SEA, SWALLOW ME, remus lupin

còig, troubles and travels

CHAPTER FIVE
troubles and travels

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THOUGH HE'S RELUCTANT TO ADMIT it, Remus is definitely lost.

He's disoriented, his world tilted on its axis. Every stranger's face and building around him melts into one, their facades near enough identical in the crisp winter air. People pay him no mind when they walk past, much too busy running their own errands, so he's not even able to ask anyone for directions. Most of the signs he's come across have been scrawled in Gaelic with the English translations in faded fine print, meaning that he's left stranded with no clue on where he's supposed to head — not that the signs would be much help, he supposes. It's also much colder in the Outer Hebrides than it is back home in Wales, his teeth chattering slightly behind sealed lips as the cold finally sinks its teeth in.

There's only one telephone box in the village and it's gotten to the point that Remus is preparing to give in and phone Cove, effectively ruining what was supposed to be a nice surprise. Although, the telephone box was already occupied by the time he'd reached it, so that little intervention has given him time to stand around and mull the decision over in his head. With a final, shuddering sigh, he buries his hands in his pockets to conserve heat and slumps defeatedly against the wall behind him.

Huddled under the sheltering facade of a Sainsbury's local, he tentatively scans the unfamiliar town square before him in the hopes that something, anything will manage to ground him — searching for absolutely any hints or pointers that might give him an inkling of where he wants to go. So far he's managed to discern that he's surrounded by shops crowned in sloping flats, their signs scribed in a variety of different fonts that make them all fairly unique in comparison to one another. The odd flurry of snow sprinkles from the thickening grey clouds, though it's never enough for it to settle completely. Frost curls over the cobblestones beneath his feet, a chill nipping at his goosebumps through the thick scarf around his neck. He's pulled it up to conceal his pink nose, partially to cling onto any warmth and partially to keep his fresh scars out of sight.

  The last full moon had been a few meagre days after Christmas, his lacerations a furious fuchsia and just barely scabbed over. It had been a particularly bad one, what with the lack of his friends to get him through it smoothly. The aftermath has lingered on for longer than usual — his joints are still stiff and aching, not to mention that his senses had been heightened to the point that he couldn't even be in the same room as someone chewing in the early stages of recovery. His very festive flesh wounds had put a damper on the whole holiday and the prevalent pity radiating from his parents quickly grew to feel stifling. He loves his mum and dad, of course he does, but sometimes the best remedy for his post-transformation blues is a simple change of scenery.

  Though, in all fairness, this trip isn't exactly a simple change of scenery. His nagging lovesickness had officially bested him when he remembered promising Cove that he'd take her somewhere nice, an idea planting in his head and sprouting into a wild plan. So, he found himself packing a rucksack and telling his parents that he was planning on going to the Potter's home for New Year's — in actuality, he hadn't sent any replies to James' invitations since that would mean he'd have to face Sirius, who he's still giving the cold shoulder.

  Remus digresses.

  The only thing on his mind, aside from travelling fees, has been Cove. He had to get countless crossover buses and trains from Cardiff until he even got close to Scotland, then spending ages on a ferry across the Minch until he reached the rocky shores of Lewis. Starry-eyed and imaginative, he found himself wondering if the sleepy seal colonies that his ferry skirted past were really seals at all, or if they were related to his girlfriend. Friends? Family, perhaps?