None of the characters are mine - they all belong to J. . *I'm a slow updater but I want to thank everyone who reads this story - I'm excited to keep this up and to put out this chapter!
Remus hated crying but he found that he had been doing quite a lot of it lately. After Dumbledore's visit he had needed some fresh air to clear his head and not for the first time he found himself wishing he could be an animagus like his friends. It would be freeing to collapse into the form of an animal and care for nothing except sleep, food and play. He had often drawn out pictures of what animal he would take as his animagus form - it would be a russet coloured wolf - rare, beautiful and strong.
He had never showed anyone those drawings, not even Sirius had known about the loose floor board under the bed that hid the rest of Remus' secrets - the ones he would not, could not tell the rest of the Marauders. The drawings were only the tip of the iceberg. The advanced Muggle Studies text was also there among a muddle of newspaper clippings, boxes, everything really that made up who he saw himself to be when no one else was looking was contained in that hiding spot. Remus had placed an undetectable extension charm upon the wood in order to keep everything down there - in one place - away from prying eyes.
So, he had to settle for wrapping his red and gold Gryffindor scarf around his neck despite the fact that it wasn't even close to winter the weight of fabric was solid and reassuring. It smelled like rain or at least that what it was supposed to smell like according to the advertisements on the Bounce Sheets box. Remus had always liked to do things the Muggle way just in case he one day found himself pushed out of the wizarding world because of his condition.
Before Remus strolled down the street he made sure to lock the door, both magically and in the muggle manner. He loved the house - it was not a cottage but not a towering monstrosity either. There was a basement, an unusual occurrence; however, it really used to be a shelter during the Second World War. Frequently, practice sessions occurred down there - Remus had his kickboxing kit down there along with his standard boxing gloves along with his fencing foils. Sirius had never really ventured down - he felt trapped underground; he had felt trapped buying the house too but he had done so for Remus. It mattered to Remus, it made him happy so he did it. Obviously, that no longer mattered.
The neighbourhood was a quiet one, perfectly suited for two wizards trying to maintain a cover. There was a small high street, a church, a graveyard and a great expanse of green farmer's field just over the hill. The field belonged to a local family who basically had given up the land for the town. One was not a true resident until one had discovered their path, literally. Remus' went from the crest of the hill, down by the fences were fog settled early in the morning and late in the afternoon making him disappear and he would continue into the woods comprised of oaks and evergreens. It was like being back at Hogwarts. At the end of his path there was a cave where he used to transform, lately he had only been able to endure it in the basement - it didn't smell like Sirius. Rock does not maintain a scent but the ground was a different story. There were rumours of that portion of the woods being haunted by a wolf, one who had been separated from his pack and had been saved by a local boy. Eventually, the boy had been torn to shreds by his feral brother and leaving Remus' part of the woods relatively untouched. That was not where he headed now, he required no reminder of his failings and his history.
He needed to reflect and the fence would be the perfect place to do that particular action. Thinking had always been Remus' strong point, being the brain of his friend group had allowed him the out of needing to be informed about everything. Now, he needed to be informed about his mission. His potential mission, he corrected himself, he had not agreed to anything yet; the problem was he knew he would. It was an accepted truth in his mind that people already knew what choices they were going to make they simply had to confront the truth.
Dumbledore wanted him to pursue someone, he couldn't even think the man's name, that would make it too permanent. Too definite. Too real. Dumbledore wanted him to play a role, sure, but the problem was that Remus wasn't too sure he would be able to make it stay a role.
HPFF-HPFF-HPFF-HPFF-HPFF-HPFF-HPFF-HPFF-HPFF-HPFF-HPFF-HPFF-HPFF
Regulus was in his mind palace, something he had picked up from one of his favourite television shows, BBC's Sherlock. He was contemplating his life. His decisions. His choices! Past and present. He was finally doing something for himself under the guise of working for the Dark Lord of course but still it was what he wanted.
Snape had approved his plan, it was all set - his plan was in motion; even now it could not be reversed. Which was good because he's sure by now he would have called the whole thing off and simply been preparing himself for taking the Dark Lord's wrath. "Tomorrow night," he thought as he gazed around his room at the Leaky Cauldron, he had ransacked it quickly to make it look as if he had been chased out. Well he had, in a way. "It's all going to change tomorrow." he whispered, wrapping his cloak around himself and shivering absently, "Tomorrow."