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The White Room

The red carpet of the old house was worn and faded with over fifty years of sunlight and people passing over its surface. If it had breath, it would have sighed. Time came and went lazily in the room, and it hadn't seen drama for a long while. Tiny curls and fibres danced in the beams that crossed through the dirty windows and landed on the rug, imprinting tiny grey shadows of what could have been snow on the floor and walls. The corners and the skirting board were grubby with age, bubbling damp peeling the wallpaper in some areas. A robin's nest, long since abandoned, lay in all its strange, messy glory on top of a great bookshelf that would

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Mischief Managed.

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Submitted: November 20, 2011
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Maraudersby *Yellowbellyhill

Fan Art / Traditional Art / Drawings / Books & Novels

Remus sighed, hunched in the grass. The others could see purple bruises welling up under the skin, harsher scratches than usual. He was hurting, badly.

'You can go, you know,' He croaked. 'Go on back to the castle, I'll be fine, I'll catch you up.'
Sirius blinked, and gave his dry bark of a laugh. The others looked at one another and smiled. With a slight arch of his back, James transformed back to normal, and put his hand on Remus's shoulder gently.
'We are your friends, Moony,' He whispered. 'We share this curse with you voluntarily- we... love you, never forget that. Now come on, get up-' He and sirius, who nuzzled into the crook of their friend's arm, heaved the boy to his feet.
'Let's go home, old man.'

Meh. The Marauders, cos they're awesome. Well, except Peter. No one likes him.

Remus has had a particularly hard night, and is consoled by his friends.