A/N: A nice, long chapter for you all after a little bit of time away. I've had to switch my schedule of late, but I'm really working on getting back into writing, I promise!
I typed this up while working on 4 hours sleep within a 48-hr period, so major apologies for any typos. I've done a quick sweep, but as you all know, I like to post things without having another set of eyes looking at them, so as usual, I'm hoping for your kindness on this.
Chapter Eleven – Session Six
Mandy McKinnon was widely regarded—by those who knew about such things—as one of the best psychoanalysts in Great Britain. Both her magical and Muggle clientele listed celebrities, politicians, intellectuals, aristocrats, and—though she was bound under the strictest of confidentiality agreements—a crowned head or two. At the astoundingly young age of twenty-eight, Amanda McKinnon had more professional prestige than many of her colleagues twice her age—a fact which kept her in very good standing with the Board of Governors at St. Mungo's, and less so with her fellow doctors.
It was in large part due to this fame that she rarely found herself with an entire weekend with nothing to do. Her responsibilities at the hospital and the constant dedication necessary to her Muggle private practice left her with very little free time at all. Most weekends, she found herself run off her feet tending to social obligations, personal errands that needed doing, and of course, by the steady activation of her floo or ring of her mobile as the needs of the wealthy, privileged, and neurotic vied for her precious attentions.
It had come as quite the pleasant shock, therefore, to find her diary completely devoid of obligation that chilly winter weekend. Mandy had grasped the opportunity with great alacrity, quitting her busy London flat for the McKinnon country house in Hampshire. There, she blocked the floo, turned off her mobile, and basked in the quiet of the countryside with a pot of tea, her favourite woolly jumper, and a torrid romance novel.
Less than five pages in, a timid cough reminded her that it really had been a rather large ask of the Fates to grant her one, uninterrupted weekend to herself.
Mandy tried to school the annoyance from her face as she looked up to see clear distress on the face of the being that had disrupted her solitude. Like the large, stately country home, upon her parents' death Mandy had also inherited the kind, old family of house elves that had served the McKinnons for generations. Bekky, the youngest of the small creatures, stood uncomfortably in the doorway, having been left with a stern instruction that nothing short of a natural disaster was to disturb her mistress. Something significant, therefore, must have occurred to drive the young elf to breaking the thinly-veiled command.
"Yes, Bekky?" Mandy said, trying to temper her frustration with a kind smile.
"Begging your pardon, mistress," Bekky squeaked. "Bekky knows you said not to disturb…but he is quite insistent."
"'He'?" Mandy asked. There were very few 'he's in her life who knew about her second home, and fewer still that would bother to visit. Even Remus, who was by far the most frequent male guest to the house, knew better than to bully his way into her solitude. He had too much respect for both her and the house elves to inspire the level of distress Bekky was displaying.
"Yes, mistress," the elf squeaked again. "He was most insistent that you speak with him at once."
"Who, Bekky?" Mandy asked, resigned enough to the interruption to close her book.
"Master Sirius, mistress. Of the Noble House of Black."
The mistress of the house only barely suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at the elf's use of Sirius's title. She knew enough about the man to know he despised his own origins, but not enough, she realized, to trust that he wouldn't use it to get what he wanted. She had only just disabused the trio of servants of the habit of bowing and scraping every time she asked something of them—an asinine requirement her parents had insisted upon. She would be incredibly irritated if Sirius had pulled rank to get her attention.
She gave an apologetic smile to Bekky. "Don't worry. Go back to doing…whatever it was you were doing. I'll see to the…illustrious Mr. Black."
Bekky nodded, made to bow, and then caught herself and disaparated wordlessly. For a moment, Mandy wondered how Sirius even knew about the house—it hadn't been the address she had given him after their one-night-stand. Then she realized that, being a child of the Noble House of Black, of course he knew about the house. The Noble House of Black and the Noble House of McKinnon had socialized for years. Sirius and Marlene had been childhood playmates. He probably knew the house better than she did.
Sighing resignedly, she stood and padded barefoot out into the foyer.
Sirius was standing in the grand hallway, gazing with an appraising curiosity at his surroundings. He looked oddly at home, but then she supposed that wasn't too much of a surprise. She was quite certain that Sirius made himself look at home in pretty much any location he found himself. It was the arrogance of the aristocracy; a habit she herself knew she was guilty of from time to time.
"Well, this is a…surprise," Mandy said as she approached, deciding on a less-incendiary word than the ones she actually wanted to use. "I do hope you didn't coerce my house elf into giving you access by name dropping the Noble House of Black."
He seemed sincerely startled by this. "Of course not. Why would you even ask?"
