"Eva?"
Every fiber inside that skeletal cage jumped forward, the flesh cover breaking out in goosebumps and raised hairs. She turned around with wide eyes and wringing hands, meeting his bleary-eyed stare as color began to rise up to her cheeks. Thankfully, a light draft came through the door's half-inch crack — enough for an eye to peer out of — and cooled the humiliation off the back of her neck.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
Remus sat up, hunched over while he rubbed fists into his eyes to rid himself of their fogginess.
"Euh," Eva managed, stepping backwards so that her heel came in contact with the door and closed it. "Just needed to use the loo."
He blinked his eyes awake, shooting a quick glimpse to the corner of the room before re-averting them back to her. Every feature from forehead to the corner of his lips twisted, his eyes narrowing in on her.
"Okay, so why haven't you gone?"
"Occupied," she answered in the time it would take a hummingbird to flap its wings. "Your mother was in there."
He cocked his brow.
"Was? Why don't you go now? Is she still in there?"
"No, but, you see, I," Eva faltered, her words as fumbled as the fingers that churned around one another. They dropped down, her entire body visibly resigning with a deep sigh.
She turned with a frown to look out the window. A front yard where just beyond waves crashed into a frosty, sandy beach. A sight from a dream it was. The sea, the salty wind blowing against a faulty window, making it creak inside its encasing while blankets were pulled to the chin to shield them from it all.
"You?" Remus pressed on, leaning his head forward as he darted his eyes back and forth between the window and Eva. "You what? Because, I mean... You weren't trying to leave just now, were you?"
She pressed her lips into a thin line, causing the already pale pink of them to turn invisible. No response came, but he hadn't been expecting one anyway. Remus knew the answer, had known since the moment she had turned around with her discomforting grin and her pinched cheeks.
"What," he began, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Why? You'd just leave? Like that? Not even say goodbye?" His brows furrowed deeper and deeper with every word. "Did you not care to think how worried— how bloody worried I'd be?"
"I left a note," Eva responded in a small voice.
"A note?" Remus repeated with a snort. "With all due respect, that's bloody rude! I mean, surely you know that. And my parents, they'd have been—"
"I know," she conceded, running a hand through her hair. "It's just—"
Remus waited, drumming his fingertips over his knees. She glanced his way for the briefest of seconds, averting her gaze when she realized he was watching her.
"It's just?"
She bit down on her gums, and Remus caught sight of the hives that had splattered in various spots from her neck all the way down to the curve of the shirt.
"I— YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!"
His mouth fell open, but closed just as quick when he found himself at a loss for words. His eyes blinked while he pieced together every single consonant that had come out in a greater volume than what should be legal for that early in the morning.
"Believe it or not," he said, not once taking his eyes off her, "but I understand better than you'd imagine. I know what you're feeling, like a burden, humiliated and guilty—
"You don't know me, Rem—"
"Bollocks!" he snapped, holding her gaze once he finally had her looking at him. "We're past all that rubbish, and you bloody know it!"
Remus closed his eyes and filled his chest with air, taking a second to allow the frustration to release itself from restless fingertips.
"How 'bout you get back in bed, go to sleep," he offered, once again opening his eyes to stare at a slack-jawed Eva, "'cause it's too early for this—"
"Why!?" she asked indignantly. "Why should I? I'm not some sort of prisoner, am I?"
"Eva, what!? That's not what I said!" But the way her eyes fell to the wand that laid atop the dresser made him realize that he had achieved the exact opposite of what he had wanted. He felt his throat constrict, no longer sure where to step, wondering whether it had all been too forceful, too free. Eva was not Sirius — not even Lily — there was no liberty to tease or wisecrack, no, this required a much gentler hand.
"You're not a prisoner," Remus stated, his tone three times as gentle. "But you came here— you came to me, and I took it upon myself, made it my responsibility, to make sure you're okay."
"But I didn't want that," she whispered. "I didn't want to come here, I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't." Her fingers ran through her hair again, this time clutching at the strands as she looked everywhere besides his gaze.
"Of course you didn't," he agreed. "No one blames you for what happened, Eva. Not for waking us, not for any of that, okay? You don't have to go—"
"No," she laughed maniacally, shaking her head. "I didn't want to come here! I wasn't supposed to come here, someone— someone made me. I don't know what I'm doing here. I never meant— I didn't even know where you lived."
"That... doesn't make sense." His eyes squinted, his fingers reaching up to scratch his head. "How are you here— How'd you get here?"
"The Knight Bus."
"Then," he looked from the wooden planks and back up to her, "how'd you get here if you didn't know where I lived?"
"What do you think I've been asking myself all this time?" A stifled whimper followed the rhetorical questioning. Her entire face scrunched up, her bottom lip forced out into a pout as tears began to flow freely from her, causing her entire complexion to turn red.
"Okay, okay" Remus said as he scrambled out of bed. Within two strides, he had his arms wrapped around her.
"I know you're frustrated, I know you're trying to figure out what's happened to you, and why it happened. But there is no reason not to ask for help, especially if the person giving it to you is so willing, so bloody willing, to help you."
