#prehogwarts
Lily Potter was twenty, prophecy in her belly, love in her whole being. At times, she was vain, willful, and prone to intrude, but a year later no one would remember those parts of her; only her kindness and love would survive her. Her kindness and love would end the war.
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At school, Peter was Remus’ closest friend. Peter was his study partner most years, as neither Sirius nor James could behave for an hour straight in the library. They’d squander their afternoons together too, when they couldn’t find their friends soon enough to make the time before dinner useful.
Sirius and James—they were exuberant. They would conquer the ground they walked on, mouths wide and cackling, as if they could swallow the world. Remus was ever grateful for their friendship—their acceptance had saved him and he would never speak a bad word about it—but he couldn’t say that Sirius and James truly understood like Peter did. Walking in their friends’ shadow together, taunted by the ease a few feet ahead. The envy of it. Sirius and James could swallow the world, but Remus could never swallow the moon and keep it dark forever. He could never wield that brightness with how it stirred his blood and how he craved for the nights when the moon was skinny.
Peter knew the hopelessness of it, griping along instead of offering false encouragement, and they’d revel in their cynicism until the dinner bell tolled. Remus was just as grateful for that.
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