Remus J. Lupin (alittleshabby) wrote in _bollocks_, @ 2008-06-15 14:12:00 |
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Of course all good things end in their own time, but Remus had to admit that in coming up to the dormitories and finding a rather blissful situation of nothingness and no-one-ness (which meant not a soul bolting up from their bed to hook him by the arm and drag him straight back down the stairs he'd just conquered -- oft with several books that made all the more likely for a haphazard spill) was something he imagined people thank the Good Lord up above for. A small miracle, but an appreciated one. It was only necessary, then, to cut across to his westward-facing bed and promptly collapse onto it. The books, ones that he'd only won the right to borrow after assuring Madam Pince upon all things holy that he would not allow any harm to befall them nor Sirius Black to even look at them, he'd towed up with his person were slid off his chest and onto the plush of his bed beside him. And for one rare moment, Remus John Lupin found himself in a sort of peace that evaded ever since he boarded the Hogwarts Express. A messy scribble of a grin crossed his face as he looked upward to the ceiling, unfocused and hazy. Just outside the pleasant rustle of a breeze past the window set a soothing overture for the moment; birds chattered gaily and the door buckled in on its hinges under the weight of someone thrusting it open with an ominous CREEEAK. Immediately a hand rose up perpendicular from Remus's body, and descended on his forehead audibly; his hands drew down until they covered his eyes, and stayed there steadfastly. Not that it was any sort of tactic borrowed from large flightless birds (i. e. "You can't see me if I can't see you -- HAH!"), but at least facing the approaching terror would be delayed. "Uhhngh," he confessed to the dead air before him. Loosely translated, it would have read: Oh, God. |