Chapter 2
Sunlight crept into Remus’ room, its golden touch illuminating the right side of his face. Eyes still shut, he could feel the warmth caressing his right eyelid, his left resting peacefully beneath the shadow of his nose. In that moment, Remus felt completely at ease, for perhaps the first time in the past week, maybe even month. The feeling quickly slipped from his grasp as soon as he forced open his eyes, sight trailing across to the calendar pinned to his wall (carefully taken down before anyone entered his room, because he could not, of course, risk being seen damaging the plaster). Circled in a raging crimson, January 17th seemed to smirk at him through the paper, as if it could dismantle him using its subheading, underlined this time in violet:
Pack for BS. Leave tomorrow.
Suppressing a small smile at his supremely hilarious note, Remus swung his legs out of bed, the cashmere rug easy beneath his bare feet. From his drawer, Remus pulled a pair of deep blue jeans, followed by a white shirt he tugged over his head, slightly tousling his hair in the process. Remus turned, catching a glimpse of himself in his bedroom mirror, frowning slightly. Tousled was most definitely a kind word to use to describe his hair, but Remus supposed he deserved at least a little kindness after the week he had endured. 7 days. Only 7 days had passed since Lyall and Rebecca had flipped his life on its head for the umpteenth time, 6 sunrises and sunsets since he had lost hope for any change in plans, any change of heart.
How many days left to pack? Not even a full 24 hours. And if Remus hadn’t begun, well, that was no one’s business but his own. What did you even take to boarding school? A gun, Remus pondered. That would be sure to leave Lyall speechless. Remus pulled out his trunk from beneath his bed, coated an obnoxious blue that left him feeling embarrassed to own such a thing. Running his hand over its smooth surface, he picked at the paint, creating a small brown patch against the sea of blue.
That could work.
Springing up from his position on the carpet, Remus ran downstairs to the kitchen, almost bumping into a maid and slipping upon the freshly mopped floors in the process. After opening at least six different drawers, Remus’ hand closed around the cool handle of a steel spatula, glinting with novelty. Once back upstairs, he set to work, scraping against the paint until no sign of blue was left, only a simple, inoffensive brown. Remus took a black permanent marker from his desk and, deeply focused, spelt out his name upon the side of the trunk, the perfect block letters juxtaposing against its splintered surface. Usually, Remus could admit his handwriting was average at very best, but today? Today, nothing was going to go wrong.
Not for him, at least.
Now, what to pack? Clothes were essential, but Remus hadn’t picked up anything recently he had even remotely liked, surrounded by the glamour of London’s best and despising every second of it. Besides, he had a uniform, however unflattering it may have been. And, to make matters worse (somehow, he had discovered this was possible), there was the possibility he would have to wear a red tie, if the house he was sorted into was any indicator. From a quick conversation with his more-than-eager-to-share father, Remus discovered that Hogwarts Academy not only had a revolting name (whoever had decided Hogwarts was a suitable name for a school that charged the amount it did per year deserved to burn in hell, Remus had decided), but multicoloured houses and a reputation for school spirit unrivalled by any other boarding school in Scotland. That was the other thing - Scotland. Some part of Remus yearned to go to Scotland, bask in the morning sun and take advantage of the lenient alcohol laws. Still, nothing compared to before. Absolutely nothing. No fancy boarding school could ever attempt to overtake his childhood.
Back to the task at hand. What books to take? Which brand of whiskey, bottles of beer, type of cigarettes, because no chance was he making it through 4 hours sitting on a stuffy train, surrounded by kids even his nightmares couldn’t conjure, sober. The mere thought was laughable. He’d have to make his supply last until the Christmas holidays in December, provided he didn’t decide to sell any to other students, and that no one discovered his stash. Oh, and that no one checked his bags - although, Remus had that base covered. A couple of towels, strategically placed underwear, and he was most likely safe.
