Carve Me Open / r.l. + s.b. /

Why Not?

"The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist.
Even in pain."
-via Lord Byron

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Manchester, July 1980

Remus paced the confines of his bedroom. He stumbled over stray button-ups and slacks, the pads of his feet flexing over ties and pairs of socks thrown over his shoulder in frustration. The scene around him was catatonic – chaotic and disheveled to the worst extent. Not even acknowledging the pile-up of paperwork and files on the bed and nightstands, old cartons of takeout and dirty laundry were scattered all over the floor. It had been this way for weeks; one could tell by the thin layer of dust covering paper plates and old t-shirts. There were far more important things to be worrying about than the state of his room.

Lily, of course, was inclined to disagree, but Remus didn't give a jot. His attention had been focused on Sirius and the case since its beginning in April. The fall had been gradual, but it surely showed after nearly three months of inattentiveness.

"Moony," James called from the hallway, a knock sounding on the door. "We've got ten minutes before we've got to leave!"

Remus felt his fingers trembling, his jaw ticking. Would this have been a hell of a lot easier if his room was at least manageable? Yes. Was he at his wits' end after searching for nearly a half an hour for his blazer? Yes. Would James slaughter him if they were late to the trial? Oh, most definitely. It wasn't as if he could ask James for any of his; the man was built like a grizzly bear, and Remus was a mere two-by-four plank of wood.

"I've got to find something," he hissed, digging through his closet in vain.

Remus didn't want to be late either. He'd waited too long for this day to waste it on a blazer. Sirius' court case was being held at the Ministry of Magic in front of the Wizengamot and the Prime Minister – a new woman named Millicent. Rumor had it that the official judge overseeing today's trial was Barty Crouch.

Remus could only hope that was a foul lie spread to scare him.

For weeks, he and his friends had tried their hardest to find Peter Pettigrew, but with a country as large as England, and the endless hiding places around the world, it would've been mental to continue the search instead of gathering evidence. Besides, much to Remus' annoyance, James hadn't put in half the effort one should in order to see his best mate free by the birth of his child. However, Remus kept those thoughts – the more malevolent ones – to himself in times such as these.

Regardless, there was enough hope to light up London in Remus' heart. But with that much hope came considerable insecurities. The city was against them, and it would take more than "he-said-she-said" and a finger to point to win this case over. Remus was insecure in the evidence he gathered; there wasn't much to it in the long run. However, his mother had promised him something was better than nothing at all, and they still had the testimonies from the Order and Dr. Slade on their side.

There was hope inside of Remus, but would it be enough?

"Are you looking for your tan blazer," Lily called from the other side of the door.

Remus huffed, elbows deep into his clothing rack, "Yes! I can't find it anywhere."

"I pressed it for you this morning," she said. "It's hanging up in the laundry room."

Remus sighed both with relief and minor annoyance. Although they spent much of their time with James' parents, both of whom had been sick for weeks, Lily enjoyed becoming a rather persistent back sore on Remus. It wasn't as if he didn't like them. Hell, they were both his closest friends after all had been longed and lost. In fact, they were all he had anymore besides his own mother. It was a kind gesture for them to spend their free time with him, but their suburban lifestyle definitely threw him for a loop.