The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix Part Three

CXXXV: A Bite

Remus lay on his back in bed, the blankets tucked under his chin, no less than two jumpers on and wishing he'd donned a third. His head was turned, staring at the photograph on the night stand. Sirius Black on the beach in Costa Rica, taken so recently that he could still smell the salt in his memory. Sirius's tattoos were dark against the pale color of his skin, which had only just start to toast in the sun, on it's way to ripening to that shade of Sirius's skin that had always been Remus's favorite. Sirius had been making a great deal of noise when the photograph had been taken, as Sirius was best at doing. In comparison, it was so quiet in the inn at Akureyri; he could hear the watch on his wrist ticking along.

He took a deep breath.

Remus got up, pushed the blankets off him and threw his legs over the side of the mattress, bending to pull up his argyle socks.

In the bathroom, he leaned over the tiny sink and stared into the tiny mirror as he brushed his teeth. He hadn't shaved since arriving in Iceland and his hair grew surprisingly fast along his jawbone so that he had a wild, shaggy look to him - especially when one factor in that his curls had become overgrown, too, with no hair cuts since he'd last sheared himself down a bit at Hogwarts, back at the end of May or early June. They hung over his forehead in a way they hadn't been allowed to do since fifth or sixth year - though they were a lot more grey, he'd admit. His green eyes at himself in the mirror as the tooth brush worked and he felt he barely recognized the man staring back at him.

When he'd washed up and changed, he plucked the photograph of Sirius off the nightstand and shoved it into his most recent book, which he put into his briefcase. He ran his hands over the surface of the briefcase, then carefully put it into the very bottom of his trunk, tucked above the self for his shoes and pushed to the back where it couldn't be seen. He selected some of his things out of the trunk - a couple basic t-shirts and one warm brown cardigan that he particularly enjoyed wearing - and then he folded the trunk up, and locked it with a charm.

The trunk, and all it's contents, including the briefcase and the photo of Sirius, would be sent to Dumbledore for storage.

He shoved the items he'd pinched out into the rucksack he'd found in the cupboard, just where Dumbledore said they would be, and he took out the long wool jacket, black gloves, and black scarf that were also in the cupboard, and he shrugged them on, wrapped the scarf about his neck, and walked resolutely out of the room, not looking back at the things he was leaving behind.

He couldn't.

He couldn't think how heart broken he would be if anything happened to that trunk.

He still had the envelope of photos and notes he'd collected off the floor of the Shrieking Shack tucked in here. He still had James and Lily's wedding bands in there, which he'd been given by Harry Underhill when he'd come to Remus's house to break the news... They'd been in a clear plastic bag.

An evidence bag.

Remus pushed the thought of his head.

He stopped at the front desk of the inn. "A man called Albus Dumbledore will be coming to collect my things later today," he told the attendant.

"Yes sir," the attendant said. If he found the name strange, he didn't say anything about it.

He walked out without his things, left his most precious objects behind. 

He wouldn't need them among the werewolves, he reminded himself, and they'd be safer in Dumbledore's care than they would be with him. There was no telling what would happen to him, and at least this way... if something did happen while he was away... at least Dumbledore could give his belongings to Sirius or to Harry.

Remus stepped outside.

It was cold for September in Akureyri. He could see his breath hanging before his mouth as he walked, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. He followed the high road through the town, nodding to folks he passed by who nodded to him, taking it slow because his knees were hurting before he'd got past the end of the block. There was a very light snow falling - unusual for the time of year - and he felt the crystals melting on his nose.

Soon the buildings were further and further apart. Soon the sidewalk ended and Remus was walking along the side of the road, through the rural area, past houses - square, boxy houses that looked drafty, surrounded by trees... And finally he stopped at the crest of a hill and looked back over the town, over the quiet water, across it to the snow-capped mountain on the other side. He was standing at the side of a large church with two towers that loomed high overhead.

Remus waited.

It took about ten minutes of him standing, waiting, stamping his feet and rubbing his nose with his gloved fingers before anyone came 'round. 

Then suddenly there was a man at his shoulder.

They both stood in silence for some time, staring at the water.

Finally, Remus murmured, "Nice day for a walk." HIs face felt flush, in spite of the chill air.

"Must be exhausting  walking all that way," the man next to him said, voice low. There was a slight pause. Then, "Would you care to come inside... for a bite?"

"No, thank you..." Remus paused, then turned and looked the man in the eyes and pulled his coat back from his shoulder to reveal the half-moon shape beneath his clothes, pink and sore in his shoulder.. "I've already had one."

The man looked up and his eyes met Remus's dead-on, the very corners crinkling in amusement. "Glad to hear you still remember protocol after all this time away."

"Well, I am the one that put this particular one in place, now aren't I?" Remus said, smirking, "I should hope I didn't forget my own punny password."

The man smiled, "I was starting to think you forgot about us altogether."

"Never," Remus answered. "No matter how hard I try."

"I sure am glad to hear that - to see it, no less - to see you."

Remus smiled back. "It's nice to see you again, too, Stewie."