Chapter Text
It was the summer of 1976, Lyall Lupin was away, Peter and James were away on holiday, and Remus Lupin was left home alone for the entire summer. He would’ve accompanied his father on the work trip if the idea of being inside a moving car didn’t generate dreadful memories or make him want to cry, scream and puke.
Some teenagers would throw parties, rebel, and go feral. But Remus was quite content with just the company of himself and his animals. This didn’t mean he wasn’t lonely, though.
Remus was left with a straightforward set of rules: Don’t let anyone find out you’re home alone, stay inside at all costs, do not break anything, do farm work all day, do not answer the door, and take care of Davey, their sheepdog. Turns out by the end of the summer, he would’ve broken all rules, except for the last one.
At this point, Remus had already broken one. He was currently sitting on the previously long and untamed grass of the lake (he had brought a sheer to the area and cut it himself), a few minutes away from his home. He dipped his toes into the lukewarm water. The glistening sun was up high in the sky, burning his neck and bare arms. Surely his father didn’t believe he would actually stay inside all summer.
The lake was surrounded by a large, mainly deserted forest, thereby Remus was the only person occupying the area, and it had stayed that way for the years he knew of its existence in the middle of the tree expanse. It was a hidden gem, really.
So imagine his shock when a dark-haired boy, around the same age as him, emerged from the forest, walking slowly and languidly toward the lake. Remus watched as he knelt beside the water, a mere few metres away from him, and scooped the liquid into his mouth.
Remus stared at him, utterly perplexed. “I don’t think you should be drinking lake water. It’s dirty, my feet are literally inside of it,” he said loudly, hoping his words would carry.
The boy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand; his eyes were a mesmerising silver, and the ends of his long hair gently grazed the water. “Well, if the people of your town weren’t so goddamn rude, I’d have actual water to drink.”
Remus raised his eyebrows. The first thing he noticed was the boy’s accent; it wasn’t Scottish at all, it was posh. Remus barely had an accent due to the fact that his parents were migrants. So where did the boy come from? “I could give you drinkable water, if you would like.”
He looked up at him, his grey eyes piercing. “Thanks, but I have places to be.”
Remus couldn’t help but gape and how sharp the boy’s canines were, like a vampire’s. “Where?”
He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Where do you have to go? Just saying, I know you don’t live here.”
The boy pursed his lips, and Remus realised just how pretty he was, like he came straight out of a painting. “It’s none of your business.”
He then rose and left, disappearing through the uncut grass and into the trees, and Remus noticed the tears and patches in his loose clothing. Where did he come from?
He stared into the space the boy once occupied, mouth open in shock.
***
Remus couldn’t sleep, even when Davey was curled up on his chest, snoring softly in the way he always found comforting. He had spent all night thinking about the strange boy, accompanied by a Queen song playing quietly on his mother’s old record player as he stared up at his ceiling. If only she were still here.
Everyone in his small town knew each other, or at least of each other, and he had never seen him before.
Who was he? What was he doing here? So many questions.
The house was stagnant without his father downstairs, answering telephones and muttering to himself as he did some late-night work. There was nothing except the chirp of crickets and the rustling of the leaves outside.
The next morning, after eating a singular apple for breakfast and feeding all his chickens, Remus ran back to the lake, in hopes of catching sight of him again.
The pretty, dark-haired boy was nowhere to be seen.
When he was walking back to his house, he decided, fuck it. He had already broken a rule; he was currently breaking a rule, might as well make the most of it. The sheep could live another hour without moving pastures, and Davey would appreciate the extra rest.
In the centre of the town was a small ice cream shop. It had been his favourite place since he first came here, and now, a sixteen-year-old, it was still his favourite.
“Remus, sweetheart! Ah thought ye were away this holiday?” Poppy Pomfrey, the shop owner, said as she caught sight of Remus. He adored her. She was there when his mother passed, when everything was falling apart and Remus didn’t know how to live without hurting. In short words, Poppy Pomfrey was his favourite person ever, the grandmother he never had.
“Yeah, um… we’re going a bit later,” Remus lied. Even though he hated lying to Poppy, he couldn’t risk his father finding out about his rule-breaking.
“Alright, which flavour would ye like?” she asked, ice cream scoop in hand.
“Chocolate.”
Poppy sighed affectionately. “Cannae believe that’s still yer favourite.”
“Not my fault that it’s the best ice cream flavour,” Remus said as he placed the cash on the counter.
Poppy scoffed before shoving the money right back into Remus’ hands. “It’s on me, Rem. Yer goin’ on holiday, ye deserve a wee sweet treat beforehand.”
“Poppy-”
She shushed him. “Ah insist!”
There was really nothing you could do when Poppy Pomfrey insisted.
“A waffle cone?”
Remus smiled. “As always.”
Poppy grinned back, her smile lines deepening. She scooped and handed him the ice cream. “Have a nice holiday, darlin’. Mind yer sun cream.”
Remus chuckled. “You too, Poppy.”
The nostalgic clanker of the bell above the door only made his smile widen, though it was only for a while before it morphed into a frown as he caught sight of who was leaning against the wooden fence outside the shop.
The dark-haired boy from yesterday, looking as pretty as ever, and Severus Snape standing right in front of him with a furious expression.
