Characters: Remus, Sirius
Summary
: There's a dog asleep on his porch. GoF fic.
Pairings
: None
Author's Note
: This is just a brief oneshot; it takes place at the close of Goblet of Fire.
Disclaimer
: I don't own Harry Potter.


It already feels a bit like summer in Cornwall, even if it has been raining a great deal, and the nights are cool to the point of being just a touch chill. Most wizards simply Apparate home after long days, but Remus Lupin is not like most wizards, and he does not Apparate the entire way—he likes to walk the last two miles or so in the darkness, hear the sea booming off the cliffs from about half a mile away.

Most wizards getting home so late would be exhausted from a long day of work, but in this also Remus Lupin is not like most wizards. He is right exhausted, but exhausted from a very long day of trying to find work, and, once again, failing.

There used to be a day when Remus didn't have to tell prospective employers that he was a werewolf. That was, of course, before Dolores Umbridge got it in her head to 'reform', and passed a law requiring that all werewolves inform prospective employers of their condition, on pains of heavy fines.

So Remus can not hide it.

And employers all say the same thing.

Sorry, can't take you. No one'd buy from me, if they knew.

He can't say he blames them.

Even if he did hide it at first, he'd be found out eventually when he called in sick for the three days and nights when the moon is at its fullest for enough months. Then, Remus would be made to pay the fine.

He can't afford to lie. He can barely afford to eat; God knows he hasn't got the Galleons to lie.

Remus can only think of a few people who would knowingly take on a werewolf. And he knows, quite well, that he doesn't want to work for them.

So it's another night of coming home, knowing he has another day of scrounging up money any way he can to look forward to.

The night is quiet, and somehow very heavy; Remus isn't entirely sure why. The moon is, mercifully, waning, a slow, milky mist over it; no longer his bane as it was just a few days ago.

And when he comes to the small, dilapidated house he started to inhabit after his parents died, Remus sees a dark mass slouched on the porch, in front of the door.

Remus stops in his tracks, going entirely still, and stares at the mass of shadows, not entirely sure what he's seeing.

Then, he realizes. And his mouth goes dry.

There's a dog asleep on his porch. A very familiar, large black dog, ribs showing just slightly through its coarse fur.

If Remus thought he felt tired before, his shoulders slump in utter exhaustion now.

When he gets to his porch, and draws his wand to undo the locks on the door, the dog wakes.

It looks at him with eyes that chill Remus to the bones. Sad eyes. Heavy eyes. It wags its tail weakly, thumping against the wood of the porch, and then with infinite weariness pulls itself to his feet.

"Sirius." Remus addresses the dog quietly. "You never bring good news. Do I even want to hear what you have for me to hear now?"

The look in the dog's eyes assures Remus that, no, he doesn't want to hear. Sirius-Padfoot really is a Grim in a way; he never brings good news.

Remus waves his wand to undo the locks, and opens the door into the dark, quiet home of his, and the dog lopes in as though he lives there, heading for a slouching couch in the shadows to flop down on and sleep.

Remus looks at him and sighs.

He'll hear what Sirius has to say in the morning.

He knows he isn't going to like it.