june, nineteen ninety-seven

Graduation comes around so fast, like a bucket of water being thrown over your body, droplets of water snaking down your spine, nerves jolting in resistance. One minute you're dry, the next you're wetter than a drowned rat. It's nerve-wracking just how much time they've lost.

It feels like they just finished exams, and now, Nate is standing in front of the full-length mirror propped up in the corner of their dorm room, hands shaking as he tries desperately to tie his bow tie. It isn't working. His fingers are basically frozen. Everything is coming to an end. Michael tuts from his spot on the bed, tying the laces of his shiny black shoes that his mother sent over in the mail. He's gelled his curls so that they fall back out of his face and he's wearing a daffodil suit with a black shirt, no tie to match, top three buttons undone. He looks like he should be going to a disco, not graduation.

He smooths back his hair once more and for a moment he resembles Al Pacino. Nate almost laughs, but the sound gets caught in the back of his throat, scratching against his skin. This will be the last time they're ever in this room.

"Come here." Michael gets closer and twirls Nate around to face him, hands expertly working to tie his black bow tie. Once he's done, he smooths down the collar of his pastel orange shirt, like he's his mum trying desperately to hold back her tears as she sends her son off to his first day at his fancy new job.

Nate doesn't feel fancy in his tangerine suit. It's new. His actual mum forced him to spend a whole day in Gladrags over the weekend, trying on suit after suit until she decided that this one looked best on him and that it would come in handy for any future events. He runs his hands over the corduroy trousers. At least he doesn't have to wear the jacket.

Hiro and Benjamin come up behind them. Now, all four Hufflepuff seventh-year boys are standing in the mirror, fixing up their varying shades of orange and yellow formal wear, hands shaking just a little bit more than they're used to. Their packed bags sit in the other corner. The posters have been ripped from the walls, the plants have been deposited in the greenhouses, the records have been safely tipped back into their boxes. The room is an empty shell of what they had created throughout the past seven years, like someone has thrown white paint over the Mona Lisa.

As soon as they step out of this room, they will never step back in.

Adulthood beckons them closer with gnarled fingers, razor-sharp nails scratching against their skin, begging to pull them apart like puppets on strings.

"The girls will be waiting," says Hiro, smoothing his silvery blonde hair out of his face. It falls to his chin and no matter how many times he runs his hand through it to keep it back, a few strands fall free and into his eyes.

Benjamin chuckles and undoes the sleeves of his chequered yellow shirt, pushing them up to his elbows as sweat sticks his curly ginger hair to his neck. "It'll take 'em another hour, I bet." The other boys laugh along, unmoving, staring at themselves in the mirror. Their smiles don't reach their eyes.

This is the closest Nate has ever stood next to Hiro and Benjamin.

It took them seven years to get to this point and now it's all coming to an end, water circling the drain, starting to drip through the holes. He's never felt closer to them. He's never felt so far away.

Tomorrow, he'll forget what they ever sounded like.

They finally leave the room an hour later, after their tears have dried up and their forgotten toiletries deposited back into their bags, the door locking behind them as soon as they step out into the hallway. The silence is almost unbearable, weighing down on their shoulders. They trudge through the corridor, feet dragging, hearts heavy.

They push open the door to the sixth- and seventh-year common room.

It's full. Every Hufflepuff has crowded into the circular room. Curled onto the bumblebee armchairs and couches. Crossed-legged on the butter carpet. Legs dangling from pinewood furnishings.

They start to cheer as soon as they walk through the door. The other door on the other side of the room flies open and the girls tumble in, sharing smiles, reminiscing about their past seven years together. They freeze when they notice the cheering, and the clapping, and the yelling. And then their eyes meet across the common room.

Nate's eyes start to fill as he crosses the room with the others, being pulled into hugs by second-years he doesn't know the name of, earning high-fives from fourth-years he remembers being sorted, shaking hands with the sixth-years that will take their place soon enough. They all meet in the middle, legs skimming the edge of the lumpy yellow couch the four friends had quickly chosen as their own two years ago.