Much more than intentional, although Remus assumed it hadn't been, Eva propped her forehead against his chest. The tears fell, some of them crashing and soaking through his cotton shirt, others dripping onto their socks. She stared at each and every one that dropped, burning the memory into her mind so that she never forgot betrayal's sting.
"Please stop saying that," she mumbled. "I don't want you to wait on me. I hate it, I HATE IT!" Her fist pressed into his chest, her fingers turning to clutch at the soft material, squeezing it, feeling every inch of the fabric.
"I'm here," his embrace tightened, "I'm listening, okay? No need for anyone to yell."
"I'm not yelling."
Remus stifled a short snort.
"All right, fine, you call the shots today." He heard Eva harrumph with satisfaction, causing him to grin. "But it's bloody cold, and there's no good reason you should be walkin' 'round barefoot when there's a grand pile of blankets right over there, all for you."
She remained silent, her forehead still against his chest, her hand still holding onto his shirt.
"I'm so s-sorry," he heard her apologize, her voice vibrating, the heat from her breath pressing against his breastbone.
"It's all right, you're all right, you're all right. Okay? We're all right, don't worry about me— us, okay?" Remus reassured her, running a hand through her hair. "It's just," he pursed his lips before continuing, "if you tell me, I can help you. I'm not— believe it or not, but I do understand. And I want to help you, you know? No expectations, I just want to make sure you're all right."
"But I don't want to tell you."
"Okay. It's your choice— whatever you want, whenever you want it. Okay?" He sighed, running his tongue over his lips as he looked up to the ceiling. "But, if you asked me, I do think a little more sleep would do you some good."
She didn't answer, instead nodding her agreement. He led her back to the bed, his arm around her shoulder as he waited for her to climb in and reposition herself under the covers. She crawled into the same slug-like position as before, cocooning herself on her side, her back faced to him. Remus followed, sitting with his back to the wall, his eyes on her spine, counting out the seconds betwee every breath she took.
Seconds turned to minutes, and more minutes passed before, and with a sniffle, Eva's cracked voice filled the dawn's silence.
"This man... There was this man," she paused, her brows scrunching together. "He said he had a funeral to get to, here, in Penmon. And I thought— he was yelling at me. Got so angry because I was taking too long to decide where to go, just started shouting that he had this funeral." A vague recount of the story that remained likewise in her brain, only faint depictions left like an image in the clouds. He listened nonetheless, a finger resting on his chin, his head tilted towards her as he soaked in her words. "Then, out of nowhere, the conductor gives me this ticket for here, for Penmon, even though I hadn't asked."
"What?" Remus said under his breath. "Why would the conductor do that, surely he realized it hadn't been you to ask?" He looked to the dresser, his eyes narrowing in on the books that lined its top. "You don't think he was just having a laugh?"
"No."
"Odd," he muttered, rubbing a hooked finger into his lips."There's no funeral here, that's for sure, but—
"He disappeared after."
"Come again?"
Eva twisted slightly so that she could catch the tips of his toes in the corner of her eye.
"After that, after I got my ticket, he disappeared."
"Maybe he'd gone a level up?" Remus offered, neither one of them convinced of his shoddy hunch.
"Maybe," she agreed reluctantly, falling back on her side.
A silence ensued. Both of them starring at walls, albeit different ones, one deep in thoughts, the other near ready to drop into a realm of infinite possibilities.
"You know, this isn't the first time you talk of an angry man."
She opened her eyes, staring down at the frayed edges of the burnt orange wool blanket.
"What do you mean?"
"Well," Remus swallowed as he put together the memory. Her fear from that evening engrained in his head; the way she had stared out the window, her fingers twitching for her wand whenever she'd hear the shuffling of a page. "You mentioned something similar in the greenhouse a while back, d'you remember? You were working on some assignment for Professor Sprout."
Her entire body stiffened, her breath hitching in her throat, both her lungs and her heart ceasing to function as a light snapped on in her dark room.
"Yes," she confirmed in an undertone, "you're right— it's the same man."
He watched as she pulled her knees tighter into her chest, grappling the hoard of blankets closer to her.
"You don't think he's a stalker?" Remus asked.
"That wouldn't make sense, would it? Not if he was already on the bus when I got on."
He scratched his jaw, the slight stubble rough against his fingertips. "You also said, in the greenhouse, that the man spoke to you in Scottish, was that the case this time?"
"Yes," she answered hastily. "I mean no, not Scot— no."
"No?" he repeated. He felt the sheets shake as she shook her head.
"No."
"Irish, then? English?"
"No, just leave it— I want you to leave it, please."
Remus' brows furrowed, blinking his eyes narrower at her sudden halt. Though irritating, he couldn't say he was naive to it. Whenever the realization hit her that something bordering threatening was in her way— she shut down within seconds, and it'd take him anywhere from a two seconds to two weeks to pry her back open.
"Okay," he said, nodding his head.
"Thank you."
"No need to thank me."
"Okay, thank you."