After a solid hour and a half of packing, Remus slumped against his bedpost. His head rolled against the wood, uncomfortable yet strangely relieving to the pounding of his head. Painkillers - he hadn’t packed them yet, and god were they going to be necessary. Remus was no stranger to painkillers, or drugs, in general - his episodes weren’t exactly the type of thing he was willing to come to light quickly (or, if he was lucky, at all) at a new school, let alone a boarding school, of all places. The only people who had ever experienced them alongside him were unlikely to ever breathe a word of what had happened, to even think of kneeling at his bedside, the knees of their patched jeans wearing thin under the wooden floors of his bedroom that screamed in protest against even the slightest amount of weight. Day by day, sometimes night by night, next to Remus on the floor, in bed, outside his front door. Even the thought of them brought a strange feeling into his stomach, a tightness into his chest that seemed to snatch his breath right from his throat.
Pushing himself away from his bedpost, Remus kneeled down just beyond the edge of the carpet, lifting it to reveal a small, yellowed slip of paper. Slipping the paper into his jean pocket and pulling on a woollen jumper and scarf, Remus jogged out of his room, making his way towards the front door.
“Remus! How’s your packing coming along?” Lyall asked from a modern looking armchair, lifting his head up from the morning paper to meet Remus’ eyes.
“Fine,” Remus retorted, hand on the door handle.
“Wait just a second, boy, where are you going?” Lyall asked, suspicion clouding his eyes as he set down the paper, placing his hands on his knees.
“Just walking. Wanted to grab some CDs or something to pack before I go.”
“Oh. Have fun, then. Use the Walkman Rebecca got you last Christmas!”
“Yeah, whatever,” Remus scoffed, opening the door and shutting it firmly behind him. Like fuck he’d use anything Rebecca had bought for him - he didn’t even celebrate Christmas. And truly, could his father know him any less? Shopping for CDs? However pretentious it sounded, Remus preferred the rugged, raw quality of his records, watching them spin on his mother’s player, admiring their scratches and flipping through their covers on his bedroom floor, cigarette in hand.
Biting at his skin, the London breeze whipped against his hair, stinging his cheeks and flushing them rouge, even as he walked the length of his street to the payphone on the corner. One of the only things Remus could find charming about London were the bright, cherry red telephone boxes. Despite being littered with small, square advertisements ranging from live music performances to pictures of naked women, they possessed a certain charm Remus was yet to find anywhere else in the city. Opening the door, he stepped inside, gaining immediate relief from the wind. Searching through his pockets, Remus retrieved the slip of paper from his pocket, punching the number scrawled upon it into the telephone and holding it to his ear.
“H-watch yourself, Sean! Hello? Who’s this?” A gravely, gruff voice rang out from the other end of the telephone line, squeezing Remus’ heart as it penetrated the silence of the telephone box.
“Theo, it’s Remus.”
“Holy shit!” The voice exclaimed, softening before scuffling noises entered the receiver, drowning out any possibility of hearing any further.
“I can’t hear you, stop moving around, Theo.”
“Hold on - it’s Remus, get over here! Lupin, where’re you? What are you doing calling us? Is everything good? What happened to your new ma’am, the blonde one, do you need we-”
“Jesus, calm down. I’m fine, in London,” Remus sighed, rubbing his eyes.
“London? You rich prick, what’s the house like?”
“It’s good, I guess. Nice, I mean. They’re engaged, as well.”
“Fuck, sorry. She’s fit, though, isn’t she?”
“She’s going to be my step-mother.”
“Yeah, yeah. Hang on, Sean’s desperate to talk.” Another rustling sound, the faint echoes of argument filling Remus’ ears.
“Remus! About bloody time, don’t ya think?” Sean’s voice came through the receiver, and Remus swore he could see the boy on the other side of the phone, grinning.
“God, I know. 16 days, huh?”
“Feels like forever. So… how have you been?”
“Good, yeah. Fine. You?
“Good too, I guess. No more…?”
A beat of silence.
“No, not recently. You know that.”
Another.
“So… good, then. Great. When’re you coming back?”
“That’s the thing,” Remus began. “I can’t. Today’s my last day in London.”
“Theo, get back over here! He’s leaving London, tomorrow! What’re you gonna do, run away?”
“No, I’ve got to go to school,” Remus said, screwing his face up in shame.
“School? Outside of London? That’s a long trip every day.”
