Blue light. Dizzying, watery blue light.

A second later, red light. Caustic and angry. Much better suited for the party.

Remus has never been a particularly self-assured person, but God, he's never felt this uncomfortable. He shrinks a little more into the wall when the lights turn a menacing green. If James and Lily weren't on their way, he would have left hours ago. Except he hasn't been there for more than twenty minutes.

Muggle London is a lot busier than he remembers, and a lot more populated with wizards than he would've dreamed. Somehow, several of his young neighbours from Hogsmeade have also chosen to witness this mess of a party.

Loud music with the bass vibrating in Remus' stomach. Bodies heavy with lust or alcohol, or maybe both. Nothing but the smell of alcohol, mingling with the sickly sweet of expensive women's eau de parfum and cheap body spray. Remus wants to drown himself in holy water just breathing it in.

What makes it more unbearable is the incongruence. Amidst all the nauseatingly close bodies, a dark haired boy has fallen asleep on the couch. And there's a pretty girl crying in a corner, being comforted by a prettier boy. Two boys are on the verge of strangling each other, held apart by a fierce looking girl with white hair. Also really pretty.

It's like a monthly meeting for the seven deadly sins.

None of this would've mattered if Sirius was there. But he isn't. Not even a sign of him. Feeling a tap on his back, Remus whirls around. His smile falters the slightest when he sees that it's not Sirius.

"Oh, uhm," Remus stares at the blond boy in front of him. His whole face is purple thanks to the lights. He looks familiar.

"Hey, Remus. Don't you remember me?"

"Peter?" Remus prays he's correct.

"Yeah! It's been so long since we saw each other. How are you?"

Peter Pettigrew was a friend of Remus' at Hogwarts. Well, as close to a friend as he had. Remus falls into a politely neutral conversation with him. He so badly wants to go home.

Remus feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. "Excuse me, please," he mumbles, pulling it out. "Hello? James?"

"Re, it's Lily,"

"Lily, hi. Are you guys nearly here?"

"Uhm, about that..."

Remus feels his heart sink. "Why aren't you coming?" He asks quietly.

"It's Euphemia," Lily sighs into the phone. "She fell down the stairs. James is at St. Mungo's already. I don't even know when he'll get back..."

"Oh my God," Remus gasps, "Is she okay? Do you need me to come-"

"No, no, she's fine, Re. She broke her wrist. But James says she's fine. You enjoy the party. I have to go now. Good night," Remus can hear Lily's smile in her voice.

"Yeah, I'll enjoy the party," Remus rolls his eyes, "Good night, Lily. Call me if you need anything."

Remus turns back to Peter. "So..." Peter raises an eyebrow.

"Uh..." Remus bites his lip. He notices something out of the corner of his eye. It's Sirius.

Spending so much time with him had made Remus a little oblivious to just how beautiful he is. But seeing him from a distance like this renders Remus truly in awe. He's dressed in a somewhat sheer white shirt, tucked carefully into a pair of black jeans. Simple but effective. With the blue light dancing on to the angles of his cheekbones, he looks like a medieval painting of a fairy prince. Remus wants to make a crown of daisies and place it on his head.

Dead daisies, actually. To fit his aesthetic.

But Sirius isn't alone. He's dragging another pretty boy by his hand. The boy is a harder type of beautiful, his frame well-defined in his clean black shirt. His hair is a soft gold, not quite blond but not really brown either. But Remus can't be sure. Not with those damned red lights. Parted at the side, it sweeps above his forehead in a sort of fringe.

Where Sirius is a delicate portrait of carefully blended colours, this boy is a lively sketch of bold brushstrokes and thick lines.

"Remus," Sirius breathes out as they reach him. "Sirius," Remus subconsciously looks down at his own clothes. Worn out jumper because it's cold outside, old boots nearly falling apart. Faux-leather watch with the skin cracked and peeling, the once silver rim of its face now a pale yellow with the paint having left it months ago.

"I'm so glad you came. Who's this friend of yours?" Sirius smiles.

He's not my friend, Remus wants to say. "This is Peter. He was in our grade at Hogwarts."