Remus couldn't fall back asleep, especially not after the revelation of Eva's journey. Instead he waited, waited until her slumber was as deep as the breaths that came from her. Periodically, he'd look over at her from the corner of his eyes, catching the slight quiver of her shoulder blade under the cotton shirt, or the minute twitch of her leg. Strange how hours ago he had fretted over the idea of sharing a bed with her, and now there was no where else in the world he'd rather she be.
No, now the only thing that perturbed him was a strange little man.
A strange little man that seemed to grow more imaginary with every passing second. And yet, to her he was real— this man was so real. As real as the flesh on his bones, as real as the feel of his fingertips against the vein crossing the back of his hand.
And just about everyone knew that seeing and hearing things, even for witches and wizards, was no light matter.
His fingers tapped against the side of his thigh. He had his bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it while attempting to mash together a plethora of fragments. Nothing seemed right. Even when the pieces looked as if they would fit, a missed edge here or there and he'd have to walk back to the starting line and find why it was wrong.
Remus let out a deep sigh, running his ever-going fingers through the tumble of unwashed weeds that he claimed as his hair. He looked over to the books on the top of the dresser, then over to the leather bag that sat halfway underneath the armchair. With a groan and a good stretch, he reached out his hand and grabbed hold of the tan shoulder strap.
Once in his lap, he threw a quick glance over at Eva to insure he hadn't disturb her. Content when he found that she'd only fallen further onto her face; the glimpse of profile he had had before completely covered by a duet of hair and blankets. Remus allowed himself a small smile, which fell into pressed lips as he looked back down to the open bag in his hands. He reached in and thrummed through the various material: disheveled parchments, some extra reading for assignments, none of them quite what he was looking for. Something familiar, a word on the tip of his tongue which he had once known like the way he knew Peter took his tea with six sugars, though James had brought him down to four.
What You Should Know About the Dark Arts (But Don't), he read, sliding the book out of its hold and discarding the bag to the floor. He flipped it over in his hand, tattered in certain places, not because of neglect, but because it had become a guide like none other before it. He ran through the pages, shuffling through them like a stack of cards. Everything from Transmogrifian Torture to obscurials and back again present within those pages. A depth that surpassed the lax understanding they had grown accustomed to. The general consensus was that it was the best Defense book anyone had ever written, and if there was a question needing answering, this book would have what he was looking for.
He sped back through all the pages and landed on the index. He was an inch from being nose-to-page with the miniature sized print lettering, continuing to bite on his bottom lip as he tried to find something, a word that would — could — fit.
Hallucinations, 329, he read, his eyes darting over to the girl next to him, and then back to the enamel colored paper. His eyes trailed down hallucinations, seeking something more specific. Sure, the mention of a little angry man would be ideal, some sort of poltergeist from the boglands, but there was nothing of the sort.
— from curses, 35;—in Banshees, 417; — of legilimency, 239, was all that the book had under hallucinations. He ran over the options, thinking up percentages of how plausible each was.
A curse would have had her at St. Mungo's, not in the north of Wales with her potions partner. And the sort of hallucinations he believed Eva to have didn't fit what he knew of legilimency.
His hand scrubbed over his mouth and chin as he escaped the inked words and looked to the door.
Fuck it, he concluded internally, checking the list one last time before flipping to page 329. Though a waste of energy, he had gone through this book four times already, what was a fifth time? If it did prove to be nothing but ludicrousness, then he'd throw her a biscuit and call it a day— blame it on the severe amount of pain, the trauma, the fatigue, and forget about the incident in the greenhouse— for all he knew, it could've just been a slipped mushroom or two.
He skimmed over the meek page.
A disappointment— that's what the information shown to him felt like. There was nothing on hallucinations, or if there was, it was brief. Some words on muggle mental illnesses — dementia praecox, he read — and a list of potions and spells that had the side-effects of temporary hallucinations. Another mention that if anyone suspected or witnessed those symptoms in any witch or wizard, that they be reported immediately to their local healer.
Not the answer he was looking for, not by a long shot.
He flipped back to the index, the next option being Banshees. The least likely of the four options: Eva wasn't green, nor did she have straw-like hair. Banshees were supposed to be in a state of constant fury, ready to kill at any threat, extremely volatile beings with nothing but blood on their mind. Eva liked to steal and munch away on his chocolate while mumbling about the difference between English and Swedish trolls.
He turned to page 417 all the same.
He looked back down to her— the furthest thing from volatile. Nothing more than a bark; having figured out long time ago that her claimed Medusa stare was only a physical fault— she simply couldn't help it.
Banshees, read the chapter title. Unlike other books he had read, there was no images in those pages, only paragraphs worth an entire palm describing the physical features of those creatures. But Remus didn't need a drawing, everyone and their mother knew what a banshee looked like— and he couldn't blame Tommy MacCabe when he claimed that he had wet himself when one came singing songs of the dead at his window.
Harrowing, indeed.
But volatile nature and green skin had been their third year curriculum, and the words he read below him contradicted those statements, or rather theories, like a steel blade to human flesh. Opposites, almost violently so, his entire body stiffening as he neared himself to the pages.
Apparently, they weren't green nor were they horrifying to look at — so what exactly had good ol' Tommy seen? — nor were they old hags who weeped bloody tears into the river.
