Disclaimer: Remus and Filius belong to J.K. Rowling
Author's Note: This was written in accordance with the "Gay Bar Challenge" on LiveJournal's SB/RL GloveSmack. Required items used: the first line, someone wearing a ridiculous amount of leather, facial hair, Guinness (1,000 words exactly)
Just Call Me 'Fil'
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised to see you here," said a high-pitched voice from the end of the bar. The voice was familiar, although Remus didn't place it immediately. He looked toward the voice and saw a new arrival perched on a stool at the far end of the bar.
"Professor Flitwick!" Remus wiped his hand on a bar towel as he went over to shake the tiny wizard's hand. "What a pleasant surprise to see you again."
"It's a pleasure to see you too, Remus, although I had hoped that the next time I'd see you that I'd find you gainfully employed in a profession better suited to your abilities. However, as I was saying, I'm not surprised to find that you've taken refuge in the Muggle world."
"I thought you were saying that you weren't surprised to see me in this little section of the Muggle world," Remus replied with a sweeping glance that took in the exclusively male clientele of Chester's.
Flitwick chuckled. "Well, perhaps that too. You were discrete, but--" He chuckled again.
"But you were observant."
"I once saw you kissing someone in the stacks of the library."
Remus felt his back stiffen at the reference to "someone." Flitwick was trying to spare his feelings by leaving Sirius unnamed, but Remus knew that he had to be the one the professor meant. He was, after all, the only person he'd been involved with at school. However, the professor didn't necessarily know that.
"What can I get for you, Professor?"
"A half-pint of Guinness, please. More than that's too much for me."
Remus returned to the taps. One aspect of the wizarding world that he had not missed was being reminded of Sirius. The reminders and the whispers, far more than the difficulty in finding steady employment, had driven him away.
"Lupin? Wasn't he a friend of the Potters?"
"And of Sirius Black. The only the only one of Black's friends he didn't kill. A bit suspicious if you ask me."
"Lupin? I heard he used to live with Sirius Black. You can't convince me that he wasn't in it with him."
"He must have suspected at least."
Remus allowed the Guinness to settle into its layers of mink-brown liquid and tan foam while he poured a gin and tonic for one of the "leather twins." They were semi-regulars. One appeared to be Anglo-Indian, the other pure Celt. Their body language, never out of touching distance of one another, as much as their matching clothes--one was in black leather from shoulder to toe (red chevrons on the back of the jacket) and the other was in red leather (black chevrons)--proclaimed their couple status. And yet, they eyed the other men in the bar with the predatory air of those seeking companionship for the night. It had taken Remus three nights of seeing them hunt to realize that they were in search of someone to share for the night.
He topped off the Guinness with a final kiss of tap to foam and brought the glass to the white bearded man waiting patiently. "Here you are, Professor."
"No need to be so formal, my dear boy. In Muggle company, I use the name 'Fil.'"
"Fil," Remus repeated obediently, wondering if it would feel strange to call one of his teachers by his first name, or at least a shortened form of such. He found it didn't feel strange at all. He was no longer a schoolboy; Hogwarts was now seven years in his past. "Seven years," he mused aloud. "I've been out of Hogwarts for as long as I was there."
"That is a milestone," Flitwick agreed as he raised his glass. "I'll drink to it for you."
Remus had to hurry away to attend to a few more patrons at the bar. He glanced over at the Professor occasionally and saw that he was watching the crowd. He didn't watch with the predatory air of the leather twins, but with the attitude of a spectator at a sedate sport or an artistic performance. He watched the crowd but wasn't a part of it. It rather reminded him of the way James would watch the crowd when he accompanied Sirius and Remus to places like this.
"Sweet Merlin, would you look at that one!" James exclaimed.
"Poofs on display for Prongs's amusement," Sirius said as he leaned his head on Remus's shoulder.
"At least explain to me why a bloke would dress like a bird if he's trying to attract a bloke who likes blokes?"
Remus suddenly felt acutely annoyed by Flitwick's presence. He'd managed to go almost all day without thinking about Sirius and his murdered friends. Now Flitwick showed up, and he couldn't stop thinking about them. More importantly, if Flitwick wasn't here for the obvious reason, why was he here? Had Dumbledore tracked down his pet werewolf and sent Flitwick to check on him?
"So what brings you here, Professor?" Remus asked with a deliberate smile.
"The Three Broomsticks is an excellent establishment, but not a place that men such as we can find companionship."
"If you don't mind me saying, this crowd seems a bit young for you."
"Younger--and taller," Flitwick replied with a giggle. "But I find that a crowd like this one usually contains at least one 'collector.'"
"Collector?"
"A man who wants to be able to say that he's tried everything at least once. Such men usually decide that sex with a dwarf is something they want to add to their collection. Of course, I'm using the Muggle definition of dwarf."
"Of course," Remus agreed. He felt chastened for imagining that Flitwick's presence had had anything to do with him. "Or?" As he returned to work, he couldn't help but wonder if Flitwick might be a collector. "One werewolf--check."
--Written June 2004