Remus had always known he was different. It was clear from the start. He didn’t come from wealth like Sirius, nor did he have the warmth of a loving family like James. He was an orphan—a lonely boy with a secret that set him apart from the rest. A werewolf.

No matter how hard they tried to make him feel like one of them, a part of their world, there was always a quiet distance. An invisible line he couldn’t quite cross. Because deep down, he knew—no amount of friendship could change what he was.

Fifth year had hit Remus harder than he’d expected. The boys were growing up, their priorities shifting in ways he hadn’t quite prepared for. Their usual mischief and reckless adventures had started to take a backseat to something else—girls.

James was too busy trying (and failing) to impress Lily, Sirius had a new admirer practically every week, and even Peter seemed caught up in the excitement.

Remus had no interest in the endless talk of girls, no desire to sneak love notes into someone’s bag or daydream about stolen moments in the library. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand why his friends were so consumed by it—he did. He saw the way James lit up when Lily so much as glanced his way, the way Sirius could turn a casual smirk into a promise of something more. Even Peter, awkward as he was, longed for the kind of connection they all seemed to be chasing.

But Remus felt… nothing. No flutter in his chest when a girl batted her eyelashes at him, no urge to impress anyone with charming words or grand gestures. He told himself it was because he had more important things to worry about—his studies, his condition, keeping his secret safe. Love, romance, all of it—it simply wasn’t meant for someone like him.