Truth be told, much of what Remus read off the page seemed as if it made mores sense than a potion gone bad.
Understand Irish Gaelic (even without ever having learned it); see spirits who are invisible to the human eye; prone to social isolation; chronic migraines— all things that could fit into a neat little paragraph and placed underneath her photo, things that Remus hadn't even thought to be symptoms of an underlying condition.
Hear voices and/or thoughts of other Banshees, he continued to read, skimming through the pages, his eyes zooming back and forth across the lines.
There was no definite evidence of it, but he'd be lying if he hadn't suspected. He'd caught her more than once mouthing silently to herself, sometimes even laughing or smiling without a cause. Often times Remus had turned paranoid — left to think that there was something left in his teeth from lunch, or that his fly was down — only to realize that she hadn't even looked his way once. Other times she hadn't even realized that hours had flown by; entire afternoons had passed with them sitting side by side without a word shared between them. And he'd not only occupy the time and deathly silence with assignments, but also with the wonder whether Eva was going through another loop of hating herself for being friends with him.
But if it was because she held full on conversations inside her head— well, Merlin be damned, but it made a whole lot of sense.
The next part he read, however, skewed up the near perfect theory: 'Of Irish ancestry/origin; nocturnal beings; yearn to be near water, notably flowing water.'
Remus snapped the book closed, a wry expression on his face as he slowly placed it back on his lap. He realized what he was doing, his gut spewing acid as his lips twitched downwards with disgust.
Desperation.
To be cursed was to understand its cruelty — something he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy — and yet he wished it now. Deep down inside him, somewhere dark and imperceptible, he had wanted the thread to lead to that conclusion.
For seven minutes, Remus had felt a little less alone in the world, nearly giddy with the knowledge that the girl sleeping next to him might not only be a girl, but a monster.
And he hated himself for it, for all of it.
His eyes shot up to the door as he heard another slam shut in the hall. The floorboards creaked, the sound of light, inconspicuous footsteps traveling outwards through the rest of the wooden planks and into his room. He knew it was his father, and Remus had never been happier to have a distraction from the moonlit-caused frenzy he had created for himself.
He lifted the blankets, replacing them on Eva so that the morning chill didn't cause her to wake, and climbed out of bed. With one great, satisfying stretch, he grabbed the burgundy cardigan from the armchair, threw it on, and tiptoed out of the room.
It happened slowly, taking its time as the loamy fragrance and the cool morning dampness made her pull the blankets further up and over her nose. Her eyes were first to open, harsh and filmy, the memories of her dreams already fading away with reality coming to take its place. A beautiful lie and an ugly truth taking their shifts, doing their rounds— only left with a sudden and lonely detachment, grappling at what was, coming to terms with what changed.
Change: nothing too grand, it happened to everybody. Inevitable. Inescapable.
Eva felt as if she had her head above water, gasping for air, trying her best to keep afloat despite burning muscles.
Swallowing hard, she clutched at her chest, her hand palmed over her breast as she pressed her face into her own lap and stifled a cry between teeth. Her breaths came forward deep and shallow, not enough to feel fulfilled, having to remind herself that dying now would only be a burden and not at all purgative.
She rubbed her eyes with bruised palms, blinking them awake as she threw the covers off her and accepted the glacial air onto her skin. Goosebumps came first, then the need to rip apart the mattress and throw it out the window. She sighed, falling back onto the pillow, hiding her face from no one, missing the moment before a full awakening when nothing made sense.
Now, everything did.
She took a deep breath, the scent of pig fat and something briny filling the air. Laughter came wafting in with the culinary scents, distant but hearty, and her heart clenched knowing that she, without much choice, would have to disturb their familial tranquility.
No, she announced internally, groaning as she pushed herself up from the bed. She would not linger, despite whatever he had told her that morning. No where had a contract been presented, assigning him or them responsibility of her well being. If she could stand on her own two feet, she could walk out that door and find the next step by herself.
Her hand supported her against the wall as she swayed on the mattress. She pressed and pawed into the blankets, a maze-like struggle, before reaching the floor and curling her toes into the wooden, firm base. Her eyes roamed around the room, but found nothing besides the ocean that sat beyond the window. A grey light donned the entire atmosphere, both inside and out, while a thin layer of virgin snow sat across the entire landscape.
Another bout of laughter came from underneath her, waking her up from her living dream. She marched across the room, opening the door, the scents from before only stronger and more diverse as they hit her all at once. Eva hesitated, her entire face falling as the corners of her mouth twitched downwards and her brows furrowed slightly. A dullness erupting inside her, her palm against the door pane as she listened in on the family's conversation.
"This Siencyn boy is from around here, then?" she heard Hope Lupin ask.
"Er, yes and no," Remus responded, Eva's eyes unblinking as her heart swelled at the sound of his voice. "From Caerau."
"Oh, that's near your mamgu! Did'ya tell him you've got family in Penarth?"
"No, 'cause then I'd have to explain how we ended up all the way up here."
"Sounds like the sort of lad who'd have a good laugh from it, if you asked me," Lyall Lupin commented as the sound of sizzling oil evaporated out into the air.