“No, Sean. Boarding school. Someplace in fucking Scotland, can you believe it? They’re making me go. I dunno if they’ll have a phone, but if they do I’ll call when I get there. If I don’t jump out the window on the way there, that is.”
“Boarding school? You’re kidding. You better be lying,” Sean laughed, and suddenly he could hear Theo laughing into the receiver. Remus was struck with the sudden image of Sean and Theo, lounging by the lake, phone shared between them as they laughed at him, side by side. And maybe a phone couldn’t exist by the lake, but the image remained as vivid as ever - neither Sean’s simple bedroom, nor the kitchen they used to steal beers from, nor the aged walls of Theo’s living room did the colour in either boys’ voice justice.
“Boarding school? Scotland? What’s next, a courtship? A fucking debutante?” Theo laughed.
“Fuck off. I’ll probably get kicked out, anyway.”
“No chance, you’ll be smarter than anyone there,” Sean reassured him.
“That, I cannot deny,” Remus smiled into the phone. “Anyway. I probably have to go now. Lyall’ get suspicious, I said I was going on a walk without looking out the window, and it’s bucketing now.”
“See you, Lupin!” Theo yelled. “Don’t forget to call!”
“I won’t,” Remus promised.
“Yeah,” Sean began, voice slightly softer. “Don’t forget us.”
“I won’t.”
The line clicked.
_________________________________________________________
Remus felt their presence behind the door before he heard the bell. 6 o’clock in the evening, 8 and a half hours after he had called Theo and Sean, and he could feel them, mere metres away. Liza, their maid, knocked tentatively on Remus’ door, but he was already halfway across the room.
“Theo and Sean?” He said, in question. She nodded, tight lipped and eyes bright. Ever since their introduction a short while ago, Elizabeth had nursed a soft spot for Remus, a kindness for him beyond the formality she reserved for Lyall and Rebecca. She had found a photo of Remus at age 9, squashed in the middle of his two friends on a front porch swing, and had politely inquired as to who they were upon returning the photo. Remus reluctantly obliged, and ever since, the two had fallen into a relationship of mutual respect and storytelling.
“Shall I invite them in?”
“No need,” Remus smiled in gratitude, racing towards the front door and pulling it open, and there they were.
Theo, straw-coloured hair damp from the evening drizzle, half an eyebrow missing and long eyelashes framing pale green eyes. Sean, a worn butterscotch coloured scarf wrapped around his throat and dark hair pulled back in neat braids, undoubtedly done by his little sisters, judging by the beads adorning the bottom of three. Not wanting to waste time counting the differences he noticed (and there were a few, but even considering the possibility they had changed in 16 days apart made Remus slightly breathless), Remus threw himself into his friends’ arms. Closing his eyes, laughing and breathing in their presence, Remus was almost back by the lake, back home. Almost.
Pulling back, Remus regarded his friends, a large grin plastered on his face.
“What the fuck are you guys doing here?” He asked, almost out of breath.
“Language!” Elizabeth scolded, walking towards the door. “Either choose to come inside or outside, please!” Remus looked at his friends, who nodded in return.
“We’ll be going out for a bit.”
“I can tell your father you are…?”
“In the park, feeding ducks, as per usual,” Remus grinned, Elizabeth rolling her eyes and shutting the door behind them.
Theo slung his arms around Remus and Sean’s shoulders, knocking their three heads together.
“Again. What’re you guys doing here?” Remus asked, unable to wipe the smile off his face.
“What, you want us to go?” Sean asked, punching his arm a little harder than necessary.
“No chance. How’d you even know where to find me?”
“Ah, now that credit goes to me,” Theo said smugly, clearly proud. “There was a thing in the paper, I saved it from when Dad went into town. A street, but I’m gonna have to say, guessing the house wasn’t too much of a problem,” Theo sniggered, casting a look back at the Lupin mailbox, the family name written in silver cursive font upon the metal surface. Remus rolled his eyes, clipping Theo on the back of the head.
“Great. I was hoping you’d never have to see that.”
“Now we have, we’re gonna copy it back home,” Sean quipped, earning himself another punch.
“But seriously, why are you guys here?” Theo and Sean exchanged a glance, paired with identical, mischievous grins.
