Chapter Text
Remus never had time for friends. All he ever wanted was to show his music to the ones who'd appreciate it.
He wasn't quite a folk artist, and he wasn't quite a rock artist. That little gray area is where he resided. He hungered for something unique, but most of all, he hungered for a community. A bit ironic, he'll admit.
It was the late summer of ‘75, and he had come to a city just outside of London. Remus was tired of his parents, so he asked to be enrolled in another school–a boarding school–far enough away so he didn't hear the yells of them anymore.
His parents reluctantly agreed, so he took off. He took the train from Mayberry and arrived in Deepoak– the town outside of London– with a trunk of clothes, and his guitar. He had a few hundred pounds that he's saved over the years, and a half empty pack of Marlboro Reds.
He wondered if he could get by as an eighteen year old. He was only fifteen. He didn't look it though–at his height of six feet and two inches, the scars that decorated his face and the rest of his body– he could've been in his late twenties. Some people just knew though.
The train stopped. He was here– Deepoak. The city was quaint– almost like a miniature version of London. Big enough for pubs and a few people sitting on buckets playing Bob Dylan.
He walked into the petrol station for a few new packs of Marlboros– he didn't know Denvey's policy on leaving campus.
“Marlboro Reds– two packs if you will…”, Remus requested, pulling out his money.
The station keeper looked at him like he was crazy. “How old ‘re you?”
“Eighteen sir.”, this is when Remus straightened, to seem more mature than he was.
“How am I supposed to take your word– I've never seen you ‘fore.”
“I-”, Remus starts, but it's interrupted by a voice behind him.
“Come on Rob, leave him alone. He's got the money I bet.”
“It's not like you're of age either, Sirius.”
“Yet you still sell to me”
The stations keeper– whom he now knew as ‘Rob’—hands over two packs. Remus hands over the money. He could've handled it by himself. He knew that. But this long-haired boy had to butt in.
As Remus walks out, he doesn't say anything to the boy named Sirius.
“You're welcome”
“Excuse me?”
“You're welcome”, Sirius smirked.
Remus sidesteps him and exits the station. He needed to stop getting pissed off at anyone who helped him—he knew that—yet he would never admit that.
Remus flagged down a taxi. He muttered the location to the driver, ‘Denvey please’.
“Could I bum a ride with you?”, it was that same voice from earlier.
Remus sighed and tried to not sound annoyed.
“You headed to Denvey?”
“Yes, I am.”, he was still smirking. What the hell? Remus wanted nothing more than to hit him for it, wipe it off his face.
Remus didn't say anything more than, ‘Sure’, and shoved his guitar case into the boot. He got into the back of the taxi and Sirius followed.
“I never got your name”
“For good reason”, Remus deadpanned.
The ride to Denvey was short, but the silence made it feel longer. Remus was used to silence, but it was obvious Sirius wasn't. He shook his leg and kept looking over to Remus, opening his mouth then sighing as if he was holding something back.
They arrived at Denvey, and Remus basically jumped out of the cab. It was 10 o'clock and Remus knew he had to rush to the office to be assigned a dorm. He went to the trunk to get his things but Sirius held it down.
“What did I do?”, he murmured.
“I didn't need the help at the petrol station.”
“Well what's so wrong that I did?”
“I just didn't need it. I could've handled it. Now if you don't mind I have to get somewhere.”
Sirius watched as the boy walked away. He just wanted to make a new friend.
Remus headed to the office and knocked. A quaint old lady sat at the front desk.
“Yes dear?”
“I'm a transfer. Lupin's the last name.”
“Remus? Transferring from Mayberry?”
“Yes ma'am”
“Such manners for a boy from Mayberry”
Remus blushed.
“Your dorm room is 532. Here's your room key.”, she hands him a small key, “Your books and materials should be in there.”
Remus smiles before walking to his dorm. The campus was huge, but beautiful, so he enjoyed the walk. Once at the door to 532, he turned the key.
Oh God.