The Hotel on Bell Street

Anita Lupin

God. Remus hated his Job.

And his boss. And the snobby, red-faced customers that would come in during the evenings, demanding a hotel room for her and her always-angry, miserable husband after she'd downed five rosé wines and he'd gulped six pints of whatever was available on draft in the pub down the street.

It was always the same. Some people liked routine. Remus loathed it with a passion. He desired passion. And love. And excitement. And anything that could help him escape his nine to five hell he had found himself in since leaving Hogwarts in the summer.

It was coming close to evening as Remus bundled himself in his crimson knitted-scarf, slipped on his matching woollen gloves and pulled on his thick, tan-trench coat. The winter sun lingered in the sky, painting a beautiful shade of sun-light over the city of York, illuminating the gothic buildings and architecture in a golden hue.

There were visible remnants of the snow storm that had blown through the city during the week still on the cobbles, thin ice glazing over the pavements as Holliday shoppers hurried in and out of the tiny door ways of shops on the high street in the lead up to Christmas.

He himself had dabbled in the shops in the past few weeks, nervously looking for the perfect gift for his Mum, not able to pick one in fear that it wouldn't be good enough for the one woman in his life that deserved the world. He settled on a fancy-looking set of playing cards that sat in a red-velvet interior wooden box and an Elton John record. He supposed one more to the collection wouldn't hurt.

As a young child, his Mum was the life of parties. He had faint memories of sitting on a large, comfy sofa with one of his cousins at Christmas, in a house he didn't recognise as his Mum and Aunt danced around the living room in sparkly dresses, dark eyeliner drawn around their eyes with cigs clutched in their hands as they swung carelessly around a record player that was filling the room with the sound of the Beatles.

He remembered her fiery red hair styled in large, voluminous curls, framing her beautiful face and the bright blue dress she wore. Her sister Connie, who was matching as always, wore a yellow version with a white flower pattern, her red hair also pinned up all fancy and pretty.

Now, as he looked at the older version of that woman, she was sick, weak and fragile. The doctors had said it was a tumour, luckily found in the early stages, but still a great risk. In the weeks following the news, she'd grown more tired and it physically hurt Remus' heart to watch her deteriorate before his eyes, but he imagined that since this Christmas was most likely going to be her last, he would do anything he could to make it count.

He'd woken early the first morning of December, popped to the corner shop at the end of his street and bought one of every decoration he could afford.

Minimum wage wasn't kind, it allowed enough food to feed the two of them for the week and a few extra apples or tangerines if he was lucky. Remus had started to pass on the fruit since that doctors appointment, opting to save every penny for his Mums last Christmas.

He'd gotten two meters of tinsel, hanging foil decorations for the ceiling and a second hand angel for the top of their tree from a charity shop. Their living room wasn't very big, so the lack of decor went unnoticed to the few visitors they'd had throughout the month.

Anita had been delighted when she'd woken to tea and toast and a living room that reminded her of her childhood Christmas mornings. Remus had lit a vanilla candle and poured them a hot pot of tea, which they sipped whilst sharing a packet of bourbons by the fire, listening to the Elton record he'd gotten her for Christmas last year. 'Your song' was her favourite.

Anita Lupin adored her son, and he adored her double, is what he'd say once he'd helped her into bed and kissed her head goodnight.

He'd leave her at 6pm every night for his night shift at the hotel he'd managed to get a job at back in August. For such a posh hotel, the pay was shit. He scraped £2.60 an hour, starting at 6 and working until early hours of the morning where he'd find an empty room of the hotel to kip in until it hit 6am, where he would return home in time to give his Mum her morning dosage of medicine.