Chapter I
Saturday, 9 February 2002
James’ ways were entirely his mother, who seemed to be in contact with every person she exchanged more than a ‘hiya’ with for the past fifteen years. And so, this is where Remus Lupin found himself walking to a pub in South East London to share a pint with his best mates whom he hasn’t properly spoken to in six years. Remus didn’t let himself think about the chances of this night going horribly awkward.
The years post graduation weren’t the smoothest for Remus and he didn’t know how to go about talking about his life; being in and out of mental heath treatments, continuing and stopping his degree, all while holding two jobs to pay for it all is not what he would call casual reuniting-with-old-mates chat. He’d been surprised to get James’ call, more surprised that James seemed excited to talk to him, that he was inviting him out. Remus hadn’t seen James, Sirius or Peter since their final year of school, and he didn’t really want to think about the note he left the boys on. He didn’t want to go back there, not again. He’d thought enough about those last few months with his therapist, enough for a lifetime. And that was all in the context of never having to see the three others again.
Fuck, he thought. No, stop. It’ll be fine. With a deep breath, he pushed open the wooden door of the pub.
Remus surveyed the scene within the pub. It was a quiet bar, pretty dingy but what wasn’t in this part of London. He looked around for a group of three losers; one with a horrifying mop of black hair, one sickly Victorian child, and one Rugrats lookalike. Remus, trying to spot a familiar face, had his attention captured by a man attempting to wave at him while holding three pints and looking quite foolish. Holy shit. “James Potter.”
“Remus Lupin.” Suddenly, he was in the arms of one of his oldest friends, like not a day had gone by. He remembered James’ unrelenting friendliness from their youth, and it made Remus smile that he could still feel it in his embrace all these years later. “How are you, mate?”
“Doing well,” Remus smiled. “Real well.”
“We’re all sitting over there.” James gestured the hand with one pint toward a table with two guys sitting. It was dark in the pub, and Remus couldn’t exactly make out their faces, but there was not a doubt in his mind who awaited him. “Take these will you?” James handed Remus the pints. “I’ll get one more for you.” With a slap on the shoulder, James headed back towards the bar.
Remus watched him walk away for a moment. He couldn’t stop smiling. That was James Potter standing a few feet in front of him, looking very handsome and exuding the same unfounded, relentlessly charming confident saunter Remus always knew him to sport. With a soft shake of his head, Remus made his way to the table.
“Moony! There you are.” He barely got the glasses on the table when he was once again engulfed in a hug.
“Pete! God, it’s great to see you.” And it really, really was.
“You as well. Could hardly believe it when I saw you.”
“Ha, me neither looking at yous.”
“Remus Lupin.” He could point out that voice anywhere. Remus turned from Peter and faced a now matured Sirius Black. The pointed features that once protruded from his face now blended seamlessly as if they were done in marble by Rodin. His wavy black hair reached his shoulders, completing the aesthetic of the leather jacket and dark jeans he was wearing. Oh, fuck.
“Sirius,” Remus let out, reaching to hug his now very attractive former friend.
“Got the pints, got the pints,” They broke apart quickly as James brought the last beer to the table, announcing to everyone in their vicinity the current standings of the pints. “Lads, sit down.” James grandly waved his arms, requesting them to sit.
They sat down in the booth just as they had in the dining hall in school: James and Sirius on one side, and Remus and Peter on the other. “Blimey, this is ridiculous,” laughed Peter, head in his hands. “Never would it have crossed my mind that I would be sitting beside you dickheads again.”
“I’ll cheers to that.” Everyone let out a laugh as James held up his glass. With a round of “cheers”, they all took a celebratory sip.
“So, what’s everyone doing now?” James asked the group. “Wormy, you’re a bank man now, right?”
“Please, please let that nickname die,” Peter grumbled into his drink.
“Not a chance, Wormtail,” Sirius cajoled, and Remus felt a little flutter in his stomach. What the hell? He was not a teenager anymore. Since when did he get flustered. Sirius raised his beer to his mouth. “T’will never die.”
“Well, yeah. I’m a credit analyst at HSBC, have tens of people under me, but I will forever be known as Wormtail,” Peter relented.
