Arrival
“Here we are”, matron sighed contentedly, as she rolled her window back up.
Remus thought she was going to be sick. Besides matron, and a few kids from her school back home, she was entirely isolated from people her own age. She felt alien, like she had slipped on a suit of human skin which wasn’t hers, and merely pretended to be human- and if she performed well enough, she might go unnoticed as an intruder by those around her. She thought of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, and finally understood what was meant by his soliloquy.
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage.
Though in terribly different situations, Remus couldn’t help but feel that she and the poor player were the same on some level, strutting and fretting on the stage for the audience to reward her with social acceptance.
Matron got out of the car, and began to unload Remus’ bags filled with her clothes, books, and records. Remus leapt out of the passenger seat, ashamed to have let matron remove her possessions without any of Remus’ help. Carrying three bags each, the two trudged to the porter’s lodge, where Remus was told she would be in room 73, and collected her key to her room- she slipped the key into the back of her jeans pocket, and she and matron began the seemingly endless journey up the spiralling staircase. After two minutes of struggling up the stairs and walking down corridors only to realise they were going in the wrong direction, Remus and matron arrived outside room 73.
Soon, matron left Remus, and gave her a tight squeeze before telling her that both she (and the lord) will always be with her, then reluctantly left, the door shutting behind her. If Remus had been anxious before, she was terrified once matron left- she was completely, and undeniably, alone. In attempt not to dwell, Remus hung her clothes in the handsome oak wardrobe, and lined up her boots, her converses, and the stash of Marlboro Reds she used to keep hidden under a floorboard back at the home. Opening her record player (perhaps her most prized possession), she removed a copy of The Rolling Stones’ Aftermath, and carefully placed the needle onto the record.
♫I see a red door
And I want it painted black♫
Soon enough, there were voices outside Remus’ door, and she held her ear to it. Silly, she thought, spying as if she is not rightfully in her own room.
“You have to turn it left, you tawt!”
“Sirius, for the love of God, shut up!”
One of the hushed voices seemed familiar. Though, to Remus (who had a strong Scottish accent), all people with a southern English accent sounded identical. Through the door, Remus heard a faint click, and the voices drifted away, and she was, again, left alone. She flung herself on her bed, staring up at the weathered ceiling. How would she ever make friends in such a pretentious, polished place? Back at the home and the school, Remus could put up a façade of not only being normal, but intelligent, and was praised for it by matron and her teachers (though it didn’t do her any good in making acquaintances in the home). Though that is all it was, a façade. Remus would spend hours in the summer reading dusty history books that she'd picked up at charity shops, partially out of interest, but largely so she could maintain the pretence of intelligence she had built for herself. But in a place like Oxford, people would see through this mask, they would see right through her, she thought.
Remus’ self-pity was disrupted by three hard knocks on her door- instantly, her stomach dropped and she felt violently ill. There was an actual person who wanted to speak to her? Harrowing. Her nervous system couldn’t tell the difference between being confronted by a person and being chased through the woods by a bear. Reluctantly, Remus unlocked her door, and slowly pushed it open.
Outside, stood a girl, maybe 5’8. She had dark, curly hair which fell in waves past her shoulders, and golden-brown skin. Behind her glasses, sat a pair of near-black eyes, which seemed awfully kind. She wore a crimson knitted jumper (festive, Remus thought), which married together with her red high-top converse. Beside her, was the mystery girl Remus had let borrow her lighter at the station, though now she had shed her cool demeanour, and seemed anxious.
“Hiya, I’m June! My room is next to yours.” the taller girl said, offering her hand for Remus to shake.
Was Remus supposed to shake it? Whenever she went to the pictures back home, she always saw people shaking hands in films upon meeting each other, but it seemed oddly intimate now that Remus was faced with it. Finally, Remus shook her hand.
“Hello. I’m Remus.”
“What a cute name!” the taller girl cooed.
Oh my God, Remus thought. Is everyone condescending?
Remus offered a polite smile as her eyes darted to the mystery girl. June nudged the dark-haired girl, muttering something that Remus couldn't quite make out. The girl cleared her throat.
“I’m Sirius. Sirius Black.”
Remus, staring at the girl’s dark eyes, took a moment to recognise that she had even spoken. Now she could put a name to the voice she had echoing around her head. Sirius. Si-ri-us. Remus liked the way Sirius’ name felt in her mouth when she repeated it back to her.
“Exactly”, Sirius replied, now with a warm smile.
Was she supposed to mention that they’d met before? Sirius didn’t seem to want June to know, and Remus wasn’t one to cause drama.
“It’s nice to meet you”, Remus said, though this wasn’t true. Perhaps “it's terrifying to meet you” would have been more accurate.
“You too, Remus”, June replied.
It seemed Sirius had gone mute again.
“Well, we’ll hopefully see you around. I’m going to try to find out who else is staying in our corridor.”
Remus chuckled, though she wasn’t sure why she did. Out of politeness, she assumed.
June and Sirius walked away, and Remus watched them for a moment before shutting the door and flopping onto her bed again. Her record was still going, now playing Under My Thumb. The music seemed so quiet to Remus, and all she could make out was a continuous thumping noise of the bass drum, to which Remus fell into a fitful sleep.
♫Under my thumb,
She's the sweetest pet in the world♫