All The Young Dudes Quotes

Anything for our Moony

You were my little bit of magic.

He had never known two people could be simultaneously so angry with each other and so much in love.   And it was love. Without a doubt.

I've loved keeping your secret, Remus wanted to say, I'd keep a thousand more, for you.

Tell me a secret, a nice one.

after all that waiting they hadn't had very long at all in the end

I am mental about you

I loved him," Remus said. "but he wasn't you

Pete. A word.

In early 1998 the letters stopped, and Grant knew. Sometimes he thought he'd felt it, deep inside, like a thread being cut. Remus was dead

Tell me a secret? A nice one?” Remus paused. He kissed Sirius’s hair. “I’m mental about you, too.

One emotional crisis at a time

It was James who had an ego the size of a lake but a heart to match it.

Didn’t I tell you, Moony? Didn’t I tell you?!” He whispered, feverishly. “You did,” Remus smiled, weakly. He lowered his voice, so that no one else could hear him, and looked at Sirius carefully, “Was it scary? Was I scary?” He had no idea what he looked like in wolf form. Sirius’s expression did not flicker. “No.” He said, firmly. “You were beautiful.

You were beautiful

[T]he problem was, some limits weren’t fences. Sometimes they were edges; with nothing on the other side.

Love. It’s the only thing you get to take with you, you know

Sorry isn't good enough. Your guilt isn't good enough. I need you to feel it too. I trusted you. I trusted you with every last secret, I offered you every piece of me. What else have I got now? I could kill you. I could bash your teeth in so you choke on them, I could wrap my hands around your throat and squeeze, I could rip you to pieces, I could, I could, I could kiss you, you fucking bastard.

Yes, Harry, your dad was my best friend, but Sirius Black was my everything

No one owes you a happy life. But you owe yourself one, love

James had a clearer understanding of love than anyone, and if he said he was going to marry [Lily] one day then he probably would.

Oh God, he thought , grimly. I fancy Sirius Black.

He walked away, and Grant watched him, and for a moment he let himself pretend. Oh my darling. He thought, I don't half bloody miss you

I trusted you. I trusted you with every last secret, I offered you every piece of me. What else have I got, now?

I hate people," Remus would reply acidly, "People voted for Thatcher and keep buying Morrissey's records. People are idiots.

He wished they would invite him, just once. He wished he wasn't always the one left out, he wished he knew how it felt to have a friend as close as James. More than ever, he wanted someone to talk to. Suddenly overwhelmed, Remus quickly casted his own spell, so the others wouldn't hear him crying.

Remus lived in fear that if he wrote it down, or said it outloud, then everyone would find out his secret. And it was better to keep stuff like that in your head.

Sirius had been in free fall since Christmas, it had just been a matter of who he would crush when he finally landed.

We’re all dying,” Sirius replied. “Maybe.” Remus agreed, lacing their fingers together, “But shouldn’t life last longer, if it can be like this?

By the time that wretched summer term ended, the only person Remus despised more than Sirius was himself, for continuing to love him just the same.

I loved you, and you left me with nothing , do you understand? I had nothing except a lot of scars and a drinking habit. So don’t start interrogating me about the bits of my life I’ve been able to put back together.

There are good and bad people. Good and bad wizards. Why should monsters be any different?

As he unlocked his front door, he could hear the phone ringing. It took him a few moments to get in - the wooden frame had swollen with all the rainfall, and the door got gummed up sometimes - but when he got in, it was still ringing. Must be urgent , he thought, absent-mindedly. He shouted, “Padfoot? You in?” as he crossed the the room, then lifted the receiver, “Hello?” “Hello? Hello, Remus, is that you?” “Mary? Hi! I just got back - where the hell is everybody?!” There was a strange silence on the end of the phone, and a horrible static prickle ran down his spine. “Mary?!” “You haven’t heard…” “Jesus Christ, Mary, what?!” “Remus… something awful has happened.” She started explaining, and Remus fell to his knees as the whole world began to fall apart.

Dora can marry anyone she likes when she’s old enough, and I can say with absolute certainty that it won’t be anyone at this table.

