Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Chapter 1: The Reluctant Worker

The weather these past few days had been anything but pleasant. Rainclouds had been rolling in from god knows where (probably Russia), ruining Sirius Black's first "vacation" (which in a humble manner had been suggested by his co-workers after a particularly unwarranted hissy-fit in the middle of the hallway) since he began working at that godforsaken place they call university. Fleeting moments of sunrays peeking through the clouds had been enough to rouse Sirius from his comatose state, but not enough to make him rise from his hunched position over a dreadfully boring book he'd found underneath the sofa after spring-cleaning. So far he'd read about two pages, but considering the fact that Sirius never read a book unless it contained at least one picture of something in vivid colours on every page (not including papers about sub-spaces. He loved sub-spaces), it almost measured up to having climbed a very, very high mountain. Like Kilimanjaro. And disregarding the fact that vivid colours seemed to be something Sirius should be careful with in the future, nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary in the apartment.

Sirius slammed the boring old book close and put it on the kitchen table. He looked around his apartment and started fidgeting, a habit he'd picked up from his aunt, possibly after spending too much time in her kitchen listening to her mourn the premature death of her cat Moony. The little bastard had been a real tosser if you asked Sirius, but his aunt seemed to like meek creatures in general (otherwise he suspected he would've been much less of a nervous wreck and possibly without what might just be a post-traumatic stress disorder).

The fidgeting soon turned into what could only be described as heavy groping of a Venus statue conveniently placed in front of a bookshelf, making it impossible for him to reach those other boring old books he knew were lined up in alphabetical order, just waiting to be devoured and made sweet, sweet book-love to. Sirius shivered at the thought of even opening such a literary monster as his hands fondled her pert breasts. When he realised exactly what he was doing, however, he hastily retracted his hands and shoved them into his deep pockets.

"God, I need to get out," he mumbled.

He did however know that this was only wistful thinking. He was never, ever in a million years going to get out of this rotten, stinking apartment. Or well, in two days when his "vacation" was over, he had to go outside, but not any sooner. He hoped as the phone rang. As a result of being a bit jumpy he flew a foot or two out of sheer chock before regaining enough of his wits to actually answer.

"Who is it and what do you want?!" he virtually yelled into the speaker.

Had Alastair "Mad-Eye" Moody been any more of a sociopath than he already was the beginning of this conversation might just have ended in what some might call a failure, but what Sirius simply referred to as testing the boundaries of his acting skills. However, as luck had it, Mad-Eye simply shrugged Sirius' newly-developed answer-technique off his mighty shoulder and began by clearing his throat.

"It's me," he simply said assuming that Sirius knew who he was by his mere voice. Which he did. "And I've been busy; you see Mr. Black, I regret to inform you that your… vacation has to be cut off a bit earlier than expected. Mr Potter has been food-poisoned by god knows what and we need someone to fill in for his lectures."

"Oh…" Sirius said, "What lectures?"

"Statistics."

"Oh…" Sirius, yet again, said sounding positively distraught. "You do know that my line of interest lie in the algebraic field, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Mad-eye said sounding irritated, "But there is no one else but you that can do this at the moment. And it probably won't be more than a day or two. Say two, just to be sure."

"Ah… Well, I might—"

"Excellent! I'll send you the schedule right away. Have a nice day now!" He said and hung up. Only the monotone sound of the phone filled Sirius' ears as his shoulders fell to the ground.

"Ah, why me?!" he exclaimed and slammed the phone down. He grabbed a candle from beside it and threw it in the wall in front of him. It fell onto the carpet with a thud. "Bloody Potter and his useless immune system!"

A second or two and a stubbed toe later Sirius sat down in his couch cursing vividly. "Bloody stupid arse piss shit cow table from hell!"

He grimaced before picking up his laptop from the table from hell and opened it. He stared long and hard at the screen as the computer awoke from its hibernation to yet another dull day. He hated his laptop. It was stupid and he could never figure out how to do things on it. Simple things really; like install a program or write a document. Maybe he was just an idiot. He briefly wondered why he had gotten it in the first place. "Overpriced piece of shit…" he mumbled and opened his mail.

There it was. Alastair Moody had sent it already. At the very top of the endless pile of unread mail from people he probably had met at some point in his life but didn't remember. The god damned schedule. Fuck.

"AAAAAHHHGGHH!" he growled form deep within his throat and slammed the laptop shut. He tossed it on the couch beside him and fell back, hands covering his sad, sad eyes.

The phone rang again.

Sirius glared at it for a second or two before picking up. "WHAT?!" he yelled into the speaker.

"Er… sorry." Said the person on the other end, "I was just wondering if this was Professor Black?"

Sirius stared into the bookshelf at one particular book. 1984. Twenty-four years of misery ago. "Yes, and this is?"

"Sorry if I disturbed you, but I'm taking your class, Algebraic analysis 2, and I was wondering if you could upload yesterdays lecture If that wouldn't be too much trouble that is. I mean, I've been e-mailing you like five times already and I really, really need it now so I can study for the exam and—"

"Alright, alright. Jesus kid, relax." Sirius said and blinked a few times. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand and sighed deeply. "I only have it on paper, sorry."

Sirius sighed. How the hell did this student get his number? Was it really normal for a student to call his teacher? He, as sure as the sky was blue, had never done such a thing. Well, never mind that, he thought, times are changing. He wouldn't be surprised if said student already had friend requested him on Facebook or something equally stupid.

"But which chapter did it cover?"

"Eh… ten? Eleven? It was about vectors and that stuff I think. Can't you ask someone else?"

"Like who?"

"Someone else must be taking the class I assume; or was all the students yesterday just a figment of my imagination perhaps?"

"Well…" the student on the other end said tentatively, "I mean… I just wanted it from someone I could trust I guess."

"And you can trust me? The obviously confused teacher who doesn't even remembers what he fruitlessly tried to teach young people like you the day before?"

"Sorry…" the student mumbled.

"You know what? Come by my office tomorrow afternoon and I'll give you the notes. Okay?"

"Alright."

"Good, I'll see you tomorrow then. Oh, and I didn't think I caught your name."

"Remus. It's Remus."

"Right Remus. Bye then."

"Bye Professor."


A/N: I've always loved Harry Potter so I figured I'd do something I've always missed; namely making Sirius and Remus fall deeply in love. Or well, something akin to that.