I can see my lifetime piling up I can see it smashing into yours It was not as accident at all Open those windows up - I hear you laughing Monday, April 2 :: Night
The moon brought with it territorial instincts, heightening the need to grasp and claim what was his — which was precisely what Lupin must not do. Laying beside Izabel the past few nights had the long stretches of celibacy that characterized his early adulthood seem a trifle in comparison.
He was irritated when not around her, and ill-tempered when in her company, and all in all he simply thought it best to ward the Shrieking Shack for all contingencies, most especially last month's menagerie.
That done, Remus sat, disturbing a few dust bunnies, and attempted to read while waiting for Snape.
Home is where I want to be But I guess I'm already there I come home — she lifted up her wings Guess that this must be the place. I can't tell one from another Did I find you, or you find me? There was a time, before we were born If someone asks, this where I'll be ... where I'll be Saturday, March 24 :: Noon
"The staircase to the upper floor will go here. Down there's the cellar, which is mostly finished."
Sunlight gleamed through the clear tarp covering the window holes of the future living room, and the dust kicked up by Remus and Izabel's presence danced in the streams of light.
There wasn't much for him to show her yet. But the bones of the house, unfinished walls that could still be moved with judicious wandwork, were in place. A lot had been accomplished in a short time — the cottage had been the subject of his singleminded focus for the past month — but so much remained to be done.
And with another person in the house to give it a sense of scale, niggles of worry tried to whisper again that this place he was so very proud of was too small, that the layout was wrong ... that she'd see all this and come to her senses and go find someone to share with her a proper restaurant meal with tables and chairs, instead of a picnic here with raw lumber and splinters.
"What do you think?" he asked, turning slightly to catch the response on Izabel's face.
Remus had fallen into the habit of appearing at the meals in the Great Hall late, but this morning he was back to his previously punctual self.
Izabel had been as good as her word, and had left his bed very early. He'd awoken when she had, and had gone so far as to open his mouth to protest her leaving, when the entirety of the circumstances had been recalled. He'd whispered good-bye softly, and did not fall back asleep.
Instead, he'd waited for the leggy warmth that signaled the only remaining evidence of Izabel's presence between the sheets to dissipate and then made quick work of the rest of his early morning duties, starting with removing his fireplace from the Floo Network and warding his room against an all-too-welcome visitor.
There are people who put their dreams in a little box and say, "Yes, I've got dreams, of course I've got dreams." Then they put the box away and bring it out once in awhile to look in it, and yep, they're still there. ~ Erma Bombeck
Monday, March 19th ~ Evening
Schroeder - which was an unusual name for an elf anyway - had informed Izabel that Professor Lupin was asleep and that it hadn't taken long as he'd seemed very tired. He was also the same elf that was assisting Izabel in making sure the items she'd left in Remus' quarters continued to make their way back amongst his things, no matter how many times he tried to get rid of them.
Izabel had chosen one of her regular nightgowns to wear. Nothing overtly sexy, just what she normally wore when sleeping. She pulled a set of teaching robes over the gown and slid her feet into flats.
"Thank you, Schroeder. One of these days you're going to have to explain to me again where you got your name and what exactly a peanuts is - or are," Izabel said while making her way out of her chambers and closing the door behind her. She didn't meet anyone in her journey to Remus' quarters and took a deep breath before reaching out one hand to touch the knob.
At least he hasn't warded me out yet. Forgetfulness or hopefulness? crossed her mind as she stepped inside.
Life is unfair, kill yourself or get over it Friday, March 16 • Afternoon
The chart wasn't wrong. It was recording the data accurately, a vague golden mist seemingly hovering over the parchment in the dimmed light of Vector's office.
Vera crossed her arms and frowned at it, as if by sheer force of will she could get it to show her what she wanted.
Matter — energy — did not simply disappear; that was one of the fundamental laws of the universe. What remained of the two missing Aurors could be found. There was no question of that.
It just might take a more detailed chart and more power than she — or any one person — had to track the molecules if they'd been disappated and rearranged.
Air from their lungs, flakes of skin, hairs — the entire Hogsmeade area would be glowing if I went to that level. And it will take months, and what sort of fuel?
Was the investment of time and effort worth it, given that at this point they could only find where last the Aurors' bodies had rested? Vector finally looked back over her shoulder to the other witch in the room, who'd had the courtesy to remain silent while she'd worked and even after.
You and I - may kill ourselves You and I - go straight to hell Saturday, March 3 • Dusk
Up before dawn, simply because of restlessness and not because the moon called and would not be denied. Out to the woods, to fell trees and split lumber with an axe, not a wand.
Neither rocks nor words helped to drive the black dog off during the day's toil, but if Sirius wasn't smart enough to take care of himself, so be it. Ropes and a stunner served to make sure Lupin's trip toward Hogsmeade, when at last it came time, was made alone.
Remus slipped inside the Shrieking Shack, well before dark fell, to fashion a cage amidst the dust and shadows.
Bone-weary, half dead ... and knowing it hadn't done any good at all, that within hours the wolf would still be at full strength. He could feel its eagerness.
But I still believe And I will rise up with fists And I will take what's mine mine mine There but for the grace of God, go I Wednesday, February 28 • Evening
Vera walked toward the gates of Hogwarts to meet Daphne, promptly and as planned.
The Pansy problem still lingered, and it seemed one found solutions much easier after a meal with friends. And if that became too much for Izabel, they could always try to cheer her up with the wedding plans that they had gone ahead with as much as they could with no input from either bride or groom.
Near-psychotic optimism was required when dealing with the bridal industry, even in the best of cases. It would work out.
She was convincing herself that when Daphne, accompanied by Miguel, arrived.
Izabel never had been much good at lying or at sending cryptic messages. After three crumpled and then torn up sheets of parchment, she didn't even try. If it fell into someone else's hands the most she could do was make it appear they wrote on a regular basis and she was merely passing on news.