Here's a little fic that dredged it's way up into my mind. It's Remus in a
muggle bar on the night after James and Lilly's deaths. Anything you
recognise is JK's and I make no money from this. 'arry is a very odd
character, but he's mine so please don't steal him. You should be able to
think up your own. He is also no relation to the Potter family. Other
people are called Harry too you know. It's a little depressing, but hey you
try to write comedy into something like this. It's not so easy is it. Well
that's the pleasantries over with now on with the fic.
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The bar was dank and rancid and the clientele weren't much better. It was a great mercy that it was so poorly lit. Everyone in here kept to themselves so no one really noticed the hunched figure in on of the darker corners. His clothes were patched and frayed with long wear. Dark rings hung beneath red rimmed, bloodshot eyes. Most people, if that's what they were, in here, had an air of solitude and gloom, but this man exuded it with a force. He looked dead to the world, as if his eyes saw beyond this dingy bar to another place that held his rapt attention. Though this may have been a relief for many, the man seemed desolate and depressed. No one really noticed. No one ever did in here. Half a glass of the barman's liquor was enough to make anyone despondent and the stranger nursed a mug of some odd liquid. His head slumped and he ran his fingers through greying hair. All together, this man had the signs of one who has experienced far too much. But then so had many, it seemed, in this place. The figure's head fell father till it rested on the table top, disgusting as it was. He gave a short moan of pain and loss then collapsed inwards. The barman, who wasn't an unreasonable man, noticed the man's implosion. He had seen it before, and less out of humanity than avoiding death on the premises, he approached.
"'Ere son. Ar' you al'right." The man looked up at him then raised his head. It left the table with a sticky ripping noise. He stared at the barman with utmost surprise. The barman thought it prudent to continue, "Come on sit up naw, there's a lad." Up close the stranger seemed much younger than he had first seemed, even with the salt-and-pepper hair.
The man's eyes widened again then he rubbed them as if to clear some bit of dust or dirt. It was then that he began to speak in a slow, measured, perfectly reasonable tone. "Since you seem so concerned I am not alright neither am I your son or a lad. Tonight is the worst night of my life, no I tell a lie. Next Thursday will be the worst night of my life, but so far this takes the biscuit." He sounded slightly scornful and very depressed by the end. He even sniffed half way through.
"'Ere, 'ow many you had mister?" asked the barman. He wasn't used to his customers being so coherent. Especially after a glass of homebrew. This man was starting to worry him. He didn't want any trouble finding its way here.
"This," the stranger said proudly, "is my first. And I haven't touched a drop." He upturned the mug all over the table. "I was never the one who got drunk. Always the one who stayed sober. Don't drink and derive." He muttered then laughed at an old, half forgotten joke.
"Right mister, you ain't touched a drop." The barman began wiping the table with a rag that may once have been a cloth.
"What's your name?" the stranger asked, eyes bleary.
"I'm 'arold, but you can call me 'arry." This was the closest thing the barman had had to a conversation for years. Unfortunately, this sent the man on a downward spiral. "Pleased to meet you 'arry. Their son was called Harry." The man gave a small, disgruntled snort. "Now what's going to happen to him? And what can I do? What could I have done."
Even 'arry had enough people skills to see this man needed help. And though he was probably the least qualified person around, he was also the only person around. "'ay mister, who's they?" he hazarded praying this man wasn't a psychopath.
"They, were two of my best friends. The best friends you could wish for. Better friends than I deserved." The man's eyes went misty with long past memories.
"Now why're you sayin that? Friends is a two way thing. You must'a deserved 'em or tel' me why not." 'arry was warming to his subject. He found he quite liked talking to this man. He seemed so in need of it.
"I didn't, don't deserve anything. It's all my fault." His head began to droop and his eyes close shut. Then his head snapped up again, "Never once did I deserve any of it. Not me. I was the wrong one. There was something wrong with me. Never should have even met them!" he smashed his fist down onto the table raising protesting murmurs from the other drinkers. Then he collapsed back onto the tabletop racked with sobs.