With a laugh, Sirius said, “Sounds interesting.”
“It’s not,” Peter murmured through a sip of his drink. “Just stare at numbers all day, but it pays pretty well.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Remus added, knowing he himself would take any job he could get if the pay was good.
“What about you, Remus?” Sirius inquired. “End up becoming the next Jimi Hendrix?” His lips curled up in a smile that could only be described as radiant.
“No, that turned out not to be in the cards for me,” Remus laughed, sheepishly. “I ended up studying political science in uni, and I’m actually preparing to apply to masters programs.”
“Wow, never would I have pegged Moony to be an academic.” Sirius was lounging back into the corner of the booth, beer in hand, looking impossibly cool to be the same clod Remus used to know.
“Oi,” Remus protested with an indignant look.
“I’m only kidding, Moons,” no one had called him Moons on six years, and he couldn’t help the dumb grin that formed on his face, “Why politics, though?”
Remus could go with the real answer. He was applying to university during one of the worst depressions of his life, his head clogged with the notion he was never going to make it to twenty, and went with the choice he thought would be cheapest in terms of study supplies for the time being. But that wasn’t what Sirius was looking for. He wanted the plain, “Not sure. Kinda didn’t know what I wanted to do, and chose what sounded most interesting. I wanted to learn more about the world, I guess.”
“A man of intelligence and culture, Moony.” Sirius joked. “Always known you were a genius.”
Don’t compliment me, you gorgeous prick. “Yeah, yeah. What about you, Prongs?” Remus asked, turning the conversation onto the other side of the table. “I remember you as the maths genius.”
“Well, now I’m stuck teaching physics to sixteen year old assholes as my reward,” James sighed.
“Ha!” Peter exclaimed, slamming his hand to the table. “That is what I call payback for all the shit you pulled.”
“Me?” James acted appalled. “And, what? You were just the innocent little rodent who got dragged along?”
“No. I was always the lookout!”
Remus snorted into his drink, remembering the arguments Peter and Sirius would get into over who had to be lookout during pranks. To be fair to Peter, though, it was always him.
“What about you, Sirius?” Peter asked. “What do you do?”
“Oh, nothing interesting,” Remus didn’t care, he would listen to Sirius talk about his boring work in excruciating detail if it meant hearing more come out of his mouth. Okay, he really needed to get a hold over himself. “I’ve been doing graphic design for this corporate company. Real fascinating work.”
“You still do art?” Remus remembered the days where Sirius would do nothing but pencil in his sketchbook, or fidget with his guitar until his fingers bled, desperate for an act of creation—some way to take the unformed thoughts in his head and create something with legs, something tangible to describe the indescribable feelings. Sirius was an artist through and through if Remus has ever known one.
“Yeah, I mean, much less than I used to. But I actually ended up going to art school.”
“No shit.” Remus was impressed. He recalled how it was a far fantasy of Sirius’ to be an artist and to create, something he never thought he actually could do. Remus was proud of him, of that kid he spent seven years of his life knowing.
“He still does music, too,” James added.
“Really?” Peter seemed to light up at this.
“Here and there,” Sirius said offhandedly. “When I have the time.” James gave him a knowing look, one that left Peter and Remus out of.
“You two still stick together at the hip?” Remus questioned with a grin. He was curious, he couldn’t help but to ask. And that look between the two had reminded him what a pair they were back in school. Potter and Black, an inseparable duo since they were eleven.
After Hogwarts, if Remus ever thought about his friends, he had assumed Sirius and James remained the same as they had been in school. Sirius and James had been as close as brothers, and for the last few years of school, Sirius had moved in with the Potters.
“Yeah, and I’m fucking sick of him,” James teased with a stern look in his eyes.
“Oh, like you ever could be,” Sirius shot back, offended.
“Nah, we always see each other. He practically lives on my couch.”
“I do not!” Sirius retorted, feigning scandalization.
“You’re practically a live-in girlfriend, Pads.”
Peter shook his head at the two. “It’s good to know that some things never change.”
James and Sirius laughed at that. “Speaking of which,” James continued, “You lot have girlfriends?”
