A Recent Pottermore update has made part of this story A/U, so just go with it xx


^V^


Remus woke on the first day of the summer holidays with the wonderful feeling of freedom that comes from knowing you can just roll over and go back to sleep, without any kind of homework-related guilt or fear of privacy violation by bored dorm-mates. He lay there with his eyes closed, preparing to do just that, but he could hear his mother making breakfast in the kitchen down the hall. Neglecting ones parents when you haven't seen them since the previous summer was a bit shameful, it occurred to him, so a guilt-free sleep-in would have to wait till tomorrow. The smell of bacon urged him on as he dragged himself out of bed and out into the world - well, to the bathroom first, then world.

"Good morning sweetheart," his mother said chirpily from the cooker when he entered the kitchen. "You've just missed your father I'm afraid. Are you hungry?" she asked as she loaded a plate with bacon from the frying pan. She looked every bit the homemaker, something Remus found quite humorous; his mother cooked only out of necessity to stop her husband and son living on chips alone. This morning she seemed to have gone to an effort to appear motherly - her thick shoulder-length hair was up in wide rollers as usual for this time of the morning but instead of tailored slacks and a sensible blouse she wearing a floaty multi-coloured floral print dress that hung to her ankles and made Remus think of toe rings and gypsy fairs.

Remus took a seat at the kitchen table. There was a short stack of newspapers (wizarding and muggle) and an empty coffee cup in front of his father's recently vacated chair. He nodded in answer to her question. "Starving," he said, and he was, had been for the last few weeks in fact. "Have you got the day off Mum?" he asked, unable to fathom the light-hearted attire on a weekday morning . Remus's mother was in charge of communications in the town Council office. Perhaps they were having a 'dress like an urchin day,' to raise money for actual urchins, he thought, noticing his mother's bare feet as she continued to assemble his breakfast.

She looked up from cracking eggs into the pan to give him a broad smile. "Yes, I thought it might be nice to spend the day together since you were at school for Easter. Boarding school is hard on mums you know."

"So you keep saying," Remus said, trying to stifle a yawn behind his hand. " Most parents would be glad to have a teenage-free household. Apparently we are smelly and have very short tempers."

His mother gave a little laugh, "Yes, but you see Remus, I like my teenager."

And she did. Remus knew his mother went out of her way to remind him of the fact. She constantly told him how clever he was and how proud she was and how much she enjoyed his letters or his company; all the things that most parents only showed in their actions were spoken aloud in the Lupin house. Ruth Lupin was a muggle, and although her husband had explained to her many times that Remus was coping with his affliction very well, Ruth was always worried, always concerned that he was ill, that people would hurt him for what he was, and she went out of her way to make up for whatever nastiness the world threw at him. In part she was right; he was ill most of the time, and it wasn't easy, and if people knew that quiet, innocent Remus Lupin was a werewolf then he really could get hurt.

As much as he had worried about that in his first years of school – that people would notice the pattern, that he would be shunned for what he was and forced to live without an education and therefore a very bleak future – more recently he found himself thinking that it did seem unlikely, if after four years the other pupils didn't notice why would they start now? It was like James and Sirius told him, it was just too bizarre for consideration, no one would look at cardigan-wearing, textbook-carrying, runty Remus and think, 'hmm, he must be a werewolf.' He disliked the term runty, mainly because it put him in mind of a litter of puppies and he – as the runt – would have been drowned, but he knew that wasn't what his friends had in mind when they called him, or Peter for that matter, runty. He reasoned that it was good for his disguise to be little, even if it was a tad shameful to be fifteen and only reach his mum's shoulder. It wasn't his fault that no matter how much food he put in his mouth he just didn't seem to grow, up or out.

Ruth put a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him and sat down with her cup of tea, smiling as he began to devour the food with neat and concise enthusiasm. After a moment she asked, "So, did you want to go out today? It's lovely weather."

Remus swallowed quickly, "Actually Mum, I'd rather stay home, I'm still a bit tired from the moon - is that alright?"

"Of course darling," she said. "Chess, cards or telly?"

Remus grinned. "We have all day, I'm sure we can fit them all in."

His mother beamed, and though most of the time Remus found himself slightly exasperated with her coddling of him, he knew she meant well – and really, what was one day of his holiday holed up with his mum playing cards? It wasn't a day he'd be owling his friends about, but it appeased Remus's guilt to make his mother happy with something as simple as this.