You'll break my heart if you go now." Remus said, aware he sounded sulky and petulant. Grant shook his head lightly, holding his ground. "I'm sorry, love. But it's breaking my heart to stay.

Not James! He was the very best of them. He was the one who had to make it, no matter what. How could there be a world without James Potter? You might as well picture a world without kindness, or laughter, or mischief.

It was a point of pride, having a tragic backstory.

You think you’re going to chain me to a wall then stand here and tell me why it’s okay that I am the way I am? That because of all the crap folks put me through when I was young it’s all right that I turned out like this? Dude, I don’t have a problem with how I turned out. I like me.

Oh shut up, you love me really.” Sirius kicked him in the shin. I do, Remus thought, pitifully, I really bloody do.

And your mum- how is she?" "Dying." "Bummer.

Anything for our Moony.

You’ve been fine,” Grant smiled, without a trace of blame. “You’ve been my little bit of magic.

The marauders are a socialist utopia,” Sirius yawned again, “we don’t have leaders,

I love you,” Sirius whispered, “I love you so much.” He squeezed his eyes shut, “Don’t worry, you don’t have to say it back.” “Of course I love you, you idiot,” Remus gasped, not sure if he was laughing or crying, “I never stopped.

He called me beautiful, he wanted to say. Surely he couldn’t be so cruel as to say a thing like that and not mean it?

Remus tipped his head back and took a deep breath, “CH CH CHANGES! TURN AND FACE THE STRANGE CH CH CHA-ANGES!

I loved him.” Remus said. “But he wasn’t you.

You’re so good at stuff, Moony.” He slurred, leaning heavily on Remus’s shoulder. “Yeah,” Remus grunted, “Picking locks and holding my drink.” “And magic.” Sirius murmured, sleepily. “Yeah, we’re wizards, idiot.” “I’m good at magic,” Sirius sighed, “But you, like… are , magic, y’know?

I’ve loved keeping your secret , Remus wanted to say, I’d keep a thousand more, for you.

Losing yourself in drinks or drugs was nothing compared to losing yourself in Sirius Black.

You’re not dangerous!” “You don’t know what I am.” Remus hissed. “You’re our friend.” James said, suddenly.

Sirius was a demi-god, and Remus was helpless to do anything but worship him.

You don't understand. (...). When I think about myself with them (girls), I can just... see it, y'know? I know how it's going to play out. I know what i'm s'posed to do. When i think abut me and you... you know, the real me and you. It's just... I can't see how it ends. I just tried not to think about it. So, I know I was a bit of a dick, I could have handled it better, but I swear, I didn't want it to end like that.

Some man I’ve raised here,” she sniffed, “If you can’t cook a young lady breakfast, don’t expect her to spend the night.

It was better not to be noticed, and best if no one knew anything about you at all.

The Marauders are a socialist utopia. We have no leaders.

He liked knowing that he and Sirius could be in a room full of people, and no one had a clue what they had been doing only the night before, or even two hours earlier. He liked getting away with it. He liked seeing Sirius with a girl, and thinking never mind, later he belongs to me.

I bloody well believe you, too - can’t get rid of ya, can I?” Grant grinned. His first genuine smile so far - it made Remus feel somewhat easier. “Like magnets, you and me, eh? Always snap right back together.

He climbed into bed and rolled onto his side, facing the wall, to prove that he couldn’t care less which way Danny ‘swung’. Have you seen my boyfriend?! He wanted to say. As if I’d be interested in you, you big lump.

I'm mental about you too

He stared at his friend, who was already lighting a cigarette, skin still pink and shining, and thought to himself, ruefully – this will never be enough.

I know,” Grant nodded, “I did it for me, really. I did it because running away and avoiding all the stuff that made me feel like shit was pointless in the end. If you want people to think you’re worth it, you’ve got to start acting like you want it.

You can wear that uniform and wave your silly stick, but you know that you have more in common with me than anyone in that castle.

Ask me no questions and I shall tell you no lies.

I’ll keep coming, long as you need me.” He’d say, cheerfully as he flitted about. “Us care home yobs gotta stick together, innit.

Yasmin was not mentioned at all, though Sirius told Remus they were found lying beside each other, and their fingers were still touching.

