ᴍᴜɢɢʟᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇᴏʀʏ

➳ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 ~ 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞

This dedication is for Teddy because she is a beautiful, hilarious friend and it's her birthday today! Hope it's as good as it can be considering school! ♥️♥️♥️
hpaddict_marauders

(5th February 1977)

Remus wasn't jealous. He wasn't. He was concerned, that was different. Very different as far as Remus was concerned.

Since the beginning of the new term it had been abundantly clear that not only had Sirius found his way back into the seventh year Ravenclaw dorms to see Keegan Trista (like he had done at the beginning of the term prior) but it had become more of an amatory habit. A habit that concerned Remus. He wasn't jealous.

He awoke the morning first of February without much intention of doing much that Thursday morning –he had a free first thing– but his internal alarm system had other, abhorrent plans. The sun was barely in the sky when Remus snapped out a particularly peculiar dream with a jolt that felt like a speed bump.

The morning air was crisp (James had obviously managed to open the window last light without Peter's knowledge –who often went shutting windows after James) and the smell of dew and perhaps a light coating of frost gave the room a tonic aroma which he enjoyed for all of five seconds before he realised that sleep wasn't coming back.

He swung his legs round the side of the bed, passive aggressively; hoping James was still there so he could chastise him about leaving windows open in February but the bastard had already slipped silently out the room and was probably off somewhere in the castle grounds running. And so Remus huffed and shut the window by himself, it was only one bed along seen as he was the closest after James but that didn't stop him making a song and dance about it (even if it was only for his grumbling benefits seen as no one else was awake to witness his petty tantrum).

The window firmly shut, Remus got a chance to admire what sort of day it was going to be. And it shaped to be a decent one. Cold, but decent, the sun was still low but when it rose it would surely thaw most of the frost, and leave behind only a bitter wind that was always around the highlands at this time of year. It rarely left as a matter of fact.
Despite still being in a foul mood he couldn't deny that the dawn at this hour was rather spectacular, the sky looked as if it had been painted by John Constable himself; curves of orange pierced what was mainly a pale, in only slightly dull, blue. There weren't any clouds, not so much as a single drop of snow, hail, or rain since the snow had been melted by the bitter warmth in the sun.

He padded back to his own bed and lay atop the covers, doing his best to recall whatever dream it was that he'd been having. It was a well known fact that Remus Lupin did not do well in mornings. Any mention of brain usage before ten seemed ludicrous to him and therefore he did not wish to participate in such things. Particularly when the full moon was close– as it was now. But try as he might the peculiar dream never came to mind.