"i know life well enough to know you can't count on things staying around or standing still, no matter how much you want them to. you can't stop people from dying. you can't stop them from going away. you can't stop yourself from going away either."...
'these are the hands of fate, you're my achilles heel'- state of grace
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"...and then Mr. Wood had to spend half an hour trying to explain to the man on the stall that the enlarged fish had nothing to do with him," Ophelia's legs were dangling from the spare-room window ledge, twisting to take the fresh mug of tea from Remus, "in the end he just had to use a memory charm on him. Left him very confused, poor man."
Remus chuckled quietly, swinging his own legs over the ledge, picking up his own tea.
"Well the market sounds beautiful."
Ophelia had been eager to tell him all about her weekend in France, and Remus was more than happy to listen to her retelling of the entire trip. He didn't dare tell her she'd already told him the same story in her letters the previous week.
"We should go," Ophelia took a sip of her tea, "when Sirius is back, and we can take Harry too. Do you think he'd like that? Sirius, I mean."
Remus nodded, looking out at the Yorkshire countryside ahead.
"He'd like that," Remus set his cup beside him on the window ledge, rubbing his hands together, "loved France, he did."
Sirius had been fluent in French, and Remus figured that was the one good thing that came from being a part of the Noble House of the Black. He'd tried teaching Remus once, but they gave up soon after learning 'je m'appelle Lunaire', and Remus figured languages would never be his strong point.
It was nice having Ophelia in the house, it made the drab greyness of his cottage a little less dim. A little less lonely.
They'd sorted through some of Sirius's old boxes in an attempt to clear the spare bedroom. So far, she'd claimed one of his old AC/DC t-shirts, a leather jacket he'd refused to admit he'd grown out of after their sixth year, and a deep blue sweater that had once been Remus's, but Sirius had borrowed it once upon a time and had never given it back.
Ophelia was currently wrapped up in said blue sweater, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and the hem touching her knees.
They'd found photographs too- more from their years at Hogwarts. Sirius had bought a disposable muggle camera to annoy his mother, and would stick the motionless photos all over his childhood bedroom walls.
The pair had then drunk lots of tea, played a small game of gobstones, walked around the Dales, said hello to Rosie (the old lady living at the end of the road) and after dinner had ended up in the spare room once again.
Remus and Sirius had spent hours and hours sitting on this window ledge- smoking, drinking, talking, crying. After his father died, Remus inherited the Lupin house and a very small amount of money. It was enough to get by, but the Potters insisted he stayed with them for the rest of his time at Hogwarts. The boys used the house as their secret hideout, right up until Juliet moved in.