Was it scary? Was I scary?" He had no idea what he looked in wolf form. Sirius' expression did not flicker. "No." He said, firmly. "You were beautiful.

Not a single day went by – and not one day would ever go by, for many years – that he did not think of Sirius and suffer. It was an abstract and cruel torture, and Remus resigned himself to a life of utter misery.

You’re not a dark creature.” James said, suddenly, “You’re our Moony.

Tell me a secret? A nice one

Mary came to Remus’s rescue, in the end, as always

He was right - Grant was generally right about humanity.

But why does it have to be you? Any of you?! Let Dumbledore fight, if he’s so powerful as everyone says. Why does he need kids to help him?

Oi!” Sirius barked, pointing at James, “Hands off my man.

You’ve been fine,” Grant smiled, without a trace of blame. “You’ve been my little bit of magic.” Remus made a strangled noise, and tried not to cry. Grant hugged him, and they held each other for the last time.

You love him, don’t you?” “I…” Remus felt the familiar panic rising at the sound of that word, but as it was just the two of them, and he felt he owed it to her to be honest, he nodded. “Yes.” “And he loves you.” “I think so. Yes, he does.” “That’s all I need to know, then.” She smiled again. She let out a great sigh, “Love. It’s the only thing you get to take with you, you know.

Language!” Lily said again, “Honestly, James, you really need to start growing up this year, you’re of age, you need to start acting…” “Isn’t she brilliant?!” James beamed at Remus, who was now sitting on the floor of the carriage, catching his breath

I don’t need collecting, I’m not a child.” Remus muttered. “No,” Sirius squeezed his hand, very quickly, “You’re my Moony.

In a school full of adolescents learning to use magic, it wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary for accidents to happen.

Fido" James nodded, as he sat. "Rudolph." Sirius replied, with an identical nod.

From this day forward we are marauders

She could have ripped each of their throats out the night before without stopping for breath. She was a force of nature; queen of the night; she was one of the strongest people he had ever met. She was one of the only people in the world who truly understood what it meant to be a wolf.

You came back to us.” “I…” Remus looked down, lowering his voice to barely a whisper. He looked up at sirius again, meeting those perfect blue eyes. “I came back to you

Muori giovane e lascia un bel cadavere" le fece l'occhiolino

I bloody love you, Sirius thought, out of nowhere

Miss you." Remus said, one night. It had taken all day to raise the courage for those two stupid words. "I'm right here." Sirius smiled tiredly.

Everywhere he looked, he was haunted by thoughts and memories of his friends, of the things they could never do, and the things he had not done in time.

He leaned back and looked out of the window for a while, listening to Sirius’s relaxed heartbeat and worrying about Grant and wishing more than anything that the worst was already behind them.

Afterwards they sat beside each other and all Remus wanted to do was lay his head on Sirius’s burning chest and close his eyes and just be . But he didn’t. He stared at his friend, who was already lighting a cigarette, skin still pink and shining, and thought to himself, ruefully – this will never be enough.

And so, as per usual, it was James and Lily who managed to bring everyone out of that gloomy winter slog, just in time for spring. The marauders and their friends faced the rest of their year with fresh eyes and renewed purpose. Because fighting a war was one thing - but fighting for the Potters’ future child made every challenge seem more worthwhile.

As Remus sat at the Potter’s big wooden kitchen table eating cake and sipping a huge mug of tea, listening to James and Sirius chatter nineteen to the dozen about the term so far, he couldn’t resist sighing contentedly to himself. Two whole weeks of this.

Grant... look..." Remus made sparks with his wand. He levitated the coffee table, and then - showing off, because it had been so long - transformed his mug into a frog. "All right!" Grant recoiled, as the frog hopped onto the carpet, "Ok, I believe you! Jesus Christ!" "Oh, just "Remus Lupin" will do." Remus stuck his tongue out.

A promise,” Remus said, softly, “That we’ll be together. If that’s—something you want.” “Moony,” Sirius felt himself smiling, even as tears pricked his eyes, “That’s all I want.” Remus released a breath; the joy glowed on his face, blindingly bright. Yet Sirius didn’t think he could look away, even if he wanted to. “You promise?” He breathed, bringing a hand up to cradle Sirius’s face, thumb stroking across his jaw. Sirius leaned into the touch. “I promise,” he said.

