“Did you ever look at me differently?”
The Marauders were sitting in the dormitory. It was late at night.
“What? Prongs, you're not that handsome,” Sirius joked, but nobody laughed.
“James, what do you mean by that?” Peter asked.
The room was filled with awkward silence.
“You know… I’m different…” James mumbled.
“Who the fuck told you that, mate?!” Sirius yelled.
Suddenly, James found his legs incredibly interesting. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…
“James… look at me.” It was Remus who was holding him. “Please, James, look at me.”
James didn’t want his friends to see him like this. He didn’t want to show them how much he was hurting.
“James, Prongs, please,” Moony whispered softly.
Slowly, James lifted his head, meeting Remus’ worried eyes.
“I know how you feel,” Remus said, his voice gentle and warm. “I really do. But I want you to stop thinking like that.”
“Sometimes it’s just too hard to stand all the odd looks and whispers…” Tears were rolling down his face now. “I wish I was a white European…”
“Don’t you dare think like that, Prongs,” Sirius said, coming closer.
“I’m so sorry…” James' voice was breaking.
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Peter chimed in, trying to comfort him.
James Potter—the Golden Boy, the Sun—collapsed into his friends' arms, hugging them tightly. He just needed a hug, and they gave him one.
“You know we love you, right?” Remus whispered.
“Yeah… I know,” James mumbled, his voice soft. “I love you too.”