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Something Sweet: Bitter Apple Tart

Remus rolled the dough between his fingers, twisting and twirling, getting it to the perfect width. He placed the circlets of dough over homemade tart dishes and pressed the dough into the plate. He then positioned a delicate spoonful of heavily spiced and caramelized apple filling into the indention. He could practically taste the cinnamon and cloves, the gorgeous red apples, and the mouthwatering warmth of a warm pastry. He could only hope that these mini marvels could help warm his family's hearts towards him. He severely doubted it though. His family had never cared too much about him and his compulsive baking ways only helped to alienate him further.

Most of his family did not approve of his culinary ways, them being from a highly aristocratic family and him being little lower than dirt. His father, being an orphan, had never had much money and his mother had eloped with him when they were both eighteen. They had had him a year later. Remus had been five when his parents had died in a brutal car crash. Remus had been the only survivor and his grandmother had always hated the fact that the half-breed grandson had survived when the highborn daughter hadn't.

Remus gathered his things as the tartlets baked, moving quickly so that he would not be late; no one in his family took well to tardiness. Black didn't take well to tardiness either but that was a bit beside the point. He piled the things he would need for the weekend into his VW Beetle and hurried to get the pastries out of the oven. The best tarts were crispy on top and gooey in the middle and he wanted to get them perfect for his perfectionist family.

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The family home in Chamonix had always been a lovely one, frightfully cold in the winter, but lovely. There was a nice little pond on the property that felt delightful in the heat of the summer. Remus had grown up in the east wing of the manor; it was always cold.

Remus stepped up to the front door, expecting to have to stand while someone mustered up the effort to let him in. He was very surprised when the door swung open before he reached it, as though someone had been watching him approach. A curly little head of blonde peeked out from behind the doorframe. Inquisitive blue eyes blinked up at him in curiosity.

"Bonjour, Madame. Etes-vous la dame de la maison?"

The little girl giggled and shook her head. She stepped out so that Remus could view her lovely pale blue dress with a white petticoat and lace.

"No? Seulement une dame charmante comme vous pourrait habiter en t'elle maison magnifique t'elle que ceci. Etes-vous sur que vous n'etes pas la Dame?"

"Non, monsieur. Ma mere est la dame de la maison. Pourrais, je qui demander vous etes?"

Remus laughed and bowed, careful of the hot pastries, "Mon nom est Remus et je suis a votre service, ma dame."

"Ma nom est Alice. S'il vous plait entrer."

"Merci beaucoup, Alice." Remus stepped into the ornate hallway, wary of any family members waiting to ambush him. Alice sidled up beside him after shutting the door. She looked at the foil-covered plate with barely contained curiosity.

"Quel est cela?" She asked, pointing at the plate.

"Parlez-vous anglais, Alice?"

"Oh, yes! Mama has made me learn Latin, English, and German as well as French."

"You are very scholarly aren't you? These are apple tarts."

"Mama says I am a prodid…progi…progidy. Are those for me?"

Remus laughed and bent at the waist, "It's pronounced prodigy and yes, you may have some if you'd like."

Alice smiled and reached for a warm pastry, stopping just as her hand touched one as the voice of an irate woman came calling down at them.

"Don't you dare, Alice! You will ruin your dinner and then where will you be? And Grandmere has spent all day in the kitchen as well, shame! And shame on you, Remus Lupin, for even thinking of bringing those into the house! You know Meredith is allergic to apples!" Victoire Duchamp marched down the stairs, heels clicking in time with her words.

Remus sighed, caught by Aunt Victoire, for shame. He rolled his eyes at Alice and followed at Victoire's beckoning. He listened to her screeching voice all the way to one of the many guest rooms, only getting a reprieve when she left with la petite Alice in tow. He placed the plate on the desk, thinking that Alice would be back. She had looked far to excited at the prospect of apple tarts to be lured away by her mother and the fact that her sister was allergic to the treats.

Sure enough, two hours after a tense and guilt ridden dinner a little knock sounded on the door. Remus opened it to admit the petite blonde. Alice looked around for the pastry plate and was disappointed to see it gone.

"Where are…?" She quieted as Remus brought a finger to his lips and motioned towards the door. She followed him through the halls and down to the quiet kitchen; the servants had gone for the night. He reached into a working oven and pulled out two steaming pastries.