They'll never sit on it again.

Amalthea reaches her hand out to wipe away the tears slipping over Nate's cheeks. She smiles, hand curled around his cheek. It'll be the last time they ever step foot in this room. It's come around so fast. The long-tiered prairie dress she wears is mustard coloured, with white frills at each of the three tiers and white flowers embroidered into the bust. The yellow straps are thick on her dark shoulders and she's got a sheer, yellow cape hanging from her hands to wear in case there's a chill settled into the Great Hall. Her curls have been twisted into two buns on the top of her head, tightened in place with yellow bows most likely from Poppy's vast headwear collection, but there are a few curls that she's pulled out to frame her face. She glows.

Behind them, Poppy is curled in Michael's arms, crying into his chest about leaving everything behind. She's wearing a marigold peasant-style dress with flowy, sheer sleeves that dance around her arms every time she moves. Her inky hair falls down her back, pin-straight and heavy, but it bounces along with her graceful movements and it resembles an oil spill on water. She beams through her tears, one hand playing with her bump, the other smoothing out Michael's shirt.

They all crowd around, arms curling around each other's waists, heads ducked low as the weight of what this all means weigh down on their shoulders. When they walk out of this door, they don't walk back in. When they turn their backs on these people they will never see them again. Once they graduate, they become adults.

Nate feels a little sick.

One of the sixth-years has a camera hanging around her neck and she's been snapping pictures ever since they walked in, placing every polaroid into the bag hanging from her shoulder. She's going to give them to his mum, apparently, so that they can get them back once they've fully developed. She makes sure to get a picture of all the seventh-years together. All four boys and all five girls. Arms looped around one another, smiles bright, tears clouding their vision. Someone else snaps another picture. And another. Nate has no idea where all these cameras came from.

One day, in the future, there will be enough versions of this photograph for them all to have. Nate will have three versions. He keeps the polaroid in his wallet, right there at the very front so that whenever he flips it open, he's met with the smiling faces of his best friends. He'll have another in his cottage on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, framed above the fireplace so that his daughters will always grow up with their parents smiling right down at them. And the last one will hang right here in this common room, all nine of them watching the Hufflepuff's grow throughout the years, battling everything thrown at them, forced into a war that they should've finished the first time around.

One day, in the future, it won't feel so harrowing for Nate to stand in this very spot.

The clock chimes one. The ceremony starts in half an hour and most of the parents will already be here or will be arriving soon. They all share looks before nodding. It really is now or never.

If Nate was given the chance, he'd never leave.

Hiro leads the way. They all follow close behind him, hands starting to shake, past the greenhouses overflowing with pretty flowers, through the fire-lit tunnels, and to the stairs at the end of the hall. The ten Slytherins are already gathered there, smoothing down their formalwear before they climb those stairs into the limelight. Their heads turn towards the Hufflepuff's, eyes cool, mouths downturned.

Amalthea's hand slips into Nate's as she presses against his arm. Rabastan Lestrange stands in the very middle of the pack, eyeing her up like some sort of starved lion. She stares back at him like she's the gazelle. He's wearing an emerald, velvet suit over a black shirt. Most of the boys are dressed similarly in varying shades of green and black. Whereas the girls wear an array of dresses in cool silvers, rich greens, heavy blacks. Alecto Carrow even managed to slip into a Grecian style disco dress that clings tightly to her body in shimmering shades of emerald, like a disco ball sitting beneath the murky waters of the Black Lake. She actually looks quite pretty with her honey blonde hair draped delicately in an updo on the back of her head.

The unbearably thick silence is broken when Benjamin steps forward, smiling his toothy grin that apparently makes all the ladies swoon, one hand stretched outwards towards Rabastan. His ginger hair looks almost brown in the low-lit hallways of the dungeon.

