The Gryffindor boys that made up Milo's group had a strange way of dealing with their friendships. They mostly fought with each other: Robin and Vincent loathed the sight of one another; Javier and Vincent had such polar personalities that neither could be within the other's reach without an argument breaking out; Robin and Javier were a scholar and a dreamer, and nothing good could come from that combination; Robin and Milo were often at ends about Renée and how she'd dated Robin before Milo, and had gone back to Robin after she left Milo; Cass and Javier were two of Milo's closest friends and had serious arguments about who loved Milo more.

Except all of these disputes went out of the window when one of them was troubled, and it just so happened that Milo was in a time of serious heartache.

And so, on the Sunday the Second of February, Nineteen-Seventy-Eight, a tightly-knit wall of teenage boy was put in place around Milo Courtney. He was never not surrounded by at least two of his friends, and neither Remus nor Renée was to come within fifteen feet of him.

That was the decision, and that was the law.

In Monday's Ancient Runes lesson, Renée Röeder was made to switch from her seat beside Milo to the seat previously occupied by Robin Jacobson, the other side of the room.

During lunch on Tuesday, Remus Lupin was hit with a jelly-legs jinx on his way down the table to the sixth-year Gryffindor boys. Javier Vance discreetly slid his wand back into his pocket, and continued his conversation with Milo.

On Wednesday, a day in which Milo had no classes with any of his friends, Vincent set his (incredibly intelligent) macaw Daisy on the boy's trail, having to remove the memories from the birds head and use his Pocket Pensieve™ to view them throughout the day.

Thursday brought a severe storm, which meant both Care of Magical Creatures and Astronomy were cancelled. Milo hung out in the library, each of his friends taking turns to visit him during their breaks between class.

Friday was a day spent with Cass and Javier, who stood either side of Milo and, one being five-foot-eleven and the other being six-foot-one, managed to ward off not only Remus and Renée, but also ninety percent of the student body.

Milo Courtney is fucking untouchable was the only thing whispered around the castle that weekend.

Saturday was the Quidditch match. Cass and Javier were on the team, so Vincent, Robin and Milo were expected to be on the grounds watching their house absolutely slaughter Ravenclaw's team (on which Renée played) (it made their eventual victory even sweeter). Except Milo wasn't in attendance, because he slipped away from his childminders to take a breather outside the pitch when Gryffindor scored their first goal after forty minutes.

Remus Lupin, ever the observer, managed to spot this. He patted Sirius on the shoulder, mumbled a 'back in a minute', and followed Milo down to the ground.

Watching people from afar wasn't a skill Remus thought he would ever become good at, but here he was with his blue-green eyes trained on Milo Courtney. The bronzed boy was leant against the stone walls of the Gryffindor locker room, his head tilted backwards to breathe the late winter air into his aching lungs. His shaggy hair was pulled back into a tiny looped bun at the base of his skull, but tendrils had worked their way loose around his cheekbones in the fervour of the crowd. His copper cheeks were tinted with blotches of red, the look of a boy who'd either been crying, or trying very hard not to. Remus observed this from halfway behind a large yellow-and-black flag, leaning against a supporting beam for the stands above him. Somebody must have scored, because the cheers became screams and the beam shook on its' supports.

Milo was looking down at the toes of his boots, scuffed from years of wear and muddy from the ever-so-slight change of seasons. His fingers were knotted in the fabric of a faded red button-up, his black winter coat hanging down to his knees, his glitter-gold scarf catching the beams of sunlight that managed to make their way back to the boy who seemed to command them from behind the clouds.

Remus was so caught up in admiring this unearthly entity before him; this charming, sunshiney thing of a boy that could have told him that the universe revolved around him and Remus sure as hell would have believed him, that he didn't notice Milo lifting his head to stare right back at him. His cheeks flushed pink and he made to move back behind the beam, but Milo gestured for him to join.

"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely, looking up at the taller boy from behind tear-slick eyelashes. Remus almost scoffed.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for, Milo," Remus replied. Milo just shrugged. "No, seriously— Milo, everything that's happened isn't your fault."

