#rlestrange

Mr. Lestrange, 

I highly recommend the deli next door to Amanuensis Quills. They have a lovely salad bar. 

July 28th; The Three Broomsticks

Tapping his fingers on a cream-colored mug, Remus let out a breath in the quiet pub. Hushed conversations filled the rooms as people drank themselves into a stupor, inviting a blissful oblivion. The evening was late, later than the boy often found himself out, but he had been delaying his obligatory return to his shabby apartment. He thought fleetingly about dropping by Sirius’ flat for a chat, but didn’t want to find himself interrupting whatever indecorous act was most likely going on behind the heavy door. James and Lily were enjoying a night together, and Peter had been out of town visiting his mother again, leaving the Marauder alone in the bar with only a cup of tepid tea to pass the time.

The boy swirled the liquid back and forth in the old mug absentmindedly, his eyes scanning the overlooked midsections of the Daily Prophet. The headers on the front page were bright and vexed, eye-catching and disturbing, demanding attention in a strange and obligatory manner. The middle, Remus found, was often much more interesting. The headlines that lie tucked away didn’t pretend to be anything more than they were, and contained balanced, pragmatic text. The change was refreshing, and the boy found himself quickly absorbed in the findings of a rural wizard naturalist, who had been recording the healing properties of a certain root.