*Title: As We Are
*Author: Jania Jitsu
*Disclaimer: The boys and Lily aren't mine, which is why the books are about Harry. (Wouldn't it be sweet on multiple levels if JKR wrote a series about the Marauders, and their school days, and afterward, and if they had the courtship of Lupin and Black? Awwww!)
*Feedback: jania_jitsu@yahoo.com
*Category: Strange A/U; enough fluff to make a good pillow; Ooh-la-la!-romance; a smidgen of OhmyGod!-drama and Heeheehee!-humor.
*Summary: A strange idea I got, seemingly out of nowhere: In an alternate universe, Dumbledore does not become headmaster in time for Remus Lupin to go to Hogwarts.
*Spoilers: It's possible. You are warned.
*Timeline Info: Alternate universe- Siri, Remy, and Co. are sixteen.
*Rating: It's either PG or PG-13. (Sorry, I'm not capable of writing and NC-17, be it slash, het, or Sirius and Remus.)
*Warnings: There's a slash couple and a het couple or two in here. Just thought I'd warn.
PS: Forgive me for Jack's accent. I tried.
***
Whenever you find you are on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect. --Mark Twain
** Part One ** A Chance **
He walked into the Three Broomsticks, closing the door almost silently behind him. He tried to make himself more presentable by tidying his ragged clothes and the frayed, patched-up coat that was at least and inch too short at the sleeves.
Rosmerta shouted, "Not open yet!" from where she sat; her eyes not leaving the forms she was studying.
"I-I'm sorry," a timid voice said quietly as its owner walked further into the room, "I don't mean to disturb you, but I'm here to ask about the job."
Rosmerta didn't recognize the voice, so she looked up to see who this was, exactly.
He was young-- about sixteen or so. He was lanky with longish honey-blond hair and sad eyes of an envious grey color. He was dressed rather poorly, in clothes that had been patched and repaired so many times that the wearer looked like an exceptionally clean bum.
Rosmerta recognized him by description-- other shop owners had warned her about a raggedy little boy with sweet eyes who would come in asking to work. They said he was a werewolf.
"No," she said curtly, looking back down at her papers. Honestly, did the tax forms have to be so damn bloody complicated?!
And, on top of that, the boy wasn't giving up.
"But your sign says you're hiring," he said politely, if a little stubbornly.
"I never said I wasn't," Rosmerta replied. "I am hiring, in fact. Just not you."
He looked shocked, and hurt, and very ashamed. Then... understanding. "Oh." He coughed and seemed to get control of himself. He made a little bow and said, "Well, thank you, ma'am, for your time. I'll be going, then."
"Cor, Rosy," Jack exclaimed from the doorway to the kitchen. "C'mon, now, give 'im a chance! 'E's jus' a wee lad, but I betcha 'e does well 'nough!"
"Jack," Rosmerta hissed, "you're the cook. This isn't any of your business."
"Oh, it en't, then! I'm sayin', give the lad a chance, is all. Go on. Y'don' even know 'im."
"It's all right, sir," the boy interjected. "I believe she's already heard about me, am I right, Madam?"
"I may have heard something," Rosmerta said.
She tried to keep dignity in her voice, but she was suddenly feeling sheepish for listening to gossip-talk. What would her mother have said?! Of course there was only one way to right it.
"But I like to judge things for myself," Rosmerta added haughtily. "What can you do?"
"I can cook a bit. I can serve-- I have an excellent memory. I can clean up nicely. I can probably do anything you ask, if you'll tell me how just once."
"All right, that's good. And I suppose you'll be needing those days off every month?"
He hesitated, then said, "Just the nights, ma'am, but if you don't mind too much, might I have the day after as well? I need to recover you see," he began to talk quickly, taking her silence for disapproval. "It's not even required, if you can't spare me for it, it's just better if--"
Rosmerta tried to sound harsh, but it didn't quite work. "I don't want you coming in here ill. If you need it, you can have it. Can you start today?"
He grinned broadly, and eagerly said, "Yes, ma'am, I can!"
"All right then. Now, I really should have asked this first, but what's your name, boy?"
"Lupin, ma'am. Remus Lupin."
"Stop saying 'ma'am' so much, Lupin. You make a girl feel old."
"Sorry, ma--er... sorry."
***
He was a studious little worker, Rosmerta had to admit, and so polite for a-- Rosmerta shook her head and tried to clear that thought. After the first week, she realized that it wasn't an act: Remus Lupin was every bit as sweet and earnest as he appeared to be. Rosmerta was trying to get rid of all her prejudices against werewolves, but it was rather difficult. She had been raised in a wizarding household. Wizards' children were taught that werewolves were vicious animals.
Rosmerta almost laughed at the thought of the little Lupin boy as a vicious creature. He wouldn't even let her kill the mouse they had caught in the pantry; and when she had refused to allow him to let it go outside he insisted that he keep it in a cage in his room.
Rosmerta had even come to an agreement with Albus Dumbledore-- the headmaster of Hogwarts, as of three years ago-- on what to do about Lupin's little werewolf problem. Dumbledore had set up a little house that no one could get into except through a secret passage that was protected by a Whomping Willow. He had also agreed to keep the boy in the Hogwarts infirmary the day after the full moon.
He was a great man, Dumbledore. It almost brought a tear to Rosmerta's eye, and she wasn't one for crying.
***
Remus smiled as he walked away with the order at table six. After delivering it to the kitchens he brought drinks to table four and began to clean up table three. He picked up his tip, ecstatic at the knowledge of the bronze and gold in his apron pocket. (He traded all his Sickles with Madam Rosmerta for Knuts.)
He was doing so well here, after only a month! He had been able to afford new-used Muggle pants, a new-used shirt, and new-used shoes-- all of which fit him nicely-- from a Muggle store called "Goodwill" that his mother had always shopped from before.
Remus broadened his smile a little with the effort of not crying. He would not-- WOULD NOT-- think about Mum and Da. Not now.
He could almost hear his father's voice in his head saying, 'Buck up, Re, it's not forever. Tomorrow is another day, but you've still got to get through this one first.'
He could almost hear his mother's soft, gentle voice: 'Now, Remus, remember that the pleasure of holding your head high the whole year is well paid for by certain times which, on occasion, must be suffered through.'
So he held his head high and brought table six their order, even though his parents would never know the difference.
***
Remus went to bed that night after closing time. Before turning out the light he pulled from the pocket of his coat a photograph.
It was an old black-and-white photograph, and very weathered. In it there were two people: a man and a woman, getting married. They were walking down the isle as the picture was taken. When they saw that someone was looking at them they waved happily. The man gave his new wife a little schnoogle; she laughed and blushed, continuing to wave.
Remus smiled and said goodnight to the only picture he had left of his parents.
***
End Part One.
***
End Notes: Dunno if they have Goodwill in the UK. I don't know much about it except that poor people (or anyone, really, but it's meant for poor people) can get used clothes very cheap. Remus's mother talking in his head is a modified quote from Casti. Dunno who that is, but it's a good quote.
Also, sorry that there was no Siri yet, but he'll be coming in for part two.