and nothing but the truth
chapter two
The boy dries his hair with a towel, taking a moment to peek in the foggy mirror and check for bags under his eyes. It's not caused by insomnia, merely stress, and even if it were insomnia there isn't much Remus can do about it.
Remus is one of the lucky few freshman students at Cardiff University to live in a student flat rather than a dormitory. It's not a considerable improvement, but he does get a room to himself, and for a person like him, privacy is of utmost important.
He's short for a man, only five foot ten, and there isn't much hope for a growth spurt now, either. With medium brown hair and medium brown eyes, he looks extremely normal. He's anything but.
Remus dresses, pulling on the casual Muggle clothes his mother had helped him choose – a blue polo shirt and slacks, for which he is sometimes made fun of.
Towel still in hand, he fairly flings open the bathroom door and walks into the narrow, tiled main room, where his roommate has just shut the door behind him, tossing his hat on a hook.
"James," the eighteen year-old says in a pained voice, "Please put the dog outside. You know I'm allergic to him."
"Right, right," his fellow student mutters, mostly to himself. He turns to look at the dog sitting patiently by his heels. "I forgot again."
The door opens again, and James shoos the dog out, saying, "You always get me in trouble, you prick. Why do you always do that?"
The dog whines in protest, stopping to scratch its ear pitifully.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll get a flea collar." James shuts the door again, sighing and shaking his head. "Sorry, Remus."
"It's okay." Remus leans against the wall and releases a heavy sigh. His hands go in his pockets. "Hey, I'm going to be gone the next couple of days. Stuff to do, you know."
"For the magical world, huh?" The other boy, 19, laughs bitterly. His dark hair, which sticks out in virtually all directions, is made even messier as he runs a hand through it. "Fun, isn't it, dividing time between two worlds?"
"It's a weird way of doing things," Remus admits. "But if there's anything you want while I'm there…"
"Actually, I've got a letter for Dumbledore – if you don't mind."
"I'll take it down to post."
"Let me get you some money," James tells him quickly, moving past him into his own room. His voice calls through the open door, "It's priority, so it'll cost a bit more… damn, where's my wallet?"
"Under the mattress," Remus says back, crossing his arms.
James reappears in the doorway, clutching a leather billfold. "How'd you know that?"
"Number one hiding place for valuables," he replies blandly, accepting the handful of silver coins. "I'll probably be back on Monday for classes, so try not to mess the place up too much, okay?"
The sophomore nods.
"And don't let that dog in."
He nods again.
"Alright, bye." And Remus Disapparates, or disappears, leaving James all alone in the apartment.
Blackie's outside, but honestly he doesn't care, not wanting to invoke Remus's fury by letting "that dog" in. So instead he heads in to take a shower, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor.
After the shower, James doesn't bother to dry his hair but pads straight into the tiny kitchen where the telly is. That is the extent of luxuries the flat offers: two bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom, an entryway… the best features are the stove, the blender, and the telly.
James is a wizard, just like Remus, but he's not here for the education. In fact, having barely any background knowledge whatsoever, James is failing most of his classes: all that's keeping here is a stack of forged documents and a lot of money.
No, his main purpose here is not to earn a degree (he'll be lucky if he graduates) but to learn, learn to assimilate, to blend in. To take the Muggle culture at Cardiff and make it eventually his own.
James secretly wants to be an Auror, a Dark wizard catcher; even though he may never, ever take the three-year training course necessary to becoming one, he can still be helpful in fighting Dark wizards. It's an ongoing war right now, and although college is a convenient escape, one day the information – the experience will be useful to him.
Just not… immediately.
When James flips on the telly, there isn't much. Weather reports. Rugby. A special on twelve-piece bouquets at Lola's Garden Shoppe. All the things he likes to watch, he decides, opting for the rugby game.
He slides down in his chair, props his feet on the table, and closes his eyes.
Author's Note: This is dedicated to my awesome big brother who just moved away to college... I love you Coco...