"Oh, hi, Peter," Sirius gives him disinterested glance. "Anyway, this is Auguste," he tells Remus, and turns to the boy, "Say hi, Auguste. I've told you about Remus."

Auguste gives Remus a beautiful smile, his dark eyes sparkling even in the green light. "Hello, Remus," his voice is so deep that Remus feels like he's drowning. "I've heard only the greatest things about you. Are you enjoying our party?"

Remus can't speak, he's so overwhelmed. So this big mansion with it's dazzling ornate ceilings and pillars is Auguste's home.

But wait, he's heard only the greatest things about Remus?

That's all it takes for Remus to turn a deep red. Sirius looks at him fondly. In front of him and Auguste, so graceful and clearly a whole different level from every other person in the room, Remus feels a little disoriented. He feels like a zoo animal being observed. He wants to die, God.

"We need to find Aurélie," Auguste tells Sirius. Sirius turns to him and nods. "I'll come talk to you soon," he places a hand on Remus' arm and keeps it there for just a second longer than necessary. "See you around," Remus says softly. Sirius looks like he wants to say something, but then turns to leave. "It was nice meeting you, Remus," Auguste smiles at Remus before leaving, a hand on Sirius' back.

Remus can't take his eyes off of them. The whole room bends to their will, people subtly moving to give them space in the same way that sunlight itself seemed to fear touching Sirius on the first day Remus saw him. Remus wonders if it's his eyes playing tricks on him. Regardless, no one can deny the effect they have on the people they pass. It's as if they leave the air behind them charged with electricity.

They look so right together, and it hurts to see it.

"Wow," Peter breaks the silence. "You're friends with Sirius Black?"

Remus tugs at the sleeve of his jumper. "Yeah," he says, feeling guilty for some reason.

Peter says something, but Remus doesn't really hear. All he can think of is Sirius' glowing face and Auguste's gentle smile. He aches right in the middle of his chest beneath his sternum, the air around him suddenly refusing to enter his lungs.

Peter seems to be waiting for an answer.

"Uh, okay," Remus blurts out. "Great," Peter gives him a boyish grin. He grabs Remus' arm and pulls him through the dancing crowd into an adjoining room, much quieter. Several people are drinking out of paper cups, some seated and some standing.

Shit.

"Uh, I don't drink," Remus says when Peter offers him a cup. "Okay then," Peter takes a sip of it. "Wanna meet my friends?"

Remus doesn't get a chance to say no. Time blurs, there's a torrent of faces and names. Lorraine with the pink hair, Marcus with the nose ring and a Henry and a George and some more, none of which Remus remembers or cares to remember past a few seconds.

"Oh wow," some girl gasps, "You're friends with Sirius Black? My sister says you can get a disease from just talking to him."

"Margot saw him with a new guy last week. And another one just two days ago."

"He's shameless."

"You better be careful, Remus," Lorraine with the pink hair says. "He might try to seduce you, too," she laughs.

"Unless he hasn't already," a boy says, "But don't flatter yourself. He'll fuck anything with two legs."

"I need to go," Remus says, feeling sick. He stands up, his chair knocking into someone. "Watch it," the boy says glaring at him. Remus stumbles away from the table. "Hey, where are you going?" Peter asks, blue eyes wide.

"I... bathroom," Remus mumbles hastily, moving away from them. The room spins around him, it's white light painfully bright in his eyes. "Yeah, no," a girl laughs, "Black definitely fucked him."

The crude remark makes Remus want to gag. He leaves the room, absently making his way along some corridor. He takes a turn, and then stops.

Because there's Sirius. And Auguste. Their lips locked in a kiss.

It wouldn't have hurt so much if it was a hungry kiss, hands grabbing at each other's clothes and bodies curling with desire. But it isn't.

Remus can't look away from it, the way Auguste's hands cup Sirius' face, his eyebrows furrowed with concentration, his shoulders bunched with the effort of kissing him. He can't look away from the way Sirius leans into the wall behind him, his neck arching as he reaches up for Auguste, his fingers lost in Auguste's hair.

Remus clamps a hand over his mouth, sure that he's going to throw up. He quickly turns back and out of their line of sight. On the verge of tears, he leans a hand against the wall for support.

