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

Order in the Court

"the thing about light is,

it blinds us, we only see what it wants us to see and, often, it isn't what we want it to be."-via Midnight

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London, June 1977

London was always dreadful in the summer. The air was thick, and the wind hardly ever blessed the masses with a breeze. The air was heavy with humidity, and Remus felt his usually billowing shirt dampened against his skin; he really did hate the summer. Sweaty bodies brushed against each other as regular people made their way about the city, some of them cursing the Gods for making it so bloody hot. Of course, Sirius was one of those people, not that Remus blamed him.

Spending an hour jogging the streets of London was taxing, to say the least, in 32-degree weather. The Americans said it felt closer to 100 – which was something the boys could hop on board with. It might have been sweltering, it might have been exhausting, and Remus just might have had to throw away that sweater considering how drenched in sweat it was, but, according to their leader, James Potter, this adventure was worth the torture. Remus had a bone to pick with that mentality. James was used to practicing in the heat, the rain, the cold, and anything else. Remus detested any form of physical activity.

"Mark me," Sirius cried, "I'm going to melt!"

James ignored his whining, pressing on through the crowd. He'd barely said more than a sentence since they lost the Potter's in the Underground. Well, James had lost them in the Underground considering it was starkly different from King's Cross; Remus had to remember that two out of the four of them didn't even know what a rubber duck was. Even Peter, who'd grown up somewhat Muggle, was unfamiliar and, if he dared say so, a bit afraid of the tubes. Remus had ridden them whenever they visited the city, which wasn't too often, but often enough for him to understand the process.

"If Remus had been leading us, we'd still be following them," Peter chided. "He's a damn giant."

"Yeah, and they'd probably fucking see him, Peter," James hissed, not hiding his frustrations very well.

The heat made them all moody. Maybe not Remus; the hot just made him feel icky. But it was ever so clear that the mischievous, excited James who'd sprung on the lot of them at six in the morning had all but curled up and died, now replaced with this temperamental, moody boy who barked orders and pushed strangers.

"I'm just saying," Peter muttered. "I doubt we'll ever find them. Do you even know how big London is?"

James rolled his eyes, choosing not to answer Peter's question. Of course, he knew how big London was. Sure, his parents could have been anywhere. A pub, an ice cream shop, a tailor – anywhere. The likelihood of them finding them now – almost an hour after they'd lost them in the Underground – was slim to none. James was taking a leap of faith by leading them to the Leaky Cauldron.

He also just wanted a drink and hadn't thought to bring any Muggle money. But they didn't have to know that. They did not need to know that his plan actually wasn't going according to the plan because that would've made Sirius angry, Peter dejected, and Remus hopeless.

They couldn't lose hope. Not yet. Even though the chance was slim, the chance was there regardless. They'd come all the way from Wales – cramped up under the invisibility cloak for an hour – and been subjected to the relentless waves of summer heat. If they gave up now, that would all be for nothing. Remus wouldn't know what was going on with his dreams, Peter would be a nervous wreck, and Sirius would do something even more dangerous and outlandish to find a solution to the problem that might have alerted McGonagall.