"Hey," he greets, voice booming as always. "How 'bout we walk up there together? No rivalry, no hate. Just a bunch of seventh-years graduating together."

Nate can't help but wonder if the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors are having the same conversation. Of course, now he's stuck thinking about Remus. He wonders how good he looks in a suit.

What's he talking about? Of course, he looks good in a suit!

Rabastan's eyes flicker from Amalthea to Benjamin. He smirks, but his hand clasps around Benjamin's slightly more tanned one. "We can do that."

And it is settled. They walk up together, taking up all the space in the corridor as they start to climb the stairs that takes them to the rest of the castle. Amalthea holds Nate's hand all the way, staying at the very back of the group, as far away from her ex as possible. Rabastan doesn't try to get closer. Thankfully.

The higher up they get, the louder the noise becomes. Most of their parents must be here already, waiting to be let in by whichever professor's were stuck on door duty, complaining about having to stand around until their children get here.

The noise only gets louder when they step out into the light. A mother calls out to her son and suddenly, everyone is splitting up, leaving behind their friends to hug the parents that actually came all this way just to see them graduate.

Poppy's dad is alone, but his smile is so bright it feels like he's spreading her in enough love for two people, one hand curled around her stomach in awe of the baby she's creating. Michael's mum is peppering his face in kisses, his dad is taking pictures, his grandmother is already crying and his little brothers and sisters are jumping all over him, trying to mess up the suit he spent forever fixing perfectly. He's bright red at all the attention. Amalthea's mother holds Cameron.

Amalthea does not hesitate to sweep her two-year-old daughter into her arms, kissing her cheeks and her head over and over and over, tearing up as her daughter tries to slip her necklace into her mouth. When she smiles, she shows off what little teeth she has. Marcella Drew runs one hand over her daughter's head and the other over her granddaughter's. Her husband is nowhere to be seen.

Even from where he's standing, Nate can see the look in Rabastan's eyes. It's almost like he wants to slip away from his own family and join hers. Who cares about picture-perfect parents, and married brothers, and beautiful sister-in-law's, when you can actually have the perfect family right there, with people who actually love you, who don't expect you to carve magical tattoos into your arms just to prove your loyalty to the cause.

Nate's eyes flicker around the entrance hall. Flashes of navy tulle. A shimmer of ruby silk. He could step forward and be drowned in teary family units coming together, laughing friends saying goodbye, enemies letting go of past issues. But, he doesn't. He just waits by the doors, leaning against the cold stone walls, watching as everyone indulges in the moment they've been waiting for.

The girl in the painting at his shoulder leans closer to him. He thinks it's supposed to be a comforting gesture, and it is. All of these paintings have shown him the way around this castle since he was old enough to walk by himself. They've watched him grow up, kept him safe from harm, whispered secrets to him he was never supposed to know. And now, he just has to leave them all behind.

He might never see them again.

His mum is probably somewhere in the Great Hall, setting up for the graduation ceremony, her last moments of peace with Dumbledore before they all go storming in, making noise and ultimately getting on her nerves. Nate wishes she was out here, waiting for him with open arms, showing off just how much she loves him even though she already does it every day already.

He watches the clock strike twenty minutes past one.

"C'mon, this way," he hears, and then moments later, a familiar Gryffindor comes into view, two older versions of him trailing closely behind. He's smiling from ear-to-ear, white scar stretched along his nose a little bit pink, acorn hair tousled delicately to actually look styled. Nate's heart thuds faster against his ribcage.

At least he won't have to worry about missing Remus.

He stops right in front of him, wearing maroon chambray suit trousers that are a little bit short at the ankles and have a few loose threads dangling from wherever. His gold silk shirt is obviously new, though, and has been tucked into the trousers, just loose enough that it bunches up around the waist. There are a few buttons undone and from here, Nate can see the littering of white scars bubbling across his chest and the silver chain necklace that dangles from his neck. The shirt is tight around his biceps. Merlin, he does look good all dressed up.

Blood rushes right up the back of Nate's neck.

