Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Remus Lupin sits by himself, drinking butterbeer outside. It's nearing dusk, so there is nobody here except him, alone. He bought the butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks but out of habit took it out here, behind the buildings, a sun-speckled ally that smells of life. He takes a sip of his butterbeer and his hit with the nostalgia, immediately, and it overpowers him and sweeps him backwards, away.
Here, these steps, the four of them, laughing. Butterbeer had been new, then, so they bought it as much as possible, on Hogsmeade weekends.
Remember when our orders got messed up? James always reminded them, so frequently that it became annoying. Oy, Moony, remember the day they messed up our orders, Lily's and mine?
Sirius, sitting cross-legged on the ground, twirling a little yellow flower between his thumb and index finger.
There weren't so many vines on the fence, then, but they had climbed it anyway. James hadn't been the first, surprisingly – it was Remus himself who clambered to the top, in third year, looking for a place to study for his Arithmancy exam in peace.
He takes another sip. The yellow flowers are gone now, replaced with more vines and a few fragrant lilacs that had always been there, but not in such quantity.
Yellow flowers, peeking over the top of his Transfiguration book, and then the top of Sirius' head came into view, a nest of tangled black hair, his hands gripping the crumbling stones atop the fence for support as he climbed.
Remus had been drinking butterbeer then, too, setting the bottle down beside him, on uneven, mossy, stone, attracting bees. Sirius, beside him, had laughed at the bees, swatting them playfully, and taken a swig of Remus' butterbeer. And then he had simply handed the flowers to Remus and kissed him.
Hey, you two remember that day they messed my order up with Evans', at the Three Broomsticks?
They had parted, laughing, as James climbed up, too, Remus dropping the flowers hastily.
Prongs, mate, I don't think there's anyone at Hogwarts that doesn't remember, and it was only the four of us that were there. Sirius had said, still laughing, and Remus had found it hard to meet his eyes, found his mouth too dry to speak, correct his friend's grammar.
And Evans, James added, seriously. And that friend of hers – what was her name? The tall one, you know, in Hufflepuff. Something like –
But Remus never learned Evans' friend's name, because Sirius had jabbed his shoulder, gently, diverting his attention.
Moony. Look. A monarch butterfly.
A flash of dark orange and black, dipping down to investigate one of the flowers, and then he had blinked and it was gone.
James asked, finally looking up, but neither of them told him, for some unknown reason. And then James had hopped down to help Peter get onto the fence, and Sirius had kissed Remus again and again and again.
Remus Lupin sits on the dirty steps below the fence, sipping his butterbeer until the bottle is drained. Then he gets up and walks back into the Three Broomsticks, mind lingering on yellow flowers that no longer grow here.
Before he leaves, he thinks he glimpses a monarch butterfly, another flash of orange.