She shrugged. "I left word not to be disturbed, but Bekky says you were insistent." She emphasized the word and backed it up with a meaningful arch of an eyebrow.
He brushed the subtext aside. "Oh, that. I didn't pull rank. I may have…growled…at her, though."
"You growled at my house elf?"
"Just a bit. Perks of being both an animagus and a rumoured psychopath." Then he grinned his sexy-as-sin grin at her and proffered a bouquet of frost-bitten, slightly-wilted roses. "For you."
She took them, recognizing them immediately with a wry smile. "Did you leave any on the rose bushes?"
His grin remained unapologetic. "It's not like they won't grow back."
She chuckled in spite of herself. "You best hope Boodle doesn't catch wind that you absconded with some of his flowers. He's very possessive of the garden."
Sirius barked a laugh. "Old Boodle still around then, eh? He still have the wonky eye?"
Not in a mood to discuss neither the aged house elf nor his wonky eye, Mandy put the roses on one of the receiving tables and turned back to the handsome aristocrat. "Why are you here, Sirius?"
"Ah, yes. Well…I know you said to floo first, but it seems to be disconnected."
"So naturally, you assumed it couldn't possibly be disconnected on purpose and rushed over thinking you might find a damsel in distress?" she asked drily.
He winked. "You know me, Dr. McKinnon—never miss an opportunity to find a damsel, distressed or otherwise. Do I smell Bryony's delightful cheese swizzles?"
He side-stepped her and walked toward the drawing room without invitation.
Mandy shook her head, following. She was unsurprised by his behaviour. Aside from her own dealings with the man—which, while undeniably pleasant, had indicated alarmingly poor impulse control issues—Sirius was also best friends with Remus. The werewolf, too, had the annoying habit of swanning around the house as if he owned the place. Not that she minded, but it did remind her that, in friendship, like attracted like. Marauders forever and so on.
Nosy little sods.
"Sirius," she said, entering the drawing room to see him nibbling contentedly at a swizzle Bryony had baked earlier. "Do you mind telling me why you're here?"
He feigned a look of hurt. "Really, Dr. McKinnon, you wound me. I thought we had a lovely time when last we met." He smirked, and batted long ebony lashes at her expertly.
She refused to be baited.
"I don't mean why are you here," she said slowly, emphasizing the word. "I mean, why are you here?" she repeated, pointing to the carpeted floor for emphasis. "In this house."
He arched an eyebrow. "A difference in emphasis is not going to get me any closer to understanding the underlying meaning of your question, love. I'm here to see you."
Mandy had half a mind to kick his infuriating, if nicely firm, arse out of the house to regain her solitude. But having witnessed firsthand the melancholy her brother-in-all-but-blood was going through, she was keen to have a little heart-to-heart with the man who had played a not-inconsequential role in that malaise. So she gritted her teeth and said, "How did you know I was here at all? This wasn't the address I gave you when we slept together six months ago."
He quirked his head to the side. "Are you angry that I knew where you were, or angry that it took me so long to call?"
She rolled her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself, Sirius. I could give a shit about how long it's been."
He sniffed, feigning affronted, and sauntered with practiced casualness toward the bookshelves. "I flooed 'round your London flat. When there was no answered, I stopped by. Your charmingly effete doorman informed me you'd gone to the country for the weekend. I assumed you came here." He looked around, curiosity back on his face. "Bit different from my day."
"Yes, well, some of us don't need to be dragged kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century."
He gave her a very haughty look. "I assume that was meant as a dig at me, but despite being a wizard, Doctor McKinnon, I do own a computer and I know well enough how to use the internet."
His words seemed heavy with subtext and Mandy took a moment to re-evaluate their interactions. She realized then that he had used her title of 'doctor' three times since entering the house. She had not introduced herself as a doctor during their initial meeting, which meant he had done some research. And if he had been thorough—which Mandy expected he had—he would have come across enough documentation about both her professional and personal life to arm himself with far more information than she ever expected him to possess on her.
"Apparently, someone has been busy," she said, giving up the pretence of annoyance and going back to the sofa, wrapping the old embroidered throw Bryony had knitted aged ago around her lower body. If she was going to be rehashing the facts and fictions of her life, she was going to do so comfortably. "What salacious details have you uncovered, then?"
"Well," he started, ignoring the proffered seat across from her in favour of aimlessly wandering the room, examining the scattered knick-knacks and framed photos strewed about. "The official biog is most impressive. Educated at Beauxbatons under the indomitable Madame Maxime; trained at the Nostradamus clinic in Vienna for a year before starting as an apprentice analyst in the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's, becoming a staff analyst within three years. Quite the achievement, made all the more remarkable when one considers you also managed to secure a double first in Psychology and Sociology from Cambridge around the same time. That must have been quite the commute."