Remus smiled as he watched the tiny girl's eyes light up at the smell of cinnamon and cloves with just a hint of vanilla bean. He sat on one of the many counters and watched Alice devour both pies at the speed of light. It was nice to know that someone in the family enjoyed his baking. He remembered Alice vaguely, she had been two the last time he had seen her. It was clear she didn't remember him or the fact that her mother detested him. But as long as he could make someone happy he didn't care if they were green with neon pink spots.

He started as his cell phone started jingling the Star Wars Imperial March. What the hell did Sirius want now?

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Remus trudged up to the front door, miserable and wet because of the torrential downpour that decided to descend upon him. Why did it always happen to rain when he didn't have an umbrella? It always happened to him. Why did stupid Black want him to come in anyways? Oh, it was because he had forgotten about a very important person's party and had conveniently let everyone have the day off. Leaving Remus the only person who actually answered his phone at nine o'clock at night! He was probably trying to prove his point about Remus never getting laid.

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"You do realize you're proving my point about you never getting laid, right?" Remus ground his teeth and tried to bite back a retort. It didn't work.

"I'll have you know that when you called I was having dessert with a rather lovely French lady."

"Oh, pardonez-moi. I had no idea! So, what was her name?" asked Sirius, as he pulled out some kiwis and peaches.

"Alice."

"What did she look like?"

"You know, blonde, blue eyes, petite," said Remus, trying to remain nonchalant as he rolled out a quick pastry crust.

"Ah, I didn't take you for a blonde person. How old was she?"

"Uh…" Remus froze, what to say?

"Younger or older?"

"Younger." This line of thinking was okay, as long Sirius didn't ask…

"Did you sleep with her?" Shit, he just had to be nosy and go for the one question Remus couldn't answer with a straight face.

"Fine. You win! I was having dessert with a French lady, but she was my six-year-old cousin! Vous vous etes satisfait tout a fait, l'ane pompeux?!"

Sirius looked down at the chopped up fruit with a wicked grin, "Tout a fait."

Remus gave a little half scream, half sigh and turned back to the dough. That man was so infuriating!

"Question."

"Que?"

"Do you always yell at people in French?"

Remus slammed the paring knife down, intending to do Black bodily harm before deciding against it. "Well, j'ai appris du meilleur, n'est-ce pas?"

Black smiled and went back to sugaring the already sweet fruits. Remus hastily put the crusts in to bake for a few minutes, gathering the ingredients needed for the meringue topping.

"Are you sure you want to make a meringue for this? Isn't that a little too sweet?" Remus asked, looking at Black.

"Probably, but the hosts want kiwi and peach tarts with meringue. There isn't anything I can do about it."

"Eugh, I'm glad I don't have to eat it. I like sugar but this is far too much."

"Strangely enough I agree. You don't seem to like working here, why is that?"

Remus sighed, "It, I didn't want this in the first place. I just wanted to open up my own little shop, but the professionals decided that an internship would be better. I don't even like pastries, I just do them."

"What do you like?"

"I prefer chocolate if you must know."

"Chocolate is good. Why didn't you pick someone with that specialty instead of me?"

"Merde! I didn't get a choice. The people I talked to chose for me. It was one of the lesser costs as I don't live so far from here."

"Costs? Why would money be a problem? You're one of those rich French kids, right?"

"For your information, I'm not, but why would it matter anyways? Oh, I see, poor little rich French boy can't fend for himself and has to rely on his family to get him what he wants! Cela l'est? L'espece de tete de merde stupide!"

"That wasn't what I was thinking, mon ami, but if you prefer to make me out like some sort of villain than who am I to question you?"

"Oh, don't even start with me tonight, Black. I am doing you a favor by helping you with a party, you, oh, so conveniently forgot. So let's just finish this so I can get back to my weekend."

"Yes, a lovely weekend with Alice. Oh, wait, that's your cousin, my bad."

"You, sir, are beginning to grate on my nerves."

"Oh, I'm only just beginning, bien-aime." finished Black, sweeping out of the kitchen, presumably to get other materials.

"Que l'enfer?"

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Needless to say, Remus's weekend in the country was completely shot. His grandmother had not taken kindly to him taking off to go help that "culinary man". She had demanded that he leave immediately, so as not to disrupt their orderly lives any longer. That was fine with him; he didn't want to be there anymore than they wanted him to be.

Now he was sitting in his lonely little flat, with a cup of cold tea, a rather dull book, and no life to speak of. He wished he had taken up Black's offer to go clubbing. It would have been more interesting than what he was doing now, even if it would be a little strange partying and drinking with one's boss. Clubbing actually sounded quiet lovely, really. Maybe he should go anyways; he doubted that he would run into anyone he knew. Remus frequented the gay clubs, not the hetero sex bashes.

