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...
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CHAPTER 22 (part five) "My Special Girl"
Our heart rates increase while our breathing slows down when we cry. Along with the fact that we release stress-relieving hormones, oxytocin, and endorphins. That and your brain is getting less oxygen, you feel clarity. It makes you tired.
All that science to lead into-
Ana had fallen asleep like a baby after a spoken tale, on that treen bench with a pillow of Hope's legs, a lullaby of her brushing hands, a blankey of a wet towel, and covers of Welsh drizzles.
Hope called Remus out to the field of a backyard. Letting him carry the dreaming fox back into the home, resting her on the couch.
His hands pulled out from underneath the princess hold to grab a blanket and spare her shoes.
But she woke up like a kitten, peckish to hunger and the lack of his outstanding body heat.
And Remus apologized profusely for rousing her awake.
The Lupin's (mostly Hope and Remus, Lyall was rubbish) used their best sweet eyes that they were ever so talented in, asking her to stay, not to leave.
Ana laughed at this. She had no were else to go. Well, her uncle's, but in her teenage mind, that was no choice when she could be here. She wanted to be here.
Sat in the warmth of the living room on blood orange recliners and the blue and white striped couch. Surrounded by shelves of books mixed with magazines and humanities.
Lit by no overhead lights but either frilled tassle legged lamps or prudent table ones.
All the color and clashing objects would have made any uniform person shy away from each eye catching side table or ornate trinket. Even the paintings next to each other went from muted city impressionism art to a vibrant abstract scene of what might be a spanning tree or a large squid.
But Hope had managed to make it all look surprisedly natty. Probably all those magazines she collected.
They ate roast, all saving room for the black berry batter pudding that Hope baked, raving about it being her own blackberries she'd grown and picked from the left side of the cottage.
Remus had made Ana's plate for her, asking her if she was alright for the third time when Hope asked them to bring the dishes back to the kitchen.
Remus brought out some of his records to play on the family's record player. Ana hummed along to each tune. After, a game of rummy that left Hope winning.
The girls set to finishing packing all the snacks Hope had gotten for the friends, and faint catching up after the long separation.
Remus thought he had heard Ana telling his mother about her embarrassing flying lessons in the first year; Remus smiled. He liked that story.
