MOONSTRUCK ... r.lupin

chapter twenty-four

Benjamin chuckles and undoes the sleeves of his chequered yellow shirt, pushing them up to his elbows as sweat sticks his curly ginger hair to his neck. "It'll take 'em another hour, I bet." The other boys laugh along, unmoving, staring at themselves in the mirror. Their smiles don't reach their eyes.

This is the closest Nate has ever stood next to Hiro and Benjamin.

It took them seven years to get to this point and now it's all coming to an end, water circling the drain, starting to drip through the holes. He's never felt closer to them. He's never felt so far away.

Tomorrow, he'll forget what they ever sounded like.

They finally leave the room an hour later, after their tears have dried up and their forgotten toiletries deposited back into their bags, the door locking behind them as soon as they step out into the hallway. The silence is almost unbearable, weighing down on their shoulders. They trudge through the corridor, feet dragging, hearts heavy.

They push open the door to the sixth- and seventh-year common room.

It's full. Every Hufflepuff has crowded into the circular room. Curled onto the bumblebee armchairs and couches. Crossed-legged on the butter carpet. Legs dangling from pinewood furnishings.

They start to cheer as soon as they walk through the door. The other door on the other side of the room flies open and the girls tumble in, sharing smiles, reminiscing about their past seven years together. They freeze when they notice the cheering, and the clapping, and the yelling. And then their eyes meet across the common room.

Nate's eyes start to fill as he crosses the room with the others, being pulled into hugs by second-years he doesn't know the name of, earning high-fives from fourth-years he remembers being sorted, shaking hands with the sixth-years that will take their place soon enough. They all meet in the middle, legs skimming the edge of the lumpy yellow couch the four friends had quickly chosen as their own two years ago.

They'll never sit on it again.

Amalthea reaches her hand out to wipe away the tears slipping over Nate's cheeks. She smiles, hand curled around his cheek. It'll be the last time they ever step foot in this room. It's come around so fast. The long-tiered prairie dress she wears is mustard coloured, with white frills at each of the three tiers and white flowers embroidered into the bust. The yellow straps are thick on her dark shoulders and she's got a sheer, yellow cape hanging from her hands to wear in case there's a chill settled into the Great Hall. Her curls have been twisted into two buns on the top of her head, tightened in place with yellow bows most likely from Poppy's vast headwear collection, but there are a few curls that she's pulled out to frame her face. She glows.

Behind them, Poppy is curled in Michael's arms, crying into his chest about leaving everything behind. She's wearing a marigold peasant-style dress with flowy, sheer sleeves that dance around her arms every time she moves. Her inky hair falls down her back, pin-straight and heavy, but it bounces along with her graceful movements and it resembles an oil spill on water. She beams through her tears, one hand playing with her bump, the other smoothing out Michael's shirt.

They all crowd around, arms curling around each other's waists, heads ducked low as the weight of what this all means weigh down on their shoulders. When they walk out of this door, they don't walk back in. When they turn their backs on these people they will never see them again. Once they graduate, they become adults.

Nate feels a little sick.

One of the sixth-years has a camera hanging around her neck and she's been snapping pictures ever since they walked in, placing every polaroid into the bag hanging from her shoulder. She's going to give them to his mum, apparently, so that they can get them back once they've fully developed. She makes sure to get a picture of all the seventh-years together. All four boys and all five girls. Arms looped around one another, smiles bright, tears clouding their vision. Someone else snaps another picture. And another. Nate has no idea where all these cameras came from.