With furrowed brows, Remus slowly approached them, their conversation becoming audible as he did so.
“This isn’t your spot, this is a public area.”
“You’re clearly new to this town, and let me tell you, you have not made a good first impression. That spot is mine.”
Remus snorted to himself. Who did Severus think he was, saying things like that? He was relatively new to the town as well, having only been here for three years.
Sirius’ expression was one of eerie neutrality. “Surely you aren’t such twat.”
Remus used to let Severus believe he owned the world; he was always too scared to say anything about it. James was always the one who stood up for people, who gave Severus what he deserved. But it was the boy, and Remus couldn’t let the brat step all over him.
“Snivellus,” Remus spat. “Fuck off.”
“He’s sitting at our spot.”
Remus rolled his eyes. “News flash, Lily’s been gone for two years and she’s not coming back, so get over your emotional attachment to that spot of grass.”
Severus was bright red, like he always was when he was agitated. “Be careful with what you say, Lupin.”
Remus tsked. “You and your one-sided threats.”
Severus growled, and Remus resisted the urge to laugh in his face. “We’re not done here, Remus. One day you’ll get karma for everything you’ve done.”
“And what, exactly, have I done–hm? I think you’re just a sensitive little dick, Severus.”
Severus snarled, muttering half-hearted threats as he stomped away.
In simple words, Severus had been completely livid toward Remus ever since he became closest friends with Lily. But in all honesty, it wasn’t Remus’ fault that Lily finally realised how big a git Severus was.
Remus missed Lily a lot. They called every so often, though it still wasn’t enough.
He watched Severus go and turned to see that the boy was gone. Nada.
Great, he thought. Trust Severus to ruin everything.
Then his gaze caught on a small rectangular tin resting on the plush grass. Slowly, he knelt, making sure his ice cream didn’t fall as he did so, and picked it up. He popped it open, the metal making a loud clinking sound. He lifted the lid to see a dozen rolled fags.
Remus furrowed his brow, picking one of them up and holding it up to his eyes. Did the boy leave it here on purpose, or did it fall out of his pocket? Surely he would’ve heard the tin if it did drop.
Remus slipped it into his pocket. They all say summer’s the best time to start a new hobby, right?
He walked home, ice cream in hand, still thinking of the mysterious boy.
***
It was midnight, and Remus was still awake, a tired Davey already asleep on his thighs as a Fleetwood Mac song played quietly from his record player.
He leaned over to his bedside table, where he had put the tin of cigarettes. He lifted it to the moonlight and saw a small etching in the bottom of the tin he hadn’t noticed before.
Remus squinted, holding it closer.
Sirius Black, the engraving said.
Remus stared at it for what felt like ages. Was that the boy's name? Or was it a brand name? Groaning, Remus placed the tin back on the bedside table. It was too late to ponder any more.
He fell asleep, Sirius Black chanting in his mind.
***
The next morning, there was a knock on the door. Might as well break another rule; he was on a roll. He stumbled down the stairs and opened the wooden door. He blinked for a moment, blinded by the shine of the sun.
Once his eyes adjusted, he saw Minerva, or as Remus politely refers to her, Mrs McGonagall. He was quite scared of her, in all honesty. Today she was wearing a simple white tank top and thin pants, her hair done in a tight updo.
“Lupin,” she said, her voice soft and smooth despite her age.
Remus tried to hide his shock. “Yes, Mrs McGonagall? Would you like to come in?”
“No thanks, Ah just have a message. Is yer father home?”
Remus stuttered, pulling at the sleeves of his woollen jumper, a poor choice regarding the weather. “Uh–yes, but he’s… he’s not–he’s not accepting… visitors. He–He’s been very busy. You can tell me, though, I’ll pass the message along.” He shouldn’t have opened the door.
She looked ready to leave. “That’s alright, I’ll just come back later-”
“No!” Remus cleared his throat, softening his voice. “Could you tell me, please? My father was my age when he got his first farm. I can handle it, whatever it is.”
Mrs McGonagall pursed her lips. “Okay, then. Just dinnae let it worry ye too much.”
Remus nodded.
“A few o’ Severus Snape’s cattle were found dead.”
Remus’ mouth fell open. “Wha– How?”
“We aren’t sure whit the threat is yet, but for now, just stay aware,” she said. “Och, dinnae look so worried, child. The adults’ll deal with it, we’ll figure out whit happened soon enough. Most likely it’s an illness, or somethin’ they ate.”
“Oh, okay. Was–was there blood? An injury?”
Mrs McGonagall chuckled gently. “Not that we could see, though there were two red dots on their necks, but that might just be a side effect o’ an illness. Whatever it was that killed them, it was somethin’ internal. So if there’s anythin’ off with yer animals, a cough, or fatigue, make sure tae inform me, okay?”
“Okay,” Remus muttered.
She patted his shoulder. “Have a good day, young Lupin.”
“You too.”
He shut the door.
Remus wiped his forehead, anxious sweat already forming on his brow. This was not good news. The last time there was a pandemic among the animals, the whole farm-based town had been put in a crisis. He sincerely hoped this wasn’t the case this time.
Red dots on their necks, Mrs McGonagall had said. How unusual.
He wondered where the boy was.