She inclined her head demurely. "Cambridge had managed to retain a few time-turners. Plus, I became intimately acquainted with the floo system between the hospital and the campus's wizarding house."
"I can imagine," he said, his arrogant swagger taking him over to the photos on the piano. "The rest, professionally-speaking, writes itself. Praise, a fame of sorts, and a tidy income thanks to that thriving Muggle practice you have in St. John's Square. Quite the rise. Most fortuitous. But I'm less intrigued by your CV than I am with your unofficial activities." His fingers clasped upon a particular photo on the piano. "And more importantly, Dr. McKinnon, the company you seem to keep."
He turned and showed her the photo he had plucked up, though she didn't need to see it to know which one he had found. It was of her and Remus soon after her acceptance to the Nostradamus clinic. He had just left his teaching post at Hogwarts and had joined her in Greece to celebrate her accomplishment. The photo—taken aboard the yacht of her then-boyfriend's family—showed a young, tanned, bikini-clad Mandy wrapped in the tight embrace of an equally-tanned, grinning Remus.
"Ah," she said, knowing how damning the photo looked to someone who had no previous knowledge of the nature of the pair's relationship. "You're quite resourceful, Sirius. Very few people know about my relationship with Remus. You must have dug quite a ways back in my history. Well done."
He ignored the sarcastic accolade. "I can imagine why you wanted to keep it hushed up. After all, the line between fame and infamy can shift quite quickly when people find out you've been shagging your sister's ex-fiancé. Far more detrimental, however, when you think that that same man is also the current fiancé of one-third of the nation's most decorated and widely-respected war heroes."
His tone had ripened with accusation, and she sighed. "I know how it looks, Sirius, but it's not—"
"How long?" he interrupted.
"How long what?"
"How long, exactly, have the two of you been deceiving her?"
"Sirius—"
"How long?!" he demanded, slamming the photo down hard onto the piano. Mandy winced, grateful the photo—and indeed the piano itself—hadn't shattered under the force.
She tried again. "You don't understand—"
"Was it some sort of sick thrill, coming home with me that night?" he hissed, rounding on her with menace in his silver eyes. "Did you two plan it together while you lay in your adulterous bed?"
Mandy quirked an eyebrow at that. "Adulterous bed? Shakespeare phoned, Sirius. He wants his self-righteous outrage back."
"This is not a joke!" he shouted.
"Alright, now listen," Mandy said, starting to get frustrated. "Just let me explain—"
"Explain what, exactly? How you misled a perfectly honourable man into betraying the woman he loves? How you listened to them shagging in the next room while you opened your legs to me? Did you imagine I was him? Did you do some mental comparison? Did you—"
"Oh for fuck's sake, Sirius, shut the hell up and let me speak!" she shouted, glaring daggers at him. He glared right back, pursing his lips, but he remained—for the moment—silent.
She took his muteness for reluctant acceptance and took a deep breath, saying, "Before we delve into the truly staggering depths of repression you posses, as well as the consequential projection, let me make myself perfectly clear. I have not, nor do I ever intend to, sleep with Remus. He is, in almost every sense of the word, a brother to me and I am not in the habit of fucking family members." She hardened her gaze. "Aside from which, my respect and admiration for Hermione Granger and what she has done for this country would never allow me to even consider knowingly taking up with a man she truly cares about."
She added the word 'knowingly' on purpose, but she was certain he wouldn't catch it. She continued, "Now. Would you like to talk about your less-than-subtle attraction to, and quite probably love for, Hermione Granger, or would you like to continue casting unkind and misinformed aspersions upon my character?"
He sputtered. "How did you…I mean, I'm not attracted to…or in love with—"
She interrupted his stuttered protests. "Love or lust, it's equally germane and inappropriate considering she was, until rather recently, in a committed relationship with that perfectly honourable man you mentioned earlier," she said sternly, unapologetically unveiling his hypocrisy.
Then she shook her head with another sigh, "In all honesty, Sirius, I'm not really judging you, but let's call a spade a spade, shall we? We both know all those charming epithets you threw my way stem from your own insecurities about your feelings for Hermione and your relationship with Remus. Now, do sit down and let's have a civilized discussion about your rather tenuous mental health."
Sirius gaped for a long moment, mouth opening a closing like a newly-caught codfish, before sitting heavily in the chair she gestured toward. After a rather pregnant pause—wherein his fish-like expression slowly subsided—he blinked and said, "Bloody hell, Mandy, they said you were good, but…Christ."
She sniffed, merely humming, "Mmm."
"How do you know?" he finally asked. "Has Remus…does Remus know?"