"Now mister," 'arry was getting in deeper than he thought he could manage, but he'd gone this far. "Don't be like that." He tried a reassuring pat on the back.
The stranger sat bolt upright again, his eyes wild. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. But no that's no good, no." he turned to 'arry. "They're all gone you know. Just me left." He gave a half-hearted laugh. "Just me." He stopped laughing and looked pensive. "It's quite funny if you think about it."
'arry knew he was getting into some very strange areas, but couldn't back out. Then he made a mistake. "So, mister wha' happened to all'a 'em? Whered'e go?"
The man smiled briefly, "You don't understand, do you?" 'arry had to shake his head. The man leaned forward and whispered, "They are all dead 'arry. All of them. One's not dead in the same way, but he's dead to me. Dead to everyone soon. He killed them, you know. Betrayed them, to him. Then he killed Pete. I'm surprised he didn't kill me too."
'arry sat in shocked silence. There seemed nothing to say except, "Let me ge' you 'nother drink."
The man shook his head slowly. "I don't need a drink. I didn't come in here to get drunk. I told myself I did, but I didn't. I was always the responsible one. Good old reliable Remus." He sighed. "Remus? That your name mister?" 'arry asked quietly. The man nodded.
"Good old reliable Remus." he repeated. "Like I was some staunch old dog who always be there. Some dog, but I wasn't a dog 'arry. Oh no. Once a month I was the leader of the pack. They needed me. They never would have survived a minuet out there. A dog, domesticated, stupid. A deer, easy prey. And a rat, what chance would they have had?"
"I don't know, but damned small one by the way you're goin on." 'arry murmured. He'd almost completely lost the plot.
Remus, however was just getting into the swing of things, "I never told them, you know. Not once. They had their pride, but they wouldn't have lasted a minuet with any other wolf. I knew them and they helped me more than I can say. Then I let them down." Tears began to well up in Remus's eyes. "I should have been there. I should have protected them. Did they think it was me?" dismay passed across his face. "No, they couldn't have, but it would explain..." he trailed off into silence.
"Now you sure you ain't had no drink this evening, cos you sound damned strange talkin' about animals and gubbins."
"I assure you I have not touched a drop." Remus held up his hands then folded them in his lap. "And 'arry I think you'll find it's morning now."
'arry checked his watch and found that the stranger was right. "How'd you know that?" he asked trying to turn the talk away from dead friends and crazy animals.
Remus chucked and pulled up his sleeves revealing no watch. "Call it a gift. A slight compensation you might say."
"A com'whatchamacallit' for what?" asked 'arry intrigued.
"My condition." Remus answered simply.
'arry backed away slightly. The only conditions he knew were catching. "Er, what kinda' condition?"
"Oh you needn't worry. I don't bite." Remus replied then looked troubled, "Well not at the moment anyway. Nope. Next Thursday still lies ahead." He gave a slight shiver and pulled on his coat. "It has been a pleasure talking to you Mr 'arry. We must do this again sometime." 'arry looked mystified and Remus shrugged, "It seemed appropriate." He said with a smile.
"I don't know if I can let'cha go ou' ther' Mr Remus. It's dark out and there be thugs roamin'." He didn't want to have wasted all this time with this man for nothing. There was still a chance he might buy another drink. All the other customers had drifted of into the night already.
Remus turned from the door and said, "Goodnight 'arry. I suggest you shut up for the day. I also recommend you think how incredibly lucky you have been. I mean you've got a... nice bar and there are things out there that won't ever trouble you." He looked down at his feet briefly then smiled. "An you don't have to worry about me out there in the night because you see..." here he leant back towards 'arry and whispered, "you see I am the dark." And with that Remus Lupin sailed out of 'arry's bar and his life forever.
'arry just stood for a while in the centre of his bar. He wasn't quite sure what had happened, but he had a fair idea. And in a strange way he was glad that he could have helped, if only a little. He picked up his ragtag dishcloth and made a last sweep over the tables. He locked the front door, switched off the light and made a far less impressive exit through the back door.
