CHAPTER FIVE
troubles and travels

𖦹 ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ˚⋆˚ 𖦹

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?

   He scrutinises his surroundings once more. The village he has found himself in may look dreary at a first glance, but despite the charcoal backdrop of the sky, the population is thriving. Locals amble down the streets in pursuit of shopping and errands alike, greeting those that they recognise with a warm hello and strangers with friendly smiles. Close to where Remus is stood, a shopkeeper is chatting animatedly to a young couple about his produce, talking up his quality fruit and veg in the hopes that they'll humour him. Two elderly ladies stroll past him with their arms linked, speaking in what Remus believes to be very fast paced Gaelic — he can discern vague snippets from weeks of hearing Cove mutter phrases and curses. From the small snapshots that he's seen so far, he can already tell that the community here is tightly knit.

Remus smiles softly to himself. He can tell that she must like this place.

Suddenly, the small man with salt and pepper hair who had been inside the nearby phone box steps out, pausing to rustle through his pockets in search of a lighter for his cigarette. Remus, who's running out of change anyways, spots his opportunity and seizes it, walking forward to grasp his attention before it fleets away and he's trapped back at square one.

  "Sorry to bother you, mate," Remus begins. "D'you have any idea where the Hendersons stay?"

The man looks up in mild surprise, only for his plain expression dissolves into a broad grin. He laughs like it's the most hysterical thing he's ever heard. "Aye, funny one. That's like looking for a needle in a haystack with all the Hendersons up here. Gonnae need a bit more detail than that, pal."

Remus blanks slightly. "Um..." he mutters, wracking his brain for a solution. "Right. Well, does the name Cove Henderson mean anything to you?"

   The man exhales wisps of smoke, a glint of recognition sparking in his stare. "Och, sure I know Cove! Lovely lass, that one is. Yes, yes. She works doon the wee charity shop whenever she's not away at that fancy school of hers on the mainland. Why didn't you say in the first place?"

   Remus takes this as a rhetorical question and only shrugs slightly, patiently awaiting directions. He has to sit and twiddle his thumbs for a moment as the man mutters on, more to himself than to Remus. He trails off his ramblings, clicking his fingertips in mild agitation.

  "Sorry," the man says. "I've a memory like a goldfish. What was your question, again?"

  "Er, where do the Hendersons stay?" Remus answers patiently.

"Oh, aye, of course." He stretches his cigarette-wielding hand out before them, pointing to the far end of the town square. "Walk yourself doon past the corner shop over there and take a left at the crossroads. It's no that far a walk but it can be fairly grim with all the black ice at this time of year, so watch your step. Go through a few acres of they sheep farms and forestry tracks o'er there until you find yourself doon by the seaside. They're the only house on that beach, you can't miss it." The man pauses, giving him a dubious look. "Sometimes it can be quite the trek on foot. Are you sure you're alright getting there on your own, son?"

He smiles weakly. "I'll manage. Cheers."

The man nods. "Take care."

   Remus sighs slowly, turning in the direction of the corner shop and pursing his lips. It's going to be a long, long walk there.

°•.•°•.•°•.•°

   THE HILLS ARE COATED IN SUGARY white snow, reaching up to the skies and disappearing amidst the misty clouds. Red deer rustle past in the sprawling woods on either side of the road, leaping past in his peripheral vision with freedom breezing past their antlers. Luckily for him, the roads are fairly deserted, meaning that he doesn't have to worry about keeping in to the side. Instead, his journey is spent stepping over gaping pot holes, crunching through frozen puddles and evading the slippy patches of ice that are smattered here and there.

He shoulders his rucksack and finally summits a steeper slope in the road, his long legs feeling as though they're about to give up on him. He takes a minute to glance around and indulge in a small rest before charging off into the wilderness.

Just as the man had said, Remus finds himself strolling past fields full of bleating sheep, thick pine canopies rising above his head at times. It's more uphill than he had first expected and he's developed a stitch from all the exertion, hence the sigh of relief that escapes him when he comes across the first traces of cold sand. He watches the tumultuous ocean as it comes crashing towards the rock pools, eyes soon catching on a cottage at the far end of the beach upon a scarce patch of grass.

   The cottage is built from white brick that matches the pale sea foam, a roof of charcoal grey tiles slanting across the top. A familiar puffin roosts on the chimney, cooing at him as a welcome. He offers a tight lipped smile in response — how else are you to greet a puffin? The flowerbeds on either side of the driftwood path are decorated in seashells and smooth stones, though the pretty posies are all wilted away into frosty brown stems at this time of year.

