His Tawny-Haired Boy
Grant sat hunched over on the curb at the corner of the street. His floppy golden hair fell into his eyes while he nursed half a bottle of cheap beer. The memories played in his mind in stunning technicolour. He knew he was gone, but Grant didn’t want him to be. He felt a hot tear escape from his eye as he replayed the laugh of the tawny-haired boy. His tawny-haired boy. He had known it would happen eventually, of course he did. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. Grant knew he’d choose that posh dark haired punk boy from boarding school. He didn’t blame Remus; Sirius was beautiful. When Remus had left with Sirius, Grant inexplicably felt as though he’d lost a part of himself. He had loved him, and now he was gone. Grant couldn’t blame Remus; but he was heartbroken. Which explains why Grant was slouched alone, below the neon lights of a dodgy London club, wishing for his magic to come back.