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And that, as they say is that. I probably won't expand on this fic, but there is always a chance.
Reviews are always welcome.
And have a nice day.
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The bar was dank and rancid and the clientele weren't much better. It was a great mercy that it was so poorly lit. Everyone in here kept to themselves so no one really noticed the hunched figure in on of the darker corners. His clothes were patched and frayed with long wear. Dark rings hung beneath red rimmed, bloodshot eyes. Most people, if that's what they were, in here, had an air of solitude and gloom, but this man exuded it with a force. He looked dead to the world, as if his eyes saw beyond this dingy bar to another place that held his rapt attention. Though this may have been a relief for many, the man seemed desolate and depressed. No one really noticed. No one ever did in here. Half a glass of the barman's liquor was enough to make anyone despondent and the stranger nursed a mug of some odd liquid. His head slumped and he ran his fingers through greying hair. All together, this man had the signs of one who has experienced far too much. But then so had many, it seemed, in this place. The figure's head fell father till it rested on the table top, disgusting as it was. He gave a short moan of pain and loss then collapsed inwards. The barman, who wasn't an unreasonable man, noticed the man's implosion. He had seen it before, and less out of humanity than avoiding death on the premises, he approached.
"'Ere son. Ar' you al'right." The man looked up at him then raised his head. It left the table with a sticky ripping noise. He stared at the barman with utmost surprise. The barman thought it prudent to continue, "Come on sit up naw, there's a lad." Up close the stranger seemed much younger than he had first seemed, even with the salt-and-pepper hair.
The man's eyes widened again then he rubbed them as if to clear some bit of dust or dirt. It was then that he began to speak in a slow, measured, perfectly reasonable tone. "Since you seem so concerned I am not alright neither am I your son or a lad. Tonight is the worst night of my life, no I tell a lie. Next Thursday will be the worst night of my life, but so far this takes the biscuit." He sounded slightly scornful and very depressed by the end. He even sniffed half way through.
"'Ere, 'ow many you had mister?" asked the barman. He wasn't used to his customers being so coherent. Especially after a glass of homebrew. This man was starting to worry him. He didn't want any trouble finding its way here.
"This," the stranger said proudly, "is my first. And I haven't touched a drop." He upturned the mug all over the table. "I was never the one who got drunk. Always the one who stayed sober. Don't drink and derive." He muttered then laughed at an old, half forgotten joke.
"Right mister, you ain't touched a drop." The barman began wiping the table with a rag that may once have been a cloth.
"What's your name?" the stranger asked, eyes bleary.
"I'm 'arold, but you can call me 'arry." This was the closest thing the barman had had to a conversation for years. Unfortunately, this sent the man on a downward spiral. "Pleased to meet you 'arry. Their son was called Harry." The man gave a small, disgruntled snort. "Now what's going to happen to him? And what can I do? What could I have done."
Even 'arry had enough people skills to see this man needed help. And though he was probably the least qualified person around, he was also the only person around. "'ay mister, who's they?" he hazarded praying this man wasn't a psychopath.
"They, were two of my best friends. The best friends you could wish for. Better friends than I deserved." The man's eyes went misty with long past memories.
"Now why're you sayin that? Friends is a two way thing. You must'a deserved 'em or tel' me why not." 'arry was warming to his subject. He found he quite liked talking to this man. He seemed so in need of it.
"I didn't, don't deserve anything. It's all my fault." His head began to droop and his eyes close shut. Then his head snapped up again, "Never once did I deserve any of it. Not me. I was the wrong one. There was something wrong with me. Never should have even met them!" he smashed his fist down onto the table raising protesting murmurs from the other drinkers. Then he collapsed back onto the tabletop racked with sobs.
"Now mister," 'arry was getting in deeper than he thought he could manage, but he'd gone this far. "Don't be like that." He tried a reassuring pat on the back.