At some point, a cake was produced, with red and gold Gryffindor icing, and twelve pink candles. When Remus cut it open (all the while encouraged to make a wish, but not able to think of one single thing he wanted) he was amazed to find that it was made up of four different flavours – a quarter chocolate, a quarter lemon drizzle, a quarter Victoria sponge and a quarter coffee and walnut. “Like your toast.” Sirius grinned, looking thrilled at the expression of surprise on Remus’ face, “Thought you might get bored if it was all one flavour.

I'm sorry!" I blurted out. "I told you, I suck at this. It's like any time I try to do a spell, it goes all big and scary and explodey,and-" Dad rubbed his forehead. "No,Sophie, it's all right. That's what I'd hoped you would do." "You hoped I'd commit mirrorcide?" He laughed, but it sounded a little breathless. "No,I'd hoped to see just how powerful you really are." His eyes were bright, and there was something that might have been pride in them. "You exceeded my expectations." "Well,yay," I said. "So glad my skill at blowing crap up impresses you, Dad." "Your sarcasm is-" "I know,I know, 'an unattractive quality in a young lady.'" But Dad grinned and suddenly looked much younger and less like a guy who ironed his ties. "Actually, I was going to say it's something you must've gotten from me. Grace always hated sarcastic comments." "Oh,I know," I replied without thinking. "I spent most of the seventh grade grounded because of it." He snorted. "She once put me out by the side of the road in Scotland because I made a completely harmless joke about her map-reaking skills." "Really?" "Mm-hmm.Had to walk nearly five bloody kilometers before she stopped to let me back in." "Dude.Mom is hard-core." For a moment we smiled at each other. Then Dad cleared his throat and looked away. "Anyway,your powers are definitely impressive, but what you lack is control." "Yeah, I kind of picked up on that.

FUCK ME!” Remus yelled into the microphone, as Sirius and Marlene both fired bludgers at the Slytherin beater tailing Regulus, forcing her to swoop so low she almost hit the ground. “Completely mental!” Remus gaped, “I seriously have no idea why anyone plays this -- ah, but fairplay, it’s distracted Regulus enough to… wait… Yes! YES! BLOODY YES! THAT’S GRYFFINDOR WITH THE SNITCH! WE BLOODY WON! OH MY GOD, THANK FUCK FOR THAT, I REALLY--” “That’s enough !” McGonagall snatched the microphone from him, finally.

They lay together, side by side. Their hearts beat. The moon shone. The stars glittered. Sirius held a love like a universe, beautiful and dark and bright, tucked impossibly in the space behind his ribs. He looked up, into the eyes of the man who had placed it there, and saw the same infinity reflected back—despite everything. Because of everything. For a moment, forever stretched between them, threaded into blood and breath and bone. Eventually, Sirius closed his eyes. He fell asleep to the sound of Moony’s heart, the steady beat of it wrapped in his hand. And when he slept, he dreamed.

All these years, I thought the first Watchers were a bit dense for giving power to only one girl. One Slayer to fight everything? One Slayer to make impossible choices? But... that's the beauty of it. Because the Slayer is young. The Slayer is a girl. The Slayer isn't some rich dude, insulated from life and pain and struggle, sitting in his Mr. Darcy house deciding who gets to live and die. The Slayer is on the streets, in the dark, in the night, walking right alongside the things she hunts. So when she makes life-or-death choices - they're life-or-death choices for her, too. Not just for the things she's hunting. She's not a committee, a council, a group working at a remove. She'd part of the darkness. And when you're already in the dark, you can see the subtle differences in the shadows.