  A fairly battered land rover is parked in the makeshift driveway, a twist of anxiety fluttering in his gut as he remembers about Cove's dad, who totally intimidates him. Even thinking about Mr Henderson's glare sends a shiver bolting down his spine. Steeling himself with halfhearted reassurance, he purses his lips and soldiers on, unintentionally kicking up chunks of sand into his boots. He lifts his knuckle to knock against the green door when it suddenly swings open, a gruff looking man on the other side.

"What are you doing here?"

Remus jumps, his heart pounding.

A history of scars and time's inflictions, the man before him is rough around the edges and oozes a disposition that makes Remus feel anything but welcome. Auburn curls droop in front of his sea green eyes, frustration crinkling around the corners as he looks him up and down, unimpressed. Mud coats his trousers and his shirtsleeves are rolled up to his elbows, scraped knuckles flexing slightly at his sides in what could be interpreted as warning. His features are gruff and stubble coats his razor sharp jawline, a frown tugging down his lips at the sight of the boy on his doorstep. Remus swallows thickly, his words getting caught in his inexplicably dry throat.

Cove's father arches an eyebrow. "Well?"

That urges him into action. He can't help stumbling over his words at first, hoping that the mortified flush warming his face can be mistaken as rosiness from the cold.

"Um, hello," he greets cautiously. "Is Cove home?"

Remus doesn't miss the way his eyes dart toward the seashore for a fraction of a second, his jaw ticking.

"She's out. I'll tell her you stopped by."

   He goes to close the door back over. In an irrational flash of desperation, Remus quickly jams his foot in the gap before Mr Henderson can slam the wood in his face, shouldering through so that it gapes open slightly.

  "I know." Remus says simply. "About her. You don't have to lie to me. Please, Mr Henderson. I've come all this way, um, sir."

His eyes widen, lips parting in shock.

"You're having a laugh," he mutters. "She told you?" He gnaws on the inside of his cheek. "Foolish girl."

Remus bites down on his tongue. He doesn't want to say something that he'll regret later.

   Distaste is evident as he sizes him up, eyes narrowed as if he's trying to perforate deep into Remus' soul. Those stagnant seconds are probably the most nerve wracking moments in his entire life, the silence only kindling the anxious fire building within his chest. Eventually, Mr Henderson inhales sharply and relents, pushing open the door to join him outside in the freezing cold. He begins to trudge down towards the beach and Remus takes it as an invitation to follow.

"Mr Henderson—"

  "Aaron," he calls gruffly over his shoulder, keeping a few paces in front at all times. "None of them formalities. Makes me feel ancient."

  "Oh, alright. Sorry."

  He just rolls his eyes and keeps walking.

"Aaron," Remus tries again, testing the waters with his first name. It feels too familiar. "Where are we going, exactly?"

"You'll see."

Wonderful.

Remus follows after him like a lost puppy, stumbling through the jungle of waving marram grass and over the compacted dunes. He feels more unsure than ever as they approach the water, slowing down a fraction to try and gauge what his next move will be.

Aaron strides over to the shore until the water is lapping at the leather of his boots, breathing in the sea air with an indecipherable look on his face. He scrutinises the sand around him until he spots something on the ground, seizing what seems to be a rock in between his fingers and turning it over in his palm. Procuring a pocket knife, he begins to etch something into the rock that Remus can't quite make out. The squealing noise scratches against their ears, an unpleasant intrusion to the tranquility of the beach. Aaron grunts in vague approval and does the last thing Remus had been expecting — he swings back his arm and hurls the stone into the depths of the sea, skimming it along the surface until it sinks into the azure maw of the deep.

"Why did—"

"She'll know what I mean," he answers curtly.

  "How do you know?" Remus wonders.

   Aaron raises his eyebrows. "Well, how do you reckon I used to get ahold of her mother?"

Remus doesn't quite know what to say to that.

They turn to face the sea, squinting out at the horizon with bated breath as they wait for a sign, wondering if she'd seen the message or not. He abruptly realises that he's been holding his breath when a little head pokes from the depths, blinking at them with dark eyes like stones of obsidian. He's never seen her transformed before, curiosity overshadowing his nerves.

