A/N - With a great deal of gratitude for J. K. Rowling, who provided us with some wonderful characters to play with (strictly not for profit, of course).
This was - like so many fanfictions - inspired by a combination of things. One was my occasional frustration in finding something good to read - that I hadn't read before - without too many glaring errors - although I have to admit as I was writing this that I am not without sin and therefore in no position to cast stones, so if you have done any of the things noted in the story, know that I have both read many such stories that I liked, and written my share of mistakes as well, so please take it in that spirit - or at least with a good sense of humor. I'm currently in the midst of editing a long overdue update for another story, and I needed a break (please note the spelling!). (Updated note - fixed another OOPS and resaved - but truly, I did warn you!)
The other major inspiration is one ubiquitous to fanfiction - What if ...?
If you'd like to know what is missing in that sentence, well, I don't want to spoil the surprise. If you haven't figured it out by the end, think really hard! ;-)
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When his wife came downstairs, Remus Lupin - not that he was called that much anymore - was surrounded by large stacks of parchment. There were piles of varying heights everywhere - not merely on the desk, but on the floor, the settee, and even resting on top of the books lining the voluminous shelves.
"What are you doing?" she asked, in a commendably even tone considering the havoc he had wreaked in her office.
"Looking for something to read," he told her, quite matter-of-fact about it as he waved his wand and sent a sheaf of paper flying over to the top of a stack in the corner near her French books.
"You're in a room full of books," she pointed out, just as another sheaf of paper appeared on the desk in front of him.
"Yes, but I've read most of them."
She frowned. This was undoubtedly true - they were both voracious readers when they could find the time - but something seemed to be off.
The sheaf of paper he had just conjured went winging over to rest on the settee, and another appeared to replace it.
She decided to investigate, and made her way carefully over to where Remus was seated. The piles of paper were difficult to navigate. When she could finally peer over his shoulder, her eyes widened.
"You're reading fanfiction!"
"I think it would be more accurate to say that I'm trying to read fanfiction." He shook his head sadly, and sent a sheaf of papers over to join a stack resting on top of her unabridged dictionary. "I'm having a hard time finding what I want."
"What are all these stacks of paper?"
"I'm sorting," he explained. "In order to find something to read, I have to eliminate everything I don't want to read." Okay, that actually made some sense. "I'm putting the stories in piles categorized by problem."
"Such as?"
"Well, take this one, for example. It was written by someone who doesn't know how to handle verb tenses. Just look," he directed pointing out the relevant passage. "A condition contrary to fact, and this author used the imperfect subjunctive in the protasis, then switched to the pluperfect subjunctive for the apodosis! Pitiful." He sent it flying over to one of the piles on the settee.
"I'm not sure I should admit this, but I didn't know that myself," she confessed. Remus' brows rose, and she added hastily, "I know the second part should have been 'would be' instead of 'would have been' but I didn't know the name of the problem." Her husband shrugged this off.
"At least you knew it was wrong."
"True. But unless you're an english teacher, it is a fairly subtle -" She broke off to read what Remus was holding up for her. "Okay, that's a bit more -"
"Isn't anyone teaching homonyms?" he demanded rhetorically. "You do not 'brake' someone's heart, or 'brake' up with them, or take a 'brake' from your studying. The word 'break' is a completely different word - not at all synonymous."
"Honey, some of this was probably written by young people who are still students -'
"That doesn't mean I want to read it."
"Fair enough. Do each of these piles represent a different type of grammatical problem?"
"No, only the ones on the floor and one of the piles on the settee. The subtler mistakes don't deserve to be treated the same way," he conceded. "The others are either cliched or simply annoying."
"Cliched?"
"It's not the ideas that I object to as much as the fact that so many authors re-use them without adding anything of their own. Do you have any idea how many fanfictions say, 'Sirius thought Remus was beautiful. In fact, he was in love with the werewolf. This is why Sirius had become an animagus, and why his form was a dog. But he couldn't tell Remus because Remus was his friend, and he couldn't bear to lose that friendship. James knew Sirius was in love with Remus, so he locked the two of them in a closet. Sirius couldn't hide it any more, so he told Remus that he was in love with him. He was surprised to find that Remus loved him too, but Remus was afraid because he was a werewolf and werewolves mate for life. Sirius said he wanted to be Remus' mate, and they kissed. It was the best kiss ever, and when James came to let them out he saw them kissing and smiled because his friends were happy.'? If you'd like to count them, they're in that pile over there."
His wife appeared to be dumbfounded. "That's just so - "
"I know. But telling it doesn't convey the full horror of the experience of reading it. For example, most of the authors would have spelled bear B-A-R-E when saying that he couldn't bear to lose my friendship."
She giggled.
"It's not funny," he protested.