Remus felt it was largely due to himself that both his parents worked so hard, and he knew he and the wolf were the reason that both held muggle jobs. His mother's work at the town council appeared to suit her, doing whatever it was that communications advisors did; to Remus it seemed like a lot of telephoning and being annoyed at incorrectly used apostrophes, which both came naturally. His father on the other hand worked for an orcharding suppliers in Wells, fifteen minutes across the district, and although he was undeniably good at his job, Remus knew it wasn't his first choice career. He spent most of his day travelling around the area, helping the local orchardists with pest removal and increasing fruit production. Mr Lupin was very popular among the locals; he seemed to be able to fix all their problems at once, and he had a way with the trees that was almost like magic.

Although the customers all raved about him, or perhaps because of that, he was never promoted into the office part of the business, but Mr Lupin would never complain. He and his wife might work hard, but it was important to be muggles, a necessary choice to protect their son. After Remus had been attacked by a werewolf - for reasons unknown to Ruth and Lyall at the time - they had made the decision that Mr Lupin would leave his job in London where he had been working for the Muggle Liaison office within the Ministry. They had moved to the small Somerset town of Shepton Mallet and re-started their lives. This was not a huge hardship for Mrs Lupin who was a muggle anyway, all she wanted was for her son to be safe, so if that meant her husband leaving the magical world behind him she was all for it.

Ruth had met Lyall Lupin in the café she worked in after she finished school. She had meant it to be a short-term job earning money until she could begin university, but things worked out differently after the shy smiling chap who came in to buy his lunch every day finally worked up the courage to ask her out. She had accepted, if only because she was worried that if he kept using cream cake purchases as an excuse to see her, his expanding middle would soon prevent him from ever getting a date . Ruth had been expecting dry conversation with what she assumed was a run of the mill office worker, but he had surprised her. Lyall, with his job requiring him to know about muggle culture, was very well-read and from that first lunch onward they had spent every lunch hour sitting together on a bench talking of books, and soon afterward, weekends going to the cinema and enjoying each other's company.

Ruth liked to think of herself as a progressively minded woman. She was going to be reading political science at university, inspired by her mother, who had been an equal pay lobbyist representing women's unions, mostly for the women who had held onto their factory jobs after the war. Unfortunately, no matter how forward thinking you might be, when you fall pregnant at the age of nineteen to a man you have known for three months, the wisest thing to do is accept his marriage proposal, because the rest of the world will not give you the chance to prove yourself in academics with a baby on your hip and a bare ring finger.

As the months went by, Ruth felt lucky that Lupin was the sort of fellow she would have wanted to marry anyway, still encouraging her to pursue her education, but with a swelling belly she was no longer the type of student the university was looking for. It hadn't been until Ruth was halfway through her pregnancy that Lupin had worked up the courage to tell her the truth about himself, that there were thousands of wizards just like him living in secret all over Britain. Obviously this news had come as quite a shock to his fiancée, but as she constantly preached acceptance of all peoples, skin colour or religion or gender, she supposed that it would be a touch hypocritical to leave him for being a wizard.

They had lived very happily together in a small flat in London until the full moon had changed everything. Ruth had, of course, been aware of the unrest in the wizarding community - she found their politics as interesting as muggle ones - but what she and her husband had not known was the drive to separate couples such as themselves, couples who flaunted their intermarriage and interbreeding. Their punishment for the crime of tolerance and falling in love was to have their perfect son savaged by a werewolf. It wasn't until six months after the attack that they discovered there was a reason behind it: in the eyes of this new purity movement their marriage was an abomination. Add to that Mr Lupin's well-known support of muggle rights and his constant assistance of muggles through his work at the Ministry, and the small family became the epitome of everything the extremists hated. Fortunately for little Remus, his mother had not been frightened off after her son became a dark creature; to her he would always just be Remus. Even more impressively, Remus thought, was his father, who overcame a lifetime of accepted prejudices to proudly put his family first .

All in all, Remus tried not to feel guilty for the life his parents led; though he knew they had been forced into many of their choices on his account, his mother constantly reminded him that no matter how bad it seemed sometimes, they had a roof over their heads, food in their bellies and most importantly many good books to read. Remus couldn't help but think she had a very good point.


