A/N: Just a gift fic.

for rent: mustard yellow jumper (charity case)

AlwaysPadfoot

For Lily

who asked for Wolfstar

Remus scribbled out what he had written again. Nothing was inspiring him; nothing he wrote was good enough.

He rubbed his eyes, tossed his pen onto his notepad, and nursed his mug of hot chocolate between his hands. Remus had thought that getting out of the house might help, but this was the third week of that approach and the fourteenth coffee shop he'd tried sitting in. This was the noisiest cafe of the few he'd tried this week. Outside, the streets were filled with people; their arms were laden with shopping bags as they rushed back and forth on a street illuminated by Christmas lights.

Remus was glad he was inside. Picking up his pen again, he tapped it against the pad and closed his eyes in thought. If he could just come up with a likable character, then maybe the plot and everything else would come to him.

His eyes drifted back to the window, gazing out into a seemingly neverending crowd, until they found an outlier — a man in fancy dress.

At a guess, Remus suspected that he was a student, because no self-respecting man would wander round at this time of year without a coat. Especially not when he was only wearing pink tights, a green tutu, and fluorescent yellow top. The crowd seemed to part for him. Remus watched as he weaved through them, attracting gazes from almost everyone, and the man headed straight for the door of the coffee shop Remus was in.

Well, this was a turn of events he hadn't been expecting. Remus jotted some notes down; this could be his inspiration and as a consequence, Remus's eyes never left the man in fancy dress.

His skin was pale and he had his arms folded across his body, his phone clutched in his hand. Since the man had no pockets it became obvious all he currently had was the clothes on his back and his phone. Remus wasn't close enough to hear what the man ordered, but it wasn't hard to miss the look on the barista's face. He scribbled down a few more phrases in his notebook: laddering neon pink tights, eyebrow raised in derision, and the confident extroverted smile a stark contrast to the subdued body language.

Remus has just finished scribbling as the man received his drink and cast his gaze around the room for a place to sit. The only table left was one beside Remus which people had chosen to stack their finished mugs on. The man sat on the edge of one of the chairs and clutched his hot drink.

He looked so cold. His lips were tinted blue and his body had an obvious tremble. Remus looked at the coat and scarf beside him, and then the multiple layers he had on and bit his lip.

He tugged his jumper over his head and walked over to the man. 'Here, you should take this.'

The man looked up at him through grey eyes and shook his head. 'It's okay; I'm fine. I'm not even cold.'

'Don't be proud,' Remus insisted, holding the jumper out, 'you're turning blue.'

He looked as though he was considering saying no again, but to Remus's relief, the man took it and spared him the embarrassment of being rejected. Remus held his drink as the man pulled his jumper on, looking relieved that someone had shown him an act of kindness, instead of just sitting at their tables whispering about his outfit.

'Thank you,' he said eventually, 'I owe you.'

'Don't worry about it,' Remus responded, handing him his drink back, 'come sit over here — it's next to the radiator.'

The man half-smiled. 'I guess I can't say no to that.'

Remus felt a little proud of himself, for two reasons: now, maybe, he'd get to hear why the boy was dressed like an 80s dance club spat him out, and also, Remus had done his good deed for the day.

The man introduced himself as Sirius as he sat opposite Remus. He suspected they weren't that far apart in age, especially as Sirius informed him he was a 3rd year journalism student. It struck Remus that maybe the two of them might not have been so different had Remus been able to afford to go to university. Although, Sirius seemed to be deep in student culture; Remus wasn't sure he would have been.

'So, I mean, the obvious question is: why are you dressed like that at three in the afternoon?' Remus asked.

Sirius raised an eyebrow as he sipped at his coffee. 'Well, I went to this insane themed party, got spiked, woke up in some house I didn't recognise and then walked here — took me three and a half hours to get here.'

Remus searched Sirius's eyes for any hint he was lying, considering he'd said it so nonchalantly, but found nothing.

