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Remus Lupin spent almost every day of his 13th summer with James Potter. He felt a fierce, almost selfish joy to think about this fact, how James had invited him, not Sirius and not Peter, to stay for weeks in the Potter’s summer villa in the Lake District.
James’ full attention, a precious commodity - Remus bathed in it, soaked it in. James was the sun, bright and compelling, almost too much for Remus to bear when he was used to much less. He dreaded the summer’s end and James’ attention divided once more.
They hiked for miles, picking bilberries and staining their fingers. They flew, some, although Remus was unsure on his broom. Twice already they had packed up a tent, trekking for hours across fields and woodlands, along small almost-hidden trails to a secluded lake.
“This is a sacred space,” James said very seriously the first time they stood along the lake’s edge. Willows curtained above them and draped along the water, casting shifting shadows across James’ face.
James knelt and put his hand lightly on the stones by the water. “Some believe this is where Merlin met and fell in love with the enchantress Nimue.” He stirred a few fingers through the water. “Can you feel it?”
Remus knelt beside James, who took his hand and guided it through the water. A shaft of light cut through the trees, illuminating the rippling water in front of them.
Remus nodded, swallowed. “I can feel it.”
That night as the fire burned low, Remus asked, “What happened to Merlin and Nimue?”
James cleared his throat. “Erm… it didn’t work out. She didn’t love him back.”
And now in the last days of August before the fall term, they were back at the lake’s edge. Their final scorching afternoon, Remus sat in the willow's shade, thumbing through a muggle book on Arthurian legend.
They had already spent a few diverting hours separating fact from fiction.
Remus read aloud, “My boy, the time is not yet ripe for you to be a hawk... so you may as well sit down for the moment and learn to be a human being.”
James laughed delightedly, meters away where he was stacking a tower of stones.
“That’s true! Merlin taught Arthur to be an animagus.” He grinned at Remus lopsidedly. “Mum used to tell me that story. I’ve been wanting to learn since I was five.”
“You’ll have to learn to be a human being first,” Remus teased, flipping the pages.
“They had a year of joy, twelve months of the strange heaven which the salmon know on beds of river shingle, under the gin-clear water… The four seasons were coloured like the edge of a rose petal for them.” Remus paused, staring blankly at the page.
He looked up at the sound of a small cry of pain. James, hand clapped to his face, stumbled to the water, wading in past his waist. He ducked under quickly and came out again, hand on his cheek.
“What happened?” Remus called down, throwing aside his book to run the stretch to the water.
James shook his head angrily. “A wasp got me.” He dunked his head back in the water and began scrubbing at his face.
Remus could see six raised stings on James’ exposed back, turning James’ suntanned skin an angry red.
Filled with a strange, electric wonder at the welts dotting James’ back, Remus waded over slowly. He reached out to touch one.
“You have,” he started, and cut himself short as James lifted his head out of the water. A streak of red decorated James’ jaw where the wasp had landed so briefly.
“It stings,” James said, his forehead wrinkling.
James was close enough to touch. Beads of water dripped from James’ hair down his back, and he blinked water off his eyelashes.
Remus reached down into the water between them and scooped a handful up, lifting it to a welt on James’ upper back and pouring cool water there. James shivered and turned his head to study Remus.
Remus ducked his head, averting his eyes, and gathered another handful of water, lifting it this time to James’ jaw. He cupped the welt, water seeping through his trembling fingers until he was left gently touching James’ damp skin.
They were very close now, nose to nose, as close as sleepovers in the dormitory and James’ and Sirius’ careless, brotherly affection in the hallways. Remus imagined nudging forward another inch and sliding his cheek against James’.
Remus felt James’ breathing as it picked up, mouth moving slightly under his hand.
It had been a minute. It had been an hour, a lifetime.
With a deep breath, Remus lifted his head to meet James’ uncertain gaze. The wrinkle of pain on his face was too foreign - Remus had only seen it once or twice before, moments of quiet homesickness quickly subsumed by shouts of laughter at Sirius’ antics. That was Remus’ and Sirius’ silent agreement - James should never have to be sad.
Remus swept his hand from James’ jaw to his forehead, smoothing out the crinkle between his eyebrows. His arm ended up around James’ back - the line where their bare skin touched was a hot brand in the cool water.
James smiled shyly, a look equally strange and unfamiliar on his face, and Remus’ breath caught. He slid forward and lightly pressed his mouth to the welt on James’ jawline, and pulled back just as quickly.
James was standing very still. Remus ducked his head, one arm still around James’ back, and raised his other hand to his lips. His skin was tingling. His brain was buzzing.
He felt a soft, fluttering pressure on his arm.
A small black wasp sat gently on Remus’ arm. Its wings beat through the humid air. Remus froze, eyes shut and teeth clenched.
In his arms, James shifted an inch closer and shivered.
“Remus,” he whispered. “Remus. The summer is over.”