Sunday 15th January 1977
He slept as late as possible the next morning, to put off further confrontation. He couldn't talk to them, not yet, not until his head was straight. They’d have so many questions – some he couldn’t answer, some he didn’t want to. He showered for longer than usual – something of Livia seemed to cling to him, and he turned the tap right up, trying to scald it off. The claw marks she had left were healing already, but still itched under Remus’s scratchy wool jumper.
Washed and dressed, Remus went to his trunk and looked for a spare bit of parchment, before scrawling an untidy note:
If you’re still in the village, I’d like to talk to you again.
He folded it in a hurry, shoved it in his pocket and headed for the owlery. The marauders were all in the common room, in much the same state as they had been the night before. Remus looked at them, panicked, then bent his head and kept walking.
“Moony, wait…” they followed him, all three, through the portrait hole. No matter, they couldn’t discuss it in the open, he knew this and they knew it.
“I’m going to the owlery.” He said, marching ahead.
“Don’t you want breakfast?” Peter asked.
“After.”
“Moony, can we talk about what happened last night?” James asked, sounding very tired still. Remus supposed he’d been bearing the brunt of Sirius’s frustration. Good; let someone else do that for a bit.
“Not here.”
Unfortunately, they all followed him to the owlery – which happened to be completely empty – except for owls, of course, most of which were sleeping.
“Who are you writing to?” Sirius asked at once. Remus closed his eyes, sighed, and resumed tying his note to the nearest owl.
“Ferox. My old professor.”
“Why?!”
Remus dropped the string he was using and tutted as he had to bend to pick it up. He continued to explain, calmly.
“He’s in Hogsmeade. I saw him last night, but I want to see him again.”
“What was he doing in--”
Remus tutted again, fumbling with his third attempt to tie the note to the agitated owl’s leg. Sirius was standing much too close, leaning over him, demanding answers, and Remus could barely concentrate.
“He’s working with Moody, and he got summoned there to bring me back--”
“Summoned by who?”
“Fucking hell, give me a minute, will you?!” Remus snapped.
Sirius stood back, looking as if he’d very much like to say something else, but was biting his tongue. James touched his shoulder again. Remus ignored them both and tied the letter to the bird - maybe a bit too tight, because it pecked him angrily before flying off, down towards the village. He could stay there, maybe, it might not take very long. But his stomach growled. He turned to look at his friends.
“Ok. Breakfast?”
“Are you going to tell--”
“Yes, Padfoot, fine. Let’s um… get some toast and go for a walk or something, ok?”
So that’s what they did. Remus buttered at least five slices of toast in the Great Hall, wrapped them in napkins and stuffed them into the pockets of his robes. the other three marauders followed him, watching cautiously as if they weren’t quite sure what to make of him yet.