Eva's fingers hooked and unhooked themselves through the sleeves, her palms damp and her back heated. They were having a conversation, a fun one at that, and her presence would only darken the mood. She knew how they would react upon seeing her, their bodies stiffening, wary glances across the room to one another as she semi-answered any filler question they threw her way.
How mortifying.
"Well, breakfast's almost ready," Hope said. "D'you reckon your friend'll get up anytime soon? Should we wait?"
"I'll put her plate under a stasis charm," Eva heard Lyall answer before Remus could. "She needs to rest."
"Oh, okay," Hope mumbled, the disappointment as thick as the plywood underneath Eva's feet.
Her shoulders drooped while tears began to water in her eyes. She wiped away at nothing, catching them before they could even drop so that she didn't walk into the kitchen looking like a soppy mess. Her fingers hastily ran through her knotted curls, brushing them to the side as she descended the steps.
In the kitchen, Remus and his father shared a look with each other when they heard the stairs creak with a newcomer. The jesting from minutes before ceased. Hope went back to plating the food, a newfound excitement across her movements, and Lyall flipped the page of the Daily Prophet to read on. As the other two busied themselves, Remus began to tap his electrified fingers along his thigh. Waiting, expecting, wishing Eva didn't always walk at the speed of a flobberworm.
'It's not my fault, you know? Not everyone can reach their destination in one go,' he recalled her saying, letting out a short snort at the memory.
A figure appeared in the doorway, and even though he had expected it, his body still gave a little jolt.
"Eva," Remus breathed out with a growing grin on his lips. Their eyes met, and even a blind man could sense her apprehension from a mile away.
"Hello," she managed, waving to him with floppy sleeves and a tight smile. Lyall turned around in his seat, a similar expression to that of his son's donning his features.
"There she is!" came Hope's voice as she carried two plates over to the table. Once placed, she wiped her hands over her apron and approached Eva. Remus sat a little straighter in his seat, his mouth falling open as he watched the two. His mother rubbed a hand over Eva's upper arm. "Would it be okay for me to hug you?"
"Mam," Remus said, catching his mother's gaze as she turned around. He gave her a pointed look, causing her to purse her lips before looking back to Eva.
"Oh, all right, how 'bout a cup of tea, then? That'll warm you right up," she offered, her palm still warm against Eva's shoulder.
"No, thank you. I'm okay," Eva responded in a small voice, forcing a smile.
"Coffee?"
"She'll have a cup of tea," Remus interrupted, hand wrapped around the top of the chair next to him. He pulled it out, gesturing with his chin for Eva to take a seat.
Eva waited until his mother had turned back to occupy herself with the tea and the rest of breakfast. For a moment, she held her breath, peering out to the white dining table. She could feel his eyes on her, most likely thinking that she'd do something rash like dash out the window. But instead, Eva met his gaze, giving him the same awkward, forced smile that she had had moments ago before trudging over to the seat.
"Good morning," he said as she slid behind him and into the seat across from Lyall. Remus glimpsed over at him, thankful that his father had caught on rather quick that Eva preferred the lack of attention, and busied himself with that day's news.
"Good morning," she returned in a whisper, her hands folded in her lap.
Every single one of her movements was in overdrive. Her hands wrung incessantly, her eyes darted about and blinked in milliseconds. Remus could sense her fretfulness, the way she clutched and grabbed at the baggy pajama pants, how she continued to glance up at his father. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned forward to place an elbow against the table.
The silence may have pleased her, but it killed him in the process.
"So," Remus began, "what's the news have to say today?"
"Well, the seers've predicted the next end of the world, but I suppose they've been doing that since the start of time," Lyall quipped, folding down the paper and discarding it on the spare chair. His eyes turned to the right, watching his wife coming back with a piping hot cup of tea to place in front of Eva.
"Thank you," Eva said, briefly looking up to Hope.
"Wait for the bacon," Lyall smirked. Their eyes met for a heartbeat's worth of time, and it was all he needed to look to Remus with a heavyhearted expression.
Hope hurried back into the kitchen, only to return moments later with the next two plates of food. She settled one down in front of Eva, and the other at the head of the table, diagonal from her. She stared down at the plate, the contents still hot, her stomach growling as it dawned on her just how famished she was.
"So, fy annwyl," Hope began, taking a sip from her own tea.
"That means dear," Remus leaned in to whisper in her ear.
"Eva, is it?"
Eva pressed her lips together and gave a short nod. Meanwhile, Remus held a full sausage between his teeth, ripping it in half as he glanced over at Eva's untouched plate.
"You know," Hope continued. "In Welsh, your name is Efa, written with an f— don't know if Remus told you that."
"Oh, no, he didn't," Eva said, scrambling her brain together to think of something else to say. "In Irish, it's Eabha. Sounds similar, I suppose." She reached forward for her tea and took a sip from it, ignoring the scalding liquid that burned everything from the tip of her tongue to the back of her mouth.
"What?" Remus laughed dryly, brows deepening with near concern as Eva set the cup down and went to pick up her fork. "How do you know that?"