He wants Sirius, and he wants to be Sirius'. The heavens know, he aches for it. With his whole body, he aches for it.

"Hey, there you are. Come on-"

Remus jerks away from Peter. "Leave me alone," he all but growls.

"Whoa, what got your panties in a bunch?"

Remus turns away. He can't handle this, he needs to get away.

"What? Is Sirius your boyfriend or something? That why you're so upset?"

"Don't say his name," Remus says lowly.

"Yeah, I'll leave it to you. Whatever, man." Peter rolls his eyes. Remus throws him a dirty look before diving into the crowd. It doesn't part for him, no. No one cares. Because he's just Remus. Plain, worthless Remus, known for the holes on his socks and his stupid potions that no one cares about anyway.

The night welcomes him into its arms, peppering cold kisses all over his face. Turning his cheeks dark and drawing pale arcs in the air with his breath. The sky isn't inky blue like it would be in Hogsmeade at this time. Instead, it's a dusty pink near the horizon, turning into a murky greyish blue as it goes up. Remus can't see the stars. The middle of this city, too busy for beauty with it's fast cars and noisy streets, has no time for watching the stars.

Remus walks and walks.

He finds a bench in a nearby park, sits down on it, and cries. Cries and cries until he can't feel the cold on his cheeks, until his fingertips freeze and will not bend. When his tears cease, he thinks of Sirius and Auguste, the way they held each other, and makes himself cry again.

It's a pity that sadness can be so addictive.

Cold and alone, Remus cries for a long time. With nothing but the sad wind to give him comfort. But he can't cry forever. He stands up with effort and wipes his face for good measure, then tests his lips with a smile. The dried tears leave a sticky feeling on his cheeks. Other than that, he doesn't feel too bad.

It takes a while to get to Diagon Alley, but the cold air keeps him invigorated. He checks his pockets for money. Enough for a Butterbeer. Instead of going home, he goes to the Three Broomsticks.

After all the time he spent in the cold, the Butterbeer feels like a blessing from the gods. He closes his eyes as the drink goes down his throat, it's warmth soothing his numb body.

Remus wishes Madam Rosmerta a good night and walks to wards his home. From a distance, he can hear a loud noise, the listless buzzing of a congregation of people. As he draws closer, he realises that it's in front of his house.

Remus feels his spirits rise a little. The thought of people being so excited for his shop makes him glow. With a smile, he makes his way towards his home.

But something's wrong.

This isn't excitement in the air. This isn't delight. This isn't celebration.

This is anger. Dark waves of anger rising upwards. The air crackles with it, the magic radiating off of a dozen angry wizards sullying the quaint neighbourhood. Remus stops dead in his tracks. Now he can hear them shouting,

"Come out, coward!"

"Come out and face us!"

And then he hears someone cry two words that fix everything in place.

"Filthy werewolf!"

Remus' whole world freezes. How do they know? Someone elbows him by accident, but it's too dark for him to see that it's Remus. The person they're looking for. The crowd is volatile, ready to snap. A loud cry makes all that built up tension explode.

"Drag him out!"

Remus takes a step back, but it's too late. A pair of hands grab him from behind, pulling him. He tries to break free. He opens his mouth to scream, but he can't. I won't cry, he tells himself. I won't cry.

He realises that he's too weak to fight back. Whoever it is that's holding him, he's too strong for Remus. So he gives up. He closes his eyes and lets himself be dragged amidst the loud, angry yells.

Everything flashes by. Everyone.

His father with his broken mind and his mother with her broken heart. James, behind the counter of Potter's Herbs and Misc. Lily, her bright eyes and bright hair. His cats. Marshbutton, ever present wherever there's food. Mavis, a black ball of curiosity. Mentos, prim and haughty. Mittens, ready to do anything for a belly rub.

And then Sirius. His eyes.

Remus aches when he thinks that he will never know what he looks like fresh out of bed, what the beat of his heart sounds like, the feel of his lips under his own. He will never get to know what Sirius' favourite book is, what type of pet he'd like, his favourite place to get coffee. It sends that familiar surge of pain up his heart, making him wince. His eyes fill up behind their lids and his lips start to tremble.

But he can't do anything about it. I won't cry, he thinks. I won't cry.