The wolf was always there. Lingering. Waiting at the back of things.
Remus took himself to be a fairly competent wizard at charms. He had scored highest on them in his OWLS. Now, seated in a foul-smelling alley in London, he was bent double in concentration, trying to charm a button back onto his nice green jacket. To call anything of his belongings "nice" was perhaps an overstatement, but this particular jacket had been given to him four years before by his friend Sirius.
"Prospero dalgum," he muttered, waving his wand carefully.
The button left his hand and flew to the correct place on his jacket, rested a moment, then tumbled to the ground. "Merlin's sake!" He cursed.
He plunged his hand downward and scooped up the button for the umpteenth time. He could imagine Flitwick's expression of dismay. Then again, homemaking wizardry had never been a particular focus at Hogwarts.
"Prospero dalgum," he spoke again. Then once the button had arrived on his jacket he swiftly followed this with "Perminentia!" and a quick jab with his wand. This time it held.
There was nothing he could do about the way the collar threaded and the soft corduroy had lost it's meshing at his elbows. There were charms to conceal them, of course, but he didn't have the luxury of access to a library.
Straightening he raised his lanky form it its full six feet. Best he could do.
The first business he entered in Diagon Alley was a bakery shop. In this, he felt he could do very well – perhaps he would even be allowed to take home old bread.
He waited for a young couple ahead of him to finish up their transaction. The man was about his own age, but taller. The woman had one infant in her arms and a second at arms' length, trying to keep him reeled in. All four had electrifying red hair.
"No, no," the red haired man said to the witch behind the counter. "I'll have just the one loaf this week. We're having my uncle to stay next month."
The witch was pleasant and smiling, spoke some consoling words, and took his coin for bread. Remus shifted suddenly. Would it be rude to ask for employment without buying anything? His hands, buried in the pockets of his pants, were suddenly very aware that he had no coins at all.
"Can I help you?"
It was too late to back out of it now, and he needed the job. Remus cleared his throat softly and peered at her carefully, feeling every bit without a Knut to his name.
"Um, ma'am, I – I was wondering if you would be interested in hiring somebody. You know, to work. I can learn just about anything." And in a stroke of panic he added, "I scored really well on my OWLS."
"Oh," Her pleasant smile faded swiftly. "Well, I don't think Mr. Wartleby is hiring. We really don't have any extra work right now."
"Uh, ok. Well, if you can think of anything – "he caught himself because of course there was no contact information he could leave. His current address was beneath a muggle bridge, just outside London. "Maybe I'll drop by again sometime," he managed, and made quickly for an exit.
Once back on the street, Remus had the strangest feeling in the pit of his stomach, like it was boiling over. He wondered if it was the wolf – trying to get out. The wolf was always with him.