'You're kidding?'

'Fucking froze my arse off walking here.' Sirius gulped down the remainder of his coffee. 'I'll tell you, it brings a whole new meaning to the term blue balls.'

Remus nearly choked on a mini-marshmallow from his hot chocolate as Sirius grinned from ear to ear. At the very least, Remus was sure that Sirius was a lot warmer now than he had been; he wasn't turning blue any longer. He had been a little concerned that Sirius might actually crash — the caffeine rush probably wasn't doing him any favours.

'I should probably go find a train back to uni,' Sirius sighed, 'and I should give you your jumper back.'

Remus shook his head. 'Not a chance — post it to me.'

Again Sirius looked reluctant, but instead of arguing, he took Remus's pen and receipt and scribbled a number on the back. 'This is my number; just send me your address and I'll make sure it gets back to you. Here I'll add you on Facebook too - Remus Lupin, right?"

Remus was about to ask how he knew when he realised his writing journal was engraved. Sirius scrolled through his phone, which was still attached to Remus's charger, and then made a face.

'Are you the one with the cat?'

Remus nodded. 'I can't imagine there are many Remus Lupin's on Facebook?'

'There isn't,' Sirius said, 'I just wanted to be very sure — don't worry, you're still unique.'

'Says the man in the neon outfit,' Remus thought to himself as Sirius gave him a wink.

His phone lit up on the table and Remus automatically picked it up and accepted the friend request from Sirius. He noted that Sirius's profile picture was one of him, covered in paint, on another guy's shoulders.

'Well, thanks again for letting me borrow your jumper,' Sirius said.

'It's okay; I was worried you might get hypothermia.'

'I feel as though the flu is unavoidable now,' Sirius shrugged, 'but no sweat, I'll be fine. Good luck with your writing; I expect a signed copy when you make the big time.'

Remus laughed. 'You got it; good luck with your degree.'

Sirius muttered something along the lines of 'I'm going to need it' and then unplugged his phone as he stood. With one last reminder to Remus to send his address over messenger, Sirius left the table with a cheery 'see ya, Remus.' When he reached the door, he raised a hand in farewell, which Remus reciprocated, and went outside to brave the cold. Sirius pulled the sleeves of Remus's jumper over his hands and folded his arms across his chest.

He didn't disappear into the crowd easily with the pink tights on show, but when he did, everything felt just that little bit duller than it had before.

Remus bet himself ten pounds he'd never see that jumper again.

An Extract from Remus Lupin's debut novel 'The Dog Star'

As it turned out, I owed myself ten pounds, because Sirius Black sent me my jumper back and then some.

I'd sent him my address via the contact he gave me, but received no response. I didn't press it, after all, it wasn't a particularly new jumper; it was actually a mustard yellow one I had found in a charity shop. Then, about eleven days after our meeting, I received a package at my home in Wrexham.

I didn't think it odd, after all, my mother and I regularly ordered items to the house. Admittedly, I wasn't sure what I had bought, nor what would come in such a large box.

What I hadn't been expecting had arrived — the jumper I had leant to a man in need on a cold December afternoon. That wasn't all, as I mentioned before, Sirius Black had included several other items in the box. They were all wrapped up in Christmas paper and I remember immediately thinking that I couldn't possibly accept this.

Everything was made distinctly clearer upon reading the note included in the box, and whilst I could include the whole letter, I don't think it's necessary when just the one line summed it up.

"Your jumper saved my life."

As it turned out, Sirius Black had gotten hypothermia on his journey back to university, losing consciousness on a ricky cross country service that had no heating. If he'd gotten any colder, then maybe I never would have got my jumper back. If he'd gotten any colder, I would never have written this book. Because if he'd gotten any colder, I never would have seen Sirius Black again, and our story would have ended here — on page twenty-eight.

But as it so happens, this isn't the end of the story.

Not by a long shot.

Word Count: 1612 — not inc. notes, titles, or ANs.