For as long as Remus can remember he's had a hard life. Constant monthly mutilations of his skin, a absent father, and the trepidation of his blush inducing crush on Anastasia Fox. Anastasia Fox, who flirts with everyone, has matching fainter scars...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CHAPTER 20 part one
SUMMER- Three weeks later, with daylight begging to linger, now present were heat filled long days and stormy nights. The end of academics had blazed the start of antsy withdrawal for the friends. Though craving the comfort of blood, they missed their artisanal family in Hogwarts.Truth have it, those three weeks went tentatively with slow waiting for when they would see eachother next and leisurely pass times of writing script parcels to each other, filled with words of absence.
The unfamiliar meeting point of the French Riviera, beautifully caressed by the cerulean sea in late June, had quickly satiated the group's sweats of isolation without fellow bandits.With the chaperones of the Potters and the destination of the 1976 World Cup, a night spent trudging to the open fields of France, finding a place with what little space there was to set tent, they had slept soundly, and by morning all had fallen into the archetypical duos and banter of droll.
-
"Merlin, I am embarrassed to be walking with most of you." James stuck his head up tartly, taking obvious remarks to the green and red decorated Remus, and the others who had chosen to wear the advent colors.
Remus was possibly the most excited for the World Cup of 1976. His very own homeland of Wales had progressed all the way to the semifinals, and Remus felt very patriotic.
Decked out in green athletic shorts, a white undershirt, and an open bright red button up. Remus' mother, Hope, had sewn red dragons on his white beaten up Chuck Taylors and Ana had painted the country's flower of pale yellow daffodils on everyone's cheeks who had chosen to support the demure team.
It was the first time in history that the humble quidditch team had made it further than the first week of the international Cup. Before, three years ago, the Wales quidditch team was considered fair and practically unknown.
But after England's Scandal of using nifflers to steal from fans in the bleachers of games. Most of Britain's players had moved to the closest option of Wales.
James had been against the Wales support from the beginning, claiming that out of respect for his mother he would be covered in red and yellow, to support Spain.
James stuck to that truthfully with half of his face covered in red paint and the other in yellow. He wore every Gryffindor memorabilia he had, lucky the colors had matched. He had a flag fashioned into a cape, a hat that had two smaller Spain flags sticking out the top by wire springs, and painted across his lower thighs the letters S-P-A-I-N.
A divide had begun within the friend group the day before when the Welsh and Spanish boys had demanded everyone choose who they would be supporting on the edge of the Statue of Secrecy. The impartial had groggily agreed to play into the rivalry with tired eyes, sore shoulders from carrying luggage, and hungry stomachs.
