The Lamentable Consequences Of Venery
by Stan Brianson
Pairing: Sirius Black / Remus Lupin
Rating: "M" – for language and implied sexual interraction, both hetero- and homosexual
Disclaimer: This story is fictional – that's F-I-C-T-I-O-N. It never happened, and is not real. It is the product of my own imagination. It contains implications of male slash (that's male/male homosexual relations). If you do not like this type of content, or if you find homosexuality or its practice offensive, please click the "Back" button or close your Internet browser NOW, and do not read any further. All characters and copyrights are owned by J.K Rowling and Warner Brothers™ (AOL Time Warner), but this story is owned by me and is all my own work.
Chapter One – The Suspicion
He's working late again. That would make it only the third time this week, but the fifteenth time this month. It's April the twenty-first. I know, I know, I'm being ridiculous. It doesn't mean anything, I'm sure. It's just another emergency. But it's always a fucking emergency – aren't there any other bloody Healers in that dratted hospital? And why is it always an emergency, anyway? Why can't he be working late in order to catch up on some paperwork? I mean, everyone who has anything to do with St Mungo's knows that all the paperwork (and I mean all of the paperwork) gets palmed off onto the Junior Healers! I mean, he can't be doing all his referrals and prescriptions on duty, only to do the real medical work hours after his shift has ended, can he?
I know, I know… I'm just being paranoid… after all, I was the one who succeeded where everyone else failed, wasn't I? I became the exalted one who could truthfully call Healer Black my live-in boyfriend. And that, as I well know, is a position which a million girls would die for! And a million boys too, for that matter…
And I know that he is trying to specialise in Lycanthropic Infections, but for now he is stuck on rotation in Explosive Injuries, and that would explain perfectly why he always comes in after working late reeking of stale smoke. But lately, the smoke has stopped smelling of gunpowder and taken on the smouldering odour of cigarettes. And beer. Now tell me, what sort of Healer comes home off duty smelling of booze and fags, rather than medicines and disinfectant? To tell the truth, it's as if he's not been at work at all, but in the pub 'round the corner of the hospital…
Now Remus, stop it! This is what we call "paranoia"…
What is it, eh? Is the whole arrangement too good to be true or something? It's like I'm looking for reasons to suspect him of playing away! Is it so fucking good that I'm so petrified for some reason that it might work out and that I'll actually be – God forbid – happy for once that I'm trying to sabotage everything that I've longed for, everything that I've worked so hard to get… everything that I've sodding earned, for Chrissakes?! Goddammit, Professor R. J. Lupin! Teachers are supposed to be wise people, people with all the answers to everyone's problems!
Well… I don't suppose I'm much of a teacher, really. I just teach preschoolers, you know, nine- to eleven-year-olds. All werewolves, like me – well, it's the only group of kids I'd be safe around, apparently. Now, what I'd really like to be doing is to be teaching in Hogwarts itself, probably something like Charms or Defence Against the Dark Arts. But I suppose I'm happy enough teaching the younger ones literacy, numeracy and werewolf safety, and trying to get some of the kids accepted into Hogwarts as bright young students, eager to learn, in full knowledge and control about their lycanthropy and all that. It's not my real specialty, but it is decently-paid, honest work, and it does give me full status as a Ministry Registered Teacher. Oh, I remember Sirius being so proud of me when I qualified and got the job… He rushed out straight away and bought me my briefcase as a congratulations present. Made of lush black leather, with Prof. R. J. Lupin stamped on the side in embossed gold lettering, it made me feel like the dog's fucking nuts when I walked into my new classroom on my first day, I can tell you!
He can be dead thoughtful like that, see? Oh, he was so proud of me that day! But then again, why is he so iffy whenever I go into the hospital myself? I mean, I get the whole him not being allowed to see visitors when he's on duty in case they distract him, but even when I've been admitted after a particularly nasty full moon, he pretends that he doesn't know me at all. He says that it's so that he can visit me and take care of me – that if nobody knows that we know each other outside the hospital, he can sneak into my room on the pretext of routine procedures or taking research notes or whatnot. But the last time I was in, when I told the Mediwitch that I was living with him, she just replied coldly "Oh. I didn't realise that Healer Black had a boyfriend," and gave me such a poisonous look… and the Mediwizard on nights kept on glaring at me from the Medimage's Station and "forgetting" to give me my painkillers…
Shortly after Sirius started working late…
Oh, well. I'm sure it's nothing. Really. But then again, Sirius doesn't wear cologne to work – he's not allowed to – so why does he always seem to smell of it after he's been "working late"? And how many times after he's been "working late" has he kissed me goodnight, saying "not tonight, love. Sorry, but I'm just too knackered." Or simply come home after I've gone to sleep?
How many times can it be "nothing" before "nothing" turns into "something"?
Oh, sod it! Enough of these stupid thoughts! I'm probably over-sensitive because of the full moon approaching, anyway. I think I'll just go to bed and have a good night's sleep. In my pyjamas. No sex for him tonight – when he gets back, he'll just have to use his hand like the fucking rest of us. God knows I've had to make do with my own devices for weeks. I'm not waiting up for him just to be rejected again tonight.