For the first time in a long time, an owl tapped the glass of his flat, almost leisurely, at first, then impatiently. He groaned, and hoisted himself off his bed, mentally preparing himself for the psychological beating he was about to take. Poisoning the Kremlin? Easy. Dealing with fellow terrorists? Child's Play. Being the Squib twin of a wizard? He'd rather take the Kremlin again.
The owl hopped into the room and stuck its leg out for The Frog to see the dangling letter. The bird did not fly away once he had removed the letter, instead perching on his bedside table as he waited for his missive to be read.
Romulus, the short letter began (it was much shorter than other letters his brother had sent), and The Frog at once recognized his brother's elegant handwriting. That, and the fact that his brother would be the only one writing to him via owl post. Their parents had died several years ago, first their mother, of a heart condition, and then their father, of stress stemming from his two sons; one a werewolf, the other a Squib sent away to French boarding school at the earliest convenience. But even when they were alive, they rarely spoke to him, out of shame. Even when he'd come home for Summer, and Remus would regale him with tales of his supportive friends and all the fun he was having at Hogwarts, he still rarely spoke to them.
Romulus became a Muggle terrorist in a fit of rebellion, and Remus became a sort of wizard freedom fighter, as far as Romulus could tell. They occasionally owled each other, and the last he'd heard, Remus had accepted a job as a teacher at his old school.
Surely, their parents had some idea of what they were doing when they named their twin sons Romulus and Remus Lupin. They were destined to be at odds, if not ideologically opposing.
Romulus, he read again.
I apologize for disturbing you, as I know that you prefer to stay out of my world. However, I felt it prudent to tell you that I was married several days ago. Her name is Nymphadora, and she is too good to me. Though our wedding was small due to the War, I wanted to inform you.
I hope you are well.
Remus.
Remus had gotten married. This was definitely a development. Remus, who had once (very drunkenly) lamented that he would never be able to settle down, thanks to his lycanthropy, had found someone who had been willing to look past the fact that he could potentially rip her to shreds. Romulus hoped the girl knew what she was doing.
He sighed, reading the missive once again. His twin had probably been hard-pressed for time, otherwise he would have written something longer, more conversational, more detailed. Perhaps it had something to do with the war ('War' he mentally corrected himself) mentioned. Perhaps he could find something about it...
He stopped himself there. It was not his world. It was Remus' world, and Romulus belonged in a world where people called him The Frog and bought him nice wines and paid him for information on various governments. Remus would be lost in Romulus' world, and Romulus would be lost in Remus' world. It was the way things were. Sometimes, Romulus likes to think that if he weren't a Squib, they could have been closer, and he wouldn't harbor this general distaste towards the Wizarding World. But he knows that Remus' lycanthrophy and the treatment he received as a result of it might have driven a wedge between them, and that thinking otherwise would be foolish.
A soft 'hoot' from the owl- the Frog noticed that it looked relatively ruffled and through-the-mill, like its owner usually did- brought him back from his thoughts. Sighing, he stood up, and made his way over to the wine cabinet he kept in his room for nights like these. After he poured himself a glass of Chardonnay, he picked up a bottle of finely-aged Pinot Noir, walked back over and attached it to the owl's leg with a piece of nearby piano wire (he'd been meaning to get the piano in his living room fixed, but hadn't had time as of late).
The owl blinked at the Frog and flew out the window, into the night.
Dudes! I wrote something! And it's not up to my own usual standards, I know, but I'm sort of running on a tight schedule right now, what with College Apps and Life and the usual.
But anyway, for those of you who saw Red 2, did no one else think of this? I saw Remus Lupin being chased on a motorbike through Paris, and I kinda needed to write something like this. Also, there's the fact that David Thewlis totally dropped any real pretense of a French accent in the film, so it provided an opportunity.
I hope you like it!