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LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND
"I just picked up the last-minute necessities from the market! Toothpaste, mustard, forks, sunglasses, water balloons, maps, chocolate, chapstick-"
"Who put you in charge of shopping?"
"Hopefully Future Mrs. James Fleamont Potter, thank you very much. She must think I'm responsible or something."
"Responsible? Do you think that there's a fork shortage in the States? You bought a two hundred pack of forks!"
"Not to interrupt, but has anyone seen my glasses?"
"You lost your glasses? They're supposed to be on your face! Are you serious?"
"No, I am."
"SHUT UP, PADFOOT! I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING!"
"Rude. I found the spectacles, Prongs my deer, but perhaps I'll just keep them for myself."
"Mates, Marlene's gonna be here soon, and if we're not ready, she'll kill us all to death. Don't even get me started on Lily, she'll be worse..."
"How exactly would one kill one to death?"
"Science, that's how!"
"How is it that you're missing a sock?"
"How is it that you are not missing a sock?"
Remus rolled his eyes at his three roommates. Normally, he'd find their frantic shenanigans rather amusing, but considering Dumbledore had told them about this little trip over three months ago, he thought that packing procrastination was the epitome of stupidity, and this coming from someone who had seen quite a lot of stupidity in his eighteen years of life. Besides, they kept distracting him from his book.
His own trunk was fully packed and sitting against the wall in the small living room, right beneath the David Bowie poster. He'd been ready for days now. The others, unfortunately, could not say the same.
Remus turned his attention back to his current read, The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. The series came from recommendations by Lily. On the last day of school, they'd exchanged lists. He was about halfway through it and intended to finish by the end of the year, even in America. There had to be at least one good bookstore in all of New York City. If not, the next few months were going to be awfully long and dull.
He flipped the page. Peter's ferret, Chewy, crawled up his arm and made himself comfortable on his shoulder. Chewy tended to prefer snuggling with Remus to anyone else. The boys had two theories: one, he was a werewolf and animals seemed to like him in general; and two, Chewy really liked sleeping on sweaters. Remus reached up and absentmindedly scratched the ferret's head as he read.
