Chapter Text
The squat was quiet that night, his mates scattered across mattresses and broken chairs. Remus sat by the window, cigarette glowing faintly in the dark. He wasn’t thinking about the "gang" as people called them, or the fights, or the debts. He was thinking about his posh mates neat handwriting on the letter tucked into his pocket.
*Moony, Mum insists you come stay with us before term. Sirius and Peter are already here. Don’t argue. Just come.*
The three of them had arranged it together — James with his stubborn cheer, Sirius with his reckless grin, Peter with his nervous loyalty. They thought they were rescuing him from loneliness. They didn’t know about the squat, the gang, the nights when Remus led boys through alleys like shadows. And they never would.
But another secret pressed heavier than all of that: Noah.
Remus had met Noah in first year, a boy with polished shoes and parents who spoke with clipped, posh accents. They’d shared a few conversations, a laugh or two, before Noah’s family left the city. Remus hadn’t thought much of it at the time.
Until this summer.
Noah was back. Older, sharper, still carrying that air of privilege but with something restless underneath. They’d run into each other by chance, and what began as awkward small talk had turned into late-night meetings, stolen kisses, and a love affair that burned quietly in the shadows. For the first time, Remus felt seen — not as a gang leader, not as a scarred boy, but simply as himself.
He hadn’t told James, Sirius, or Peter. He couldn’t. They wouldn’t understand.
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The night before he was meant to leave for the Potters’, Remus sat with Noah in the squat’s stairwell, the city humming outside.
“You’ll be gone all summer,” Noah said softly, brushing ash from Remus’s sleeve.
Remus smirked, though his chest tightened. “Potter says I got too. He thinks I need saving. Bunch of posh yobs.” he murmured
Noah’s eyes lingered on him. “Maybe you do.”
Remus leaned in, their kiss quick and fierce, the kind that left him aching when it ended. He wanted to stay, to keep this secret world alive. But Hogwarts was calling, and James, Sirius, and Peter were waiting.
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The next morning, Remus packed what little he had — a battered jacket, a few books ,so the boys wouldn't be suspicious, the knife he never left behind and his wand. He slipped the letter from James into his pocket again, its words a promise of warmth he wasn’t sure he deserved.
By evening, he would be at the Potters’ house, laughing with Sirius, listening to Peter’s nervous chatter, pretending he was just another boy with nothing to hide.
But in the back of his mind, Noah’s kiss lingered, a secret flame he carried with him into the summer.