From Beginning to End

Chapter 4: When Pigs Fly

TW: Fatphobia

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     Remus sighed, realizing he'd just reread the same paragraph about troll wars three times. History of Magic was truly a useless class and he could not bear it.

Outside was bleak, sky covered with dark clouds pouring down droplets to water the earth below. A cuppa, curled up on the common room sofa by the fire with a good fiction called to him. But, the essay he'd put off was due the next day, so no such luxury could be afforded.

The bed next to him shifted and out popped a mousy-brown head of hair.

"You alright?" asked Peter.

Despite it being the third week of September, Remus hardly paid much mind to his roommates. As far as he was concerned, as long as they were able to coexist with minimal issues and his secret stayed his own, he had no need to know them further.

James and Sirius were two peas in a pod, never seen without one another. Peter joined in here and there but oftentimes did his own thing. Remus could tell Peter wanted to be included more but wouldn't force the connection which was respectable.

"I'm good," Remus' drained voice responded from a few feet away. "Just having trouble focusing is all."

Peter perked up, ready to help, to be of use.

"What are you working on?"

"History. Need to do my essay."

"Really? I love History of Magic! I can help if you want. I finished my essay ages ago."

It was true. Peter's strong suits were History, Charms and Herbology. No one else seemed to share his passions for the subjects though, so he spent many hours studying alone, drinking in the information, getting as much out of it as he could.

"That'd be great actually. Cheers, Peter."

Peter scurried down the corridors, running late for Potions. The dungeons were just so dark and every hallway looked the same. He wished that there was some sort of map for the everchanging castle with its shifting staircases and disappearing doors. Everybody seemed to have gotten it down within the first day or so. It was embarrassing to keep coming in late declaring that he'd been lost again. The laughter of his peers echoed in his head, memories of recent incidents clawing at him. He knew he wasn't exactly the smartest or most attractive kid but some people were simply cruel for no good reason.

The bell chimed. Class had begun and older students began to stroll about slowly in the direction of their rooms, unbothered by the time.
How great it would be to possess such a nature instead of the constant sense of impending dread set deep in Peter's stomach.

He became aware of the pit stains that had formed, his clammy hands, and the overall shakiness. A familiar thickness formed in the back of his throat. Lost and about to cry. What a look.

Laughter approached. An older boy with dark hair and a charming, sickening smile came close, a few friends at his side.

"Aw, did the little piggy get lost trying to go to the market?" he chortled.

Peter didn't know the kid. All he saw was the blue and bronze tie. He wasn't strong enough to fight and too nervous to throw an insult back. Not that that mattered, the dark-haired boy would win anyway.

What did surprise him though, was the use of Muggle references. So far it had seemed the purebloods were the bullies, not those of Muggle lineage.

"He sure is sweating like one," a shorter boy added with a giggle.

"Surprised he hasn't started squealing yet."

"Too nervous probably. He'll squeal when pigs fly."

"At least a wolf hasn't blown over his hou–"

Out of nowhere the leader of the pack was thrown back into the wall behind him. The back of his head collided with the stone, a resounding crack echoing through the corridor. He slid to the floor, clutching his head, eyes looking back in horror.

The friends took a few steps back, mouths agape, most likely not used to being challenged.

"You were saying?"

There was Remus Lupin, standing straight-backed, fist bloodied, eyebrow cocked, a fire behind his eyes.

Peter had never been defended before. In primary school he'd often been the butt of jokes to impress other people on the playground. Always the runt despite his size.

Fitting in had never been an option. He was used to sticking out like a sore thumb, and no one wanted to hang around with a social injury.

Yet, here was Remus, out of nowhere, just having punched an older Ravenclaw boy, threatening his friends in order to help the roommate who's only real interaction had been working on an essay together a few days prior.

In this moment, Peter decided Remus was worth trying to befriend and further, worth being loyal too indefinitely.

"N-nothing mate. We're all good here."

Remus nodded, a twitch of his lip suggesting a smirk wanted to stretch across his face but was kept at bay.

"Right. That's what I thought."

The boys parted as Remus brushed off his hands, jaw set tight.

"Thanks-thanks loads Remus."

The taller boy shook his head, visage softening, turning to face Peter.

"Don't bother. They were fucking punks. Let's get back to class, mate."

And despite class being near over, no one spared Peter a second glance as the pair entered this time. Instead they were preoccupied with the shy and sweet Remus Lupin's, who never talked, purple fist.

Rumors flew that night and the following day, but no one reached the truth. Those older boys were never going to admit they'd been bested by a scrawny first year and Remus wouldn't dare brag about defending a fellow peer. The truth died with them as their friendship was born.