Disclaimer: Well, the last I heard Harry Potter was not mine, but I'm so amazing that I could have acquired ownership without knowing it!
Remus Lupin and the Day of Servitude
Chapter One
"You two got another detention?" I am astounded, though I realise that I should not be.
"Yeah." James shrugs, unconcerned, and flops onto the nearest common room settee. He calls across the expanse of lush carpet, "Hey, Evans, if you come up to the Astronomy Tower with me tonight you can –"
"Shove you off?" she retorts hopefully, not looking up from her the long roll of parchment on which her assignment is written.
James and I both shake our heads. James because he is attempting to pretend her perpetual rejections do not bruise his ego; me because I know he is going about his pursuit of the studious redhead improperly. Not that I have a right to be judgmental since James, not me, is responsible for the success of my own love life.
"What's the detention for?" As opposed to my appalled reaction, Peter sounds impressed. He's keen to hear about the adventure instead of unsuccessfully attempting to copy my essay. I never hesitate to assist with my comrades' assignments as long as they request it, but I have a problem with them merely copying because it fails to prove that they have learned anything.
"Jynxing Snape." Sirius is much more interested in his task of bodily lifting me from the squashy armchair, sitting down, and placing me on his lap than answering Peter's question.
"Again?" I put forth my best efforts to ignore the stares Sirius and I are receiving by shifting my focus to James. "What did he do to you this time?" Sometimes, they pick on Snape without provocation, however, he often randomly uses one of his formidable Dark hexes on James in the corridors. Despite the fact that I disapprove of their fighting, I do not expect my friends to endure such treatment without retaliating.
"Not me." James takes out his scroll of Quidditch plays to work on since he's captain this year. I admire how James applies one hundred percent of himself to everything that he does. Even if the impressive will power is also exploited by mischief making, such dedication is rare and irreplaceable in a friend. "He said stuff to Sirius it's not his business to know about."
"Oh." The mild annoyance I originally felt about the situation immediately dissipates. My head tilts upwards to regard the boy whose lap I occupy. "About your family?"
"No." Sirius' hot breath tickles my ear as he whispers, "He called me a werewolf's bitch." Anytime Snape makes allusions to my condition Sirius loses his temper because it was his fault that Snape found out. I've forgiven Sirius, though Sirius has yet to forgive himself. "Dunno why Old Sluggie was annoyed when he found out what we'd done to him. It was no worse than if Snivelly passed out from dehydration."
I regard him doubtfully. "Dehydration?"
"It's when someone gets really thirsty," he explains wisely.
"Thanks for clearing that up for me," I say sarcastically before continuing quietly, "You shouldn't sink to a level that's beneath you for my sake."
"Who said anything about you? It was an insult about my masculinity." He grins to lighten the mood. Sirius never feels comfortable acting…serious. A comedic, carefree nature is the defense mechanism he developed to survive his prejudice relatives. "Everyone knows you're my bitch, not the other way around."
"Actually, everyone doesn't know, and I'd prefer to keep it that way." I extract myself from my boyfriend. For the benefit of the onlookers, I pleasantly remark in a normal volume, which admittedly is not much louder, "You know, Sirius, if you wanted my chair all you had to do was ask." The other students chortle while I reseat adjacent to James. "How do you plan on finishing your homework if you have more punishments?"
"We don't." James and Sirius' synchronised speech causes the eyes of the room's occupants to widen and then chatter amongst themselves about the 'weird connection' the Marauders share. I am too accustomed to their habit to have a reaction. In all honesty, I'm calm most of the time. I despise losing mastery of my actions when I become the wolf, thus self-control during my time in human form is immensely significant. The only person that has ever shattered my composure more than once is Sirius. He can do it whenever he wishes if he tries. It terrifies me, but somehow I can't get enough of it. The aspect that it's addictive makes it even more frightening. I am certain that Sirius could stop being around me at any moment if he wanted to.
Peter warns, "McGonagall's gonna kill you for being punished again."
