiss to your forehead, a few french praise words you were sure he learnt only to make girls like you melt for him. And it worked, you were indeed melting, "no, I'm so not!" you replied, hands to your cheeks and you looked away from him, the blushing was obvious but you still denied it, you didn't want to seem silly, or too eager, and you definitely didn't want him to know how hot only that kiss made you feel, or how you had to mentally keep yourself from moaning or how you felt like crossing your thighs (or entangling them around his waist). Because that was Sirius Black, he was cool, he was brilliant, he had girls sometimes literally falling for him, but he was selective of who deserved his attention, and he was just so gorgeous and you didn't want him to see you as some weird fangirl of sorts. "Oh, you are, you are all adorably red, my dear." You feel his fingers pull your chin so you can look up to him once more, finding a smile you think you never got from him, it seemed almost shy. And eyes sparkling just like the star he was named after, sincerity pouring from them. "It's a'ight, you didn't catch it but I got shivers all over." That earns him a giggle from you as you begin to feel more at ease knowing you weren't the only one feeling more than just the touch of the lips, that he too was as elated as you were. And in honesty, he really was, as the flirting progressed he couldn't stop himself from thinking about kissing you, and he knew you wanted it too, it wasn't an insecurity thing, no, Sirius wasn't the type, his targets were always certain, only this time it felt like he was the target, the victim, his heart hit with the biggest arrow Cupid could find, so he enjoyed the flirting a little longer, the glancing, the lingering of your fingers on his when you accidentally touched him, the tenderness of how you showed him you cared in such little acts. He wanted the kiss to be special too, meaningful, the panting and the blushing and how hard you gripped to his waist were a delightful bonus, so he waited until the perfect day came, the sky the bluest he's ever seen, but still with enough beautiful white clouds to look at and wonder what they looked like. A past time you told him you had as a kid in some silly conversation you thought he wouldn't remember. But he did remember, as he remembers all you've ever talked about, as he'll remember the way you gasped for air after he pulled away from your first kiss, as he'll remember the shivers that went down his spine in the most delicious way and how he felt like he was at the top of the world. And he hopes you'll remember it too. But if you don't, that's ok too, he intends to keep getting you hot and bothered for him for as long as you let him.

You knew you struck a nerve, you could see it clearly in his eyes, the pain, the sorrow, the regret, still, his response was nothing that could match those, it was hoarse, cold, "didn't ask you f'that." It shattered you once more, it was true, he never asked, he tried to push you away most times. Then he settled down. And then he disappeared. For the past years you had dreamed about this moment, that you would end up having a chance encounter with him at the Order and he would be sorry and he would apologise and kiss you and clean away your tears while trying to make you smile. But there he was, the same Remus, so pathetically afraid of love everyone who tries to do it ends up wounded. "You truly damage everyone around you, and that has nothing to do with the full moon." You chuckle sadly at the realization, turning your back to him and going back to the meeting you were before, leaving him to the excruciating truth that was laid bare to him with no preparation, no sugarcoating.

You were much much different than the last time Remus saw you, the night before during the victory party you were completely outgoing, all smiles and touches, telling him you liked him and asking for a kiss, right now you could not be further from that, your cheeks burning red as you played with your necklace and had your eyes completely glued to your lap. It was endearing, really, especially because it made him loosen up slightly as he would have to be the one doing the talking, even if his own hands kept getting sweaty and he kept drying them on his pants in the most nervous of ways. "After last night I..." your eyes widened but you didn't move, your breath starting to feel like it was stuck on your throat as your cheeks got even redder, if that was possible. "Let's go to Hogsmeade together, maybe?" Remus quickly took one of your hands to hold, while he was feeling brave enough, and even though you didn't have any liquid courage to help you now, the feeling of his nervous sweaty hand gave you enough confidence to look back at him and intertwine your fingers with his, you nodded with a shy smile and replied, even if it was barely a whisper. "I would like that."

You once heard that after 2A.M you should go home, nothing good happens after 2A.M. You were home, but you forgot the last part of the advice and answered the call, even though you knew very well who it was, curiosity getting the best of you. You can't help but smile fondly at the memory, the countless memories, in fact, that you two made sitting up on the roof of his beat up jeep. "Sti... How would I ever be your forever if I wasn't even really part of your life?" That's probably the first time you say it so honestly, you were too tired and frustrated when you two broke up, so you didn't even try to explain it in detail your reasons, knowing he would just argue and try to make you give up on your already made decision. "What do you mean!? Of course you were part of my life, you were the biggest part, you were my whole life—I tried so hard to protect you." "Protect me from what, Stiles?" So much about protecting you and keeping you safe and away from danger, always in the vaguest way possible, never actually explaining to you what he meant. "You were always doing something with Scott, or Lydia, or Malia, or Derek. Something big, something important. We barely saw each other..." For a few moments you can only hear his heavy breathing and you think about finishing the call, but you can't bring yourself to, "I... I did that because I love... I loved you, because I didn't want to lose you." The soft chuckle you hear from the other end of the line gets you picturing him perfectly, the sad little grin, the hand behind his head as he looked up. You wished, you so wished to be by his side tracing his skin with your finger until he stopped you because it tickled him. "It surely didn't feel like that, Stilinski." His heart shatters even more, to think at some point you stopped feeling like he loved you was even worse than what he was expecting this conversation to go, and by your tone he also knew there was nothing else to talk, the conversation was over. As was your relationship.