“It’s your last night in London, let alone England. We’re taking you to a concert.”
“God, if Lyall found out…”
“Jesus, what happened to the Lupin we knew? He’d have his own concert before admitting Lyall could stop him seeing one!” Theo scoffed.
“Yeah, but I’m leaving tomorrow…” Both Sean and Theo looked at him, eyebrows raised, unimpressed. “Yeah, you’re right. Who’re we seeing?”
“Call themselves Queen. They’re really new, haven’t got much out yet. An album, it did alright, but their new one’s coming out soon. Heard from some girl on the train they’re good, though. Apparently the lead singer puts on a real show. So, why not?” Theo shrugged.
“Great, have you bought tickets?” Remus asked, already knowing the answer before the question had passed through his lips.
“See, that’s the issue, but it’ll be fine. Don’t you worry, Lupey-boy,” Sean teased. “We’re gonna get them cheap just before the show starts.”
“If it’s not sold out already,” Remus grumbled. “What time’s it start?”
“8, I think. They think they’re better than they probably are, so I’m betting they’ll come on around 10. It’s 7 now, so we can go eat first,” Theo suggested. “Forty buck budget, on us.”
“Jesus, that’s more than any of us’ve had in years.”
“Add a couple of zeros, and you’ve got Rebecca. We, on the other hand, tend to spend whatever we have pretty quickly,” Sean smirked, sending all three boys into fits of laughter as they walked, arms still over one another's shoulders, linking them together. They continued to walk until they reached a small fish and chippery, willing to sell them three large serves of (less than fresh) fish and chips for fifteen dollars. After they had paid and retrieved their food, the boys crossed their road and entered a park, settling next to a lake as the evening dusk faded into night, just as their laughter became whispers and their whispers were woven into comfortable silence by the cold, settling over them like a safety net. Remus stood, throwing a chip at a duck resting peacefully on the murky lake water. Surely, adding some element of truth to his lie would overrule any guilt he would be left to bear at the end of the night.
Salt coating their fingers, the boys discarded the boxes that contained their food, shining with grease under the cool street lights as they headed down the pavement.
“So… where is this place?” Remus wondered.
“Just down the road, two corners away, called The Basement. You’ll see the lights. Went to the place next door with my ma’am, once. Saw her work friend, thought he was gonna make it. He didn’t, and she lost the job,” he laughed, somewhat bitterly. Sean came to a sudden halt, grabbing both boys by the arm, a serious expression on his face.
“Nah, none of that. Nothing bad, not tonight. Be depressed tomorrow, boys, tonight is light! Tonight is Queen, and beer, and cheap tickets and good. Let it be,” he finished sternly.
“Fine, yeah. It’s a pretty great place, from what I saw from outside. Not fancy, just a lot of space and a good bar,” Theo said innocently.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Remus scoffed.
“What, like you could get anything. They might not even let you in, you’re the only one here who’s fourteen,” Sean pointed out, Remus rolling his eyes in response.
“Whatever, I’ll get in. Hey, it’s there!” Remus exclaimed, pointing towards The Basement. “Hurry up!”
Only a couple of hundred metres away stood the most beautiful building Remus had seen in his life. And, considering his new life alongside Rebecca and Lyall, this was a compliment paid with weight. Through the taxi ride to their new London place, Remus’ eyes had remained firmly averted from anyone else’s in the car, instead trailing across trees, streetlights and buildings outside of the window, shrouded in morning light, their own windows emitting warm, dandelion-yellow light, flowers of brilliant crimsons climbing columns of concrete and marble. The Basement was a simple, old-fashioned structure, smallish in size but glowing in the night, dressing-room lights lighting up a sign, reading:
Jan 17. Queen.
Spurred on by the sight of the building, the boys sped up, their legs reaching a running pace in no time. They arrived at the ticket box panting, behind around 20 other people, whose voices chattered excitedly as they waited to buy tickets.
“See, no one’s bought them yet!” Theo said defensively.
“How much money do we have left?” Remus asked, ignoring him. Frowning, Theo pulled his worn leather wallet from his pocket.
“Twenty-five dollars,” he winced, then straightened up. “We’ll be right. If not, you’re going in alone, you have to,” Theo insisted, pushing Remus forward as the line receded.