Milo stared up at him like he was speaking a foreign language. To Remus, it seemed like taking the blame was the only language Milo spoke. "I told you off for getting in between Renée and me, even though you didn't. That was my fault. I shouldn't have said those horrible things to you and I shouldn't have spent more time with you than my girlfriend. Now she hates me, and you hate me, and the boys won't leave me alone—"

"I don't hate you."

"—and I'm feeling so stifled, like my friends have become my childminders, and I've got nobody I can actually talk to—"

"Miles, I don't hate you."

"—and everybody's just treating me like I'm made of glass and— what?'

"Course I don't hate you. Why would I hate you?"

Milo frowned at Remus, his arms folded tightly across his chest. "Because you're supposed to. I called you disgusting and I had a go at you for absolutely nothing. You're meant to hate me."

"Do you honestly think that after all of these years, you calling me disgusting is what'll get me to hate you?"

Their eyes met, and then neither of them could look away. Milo's brown(with gold flecks, Remus had noticed)(it was a delightful realisation) irises scowled into Remus' blue-green(almost the colour of the ocean, Milo had noticed)(his favourite home had been right on the seaside)(it made Remus's eyes seem like home) eyes, and both were too stubborn to break the stare.

"You're not disgusting," Milo said softly.

Remus replied, "What am I if not?"

"You..." Milo trailed off, finally closing his eyes and looking out to the black, icy lake in the distance. "You're Remus Lupin. And that's more than enough."

"Sometimes it isn't."

"You're more than enough," Milo reiterated, tipping his head back against the stone wall to peer up at the boy beside him. Remus's cheeks were a pinched pink from the biting wind, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of a fraying overcoat he seemed to have grown out of when he shot past Milo's height. "You stitched me up when I was eleven, and you've been cleaning my wounds and drying my tears ever since. You're more than I could have ever asked for. Nobody else has ever done that for me."

"I'm sure your parents—"

"Nobody," he said, more forcefully. "Do you know where I was born? Neither do I. I've been in a different home for every year I've been alive, sometimes more than one between birthdays. When you live like I do, nobody puts plasters on grazed knees or kisses bumps on foreheads. People look the other way when you leave home with black eyes and split lips."

Remus reached out and took Milo in his arms.

"It was all I could do," Remus whispered thickly, his mouth pressed into the waves of Milo's hair. "I could fix you up to prove I wasn't the monster."

Milo didn't say a word. Instead, he balled Remus's t-shirt into his fists and clung tight, each using the other as something solid and strong and there to push against; a twisting pillar of teenage boy, of boots and socks with holes and jeans with worn knees and heads bowed into each other.

Remus looked down when Milo looked up, both pairs of eyes darting to snatch of lips pink from the cold. Milo's heels left the floor and Remus tilted his head downward and suddenly they was far closer than either of them had ever thought they'd be.

Then, the jeers and joyous shouts of whichever colour had taken home the snitch. Milo released his grip on Remus's shirt, leaving behind two hand-sized marks of stretched fabric, and smiled.

"I'd best be off," Milo said, his voice still hush from the heavy mood in the air. His smile didn't reach his eyes, and it was more a display of sympathy and sadness than a show of real happiness. Remus watched the reappeared sun glow onto the golden thread of his scarf, the light glowing off of his copper skin like it existed only for the purpose of lighting up this golden creature.

"Wait!" He cried at the last minute, taking long strides to catch up with the boy halfway across the grass. "You forgot these in the library."

Their hands brushed as the pack of tarot cards was passed between them. Milo spread them between his fingers and gave a flourishing shuffle to clear them of Remus's presence (but mostly to just show off to the boy opposite him)(Remus looked quite impressed)(Milo tucked his chin into his scarf to avoid showing the flush at his throat).

"Humour me, why don't you?" Milo offered, fanning out the spread to Remus. Nimble fingers chose a card after a moment of decision, then offered it to Milo to see. "Couldn't have expected anything else, really."

Remus frowned as Milo slid the card into the deck, then shoved the soft-edged pack into his back pocket. He watched Milo leave while turning the illustration over and over in his head.

It was the Two Of Cups, and Remus had never believed more in the tarot than he did that day.

a/n: pssst so 'two of cups' usually indicates lovers or happiness between two people, hence why they're sharing a drink. 'the lovers' card doesn't often mean people in love, just somebody taking a big step in their life. just in case you were wondering.