but what if remus wrote a letter for teddy to read if he didn’t come back from the battle of hogwarts and there’s a part specifically labelled for when teddy goes to hogwarts and it’s just a list of ways to get away with various pranks with a stern note at the end warning him not to be a pillock with it (“this is valuable information gathered over seven years of mine and my friend’s experience, so don’t waste it all on the charms professor in the first week”) but to have fun and to make friends and that remus’d be proud no matter what
and teddy reads it on the hogwarts express on the way there and just starts crying
More annoying asshole AUs please, like:
• kept kicking the back of my chair at the theatre au
• tried breaking into my flat when they were drunk bc they thought it was theirs au
• always arrives at the cafeteria 30 seconds before me and takes the last sandwich I like au
• repeatedly comes into the shop I work at and picks up a lettuce then half way through the shop decides they don’t want the lettuce and puts it back on the shelf next to them regardless of what aisle they’re in au
you fucked up. and it’s a landslide. you didn’t realise how quickly walls come down, sinking along the streets like they’re river banks of mud laced with old photographs and your grandmother’s pearls. it’s heavy on your skin, getting under your nails and in your eyelashes, and you’re shaken and cold and your bones ache like you’ve fallen through the ice in winter fully-clothed, but there are sweat-slicked sheets and hair stuck to the back of your neck. comfort has become synonymous with “shackles” and the window won’t open wide enough for you to catch a gasp of air. the taste on your tongue isn’t toothpaste but it’s lightning that brings nature and cries down on your shelter, leaving bruises in the shape of lips. she touches her. willingly. and you’re wondering why you can’t have that and you can’t have that. sometimes you lose your place - forget something and slip to the back of the queue, stay quiet when others push in front. and you didn’t blink, let your eyes waver until they stung, and i can’t help feel like i’m a caricature, some sort of mockery, like a circus clown with red paint around my mouth in a perpetual frown the colour of blood. i wasn’t supposed to look so cruel; it was supposed to be a farce. fuck. did i say i? i meant you.