Two weeks after his indoor day with his mother, Remus was spending most days all alone while his parents worked; finding himself restless in the house on a bright Tuesday afternoon, he was lying on the grass at the back of the Lupin garden. He had been reading, but the warm sun and lazy sounds of chirping birds and cicadas were sending him off to sleep. This was not to last long – there was a sharp squawk in his ear followed almost immediately by an even sharper pinch to the soft skin behind his elbow. He let out a squawk of his own and jerked upright. His eyes narrowed when they fell on the charcoal-feathered menace that Sirius affectionately called Zoff. Remus couldn't fault the suitability of the name as it loosely translated from German to mean arguing or having trouble with someone, and Remus did have quite a lot of trouble with Zoff. Irritable and impatient as ever, the bird glowered at him and held out his leg so Remus could detach the message.

Remus,

How's Shepton Mallet? I bet you're surprised to hear from me, but it's actually not going too badly over here. Reg got me to keep my mouth shut on our first day back because he failed Care of Magical Creatures (actually failed! The useless prick! Can you believe it? Even Peter passes Magical Creatures!) he was worried what Mother would do, but of course because it's perfect little Reggie she didn't even get angry. But the brilliance of the whole thing is she doesn't know what to do when I behave myself. So now fifteen days into the holidays and I've still got Zoff, and I'm packed to leave for Alphard's - mental!

Why didn't you tell me that's why you're good all the time? Because then you get to do what you want? I feel like I've stumbled onto some mass conspiracy that only bookish little bastards like you and Reg know. It's very selfish of you to keep it to yourself. I've taken the initiative to share the information with James. But I think that it's a little wasted on him since his parents don't understand the concept of real punishments. I mean, they know we had 23 detentions last term and he still gets to go on his mad Quidditch holiday whatever thingy with them?! It doesn't seem normal to me.

I'm going to be staying with Alphard for a month, so I'll definitely be able to write for most of the summer, and he said he has some new records for me, brilliant!

Sirius

Remus chuckled to himself as he got to his feet, urged on by Zoff and went inside to write a reply.

Sirius,

It's not a conspiracy, we like to call it common sense. And I have told you about it before, you just like having the last word far too much for it to be a long term strategy.

Shepton Mallet is fine, but a bit boring. Mum's got me a job at the news agents in the village, I start tomorrow so that will be interesting. I know you are probably laughing but I figure I can't use magic in the holidays so I might as well make some money. We don't all have wealthy uncles to keep up our record collection.

Have fun at Alphard's and let me know what records he gets you so I don't buy the same ones with my millions of shop-boy pounds.

Remus

Remus rolled up his letter and tied it to Zoff's outstretched leg. The owl seemed to be reluctantly impressed with the haste in which Remus had penned his reply, and the look he gave him before he flew off could be described as appraising rather than the usual accusatory glare Remus tended to receive from the uppity bird. Remus flopped down on the grass again once Zoff had departed, intent on enjoying his last day as an unemployed youth.

Remus's mother had used her connections in the community to secure her fifteen year old son a job in the village news agents. Teenage boys were not in general particularly employable creatures due to their communicative skills being reduced to a series of grunts and scowls, but of course Remus was not this kind of teenager, his mother insisted. The short rotund manager of the shop, Maurice Collins, had been favourably impressed when he met Remus on Sunday afternoon just passed and Remus was to begin work on Wednesday.

In his letter to Sirius, Remus had been optimistic, but after a week of standing behind the counter smiling at customers, who for some reason thought he would very much like to know where they had just been or were about to go, Remus began to think that he might have been better off being bored at home. He would be poor, but at least free of old ladies and their rambling tales of how exactly the doctor had lanced their boil.

On the fourth Friday of the summer, Remus was helping Maurice put the newspaper headlines into their wireframes for street display before opening. He was always early on a Friday because it was a busy day, muggles all seemed to get their pay packets on a Friday and so they would be in a hurry to buy cigarettes and magazines before they had to pay their bills.

"Did you see the cricket last weekend, young Remus?" Maurice asked as he deftly snapped the overblown cover of More! into its display. Maurice was a funny chap; he liked to talk to Remus about all sorts of things, but he insisted on calling him young Remus, as if to differentiate from all the middle aged and old Remus's that frequented the counter.

In its way, that was much better than the usual comments that 'Remus' was an odd name, and young Remus was better than little Remus or runty Remus, so he just nodded. "Yes! Those Aussies were much better than Denness gave them credit for - all out for a hundred and one?! What a shambles."

"You got that right," Maurice nodded, "if Grieg doesn't watch it they'll be taking The Ashes home again."