"Mum, Dad–" Remus ushers his parents forward and throws his arm out towards Nate. "–Meet Nate. My boyfriend. Finally."

He's grinning so brightly that Nate almost can't tear his eyes away. It's like the moon and he's the tide, constantly pulling him back and forth, never giving in, never letting go. Pull him forward into a kiss. Push him back onto the bed. Pull and push. Going in, going out. He tastes like starlight, smiles like the full moon. Nate wants one of those cameras so he can remember this moment for the rest of his life.

Remus tugs on his arm to pull him away from the wall and into his perfect family unit, forcing his attention away from the pearly whiteness of his teeth and to his parents standing just behind him.

"This is my mother, Hope."

His mother is willowy and tall, like the magnolia tree on the outskirts of the Black Lake, sprouting beautiful flowers to protect them all from blistering winds and pouring rain, curling her branches around you like her hug is enough to keep the cold out. Her hair is chocolatey and rich, a full fringe covering her forehead while the rest falls down to brush against her shoulders. Her skin is paler than even her son's. Up close, Nate can see the beautiful green of her eyes, like grass stretching for miles upon miles over craggy hills and fields, or leaves being blown from trees and tumbling through the endless sky. She looks like her cheeks should be fuller, but they're gaunt. Nate remembers something Remus mentioned about her being ill and having to trek back and forth to the hospital. And yet, she came all this way just to see her son graduate.

"Hello, Nate. We've heard so much about you." She has the same accent as her son, but her voice is soft and tinged with kindness, a sort of fullness to her vowels that makes him feel comforted inside. Like honey dripping from a spoon. Sugar being stirred into tea.

"Don't worry. It wasn't that bad," guffaws the man standing at her side, one lanky arm wrapped around her waist while the hand of the other is pushed into the pockets of his tweed trousers. He's got a strong Scouse accent, like Marlene McKinnon.

"And, this is my dad, Lyall."

His dad is actually shorter than his mum by a few inches, just enough that when she tilts her head she can lean on the top of his, like if someone was to take Poppy and Michael and twist them around. His caramel hair is tinted silver just above his ears and he's parted it at the side, gelling it down so it doesn't fall too much in his face like his son's does. His short beard has more silver threaded through but his moustache is generally untouched, not too thick above his mouth to look like a caterpillar has just found a home upon his face. Like his son, his eyes resemble autumn, leaves turning to brown beneath your boots, the earthy aroma surrounding you as you walk, a cosy quilt around your shoulders as you swallow hot coffee and sit by the fireplace. He looks so much like his son and yet sounds so dislike him, it is oddly funny.

Lyall pulls his hand out of his trouser pocket to shake Nate's. It's clammy and warm, but it feels like a dad's handshake. Nate can't help but wonder, just for a moment, what it feels like to grow up with a dad around the house, who brings home chippies tucked under his arm in newspaper wrapping, who puts you in his clothes to make your mum laugh, who teaches you how to make soup.

He blinks back tears as he steps back, smiling.

How can he beg for a dad when he had the most amazing mum growing up?

Lyall and Hope talk to him about his studies, and being a Hufflepuff, and even about his plans to become a healer. Remus really must have told them a lot about him. He probably hasn't told them about how good he is at kissing though – and he is really good at kissing, to toot his own horn a bit. It feels nice to finally meet his parents, to figure out exactly how Remus turned out the way he did, wearing ripped jeans and piercing his own ears and having to hide the illegally-done tattoo he got over the summer. He wonders what his parents were like when they were younger.

A hand curls around his shoulder. "Mr and Mrs Lupin. It is good to see you again." Nate's head twists towards his mother. She's wearing her favourite mauve robes that she usually only brings out for really important events, like her engagement party back during the Christmas holidays when he had to spend the entire day surrounded by Urquhart and all his old friends. It makes her look smaller, though, but she still walks with all the grace of a woman as tall as Hope Lupin, with her chin tilted