It was the early morning of the 1st of September, and, at times, some shy rays of sunshine managed to pass through the trees and struck Remus, blinding him for a couple of seconds. As it happened once more, the boy decided to allow himself to close his eyes for a little while, suddenly overwhelmed by a tiredness he had long ago become accustomed to. It mustn't have been more than five minutes and yet once he opened his eyes back, it only took him a moment to recognise the familiar shapes of the not-yet-illuminated houses he had come to know by heart as the train made its way into Godalming.
The way from Petersfield is only a short one, but his mother had insisted he'd take the first train, stressing her lack of trust in the railway system, so there he was, more than an hour early, a whole hour left for him to panic thinking about the year ahead before his friends would come and join him.

Despite the heavy luggage he was carrying, he decided sitting would do him no good, so he started walking aimlessly down the still deserted streets of the town, trying to ease the flow of thoughts that were irrationally landing on the shores of his mind. He paced until his lungs began to hurt, his throat burning, as his breath struggled to come. It's only in that moment he stopped to rest, gasping and leaning his back against the fence next to him.
His glance lingered on his luggage, left unattended on the floor; it belonged to his father before him and Remus had fought for it. At the beginning of his first year at Charterhouse School, he had heard his parents discuss about how much they would need to save in order to buy him a new luggage, but a thirteen-year-old Remus had persisted in underlining how little he cared about how presentable he would look, he had earned his place in that school. His mother's eyes were wet as she had hugged him and whispered "my boy" to his ear, Remus hadn't missed the fleeting hint of sadness and shame that was always half hidden in her smile.
The luggage, already quite damaged by the frequent travelling of his father in the early years of his life as a university student, had gained new scratches caused by Remus and his friends after three years spent in the same room together.
That year, however, was different, Remus reminded himself with a sigh: they had said goodbye to their dorm that past June and, as Seniors, they needed to shift to a new one. An exciting news to most of the other boys, but not to Remus, who had grown disproportionately attached to the four-beds room.
It hadn't been easy for Remus to fall asleep in a bed which was not his own in the first months of his stay, he had spent endless night facing the wall and trying not to cry out frustration; but then when he had come home for the summer holidays he had found himself longing for his school bed and the soft snoring of his housemates.
A new dorm meant nothing, really, they were all planning to remain the four of them. Of course, Remus thought, trying to push the idea of his friends no longer wishing to share a room with him to the back of his mind.

As he was walking back to the station, he began to discern a figure, waving a hand at him, with a large smile on his face. James Potter had grown taller over the summer, he could tell from the way his mother merely reached his shoulder, but so had Remus and, as James pulled him into a tight hug, he realised, they were the same height.
Mrs Potter kissed Remus on both cheeks and held his face in her hands for little while.

"You boys are growing so fast! Look at you both, two handsome young men. – she said, with a warm grin on her thin lips – We really missed you this summer Remus, I hope you can come and join us at least for a few days over the Christmas holidays."

Remus nodded, unsure of what the politest answer would be, his mother never failed to remind him not to make promises he couldn't keep. In his attempt to look away from Mrs Potter, he noticed the absence of James' father, always present on his first day of school.

Mrs Potter suddenly continued, as if she were able read his mind: "My husband is feeling slightly unwell, surely because of all his inconsiderate excursions regardless of climate conditions."

The woman's smile never faltered, yet Remus noticed her eyes sparkling with worry for a second.

"How long have you been here alone?" asked James, distracting Remus from his speculations.

"An hour more or less, my mum wanted me take the first train, probably assuming it would have travelled at a walking pace."

James laughed lightly, showing his white teeth, almost bright against his tanned skin.

"Come on, let's go see if Peter has arrived."

It didn't take much effort for James and Remus to find Peter, the boy was standing on his tip toes, stretching his neck as much as possible in order to see above the station's crowd and as soon as he saw his friends he abandoned his mother to join them.

"I've been looking for you for ever!" he said, breathless and with flushed cheeks, as he stopped in front of the two.

"Hello, Pete. Were you missing me already?" asked James with a wide smile. Peter had spent the last month at the Potters' and returned home only a couple of days before the end of the summer.

"No I wasn't, you bloody idiot, but in case you hadn't noticed, Remus wasn't there."

James' grin faded on his lips as he nodded; his gaze dropping on Remus, just before he solemnly said: "Then you'd better greet him properly!"

"Yeah, right – hello Remus, it's nice to have you back." Peter's embarrassment was quickly buried in a hug, as Remus opened his arms.

When Mrs Potter reached them, she didn't compliment Peter as she did with Remus, but she still extended her invitation for Christmas to him as well, to which Mrs Pettigrew, finally emerging from the crowd, responded: "Thank you Euphemia, you're always so very kind to my son. I'm afraid, however, this year I'll require his presence or else my relatives will think I'm hiding something from them, you know how these things go."

But Euphemia Potter probably didn't know. James' parents were rebels, just like their son, above shallow gossips and pathetic traditions, with a modern view of the world. After all it's 1934 already! Had said Fleamont Potter, the first time Remus had been at their house, on the summer of his first year.

The noble house of Black didn't take common means of transportation and, therefore, Walburga and Orion Black had never allowed their children, Sirius and Regulus, to take something as humiliating as a school bus to reach the campus.
Sirius had been spending the last twenty minutes in his brother's company when the school bus arrived and his friends started walking towards him.
As soon as he saw them, his eyes stopped on Remus, a bit thinner and paler than he remembered, but still not nearly close to the image James, Peter and him had created in their minds during their time together. Sirius felt his shoulders' muscles finally relaxing, he hadn't realised how nervous he was to meet Remus again.
Sirius didn't wait for the other three to reach him, but instead left his brother behind and stopped only when he was in their proximity. He'd spent a ridiculous amount of time considering in which way he should greet Remus, yet, as he was standing only a couple of meters away from him, his mind had gone blank, so he rushed into a hug, as broken and emotional as they both were.

"I missed you." He whispered against Remus' skin.

They remained there for a while, steady in the unsteadiness, but finally reunited. This time, Sirius told himself, he would be there.

Only when they faced each other, Remus replied, avoiding to meet his eyes: "I missed you too."

And Sirius truly meant it. That summer hadn't been the same without Remus in it and, although he struggled to admit it to himself, each new memory he had created, had a side which was blurry and shapeless. As every great unfished novel, Remus' absence left an untameable frustration.

"Hello Regulus!" James' voice suddenly brought Sirius back to reality.

His brother had walked away from his own friends to come and say hello to Sirius'. Clearly something had changed; up until the previous year Regulus despised Remus, Peter and especially James, probably seeing them as rivals to his brother's heart.
Months, however, passed and slowly Sirius, once able to see the extent of his mother's ambitions, started feeling an urge to protect his little brother from the dark schemes of his family. This act of peace had been more than welcomed by Regulus, who, Sirius assumed, probably had been waiting for it for a very long time.
Them bonding again resulted in an unreal equilibrium, which involved his friends getting along with his brother, Regulus and Sirius chatting before going to bed and their mother loosing her grip a bit, convinced that Regulus was finally taking Sirius back on the right path.

"How was summer?" asked James, conversationally.

"Boring, but I heard great stories of your enterprises." Regulus answered, winking at his brother.

Sirius had sat on his bed and told Regulus all about the amazing time he'd had at the Potters, for the first time, not with the intention of making his brother jealous, but simply to offer him a bit of his heart.

Remus smile had long been gone and yet, as their adventures at James' were mentioned, Sirius caught a sigh coming out of his friend's mouth, silent and gloomy.