"My great great grandmother told me, her mother was Irish."
Remus' jaw slackened as he recalled the words from the book, the one piece that made the entire theory void. He swallowed down the cured salt taste that the sausage had left behind, eyes burning holes into his fried eggs while he recollected his thoughts.
"Oh," Hope looked between Eva and Remus, "we were under the impression that you were French."
"Yes, I am, but," Eva bit on her inner cheek, not able to look his mother in the eye. "We're a diplomatic family, most of the marriages are for political reasons."
The last part turned the black tea into vitriol, her hands mentally pushing the reminder into the depths of her mind. She looked back up, giving Lyall one last fleeting smile before scooping up a pile of beans.
'Are?' mouthed Hope to her husband, eyes wide as he responded with a solemn nod.
"Well, I don't know if Remus told you or not," Lyall moved to change the subject.
"Oh, no, Merlin, please stop—"
"But," he continued, raising his brows conspiratorially, "we're Normans."
"Bloody hell," Remus grumbled under his breath, his head hanging down into his neck as he pinched the corners of his eyes.
"I don't understand your defiance, Remus, I truly don't. You know, many believe that the Norman conquest was the single greatest political feat to ever happen to this island."
Eva turned to look up at Remus, whose eyes rolled so far back into his head that she reckoned they'd get stuck back there— and how horrible that would be.
"It's not that—" Remus glanced over at Eva. "He only ever brings it up when we're around anyone remotely French— you should have seen him when we went three years back. Bloody nightmare."
"Oh," Eva said, her entire face picking up and brightening by three shades. "I didn't know you've been to France—"
"Why of course he has," Lyall butted in. "Well, Remus, go on, tell her where you've been.
"Er, yeah— in the north, for the most part."
All three of the stared at him with looks ranging from gentle bewilderment to utter irritation. .
"He's embarrassed, doesn't want to muddle up the pronunciations," Lyall explained to Eva.
"Oh, but I mess up all the time in English," she said, even surprised with herself for finding the ability to speak so easily. Remus looked up, eyebrows raised as she turned to him. "I wouldn't think anything of it."
He didn't pull his gaze from her, not even when she returned back to the food. His eyes ran over her hair, the cut on her cheek, the constant purse of her lips. They travelled further down her body, watching as her fork poked and prodded at a green patty. He nearly threw himself into the table with the violent laugh-turned-cough that came out of him.
"Excuse me," he apologized to them, holding up a hand to assure that he was all right. Remus reached forward for his cup, taking a sip from the tea as another light laugh came out of him. "That greenish thing, Eva, is laverbread— it's, well it's a sort of seaweed."
"With oats, fried in bacon," Hope finished for him. "And those by the eggs are the cockles, you also have your lamb sausage, bacon, beans, and, of course, a fried tomato."
"Oh okay," Eva said, not showing the slightest distaste as she pressed the side of her fork into the laverbeard.
"You don't have to eat it if you don't want to, you know that, right?" Remus reassured her after his parents went back to consuming their food.
She looked back down to the plate, full and overloaded in every way possible.
"No, I think I like it, but... Remus?"
"Yeah?"
"You don't eat like this every day, do you?" she asked, concern thick on her tongue.
He had to look away in order to keep back another chuckle, but failed miserably as a smile grew on his face.
"No— no we don't, only when we have guests."
The rest of breakfast passed without much focus on any one in particular. They had included Eva in their discussions, but never once made them centered around her. Topics ranged between Ministry New Year's Eve parties to James and Lily finally dating — the latter causing her neck to warm up, never thinking that Remus, or anyone, would speak so openly about the sort of thing with parents.
After, Lyall had introduced Eva to their owls Merry and Fatty — though Remus had butted in saying that Fatty was actually his owl named Billy— and Hope's cat Pippin. She had played with Pippin while Remus scavenged the house for some sort of toy, returning with a half-torn mouse that had cushioning coming out one eye. He had been too late, for Pippin had already gone to sprawl out on the kitchen windowsill as Lyall cleaned the dishes.
"I love cooking," Hope had told her, "but I'll never be grateful enough for magic when it comes to cleaning."
Up until that point, she had forgotten that his mother was a muggle. She tried not to dwell on it, feeling guilty whenever she did, and then feeling guilty for feeling guilty. There was no reason to see her as any different, as inferior. Remus surely didn't, and if he didn't, then she shouldn't either. But it still felt funny when she had whispered into Eva's ear: "Who names an owl Billy?"
They lived differently from how she did, although that much should have been expected. At home, even dressing herself was a task meant for the house-elves. But the Lupins seemed happy without the luxuries and extravagances, instead preferring laughter and each other's company. It made Eva almost uncomfortable to think of diamonds or champagne; so, when they hadn't been looking, she had pulled her pearl earrings off and shoved them deep into cotton pockets.
Sometime after Lyall had excused himself to his study, but before Hope had gone upstairs to prepare for her day in Bangor, Remus had nudged her in the shoulder and asked if she fancied a walk on the beach.