We finally made our way to the front of the line, where a young bouncer snapped an underage wristband on me and gave me an appraising look, eyes scanning my waist-length hair before raising the velvet rope. I rushed under it with Jay on my heels. “For real, Anna, don't let me stand in the way of all these dudes tonight.” Jay laughed behind me, raising his voice as we entered the already packed room, music thumping. I knew I should have put my hair up before we came, but Jay's sister, Jana had insisted on my keeping it down. I pulled my hair over my shoulder and wound it into a rope with my finger, looking around at the tightly packed crowd and wincing slightly at the noise and blasts of emotion. “They only think they like me because they don't know me,” I said. Jay shook his head. "I hate when you say things like that.” “Like what? That I'm especially special?” I was trying to make a joke, using the term us Southerners fondly called people who "weren't right" but anger burst gray from Jay's chest, surprising me, then fizzled away. “Don't talk about yourself that way. You're just...shy.” I was weird and we both knew it. But I didn't like to upset him, and it felt ridiculous having a serious conversation at the top of our lungs. Jay pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at the screen as it vibrated in his hand. He grinned and handed it to me. Patti. “Hello?” I stuck a finger in my other ear so I could hear. “I'm just checking to see if you made it safely, honey. Wow, it's really loud there!” “Yeah, it is!” I had to shout. “Everything is fine. I'll be home by eleven.” It as my first time going to something like this. Ever. Jay had begged Patti for permission himself, and by some miracle got her to agree. But she was not happy about it. All day she'd been as nervous as a cat the vet.

He’d mentioned it a month before. A month. Not a good month, admittedly, but still—a month. That was enough time for him to have written something, at least. There was still something of him, or by him at least, floating around out there. I needed it. “I’m gonna go to his house,” I told Isaac. I hurried out to the minivan and hauled the oxygen cart up and into the passenger seat. I started the car. A hip-hop beat blared from the stereo, and as I reached to change the radio station, someone started rapping. In Swedish. I swiveled around and screamed when I saw Peter Van Houten sitting in the backseat. “I apologize for alarming you,” Peter Van Houten said over the rapping. He was still wearing the funeral suit, almost a week later. He smelled like he was sweating alcohol. “You’re welcome to keep the CD,” he said. “It’s Snook, one of the major Swedish—” “Ah ah ah ah GET OUT OF MY CAR.” I turned off the stereo. “It’s your mother’s car, as I understand it,” he said. “Also, it wasn’t locked.” “Oh, my God! Get out of the car or I’ll call nine-one-one. Dude, what is your problem?” “If only there were just one,” he mused. “I am here simply to apologize. You were correct in noting earlier that I am a pathetic little man, dependent upon alcohol. I had one acquaintance who only spent time with me because I paid her to do so—worse, still, she has since quit, leaving me the rare soul who cannot acquire companionship even through bribery. It is all true, Hazel. All that and more.” “Okay,” I said. It would have been a more moving speech had he not slurred his words. “You remind me of Anna.” “I remind a lot of people of a lot of people,” I answered. “I really have to go.” “So drive,” he said. “Get out.” “No. You remind me of Anna,” he said again. After a second, I put the car in reverse and backed out. I couldn’t make him leave, and I didn’t have to. I’d drive to Gus’s house, and Gus’s parents would make him leave. “You are, of course, familiar,” Van Houten said, “with Antonietta Meo.” “Yeah, no,” I said. I turned on the stereo, and the Swedish hip-hop blared, but Van Houten yelled over it. “She may soon be the youngest nonmartyr saint ever beatified by the Catholic Church. She had the same cancer that Mr. Waters had, osteosarcoma. They removed her right leg. The pain was excruciating. As Antonietta Meo lay dying at the ripened age of six from this agonizing cancer, she told her father, ‘Pain is like fabric: The stronger it is, the more it’s worth.’ Is that true, Hazel?” I wasn’t looking at him directly but at his reflection in the mirror. “No,” I shouted over the music. “That’s bullshit.” “But don’t you wish it were true!” he cried back. I cut the music. “I’m sorry I ruined your trip. You were too young. You were—” He broke down. As if he had a right to cry over Gus. Van Houten was just another of the endless mourners who did not know him, another too-late lamentation on his wall. “You didn’t ruin our trip, you self-important bastard. We had an awesome trip.” “I am trying,” he said. “I am trying, I swear.” It was around then that I realized Peter Van Houten had a dead person in his family. I considered the honesty with which he had written about cancer kids; the fact that he couldn’t speak to me in Amsterdam except to ask if I’d dressed like her on purpose; his shittiness around me and Augustus; his aching question about the relationship between pain’s extremity and its value. He sat back there drinking, an old man who’d been drunk for years.