Before he could even comprehend what he was doing, he was dressed and in a cab heading towards the most notorious of all gay clubs, Noir. It was a place to see and be seen, entrance fees were outrageous, unless you knew someone and Remus did. What most people didn't know was that he had worked at Noir briefly before his internship. He had been the main bartender! It was a very nice job, terrible hours maybe, but great perks. It didn't hurt that nobody had any hard feelings because of him leaving. They had told him to come back at any time.

He pulled up to where the back of the line was, two blocks away from Noir. He gave a little sigh and settled in for the wait. In the end it didn't take nearly as long as he thought it would have been, although he had been rather enthused by a rather delicious looking male ahead of him. Remus had always been a sucker for the 'tall, dark, and handsome' type and this one had fit the bill to a tee. A good six feet, wavy dark brown hair, milk chocolate brown eyes, golden beach tan. A god standing in a group of starving mortals. Or, in this case a god standing in a group of gays waiting to pounce.

Remus stepped inside the club, wincing at the colored strobe lights that flashed in his eyes. He moved his way to the bar, sitting on a stool and listening to the blood pound inside his head. The music bounced in time with his heart thumping and it felt so good. He hadn't been clubbing in so long that he wasn't sure that he remembered what to do anymore.

"Bonjour. Wanna dance?" A neon pink Comso was slid in front of him and warm breath teased the hairs on the back of his neck. Remus turned and saw the delicious man from the line standing very close. Oh, yes, Remus thought, I remember this.

"Sure." Remus grabbed the lurid drink and moved towards the mesh of bodies gyrating on the dance floor. There was no sense in wasting a perfectly good drink, even if it was a terrible color.

Remus stepped into the stranger's arms, not particularly caring if the guy had a name. They weaved back and forth, staggering slightly as other dancers crashed into them. He hoped he hadn't spilt his drink. Remus glanced into the glass and grinned into the man's shoulder, nope. He hadn't spilt a single drop. Remus drained the glass in one gulp.

"My name's Jacques. Quel est votre nom?"

"Lupin."

"Do you have a first name?" Jacques laughed. Remus smiled slightly and crept closer to the hunky male.

"Non."

"Non?"

"I can't remember"

Jacques gave a short laugh and wrapped his arms more securely around Remus's waist.

"You can't remember your own name? You've only had one drink!"

"Don't drink much anymore. I'm only tispy."

"Tispy? What is a tispy?"

"I am. And you're smexy."

"That's always nice to know." Jacques twirled Remus out and then back in, making Remus laugh.

"I'm sorry. I usually have a much better grasp on the English language." Remus flung an arm around Jacques neck and placed a sloppy kiss there. He felt the chest next to him shudder and he glanced up. On the way to Jacques' face something distracted him. No, someone. Someone, who was standing in a group of other familiar faces.

"Fuck."

"What's wrong?"

All Remus could stare at was the group of six men who were sending him catcalls. Jeremy, Franco, Hans, Enrique, Austin, and Sirius. Sirius's laughing eyes bore into his as the other chefs waved at him. It was official; his life was ruined.

A/N: There you go…Chapter two.

Translations:

Are you the lady of the house?

Etes-vous la dame de la maison.

Only a lovely lady like yourself could live in such a magnificent house such as this. Are you sure you aren't the Lady?

Seulement une dame charmante comme vous pourrait habiter en une t'elle maison magnifique t'elle que ceci. Etes vous sur que vous n'etes pas la Dame?

No sir. My mother is the lady of the house. Might I ask who you are?

Non monsieur. Ma mere est la dame de la maison. Pourrais, je qui demande vous etes.

My name is Remus and I am at your service, my lady.

Mon nom est Remus et je suis a votre service, ma dame.

My name is Alice. Please come in.

Mon nom est Alice. S'il vous plait entrer.

What is that? Quel est cela?

Are you quite satisfied you pompous ass?

Vous vous etes satisfait tout a fait l'ane pompeux.

Quite: Tout a fait.

I learned from the best, didn't I?

J'ai appris du meilleur, n'est-ce pas?

Is that it? Stupid fucking shit head!

Cela l'est? L'espece de tete de merde stupide!

Beloved: bien-aime

What the hell? Que l'enfer?

What's your name? Quel est votre nom?