When she finally agreed, just as Remus was shoving his feet into his shoes, he instructed her to go pick out a jumper from his dresser— whichever she liked. Hope had also offered her a pair of trainers and a windbreaker more suitable for Eva than the one Remus had picked for her. Reluctant to accept at first, but with a gentle push from Remus and a bit of stammering — not knowing what else to say or do besides thank her — she did.
"Ah, that's the jumper I got from Fair Isle last summer," Remus commented as she came back down the stairs.
"Oh, is it all right that I wear it?" she asked, looking down to the multi-colored, patterned wool.
"Yeah, of course," he assured her. "It's a good choice, is all."
"I guess, you know you don't have any green ones."
"Should I?"
"Yeah, I think you'd look good in green," she said as she hopped down from the last step. Even though she hadn't meant it as anything more than a suggestion, a blush erupted over his cheeks. He twisted the doorknob and swung open the door, eager for the cool air to dissolve the heat from his face.
They trudged over the entire expanse from the house to the rocky beginnings leading into the sandy beach without a word. Once there, Remus had found them a dry enough spot in the damp sand, both of them plopping their bottoms down without a worry in the world.
Eva sat with her knees bent, her arms wrapped around them as her chin laid across their tops, watching, drinking in the sight of the foaming waves. Every now and then, she would close her eyes and breathe in the salty gale, licking her lips to taste it on the tip of her tongue.
Next to her, Remus also had his knees bent, but his palms digging into the sand behind him so that he could lean back. He'd look out into the horizon, attempt to decipher where the grey sea turned into sky, and then turn right back to watch her.
Yearn to be near water, he recalled, scrutinizing the way everything — from her brow to all 206 bones in her body — ceased to sizzle. The rocky edge from last night crumbling and dissolving into the sea with each wave.
"Hey," Remus broke the silence. She turned her head only slightly, so that she was looking at him from the corner of her eye. "You know, I was thinking about this morning."
He sat forward to catch sight of her face. His back hunched over as he bowed his head down. She watched him from behind the strands of hair that whipped across her face, almost blinding her.
"What about this morning?" A finger reached up to hook around the strand, pulling it back into the jumper's neck opening.
"Well, I was a bit concerned, you know? With this man and all," he explained, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He opened it, offering one to Eva. She shook her head, not taking her stare off him as he helped himself to one. "A lot of what you said, how you described him, well, to me it sounded a lot like you had imagined him."
"You think I'm mad?" she asked, her forehead scrunching together as she watched him place the cigarette between his lips.
Remus narrowed his eyes, looking out to the sea.
"No... Not anymore, at least," he mumbled, moving his gaze to the tip of the cigarette in order to light it. It did, the end glowing like embers as he sucked on the filter.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He pulled the cigarette from his mouth, holding it between his thumb and his index finger as he let out the smoke.
"It means that I've got a theory."
"Which is?"
Remus brought the cigarette back to his mouth, taking another go at it. Eva took a shaky breath, looking from the shore's edge and back to Remus. He continued to eat away at it, not bothering to look at her. "Remus?" The smoke came out his nose, escaping with the wind. She frowned, her hand reaching out to shake his forearm. Finally, he looked up. "Why won't you say it?"
"Because I don't want you to be scared."
She blinked, the scrunch in her forehead only deepening as they held each other's gazes.
"Why would I be scared?"
"I mean, I would be."
"We won't know if you don't tell me, right?"
He licked his lips, straightening his back and looking over her head to the distance.
"It's just a theory, isn't it? How bad could it be?"
"It's not bad, Eva," he sighed, placing the cigarette back in his mouth. Inhale, exhale. "I just want you to know that you don't have to be scared— I'm not going to tell anyone, you know, if it's true."
"Yes, okay," she snapped, the grip on his arm tightening as his words were beginning to make her mouth go dry. "Tell anyone what? What is there even to tell?"
A long pause ensued, in which Remus profited of another two puffs before he finally opened his mouth.
"That you're a banshee."
For a second, time stopped. Her heart stopped, the earth stopped. Eva did not make a sound, holding her breath as her muscles froze into place. She did not let go of Remus, she did not move.
But the second passed, and he let go of him to turn forward. Her eyes dropped to her lap as the words rang in her head alongside her drumming pulse and the crashing waves.
Remus pursed his lips together, dropping the cigarette to turn to ash in the sand as he placed a hand on Eva's shoulder.
"You don't know what you're talking about," he heard her say, muffled and distant.
"I swear I won't say—"
"YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" she shouted, twisting back towards him, her eyes bulging and her teeth clenched. Remus almost fell backwards, his palms back into the sand, watching as she pressed a hand to her forehead.
"Eva," he attempted, reaching out to her for a second time. She swatted his hand way, instead making way to stand. Remus followed, both of them at their full heights. She hastily brushed the sand away from her backside before marching off through the sand.
"Wait," Remus called out, jogging ahead to try and stop her.
"I want to leave, I don't want to be here anymore—"
"Eva, I know how you feel, okay? I do, you don't—"
"I'm not a banshee," she stated, stopping in her tracks to look up at him. Even with the jumper and the windbreaker, Remus could still catch her chest heaving up and down— alongside the slack jaw and empty eyes. He wanted to hug her, maybe even kiss her on her head, assure her that there was nothing to worry about, but she was having none of it. "I don't know where you got that idea, but I'm not— I'm just not."