"Nah, Minnie loves us." James assures, winking behind his thick spectacle lenses.
"Maybe, but she'll still be disappointed, and I don't blame her." The three of them exchange that look they give when I go into what they refer to as 'Lecture Mode.' "I bet you couldn't go two weeks without being reprehensible for an abhorrence."
"Repre-what-able? Ab-whore-ants?" James stares at me with fond exasperation. "Bloody hell, did you swallow a dictionary?"
I open my mouth to utter as witty a comeback as I can muster, though Sirius licks his lips and answers James first. "Someday I plan on having sweet, innocent Remy swallow something more interesting than a dictionary."
I am convinced my face shall create flames. Honestly, how could my skin be so hot and NOT catch fire? That would be the best ending to a pre-transformation day, wouldn't it? I'm sure Merlin would think so. After all, I don't have enough problems. Of course not. Gay teenage werewolves have the easiest, most dull lives in this day and age, don't they? I know! Why not spice it up by having my head randomly combust from embarrassment in the middle of the common room?
Gratitude fills me when James speaks again so I don't have to concoct an adequate comment to follow Sirius' remark. "Not a mental image I need before dinner, Padfoot. Anyway, if his posh words mean I'd have to go half a month without having fun he'd win that wager."
"Speak for yourself, Prongs." The face that Sirius turns to me is somewhat peculiar. "What're the stakes?"
Mercifully, the blush recedes and my voice sounds tranquil. "I wasn't really betting. It's a figure of speech."
Sirius wags his finger petulantly. "Oh, no, Mr. Moony. You offered and I'm taking you up on it."
This is ridiculous. I ought to be considering my upcoming O.W.L.s not a pointless gambol. I return to my essay and say indifferently, "Doesn't matter. Whatever you want."
"Whatever I want? Okay, I accept." Without visual evidence I deduce the devious smirk Sirius is sporting.
"Wait! What?" My gaze snaps up from the parchment to Sirius. My instincts tell me that something very, very drastic just occurred, and if I had been more heedful of the conversation I could have prevented it.
James chimes in, "You did say it, mate. Padfoot took advantage of you fair and square." He observes me with parent-to-offspring pity for a vulnerable child in over his head, and Sirius with man-to-man pride for a bloke who drove home the prettiest woman at a party home and got more than a goodnight kiss as a reward.
A nervous knot twists in my stomach. "What exactly did you decide the stakes were?"
"Whatever the winner, which'll be me, wants. The loser has to be the other's obedient slave for a day." This sounds foreboding, and I'm not comforted by the term 'slave' or the predatory inflection in Sirius' dark eyes.
I stare into the fire and imagine the possible results of this. Sirius and I have been together for six months, ever since James locked us up together in a broom closet and said through the wooden door, "I'm sick of the pair of you stealing lustful at one another when you think nobody's looking. If I don't hear some intense snogging within ten seconds I'm gonna shrink you and send you off to become oompa loompas." Yes, I regret having him watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, yet I don't regret him putting me with Sirius. To be obnoxious about James' instructions, Sirius made certain that we were very loud…I better stop remembering such pleasant things in the centre of a room full of people.
Anyway, in our half a dozen months thereafter of being a couple we have not had sex. Every few weeks, during one of our copious snogging sessions, Sirius asks me if I'm ready to go farther and when I remorsefully say 'no' he never gets upset with me. Nonetheless, I know that Sirius is not a patient man. I'm amazed that he has accepted my celibacy this long when none of the other people he dated forced him to do so. This slavery idea would be the perfect opportunity for him to pressure me into it. How can I make him perceive why I believe us making love is an unwise idea?
"I wish this bet never happened," I mutter.
"Why're you telling the fire? How's it supposed to help?" Peter asks. "Make your wishes on stars."
In mock indignation, Sirius cuffs the back of Peter's head. "I'm the only star he'll be doing anything on!"
That's what I'm worried about.