“Tickets are twelve each, if you were wondering,” a voice said from in front of them, belonging to a bundle of pale pink waves that fell past the figure’s shoulders. She turned, revealing a sweet, heart-shaped face, a kind smile on painted lips.
“Thanks-um, yeah, thank you,” Theo breathed out, mesmerised. The girl shrugged nonchalantly, turning back around, and Theo slapped himself in the face. “God,” he whispered. “They don’t make ‘em like that back home.” Remus and Sean collapsed into laughter, muffled by the hands of a mortified Theo, which clapped over their mouths instantly.
Within the span of what felt like five minutes, they found themselves at the front of the queue, knocking shoulders as they sidled their way up to the desk.
“Three?” The man behind the counter asked, bored.
“Yeah, but see, we’ve got twenty-five dollars, and it’s our boy Lupin’s last night in London, so we if this could cover it, that’d be great, we live in the area, we could drop by the rest to-”
“Upfront payments only. You don’t have the cash, you don’t have the ticket,” he shrugged, looking over their shoulder to beckon the next customer forward.
“See, you don’t seem to understand,” Sean began, exasperated. “Can we get two, then?”
The man shrugged, holding his hands out for the money. Reluctantly, Theo handed it over, receiving two tickets in return.
“Do I get my dollar?”
The man grunted, passing it over. The three boys huddled by the side of the ticket booth, eyes downcast upon the two tickets in Theo’s hands. Suddenly, the lights seemed a little too bright, the bustle of outside a menace in their ears. Still, each boy felt as if two tickets was one too many - they were one being, and had been since they were five years old, running from their parents towards green fields, stealing food from a neighbour’s kitchen counter when their own kitchen was scarce of food, save for bread crusts and old jam.
“What do we do?” Sean whispered.
“You guys go, I’ll sneak in from the side,” Remus replied, voice just as hushed.
“Yeah, that won’t work,” someone said from beside them, causing all three boys to jump, cursing as they regained composure. To Remus’ left stood a boy wearing a cap, casting his face in a deep shadow. His hair curled past his shoulders, midnight black and just a little overgrown, so shiny and thick Remus could imagine each strand as a vine, off which golden fruit could grow. He did have that… air. The kind of confidence one could taste from their periphery, could see shrouding a figure even as they stood, speaking barely a sentence yet drawing attention like a moth to a flame.
“Why, ‘cause you’ll tell someone?” Remus spat, narrowing his eyes at the boy.
“Jesus, calm down,” he laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I’ve got a spare ticket. Was wondering if you guys wanted it,” he shrugged, holding it out to Remus.
Remus regarded the ticket with suspicion, shuffling backwards as if touching it would burn his hand. Sean, however, snatched the ticket from the boy’s hand with a grin, shoving it into Remus’ grasp and running towards the entrance, Theo in tow.
“Catch up!” Theo yelled backwards, before continuing forwards eagerly.
“Thanks,” Remus said, still slightly unsure.
“It’s fine. Go, catch up to your friends. I’m not walking in with you,” he said, turning around and vanishing into the crowd. Perplexed (and slightly offended), Remus walked slowly towards the entrance, handing his ticket over to be checked as if he was moving through honey. Once he made it inside, a hand on each of his arms brought him out of his mind. A cool bottle was pushed into his hand as they made their way to the stage, squashed behind rows of boys, girls, men and women, smelling of alcohol and salt as they attempted to exchange words over the pounding of the speakers.
“That guy was weird, the one outside,” Remus yelled, his voice swallowed by the noise.
“What?” His friends said in unison, Sean cupping a hand over his ear. Remus waved a hand dismissively, just as the lights began to dim.
As the band began to play, all thoughts of the strange, raven-haired boy disappeared from Remus’ mind, slipping from his conscience as the music filled his ears.
_________________________________________________________
“Fuck, that was insane,” Remus exhaled, his breath creating a pocket of warmth in the ice cold air. The three boys had found themselves outside, skin buzzing from the combination of music, adrenaline and alcohol writhing in their veins.
