diana carrow doesn't want to be bad, but it's all she's ever known. as she struggles with the power and darkness lurking inside of her, an eventful encounter the night before her final year at hogwarts changes everything.
(golden trio era)
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31st August 1993
IT WAS HARD TO DESCRIBE DIANA CARROW. For to describe someone you had to know them and to truly know Diana Carrow was virtually impossible.
Though if you ever happened to be in her presence there were two things you could say with absolute certainty. She was beautiful. Her skin was flawless like silk and with the fairest of complexions. Blonde hair tumbled from her head with specks of gold that made you almost certain she was the sun. It gave her some warmth, complimenting her pale face rather than making her look washed-out. Her features were sharp, relatively small and her eyes green like the hues of a forest. Diana was a quarter Veela from her mother's side. She was destined to be beautiful from the day she was conceived but it was the way she carried herself that really captivated people. With an air of grace that made her seem like she was gliding rather than walking through life.
And second of all, she was cold. She looked like she was made of ice, that her touch would be deadly, but it went much deeper than that. Talking to the girl, or attempting to, was often not the most pleasant of experiences. Her voice could be thoroughly laced with bitterness, entangled with the sharpness and wit of her words. She always said exactly what she was thinking, sparing no second to hold anything back. No one ever knew what to expect from her.
However, if you looked close enough, behind the beautiful glossy sheen of her eyes you could see the emptiness. The vast neverending sadness of the hollow girl. The despair from unloving, uncaring parents. The loneliness that came with having little to no friends and the fear of a future she had little choice in. The only thing was, no one had ever gotten close enough to notice.
And of course, to learn these things would only be possible if she admitted them to herself. Another thing that was virtually impossible, for Diana had decided a long time ago that she didn't need anybody. She was fine on her own, in fact, more than fine. She was tough. Resilient. More mature and independent for her age than she needed to be. She walked round with an assured confidence that was remarkable and almost terrifying. She thought she was indestructible and truly she believed it.
That night she sat at the bar of The Leaky Cauldron, the place of which she had been staying for the last week. Normally the few rooms above the dingy pub were reserved for travellers but Diana had been occupying the inn on and off for years and Tom, the Landlord, was more than happy to have her stay, especially since she always paid very well.
It was late, not quite midnight but only a few hours off. The pub, as it normally was this time of year, was relatively quiet. The sparse number of tables nestled in shadows were unoccupied other than one that hosted a few old women drinking tiny glasses of sherry in the corner. At the other end of the wooden bar was a regular, an old wizard who looked like his job at the Ministry worked him way too hard and who drunk all day and all night. Diana, on the other hand, spent very little time in the pub part of the establishment. Only retreating there on the nights she felt weary and bored, wishing to gaze upon her fellow witches and wizards, or whatever magical being exerted their presence, as they went about their daily business in a nosy way.
She cradled her half-empty glass of brandy and exploding lemonade, that a long while ago had deserted all its fizz. She could of course restore the drinks liveliness with a quick charm or ask the barmaid to do so, but she didn't really care to. She was too preoccupied with watching the bubbles of the drink slowly dissolve. So much so that she hadn't noticed the man who had occupied the stool next to her, watching her curiously for a number of minutes.
That was until he spoke.
"A glass of Ogden's Old Firewhisky, if you may."
The sudden voice had made Diana jump, though she was far too composed to ever show such signs. Instead, she slowly raised her head to look up at the man who smiled politely as the barmaid passed him his drink. In that moment, nor reflecting back on it, could Diana describe what came over when the man looked at her that first time but the only way she could even begin to was by saying that she felt like she was entranced. She was utterly paralysed and practically deaf, only regaining her senses when his face changed from awe to confusion as she realised he had said something to her.
"Hmm?" She murmured, snapping out of her trance and lips not even parting to speak. The man smirked, the corners of his own lips twitching upwards. "I said, have you travelled far?" He questioned, indicating to the key that rested on the bar in front of Diana.
It was not uncommon for men to approach Diana, though she never normally paid them any attention in return. That, however, did not mean she was unknowing on how to appeal to their desires. It was a part of her nature, the only challenge was figuring out what the specific man beside her was after. He was older than her, that much was obvious. If she had to guess she would say he was early to mid-thirties but despite some youth he appeared ragged and tired, though he had been through far too much. His brown hair had a red tinge, the same as his unkempt mustache and chin stubble. His robes were shabby and worn and then there were the scars. Short red marks slashed across his face. But in spite of all that, or maybe even favour of, he was undeniably handsome.
Diana shifted in her seat, edging her body towards him. "Not particularly," She answered to his question, her voice a delightful combination of sharp and soft all at once. "This is my first stop of a very long year."
"Well, I do sincerely hope you'll be visiting some exciting places." He said, tone twinged with genuine interest and for a split second Diana almost felt disappointed that she had nothing of real interest to actually say in reply.
"Nowhere I haven't been before." She responded, causing the man to raise a curious eyebrow as he reached for his drink. He was intrigued to how someone could be so elusive and mysterious and yet so utterly reassuring all at the same time. He took a swig, finishing the harsh beverage before placing it back onto the counter.
As he faced her once again, Diana couldn't help but gaze over his face. Her eyes flittering over his scars as if they were a painting. She was captivated, her body moving on impulse. Slowly, and with great elegance, she moved her hand towards him. She didn't think about how her actions might have been rude or inappropriate, the only thing she could think about was him. Delicately she traced her finger along the first of the scars on his cheek. It was rough under her soft touch and she swore as she went along she could feel the power of their stories and their history. She was surprised the man hadn't flinched or moved away, instead his gaze just wandered over her face in awe as he watched her react.
Her fingers lightly traced his face, stopping only when she met his blue eyes. "What's your name?" She asked so gently it was barely audible.
"Remus." He answered, lips just parting before they etched into the most suggestive of smiles. It was that smile that sealed their fate from that moment on. Unknowing to the both of them that the course of their lives were about to be wildly different than ever intended.
