It’s nearly strange just how normal it feels to be home, in this tiny Yorkshire village, so different from Birmingham, so much quieter, so much more green. Even though he had only lived in Birmingham for just under a year, he had expected to have to re-adjust to the rolling hills of his hometown, but instead, he found that he had missed his birthplace terribly. Not everything is old. The little house that he’s living in, in the centre neighbourhood of what little “town” Coldingham was, is new to him. There was no possible way he could go back to living with his mother, besides the fact that he was twenty-four, his mum, Hope, lived in the same house she’s had since Remus was a baby, a little farmhouse with a long, sprawling walkway.
Both of them knew without saying it that a house out in the country would be difficult for Remus, who's still getting used to the forearm crutches he has to use at all times now. Living in the city had also proved to be too difficult, but, Remus thinks bitterly, it’s easier to list the things that aren't difficult for him now.
So in the end Remus did end up moving back into Coldingham, renting out a little house in the more populated area of town, a place where there was a sidewalk right outside his front door, and where the school he would be teaching at was only a couple blocks down the road, as Remus didn’t even want to think about the difficulties his newfound disability would constitute to him being able to drive. So he walks. Slowly.
His little house was not too bad, if you didn’t take in the fact that when it rains Remus has to stick a bucket in the corner of the kitchen so that his house doesn’t flood from leaks, or that when it’s cold, as it’s starting to get as the days bleed slowly into winter, the old windows don’t particularly keep out the chill. He longs for his even shittier apartment in the city, and the way the city felt like it was always breathing. Instead he’s back at square one, teaching numbers to primary students in his hometown, rather than getting his master’s degree in English literature in Birmingham, spending his weekends checking out new and upcoming bands at pretentious clubs he could only get into through the good grace of his flatmates.
Then there's the matter of Lily, which is the only reason Remus hasn’t gone mad. He had been here, briefly, for the birth of Harry, but hadn’t seen the baby since, his life in the city taking precedence over his relationship with friends who acted as family. This is a fact that Remus will likely never forgive himself for, even though Lily says she will never hold it against him. It’s in the past now. Remus will have to make up for it the best he can as of now. He even misses James, he thinks, incredulously. He hardly even knew the man all that well before the move, but he misses the gentle way James would talk to him, treating him as an old friend in an era where Remus did not have many of those. He misses James’ brotherly pats on the back, his loud voice, the way he looked at Lily.
Remus glanced out the window above his sink where he stood washing dishes, awkwardly resting his elbows on the ledge as he did so, his crutches resting against the countertop. The window displayed a scene of near-evening, as the sun set against a backdrop of dusty grey clouds. The wind whipped outside, rattling the storm windows in his living room as he dried his hands on the white t-shirt he was wearing. Slipping on an old knit sweater and a brown winter jacket, he adjusted his crutches for the short walk to James and Lily’s new house. They had offered to pick him up, but Remus said no, angry and defensive, and he steeled himself in the hope that Lily wouldn't hold it against him. It was a party in his honour, after all, he should be gratuitous, even though the mere suggestion that he was incapable could set him off easily these days.
He wasn’t the first person to arrive at the house, as a thin line of cars already trickled out of the driveway. He didn’t bother knocking, as people were congregating on the front porch steps either way, the door opened a crack letting the warm air out. Men he didn’t know littered the doorway, chatting over beers, watching small children run around the front lawn, and Remus said a curt, Thanks mate, I got it, to the man who tried to help him up the steps. Stepping inside, Remus only had time to shake the jacket from his shoulders, before a woman with striking auburn hair wrapped him up in a hug. Lily, Remus thinks, mind calming for the first time since arriving back home, the presence of the one person he loves most in life immediately putting him at ease.
She starts talking a mile a minute, and leds Remus off into the living room before introducing him to everyone they run into. He’d only been gone a year, but, he finds out quickly, that’s plenty enough time for Lily and James Potter to make a cluster of new friends. He can only hope he can remember their names.