"Listen to me," he said, bending forward to level himself with her. "I know—"
"I SAID YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING, NOT A THING!" Both of her palms pressed into his chest, using all her force to shove him backwards. The first time failed, so she did it again— continuing to push him, only succeeding in making him take another step back every time.
She stopped, her hands fisted at her sides, her breaths heavy. She didn't look at him, focusing instead on the button from his brown wax jacket, blinking, not exactly processing information how she should.
"Did you get what you need?" he asked. She didn't respond. "I know, okay? I do know. You feel threatened, right? You're scared— I promise I won't tell anyone, I won't say anything."
This time a fist came swinging at his chest. It wasn't nearly enough to cause so much as a groan to come out of him, but the act itself pained him to watch.
"SHUT UP!" she cried, her hands in her hair, clutching at the strands and ripping them away from her scalp.
"Eva," he said, "please stop hurting yourself. You don't have to do that."
She didn't understand any of it. One moment she was fine, her life steady, and next someone had to come in and dump a whole tub of acid on her. They had been fine on the beach, they had been fine in the morning as they played with the cat— why had he gone and ruined it? Why?
Tears began to come down, as salty as they sea. Remus' heart clenched, slandering himself for not being able to wait at least a day before dropping another bomb on her.
"Eva," he gave made one last attempt. She looked to him, eyes stained red, cheeks blotched the same color. "I—" he paused, looking away from her. "I've got a secret of my own, you know?"
"What secret?" she said, her voice watery and broken.
"A horrid one," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "And I want you to know— well, I'm going to tell you, I'm going to tell you so that you have something of mine. To make you feel secure."
"There's nothing you can say," she sobbed, wiping away at the tears. "Nothing you have—"
"I'm a werewolf."
His skin broke out into goosebumps. Never had those words come off his tongue, not by him. Not once in his life had he called himself what he was. He had been asked on more than one occasion, his father would whisper that he had lycanthropy into the healers' ears, but never had he actually said it.
"What?" The tears continued, but her face had dropped. Her eyes were wide, dull and wet, surveying every corner of his own. Remus couldn't look at her, not when breakfast threatened to come up his throat.
"So, you see? Now you know my secret, this way you know that I can't tell anyone because then you'll tell mine—"
"Why would you say that?"
His head shot up, eyes narrowing. Eva's chin trembled, her jumper-clad hand covering her mouth.
"What do you mean why—"
"This isn't some joke, what d'you think that I'll— You think by lying to me, by making up some story—"
"—Eva, what?—"
"—this isn't some sort of monsters club, Remus!"
"I'm not joking!" He was bent over with his hand pointed out towards the sea in emphasis of his words. "You think I'd joke about something like that?"
She shook her head, her arms crossed over her chest. There was a worry line painted deep in her forehead, her lips curled into her mouth as she stared at the house.
"I can't," she began, her head continuing to shake, "I can't deal with this right now— I really can't, I'm sorry."
Remus felt a mass well up in the back of his throat, holding back tears. She made way to turn around, giving one last glimpse at him before taking a step in the opposite direction.
"Where're you going?" he managed, shoving his unstable hands into his pockets. "I can come with— I swear I won't talk—
"I want to be alone," she stated firmly, taking another step away from him.
"Okay," he forced out, "I'll wait for you at home, then."
Remus remained glued in that spot, watching her as she kicked up sand with every step. He didn't know when it happened, but eventually Eva had become nothing more than a dot in the distance.
He sat back down in the sand, running a hand through his hair and resting it on the back of his skull as he pressed his forehead onto bent knees.
What a sodding idiot, he cursed internally. He could have let it go, there was no point for her to know that he knew, or for her to know about him. All she had needed was a safe place for the day, and now she was running from it.
Remus sighed. He knew deep down he had been selfish, he had wanted to know— wanted so badly to know if he was the only one or not.
Well, now he knew.
He knew that he wasn't alone. But not once did he stop to think that maybe Eva did want to be alone, and that's where everything went wrong.
A:N/ I apologize for the lack of update yesterday. I have been terribly sick this week, and my doctor gave me some medication that makes me extremely drowsy. I tried so hard to get this chapter up yesterday, but could not find the energy to edit and everything. Every time I tried, I ended up falling back asleep. This chapter was very hard for me to write, I don't know why. I hope it's good.
Next chapter will be the last part of Eva's visit to Remus, but I promise it comes to an end. This ended up being a lot longer than I had expected (did not plan on splitting this chapter into two-ish). We will get out of Penmon, Wales next chapter and see how the rest of the world is holding up (not great, by the way).
A big thank you and hug to everyone who left a review last chapter- you are all literally stars in my fucking sky. I have so much great support from a lot of you and a writer (even an amateur one) couldn't ask for anything more. Thank you a million times over (and more than that). Thank you so much, really.
Okay, sorry again for the late update (next week I do not plan on being sick, so this won't happen again anytime soon). I love you all, xx A.