The band was made of three men with voluminous hair and a charismatic manner. The lead singer, whose name, though certainly memorable, had slipped Remus’ mind, commanded the room with such ease and brilliance, mesmerising each and every person in the room. Hands reached into the air with every note belted and song played, hoping to catch some of the man’s radiance between their fingers, consume it and emit it with even half of his grace.
“I want to go back. Can we go back?” Theo slurred dreamily, tripping over a cobblestone.
“Tomorrow,” Sean promised, looking to the sky. “Tomorrow, again, please.” He groaned. Drunkenly, they stumbled down the street, passing a grocery store that, for some reason Remus felt incapable of unpacking at the time, was still open. Falling over their own feet, they met the bright lights inside, eyes raking over brightly coloured packets of food and flavours, stomachs raging in protest against their skin.
Suddenly, Theo stopped walking, causing the other two boys to jolt to a stop, crashing into one another as they did so. About to protest, their eyes followed his hand, resting upon a carton of eggs. Grabbing as many cartons as they could hold, they sprinted towards the door, ignoring the shouts of a woman echoing in the store behind them, muted by the night as they ran, and ran, and ran.
Eventually, they came to a halt outside of the Lupin house, cartons balanced upon one another in their arms. Remus slowly pressed a carton open, placing the other two he was holding on the concrete path. A quick glance at his watch, reading 1:02am, explained the absence of lights in the windows of the house, the stillness that seemed to hang in the air like delicate ornaments Remus was all too close to smashing.
His hand closed around an egg.
Walking forwards, Remus climbed the steps to the porch, halting directly in front of the door. He pressed the egg against its mahogany body, smiling as the door bled apricot-orange yolk, fragments of smashed egg shell sticking to the door.
“Christened,” Sean whispered, snickering, before throwing his own egg at a window. Theo quickly followed and, before long, the white of the Lupin house had been painted a yellowy-orange colour with yolk, a colour strangely resembling the light that had suddenly turned on in his parents’ bedroom.
“Shit,” Remus whispered, face falling. Stumbling again, they ran around the side of the house, Remus climbing on top of a water tank and pushing his window open, frantic but quiet, before turning to face his friends. He jumped down from the water tank, quickly enfolding the two in a brotherly embrace. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“No problem. We’ll see you in the summer?” Theo said against his hair.
“Yeah, we’ll see. Write, will you?”
“Write to us first and we’ll have the address. Force you to keep in contact,” Sean whispered.
“‘Course,” Remus promised. Faintly, he could hear footsteps padding up the staircase, the same rhythm as his pounding heart. “Right, well, I’ve got to go. I can hear him,” Remus said, letting his arms drop to his sides before climbing on top of the water tank again. “Thank you, again.”
“Thank us in summer,” Sean said, Theo nodding firmly in agreement.
“Yeah. Fuck, really have to go,” he whisper-shouted, launching himself onto his window sill and through the gap, casting one last, longing glance towards his friends’ retreating figures before closing the window and diving under his sheets.
Not even ten seconds later, Remus heard the faint click of his door opening. “Remus?” Lyall’s hushed voice echoed through the room. Remus groaned, turning over in his bed to face his father.
“What the fuck, it’s 2am,” he complained, grinding his voice with fatigue.
“Nothing, sorry. Just checking you were ok. Some teenagers thought it’d be funny to egg the house,” Lyall sighed, and although Remus was an atheist, he thanked God in that moment that the lights were out, darkness suppressing his smile and the wind covering his laugh. “Anyway. When’d you get home?”
“Dunno… I went on my walk, like you said, and then… I…” Remus racked his brains, picking through them for an excuse, “applied for a job at the restaurant, for the summer, like you said. It was a little late, so I got dinner from that Thai place on the corner.”
“Remus, you know Rebecca’s chef can make better food than the Thai place on the corner.”
“Opportunity and circumstance, Dad,” he said tiredly, knowing he’d hit a soft spot with calling his father by something other than his first name.
“Ok. Just wanted to know you were fine,” Lyall said, closing the door behind him. Remus felt the tiniest pang of guilt in his chest before his head met his pillow and remembered his fate.
Boarding school. In less than 10 hours, he would find himself on the train.