A/N: Thanky very much to Rae Roberts, who completely rocks for reviewing. In response, I'd just like to tell you that the priest isn't one of those characters that turns out being pivotal and such; I figured a church should have a priest, but once I put him in I didn't really know what to do with him. So I made him one of the rare Muggles that can sense that something is "not-quite-right" about Remus. Oh, and I fixed that bit about the owl...completely slipped my mind that animals are relatively safe around werewolves, so thanks for the reminder. Although I still say that animals are more perceptive than a lot of humans and therefore should feel slightly uncomfortable around "unnatural" things like werewolves.
Anyway, without further adu, I give thee, with a large flourish...Chapter Seven!
Chapter Seven: Of Money, Shelter, and Potion
It's okay, Remus told himself as he walked down the street, away from the apartment that he had lived in for nearly seven months. I've been here before.
It was the truth, and he knew that he would manage. However, there were three things that worried him: where to go next, his financial situation, and what he would do the following night. Snape's owl usually came the night preceding full moon with the Wolfsbane potion, which was tonight, but would it be able to find him? He worried about this briefly as he stepped into an alleyway to use the Reductor spell on his suitcases. Then he pushed the thought to the back of his head, knowing that it was beyond his control. He would simply have to trust that the bird would come.
Remus decided to take care of his monetary problem first. He shoved his suitcases, now smaller than the size of his palms, into the inside pocket of his jacket and stepped back out onto the sidewalk. He observed the surrounding crowd carefully as he began to walk, watching for a pompous rich man that he would have no qualms about robbing, a skill that he had learned through necessity because of his constant unemployment.
There; he spotted a likely looking candidate. The man in question was striding confidently along ahead, practically yelling to his meekly agreeing companion about how horrid the city and his fellow walkers were.
"Honestly, did you see that woman's outfit?" Remus heard him demand loudly. The object of the man's conversation threw him a dirty look over her shoulder. He took no notice. "I can't believe some of the things people wear these days…"
And you should talk, Remus mused, raising an eyebrow at the man's brown and yellow tweed suit jacket. His pants were a particularly horrible shade of dark yellow. He walked faster, touching the man on the shoulder.
"Excuse me, sir," he said politely. The man stopped, wheeling around to stare at Remus.
"What the bloody hell do you want?"
"Just wondering if this is your wallet," Remus replied, holding up his own. The man unconsciously patted his right back pocket. Remus concealed a smile.
"No," the man told him brusquely. He walked away, his companion following timidly. "You know why I hate this part of the city? Because people like that man always come around begging for your money," he bellowed, making no effort to prevent Remus from hearing his comment. "Probably a ruddy hobo."
Remus followed silently, ignoring the remark as he carefully slid the loud man's wallet from his pocket. The man continued to walk away, completely oblivious to the theft that had just taken place. Remus grinned. He loved the sheer stupidity of people like that.
"Hey, you!" a voice rasped from somewhere to his left. He looked over to see a scruffy woman in an overcoat more patched than his. Her hair was a mess, and her skin was dirty and wrinkled, although she couldn't have been a day older than thirty. She beckoned to him. Remus approached her with caution. He could not sense any animosity, but she smelled so pungent that perhaps he was simply losing it in the rest.
"What do you want?" he queried, not unkindly. She cackled.
"Saw you nick tha' bloke's wallet," she said, leaning toward him conspiratorially.
Remus looked around, the picture of innocence. "What bloke?"
"Don' be playin' idiot, mister," she told him. "I knows you nicked 'is wallet. How much 'e got in there?"
"I don't know," Remus replied. "Why'd you ask?"
"'Cause I thinks I could go tell 'im you took 'is wallet, and 'e cin git the police to come an' put you in the clink."
"Now, you wouldn't want to do that."
"'Course I don', but I will. 'Less, 'course, you wanna give me a bit o' that money you got."
Remus suppressed a grin. "Twenty pounds?"
"Give it 'ere, mister." He handed her the money. She grinned and pocketed it. "Good doin' business with you." She disappeared down an alley.
Remus turned and began to walk again, trying not to laugh. It was his fault he had been caught, after all. He rifled through the wallet; it had nearly three hundred pounds in it. He walked quickly, catching up to the large, obnoxious owner of the wallet and replacing it, devoid of money, in his back pocket.
Now financially secure for at least a time, Remus pondered his second problem. Where should he go? He briefly considered Grimmauld Place, but decided against it almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind. The house was full of memories of Sirius. Telling himself that he was avoiding going to Grimmauld Place because he did not want to endanger whoever was staying at the house right now with his impending transformation and not because he didn't think he could bear facing the memories of his friend, he halted at a bus stop to truly consider the matter of where he could stay tonight. Preferably somewhere inside, he mused, picking up the smell of coming rain on the breeze.
Remus caught a glimpse of himself mirrored in the window of a car stopped at the traffic light near him. He was, as always, startled by how tired he looked. His brown hair, threaded with grey, was disheveled and shaggy; he needed a haircut. His reflection gazed back at him with quiet grey eyes. His black Muggle coat was fraying at the collar. No wonder that man thought that I'm homeless. He grinned suddenly at the notion, because of course he was now, and his face changed. His apparent fatigue lifted somewhat and his eyes lit up, all seriousness banished. He marveled at the transformation, and then the car drove away.
His ears pricked suddenly as he picked up the sound of wing beats above him. He glanced upward, squinting against what little sunlight managed to force its way through the clouds that had gathered in the past hour to clog the sky, and saw an owl circling. It was Snape's. Remus stood and unobtrusively slipped into a nearby alleyway. The bird flew down almost lazily to land on his arm. He quickly untied the heavy package it carried and it took off again, spiraling upward until it was lost in the clouds. Remus suppressed a yip of happiness as he tore into the box.
Three bottles full of a murky substance that bubbled like soda met his gaze. They were curiously warm to his touch when he reached in and picked them up. He cradled a bottle gently for a second, then retrieved his suitcase from his pocket and restored it to its proper size. After transferring the potion to the suitcase and shrinking it once again, he tucked it lovingly into his pocket, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders—he could transform tomorrow night with as much safety as possible.
Suddenly a great deal more confident, he walked back onto the sidewalk almost jauntily—Padfoot would be proud, he thought—renewing his search for somewhere to stay that night.