The stranger sat bolt upright again, his eyes wild. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. But no that's no good, no." he turned to 'arry. "They're all gone you know. Just me left." He gave a half-hearted laugh. "Just me." He stopped laughing and looked pensive. "It's quite funny if you think about it."
'arry knew he was getting into some very strange areas, but couldn't back out. Then he made a mistake. "So, mister wha' happened to all'a 'em? Whered'e go?"
The man smiled briefly, "You don't understand, do you?" 'arry had to shake his head. The man leaned forward and whispered, "They are all dead 'arry. All of them. One's not dead in the same way, but he's dead to me. Dead to everyone soon. He killed them, you know. Betrayed them, to him. Then he killed Pete. I'm surprised he didn't kill me too."
'arry sat in shocked silence. There seemed nothing to say except, "Let me ge' you 'nother drink."
The man shook his head slowly. "I don't need a drink. I didn't come in here to get drunk. I told myself I did, but I didn't. I was always the responsible one. Good old reliable Remus." He sighed. "Remus? That your name mister?" 'arry asked quietly. The man nodded.
"Good old reliable Remus." he repeated. "Like I was some staunch old dog who always be there. Some dog, but I wasn't a dog 'arry. Oh no. Once a month I was the leader of the pack. They needed me. They never would have survived a minuet out there. A dog, domesticated, stupid. A deer, easy prey. And a rat, what chance would they have had?"
"I don't know, but damned small one by the way you're goin on." 'arry murmured. He'd almost completely lost the plot.
Remus, however was just getting into the swing of things, "I never told them, you know. Not once. They had their pride, but they wouldn't have lasted a minuet with any other wolf. I knew them and they helped me more than I can say. Then I let them down." Tears began to well up in Remus's eyes. "I should have been there. I should have protected them. Did they think it was me?" dismay passed across his face. "No, they couldn't have, but it would explain..." he trailed off into silence.
"Now you sure you ain't had no drink this evening, cos you sound damned strange talkin' about animals and gubbins."
"I assure you I have not touched a drop." Remus held up his hands then folded them in his lap. "And 'arry I think you'll find it's morning now."
'arry checked his watch and found that the stranger was right. "How'd you know that?" he asked trying to turn the talk away from dead friends and crazy animals.
Remus chucked and pulled up his sleeves revealing no watch. "Call it a gift. A slight compensation you might say."
"A com'whatchamacallit' for what?" asked 'arry intrigued.
"My condition." Remus answered simply.
'arry backed away slightly. The only conditions he knew were catching. "Er, what kinda' condition?"
"Oh you needn't worry. I don't bite." Remus replied then looked troubled, "Well not at the moment anyway. Nope. Next Thursday still lies ahead." He gave a slight shiver and pulled on his coat. "It has been a pleasure talking to you Mr 'arry. We must do this again sometime." 'arry looked mystified and Remus shrugged, "It seemed appropriate." He said with a smile.
"I don't know if I can let'cha go ou' ther' Mr Remus. It's dark out and there be thugs roamin'." He didn't want to have wasted all this time with this man for nothing. There was still a chance he might buy another drink. All the other customers had drifted of into the night already.
Remus turned from the door and said, "Goodnight 'arry. I suggest you shut up for the day. I also recommend you think how incredibly lucky you have been. I mean you've got a... nice bar and there are things out there that won't ever trouble you." He looked down at his feet briefly then smiled. "An you don't have to worry about me out there in the night because you see..." here he leant back towards 'arry and whispered, "you see I am the dark." And with that Remus Lupin sailed out of 'arry's bar and his life forever.
'arry just stood for a while in the centre of his bar. He wasn't quite sure what had happened, but he had a fair idea. And in a strange way he was glad that he could have helped, if only a little. He picked up his ragtag dishcloth and made a last sweep over the tables. He locked the front door, switched off the light and made a far less impressive exit through the back door.
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And that, as they say is that. I probably won't expand on this fic, but there is always a chance.
Reviews are always welcome.
And have a nice day.