The seal swims closer and closer, creeping through the shallows until she's a few meagre steps away. Pointy, pearly teeth. A button nose. Twitching whiskers. The transformation between forms is hard to describe — it looks strange, perfect fuel for a headache if you think about it too hard. The jaw unhinges and the skin goes lax, a head of damp beach waves appearing from amongst the jagged canines and incisors. Casually as can be, she shrugs the skin down her shoulders like a loose shawl, her human flesh covered by it like a raggedy dress. Her seashell necklace glows between her collarbones, a relieved sigh fluttering from her lips as she rolls her shoulders and sinks back into a more... humane state.

Her eyes peel open, the comforting sea green like a welcoming embrace home. It doesn't take her long to catch onto the figure next to her father and Cove squeaks in shock, ducking behind a nearby rock before she can actually register that it's him.

"Dad, who is it?"

"Pádraic from next door," he deadpans. She gives him an incredulous look over the top of the rock and he rolls his eyes. "Naw, darlin', it's your man fae Wales."

She rests her chin atop the rock, eyes wide. "Oh, Remus? What're you doing here?"

   His grin is sunny enough to thaw the late December frost. "Said I'd come and see you, didn't I?"

   Aaron huffs slightly, arms crossed.

"That's lovely and all," she says, "but could yous two please turn around for a moment?"

Flushing scarlet, Remus obliges, his eyes glued firmly to his shoes. He squirms under the pressure of Aaron's stern glare as Cove shuffles about behind them, sorting through her change of clothes with vigour.

Suddenly, a hand rests on his shoulder and he spins to see Cove looking up at him, clad in jeans and a tatty old Henley top. The ends of her hair are wet, curling from the lingering saltwater. Her sealskin is bundled up under her arm, a million expressions fleeting across her face in a matter of seconds.

She smiles, the glittering in her eyes like the very first dewdrops of spring. "No letter?"

He shrugs. "Wanted it to be a surprise, love."

Aaron clears his throat noisily, his eyebrows furrowing in judgement that makes Remus want to take a step away from her.

Cove sends him a look. "It's baltic out here. Why don't we go inside? You'll be staying the night, won't you, Remus?"

Remus nods, opening his mouth to reply when he's cut off by an incredulous guffaw.

"He's what?"

The look intensifies. Cove spins on her feel to glare daggers at Aaron. "Dad. There's no way we're chucking him out into the night after he's come all the way up to visit. Where else would he go?"

"I'm sure there's a very comfortable bench somewhere in the village."

"You are unbelievable." She laces her hand through his, tugging him towards the house. "C'mon, Remus."

Her touch radiates a warmth that he would happily drown in. Remus can't wipe the grin off his face all the way there, allowing himself to be led back up through the winding path of their previous footsteps until they're back in the makeshift driveway.

"He's sleeping on the couch!" Aaron calls after them.

"Yeah, yeah," she replies noncommittally.

The door slamming in her wake reverberates around the night, Aaron's grumbling left outside for nature to deal with.

He's met with a surge of heat when they step inside her hallway, a radiator at full blast next to the front door. Wellies and boots are strewn all across the wooden floorboards in the entrance, an apology escaping Cove for the state of their house. Remus brushes it off, taking in the trinkets and knick knacks they have resting on the surrounding shelves and windowsills with sincere interest.

He unravels his scarf and hangs it up next to his coat, that pressing anxiety rooting itself back in his chest as she studies him. She gasps slightly at all the deep marks on his face, coasting her fingertips along the side of his jaw with concern. He leans into her touch absentmindedly.

Remus steals a hug before Aaron manages to reach the door and inevitably break them apart, catching her off guard. She returns it with identical enthusiasm, her smile growing when she feels him press a kiss to the crown of her head.

"What's gotten into you?" she wonders playfully. "Gods, I've got so many questions."

"I missed you," he admits into her hair.

She laughs. "It's only been a little over a week since I last seen you, Rem."

"That doesn't change anything," he protests, arms tightening around her gently.

"Well, don't worry. I'm here now."

And, oh, how grateful he is for that.

author's note!

remus pov remus pov remus pov

booooo winter chapters 👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻 it's basically summer i want to be writing summery chapters already!!!!

anywho this chapter is so mid but i wasn't 100% prepared for the saturday update schedule i've started 😭😭 it's so rushed but the next one hopefully won't be as bad

this isn't really edited, patch any mistakes

love yous all so much!!!! <333