"Denness shouldn't have let them bat first," Remus said in agreement. As a general rule, Remus didn't follow sport, magical or muggle – though of course having James as a friend meant that even if you didn't actively follow the British Quidditch League you still knew a fair bit about it - but cricket was a little different. Everyone called it boring but he thought it was just peaceful, test cricket especially. A game that lasted five days, and most of it was spent standing around in the sunshine with only the occasional projectile heading your way? Not only that, but the players had breaks for tea? Tea and sunshine, it was just the sort of thing Remus could get behind. He also liked watching it on telly because he could really enjoy the book he was reading and keep track of the match at the same time because it took so long for anything to happen. Unfortunately the previous weekend had been a little dismal for the English side, being beaten by the touring Australians in the final day . He added hopefully, "Still three more in the series, they could come back."

Maurice nodded again and stood up, wincing as his overtaxed knees creaked and crunched with the movement. Remus was gathering the wire frames when there was a rapping on the half-pulled down roller door at the shop entrance. He hurried over to it with the frames under one arm, and pulled open the double doors that were part of the original shop, unlike the outer metal roll down one that had been added by Maurice in recent years.

Remus recognised the lace-up black bower boots and slightly-too-short cuffed jeans of the bloke who worked in the music shop a few doors down – he was the perfect example of a muggle on Friday payday. Remus heaved the metal door up and it rattled away to be swallowed into the ceiling. "Morning," he said brightly, and 'Music Bloke' (as Remus called him in his head) grinned. Even wearing a smile he was a bit intimidating, light coloured scruffy hair and while his t-shirts varied in slogan or band logo all seemed to be the same amount of worn, with frayed hems and little holes starting on the shoulder seams where his ever present braces rubbed.

"Mornin'," he said, "any chance I could grab some fags early? My bloody boss has decided to come in this morning – not the best look to be opening late just so I can buy my smokes and gum."

This was the longest sentence Remus had ever heard from Music Bloke; all he normally got was, "Mornin' pack of 20's and some Juicy Fruit," accompanied by a flick of his head that Remus assumed he was meant to interpret as a 'please'.

"Er, sure, go on through. Maurice is in there, he won't mind that it's a bit early."

"Cheers mate," Music Bloke said as he ducked into the shop. Remus was still setting up the footpath display when he reappeared, "Fucking travesty," he said as he tore into his smokes and began patting his pockets. Remus looked at him completely unsure about what to say; he wasn't at all sure what travesty Music Bloke was referring to. The price of cigarettes? Having to open his shop on time? Remus's arrangement of the headline stands? His confusion must have shown on his face because Music Bloke nudged one of the frames with the heavy toe of his boot, indicating the cover of a woman's magazine proudly proclaiming an interview with a pop singer who was 'the future of music'. He had found his lighter too, and lit his smoke before saying, "Don't know how they can call that shite music."

Remus had no idea who the woman was – having had his music taste thoroughly influenced by Sirius's obsession with muggle rock, he was very limited in his knowledge of other genres. He looked at Music Bloke and said, "I've never heard of her, is she really awful?"

"You've never heard of Cassie Cassidy? Christ mate, you lucky bastard." Music Bloke said with a half laugh.

"If you say so," Remus said, "my friend and I have been collecting records since last summer, but it's mostly rock - he loves it."

"What's your favourite album then?" he asked, still eyeing the vacant smile and blonde bouffant of Miss Cassidy distastefully.

"Er…" Remus said his mind going blank momentarily, "probably Van Morrison's live one, you know with the all the American shows? But that's because I only just got it at Christmas. I really want Queen's latest."

"Sheer Heart Attack? Not bad." Music Bloke said, nodding thoughtfully, "we have it, it's a pretty good album."

Remus smiled and thought that Music Bloke was much friendlier than his appearance suggested. Maurice's voice interrupted Remus's train of thought, "Remus? Have you finished out there? It's nearly eight thirty."

"Coming Mr Collins," Remus called back hurriedly. He glanced at Music Bloke who was grinding his butt end into the footpath. "Hope your boss doesn't make you work too hard," Remus said as he started back towards the door to the shop.

"He will, but it's only for the day, then he'll bugger off again and I can go back to opening at eight thirty five." He tucked the remaining smokes into his back pocket and pulled a jingling set of keys from another, then flicked his fingers in a half salute and said, "See ya Remus!" before heading back down the street to the record shop.

As Remus watched him go he couldn't help but feel a little proud. He had managed to have a conversation with someone who was quite obviously very cool, and had not embarrassed himself with either the cluelessness of a wizard, or the awkwardness of an academic.