Here it was. Well, it was bound to come up anyway. Remus was about it just get it out of the way when Peter spoke up. “Yup, for about eight months now. Her name’s Emma.”
“Aww, Wormy’s blushing,” cooed Sirius.
“Piss off,” Peter shot back but with no heart in it. He was clearly smitten by this Emma. “No, she’s…yeah, she’s really good.”
“Well, that’s certainly adorable.” James seemed genuinely happy for Peter. It was like that was the only way he knew how to feel. He turned to Remus and asked, “How about you, Moony. You got a girl?”
“Nope.” He let it hand in the air.
“How come?” James joked, kindly. “I remember you having no problem getting birds to like you back in school, Mr. Casanova.”
Remus rolled his eyes at the old nickname, but continued. “Probably because I’m gay.”
The table was silent for a few seconds, the music of the pub filling the space. But, before Remus could form a plan to restore the banter, James asked, a little surprised, “Are you?”
“Yeah.” Remus took a sip of his beer.
“Well, you got a lad then?” And suddenly, the flow was back to normal. It was as if as soon as James got readjusted, everything seemed to follow suit.
“Still no.”
Sirius leaned into the table. “Do you lot remember when we put all those frogs in the teacher’s loos?” And, just like that, Remus was smiling again.
They drank and talked, and drank some more, regailing their past embarrassments with enthusiastic amusement. “No, no, no. It was Minnie,” Sirius insisted.
“No, it couldn’t have been,” Peter shot back. “She loved us.”
“Ha!” James nearly spat up the last drops of his fourth or fifth pint.
“Well, she loved us,” Remus corrected, gesturing between him and Pete. “Not sure about those two.”
“I’m telling you,” Sirius was leaning over the table, emphasizing his point with his hands, something that had followed him from his youth, “Minnie was the one who kicked us off the roster.”
“Thank fuck she did,” Remus groaned into his palm supporting his head. “Can’t imagine what that would’ve been. Us playing at that dance.” The four of them had scheduled their band, The Marauders, to play at their last school dance, when the week of, they were taken off the roster. It had also coincidentally been the same week all the names in teachers grade books were changed to things like ‘Mike Hunt’ and ‘Ben Dover’, but it had never been proven who had been the masterminds behind the influx of Mr. Hunts. Thinking about it all now, those last few months made Remus feel a bit mellow, being drunk did that to him.
“Nah, it would’ve been great,” Sirius concluded. They were all deep in their nostalgia. Scenes of four fools mucking around on instruments appeared before him. Remus hadn’t allowed himself much time to sit with these memories. They made him uncomfortable, leading him to remember the disbandment of the four of them. But now, sitting with the rest of them in similar nostalgic hazes, he let them play. And what a pleasant memory they made.
“Wish we had done it,” Peter slurred. “Would’ve been a nice way to end it.”
“End what? Our legacy as musicians?” James laughed.
“I don’t know. We don’t really have a last moment to look back on.”
The four of them sat in comfortable silence. They were one of the last groups in the pub, but the hum of a few side conversations and the bar keepers cleaning acted as background noise. “What if we did it again,” Sirius voiced, without a trace of sarcasm in his tone.
Remus looked at him. “You can’t be serious?”
They all stared at each other, measuring where they were at. “Why not?” Sirius continued, genuinely. “I’ve got a buddy with instruments we could borrow. Just for a few hours, to fuck about a bit.”
Remus saw the grin cross Peter’s face, and his efforts to hide it. “Petey, you know I’m right,” cooed Sirius.
“It would be fun,” Peter weighed.
Remus shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was contemplating it himself. Just being around these guys made Remus feel light in a way he hadn’t in years, maybe since he was in school with them. Well, that could also be the alcohol. At the beginning of the night, he would’ve straight laughed in Sirius’ face for even suggesting the idea. But, after a couple of pints and hours of laughs, Remus found himself wanting to. He wanted to know how it would feel to pick up a guitar again and act a fool with his best mates.
“Fuck it,” Remus caved. “Let’s do it.”
“Get in!” Sirius high-fived James, an oafish smile across both their faces. “The Marauders are back!”