"Sorry." A thought occurred to her. "Are you bothered by the idea of you and Sirius?"
"It could be worse," he shrugged. "According to these I've been involved with everyone from Severus, Arthur, and Lucius to Harry, Ron, and Draco. Oh, and there are a lot that have me with James - apparently he was only consoling himself with Lily."
"He loved her," she objected.
"Not as much as he loved me - or she loved me - or I loved her, depending on what you read."
"And the kids, well, they can't really think you would - "
"Oh, yes, they do," he retorted grimly, sending another story off to the appropriate stack. "Professional ethics isn't a big theme in these stories - unless I need to suffer a lot. But most of them seem to think I've only been waiting until I wouldn't get arrested. Or Sirius and I invite Harry to live with us so we can start molesting him - which he is always happy about, if you believe the authors. Or he has been waiting to start seducing one of us." He paused to stare over at one of the piles. "For some reason, those stories always have a lot of double entendres about wands and broomsticks."
"Why do they think you're gay?"
"Because I hugged Sirius in Prisoner of Azkaban."
"He was one of your closest friends for years, you hadn't seen him for more than a decade, and you'd just discovered that he was innocent," she pointed out, sounding rather bemused. "What has to happen before you're allowed to hug him without being gay? I would have thought that those particular circumstances merited a hug even if both the men were very heterosexual."
"Maybe they just like pairing people up," Remus speculated. "There are a limited number of characters to work with, and a lot of them are men."
She ran quickly through the female characters in her mind. Admittedly, they were in relatively short supply. "Well, Harry is the main character," she said aloud. "Hermione and Ginny are both there -"
"Oh, I end up with both of them quite often," he said casually. "Also Tonks. And Lily, but we've already covered that. Minerva. Narcissa Malfoy - "
"That's really pushing it."
"Well, as I said, there aren't a lot of female characters in the books."
"Hermione and Ginny?" she repeated in disbelief.
"Not at the same time," he assured her. Then he frowned, and added a qualification, "At least, not that I've seen so far."
"Yes, but they're young enough to be your children."
"Either that doesn't matter because they're really mature - sometimes because of the war - or a time-turner is involved. They fall down the stairs wearing it and end up meeting me when I was in school, but the device is broken - or lost - so they have to stay and fall in love with me. And sometimes they teach."
"Just how many flights of stairs are they supposed to have fallen down?"
"It's not usually that specific, dear."
"That time-turner sends you back one hour per turn," she pointed out dryly. "So, for twenty years - at twenty four hours per day - three hundred and sixty five days per year," she watched Remus use his wand to perform the calculation in the air over the desk. "More than one hundred and seventy five thousand turns," she pointed out when he finished. "Give or take - but that's still a ridiculous number of turns for tumbling down a flight of stairs. Or twenty."
"I don't think the authors are big on math." He sent another sheaf of paper sailing across the room.
"Can't they make up their own?" she asked after watching his methodical sorting for a few more minutes. "Characters, that is."
"Well, most of the time those characters end up being the author's alter ego - it's really pretty obvious - but some of them do try," he conceded.
His wife winced. "Why would you ever put yourself in a story?"
Remus set the papers down and looked at her. She had the grace to blush.
"Well, that's different," she protested. "Nobody knows I'm writing about anyone real. Besides, I've been very careful to keep Harry as the focus. I haven't even put in very much about you at all."
"Writing about yourself would be weird, but it's all right to write about your -"
"You know what I mean," she said hastily. "And as I said before, nobody knows any of you are real." She looked around her office and sighed. "Did you find anything to read?"
"Not yet."
"Don't you have patients to see tomorrow?" she prompted. Amber eyes met hers knowingly.
"Are you trying to distract me?"
"I'm trying to get you to come to bed," she protested. Remus grinned. "All right, yes," she admitted.
"Good," he rose to his feet, still lithe in his forties and despite the gray in his hair. There was an impish hint of mischief in his eyes and his smile, and she marveled that he had kept that through everything he had endured. He vanished the stacks of paper with a single wave of his wand and crossed the room to slip an arm around her waist. He listened to the silence for a moment. "Someone seems to be asleep," he noted.
"All of them - even the youngest." They started up the stairs together. "I was beginning to think she was never going to sleep through the night."
"Had to happen eventually."
They reached the landing.
"So," she began, her voice low, "are you sorry I kept you from your reading?"
Her husband shook his head, and tucked a wayward blond strand behind one of her ears. His voice was husky when he spoke.
"I think I can wait to finish reading the 'original' after you write it." He lowered his head and kissed her, and she melted against him. "Besides," he teased when he raised his head at last, "I already know what happens."
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A little on the short side - for me, at least - but feedback and reviews are always appreciated!
