P.EVANS + J.POTTER

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P.EVANS + J.POTTER

4 chapters in a 24 hour period??? omg, who IS she??? (to the people who are newer readers and not here for the original chapter update schedule ((up to ACT 5)) I would post like.. 2 to 3 chapters EVERY DAY LMAO)

<9>
read a letter through darkness

       THE BLINDS WERE CLOSED, thick curtains drawn shut. The sound of a fan, which hummed quietly, was heard with a mixture of cries and mumbling.

Remus Lupin had sat defeated in the corner of his room, letting the food outside his door get cold as he refused to eat. He couldn't talk to his dad or even look at him. Because when he did, he was reminded of his mother.

       The kindest woman he's ever known. She was who he'd go to when he was sad or angry. Hope Lupin would give the best advice he's ever heard. And in that moment, he wished he could go to her. He wanted to ask her what he should do, what he should say. Remus suddenly felt like he couldn't make his own decisions.

      He felt so alone, he was so alone. He had heard the front door of his home slam shut just a few hours ago — letting Remus know his father had left the house (which he'd been doing since her death just a day prior.)

       Lyall couldn't stand to be in the home. Seeing the couch she had died on, hearing his son crying in the room over. He had tried to talk to him, to get Remus out of his room. But it was no use. It was like he was talking to a wall. Remus would ignore him, along with the food he'd make.

      But he understood, despite it all. He knew how close they were, how much Remus relied on his mother over him. Because Lyall was rarely home. His work would take over for most of the days — close to never giving him the day off. He couldn't write to him as much as he wanted — bonding was minimal.

But he was still his dad.

And Remus was still his son.

The scar-ridden boy felt numb all over. He thought he still had time with his mother, he convinced himself that Hope would be there on Christmas, that she would make it to his graduation. And now that she couldn't be, now that he realized how much she will miss out on — his mind nor heart could handle the fact.

so he shut himself out.

      His brown eyes were surrounded by red, along with deep colored bags. His cheeks were puffy, almost swollen-like. He couldn't cry much anymore, dehydration filling his body.

Remus just sat there.

He found comfort from the sound of the fan. The repeated uneven noise. It was old, slightly wobbly as it was at the highest setting. Though, it still couldn't make much air. The room remained hot, making Remus slightly sweaty. But he didn't seem to notice that detail, still wearing the large sweater and sweatpants he was wearing the day before.

He knew he smelled, or was at least starting too. But he couldn't bring himself to leave the room. He wouldn't be greeted by his mother. And that's all he truly wanted.

Remus laid his head against the small dresser that sat right next to him. He tried to keep his mind blank for the time being, solely focusing on the fan. However, as an annoying tap rung in his ears, the boy couldn't ignore it — not like he was trying very hard.

He first headed to the fan, turning it off as he thought it was the problem. But as it slowed into a stop, no longer providing any noise — he realized the tapping had gotten louder.

He looked left, and then right. Remus looked under his bed, he even peeked in his closet, thinking a bug had snuck its way into his room.

But he couldn't see anything. Because even if he'd squint, it was too dark. And after realizing he'd need some light — the boy almost gave up on his search, turning the fan back on.

tap.

He started to drum his fingers.

tap.

A hum escaped his lips.

tap.

Remus groaned.

And abruptly, he threw open his curtains, immediately being blinded by the light that entered his dark room. But he tried to ignore it, going back to search under his bed. Though, he stopped himself — seeing as an owl was perched outside his window.

The letter in its claws was small and slightly damp from the snow. And as he leaned forward, he felt as his mouth went agape — barely seeing the drop of blood decorating the front of it.

He opened the window.

And as he took the letter, inspecting it further, he was surprised — but also not, to see the familiar handwriting of his friend,

Petunia Evans.

___
i'm starting to read again and honestly— brings me so much joy :,)
P.EVANS + J.POTTER