Happy Memories // James Potter

iv: 9.26.1977

"As long as we're breathing it's not too late to change your story." - Sheri Salata 

Monday, September 26th, 1977

It wasn't a dream.

That's all I have to say on the matter. It most certainly was not a dream and that means so many things, but the biggest part, it means I had fun with James Potter last night.

You wanna know how I know it wasn't a dream? The answer is simple and complex all at once, and it takes the form of the suit jacket draped over my desk chair beside my bed.

Okay, so it's not that bad, right? I mean, it's not like we made out, we just spent some time together, that's all.

Remus can't know.

~☾~

"Miss Lupin! Miss Lupin!" I turn immediately, finding Regulus rushing to keep up with me in the hallway on the way to potions. "I wanted to make sure you were alright, you left with Potter last night and it didn't really seem like you wanted to." He explains.

"I'm fine, I just had to check up on my brother is all. Thank you, though."

"Wonderful, alright then." He says simply, turning around, but I grab his arm before he can get too far.

"Sirius lives with James."

"That's correct."

"And you don't."

"Also correct." He says tentatively.

"I'm sorry, Regulus."

"Yeah... me too. Goodbye, Ophelia."

~☾~

Saturday, October 1st, 1977

"I have work, Sera, I have to go." I insist, trying to pull away from the younger girl, who only continues to drill me on the most recent letter from my parents. This time it was written by dad, his curling, sharp handwriting so distinct compared to Mum's. It was a simple letter, only a paragraph long, but it hurt to read nonetheless.

I love my father, I truly do, but I know what he thinks of me. I always have and I always will know. My father sees me as a burden, my brother is his chosen one, and I am not.

It's my fault my brother is a werewolf, and my father knows it better than anyone else. If I hadn't looked at Remus that night, if I hadn't said his name, Fenrir would never have known that Remus was asleep in the room with me. He would have never chosen to turn him over me.

The letter is just a reminder not to drag his name through the mud. My father works for the ministry, in the muggle department. They don't pay well and they treat him like shit, which I'm sure is why he turned to drinking when Remus and I were kids. He's miserable, and he makes sure that everyone around him is too.

"Just tell me what the letter says, I know it's from your dad!"

"It's none of your business, Ser, I have to go." I insist, finally pulling my wrist from her grasp and rushing out of the hall. It's colder out today than it was last Saturday, though not even close to as cold as the dungeon was. The flannel I threw on over my t-shirt this morning does perfectly fine to keep the wind from making me shiver, though it's still chilly enough to grip my arms around myself to keep warm. That is, until a jacket is dropped over my shoulders and Regulus goes stolling past me with Pandora in tow. He sends me a wink on the way past, though that's the only acknowledgement I get as I pull his jacket a little tighter around me. It's a dark blue, worn in a couple of places but clearly loved and well taken care of.