UNDER HEAVY EDITING THROUGH GOOGLE DOC, THE NEW CHAPTERS WILL BE LONGER AND BETTER WRITTEN ! look under the summary for more info.
!Mature themes & Smut!
❝ Can't you see it? Cant you see I'm so madly in love with you it pains me! Merlin Black are yo...
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BEING A FUGITIVE WAS one of the worst feelings, everyone knows about you.. but not in that ego raising way. It was so much different, knowing that if we were spotted; the two of us would have to run off somewhere else. Until eventually.. there was no escape from the inevitable.
but there was, and that one single thing that could prove our innocence was Peter Pettigrew. The boy who supposedly 'died' twelve years ago, but they found no body.. just a single finger laying on the grass where he once stood.
And of course, the situation looked bad, who wouldn't suspect the only two people around— who also were coincidentally surrounded by a bunch of dead bodies.. it was a bit, well, bad.
"We have to go." I stated, looking down at the deteriorating daily prophet held between my fingers— but it wasn't the usual Rita skeeter filled paper.. no, printed right on the front page was us.. titled; 'Sirius Black, and Onyx Grey spotted in Hogsmead!'
"Why love?" He questioned, but the moment I flipped the prophet to face him, his eyes grew wide; and he nodded with understanding. We could no longer stay here.
"Where would we go?" He asked, but I stayed silent. I hadn't thought of that.. I never really thought we would be moving from our perfect alley. Then it hit me, the one place no one would dare go, the place students, staff, and even townsfolk were absolutely terrified of.
"The shrieking shack." I quipped, quickly picking up all our belongings— which wasn't much, just a couple clothes we took from stores; snacks; and of course, stuff for hygiene.
"Ready?" I mumbled, stuffing the last of our stuff into a small bag I nicked from an older lady. It was small, but with the windless extension charm I had learned in fourth year.. it would work, hopefully.
With fear in my body, I extended my arm to him— visioning the shack in my head; it's deteriorating walls; it's horrid furniture...all of it. Until I felt that familiar feeling of aparation— and within seconds the two of us were standing in the place we had created so many memories in.
I let my fingers linger on the scratches that littered the walls; the ones created by a boy we once knew, one of our closest friends— Remus Lupin.
It had been nearly twelve years since I had seen the boy, and I could just imagine what he looked like now. Did he still wear those knitted jumpers; or still loosen his tie a bit because it felt like it was chocking him? Did he still wear turtlenecks in the summer to hide the scars he had such a hatred for... was he still Remus? The kind boy I met on the train? Or did he change after that night..