"Does Remus know what, exactly?" she asked, reluctantly sliding into her analyst role, exerting every ounce of patience she possessed not to smack him over the head.
"Does Remus know that…that I…that is to say, that we…"
Mandy waited, but seeing he didn't seem able to verbalize his feelings, she offered, "Are you asking if he knows that something untoward happened between you and Hermione?"
He exhaled loudly. "Yes."
"Then yes."
"Fuck."
She sighed. "You couldn't have expected Hermione to leave him without telling him why, could you?"
He looked startled. "She left him…because of me?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, but not in the way you think, you arrogant lunatic."
His brow furrowed. "I'm fairly certain calling me a lunatic is frowned upon in your profession, doctor."
"It would be, if you were an actual patient of mine. But as you may have deduced from the difficulty in contacting me, I'm not currently in my professional capacity. And please stop calling me 'doctor'. You've made your point."
He ceded this, running a hand through his shaggy raven hair. "I didn't know she had well and truly left him. I thought she was giving them some space. I kept telling him to be patient; that she'd come back eventually. God, no wonder he looks so terrible."
"Yes, I suppose finding out he had been betrayed not once, but twice by the woman he loves—both with his best friend—will have that effect on a man," she said, mildly bitter on her brother's behalf.
Sirius did not even pretend to feign ignorance, instead sitting forward and rubbing his face resignedly. "So he knows about Marlene as well. I wasn't sure."
"You seem to forget that you're not the only one with an acutely-developed sense of smell," she hinted, proffering the plate of cheese swizzles as she started to feel sorry for him.
He turned it down, his pallor turning from ashen to pale green.
"He smelled her on me. Jesus."
"I don't think Jesus is going to be of any help in this particular situation, Sirius," she said stoutly. Then she sat back, tucking her legs beneath her as she made herself comfortable. "Alright. Start from the beginning."
Remus huddled tightly into his travelling cloak, collar up against the winter chill as he slowly made his way down the long gravel drive. His body felt heavy, as if struggling with bipedal motion. The wolf within him wanted release, wanting to run the open fields of the Hampshire countryside. The man simply wanted to walk the path.
His mind was also a cacophony of warring instincts—the simple, human command of logic and reason fighting the bestial roar of primal gut feeling. The man was trying to keep his limbs moving forward, away from the Welsh cottage and the woman he had violated. The wolf wanted to go back; to fight for what was his.
Remus shuddered against the possessive instinct, clutching his cloak for strength and almost tearing the threadbare fabric. The picture of Hermione's abject submission burned the back of his eyeballs and the human within him tried to keep hold of the hot shame the picture instilled. The beast fought it. Moony had never had a woman accept him before; not in that way. He hungered for it, yearned for it. Craved it.
The fight was exhausting, and Remus felt himself stumble a few times as he wended around a small copse of trees to finally reveal his destination—the McKinnon family's stately manor home. Even without the mental cloudiness his warring minds created, Remus still had trouble thinking of the large estate as anything but the McKinnon country seat. Even though there was only one McKinnon left, and she would rather not be reminded of the history, Remus could still feel the wall of moneyed privilege as he hedged his way up the drive.
Mandy had inherited everything upon her parents' death several years before, in spite of her defiance and subsequent quitting of the family household at the tender age of thirteen. Remus had always suspected the decision wasn't predicated on remorse by the proud pureblood family, but rather a stubborn resolve to simply keep the house in the family. Similar to Sirius, and Grimmauld Place. Remus cynically assumed that disinherited children always looked better when there was a question of family legacy in play.
Even with her reversal of fortune, however, it still took awhile for Mandy to set foot in the house again, only doing so when she realized she needed a secret escape from her busy London life. Remus also knew Mandy would do almost anything to preserve the comfort of the trio of loyal house elves who cared for the home. While he had mixed emotions as to the efficacy of her parents' ability to actually parent—well-founded though they were—he had never harboured any doubts as to the loyalty Bryony, Boodle, and Bekky had for Mandy. Mandy had said, more than once, that the few fond memories she had of her childhood almost invariably included the elves.
Regardless, even after she had started using the house on a regular basis, making changes to crush the latent remnants of her parents' lifestyle and to suit her own, more modern sensibilities, Remus still couldn't' think of the place as hers. Old habits, it seemed, did indeed die hard.
The thought of old habits once more brought the overwhelming onslaught of conflicting emotions within him. He wondered—not for the first time that day—at the fact that his first thought after having his heart pulverized by his ex-fiancée was to talk to Mandy. While he would never have said it to his sister's face, he didn't think much of psychotherapy. The idea that someone could make a living—and in Mandy's case, a rather substantial one—listening to other people's problems confounded him. He acknowledged, of course, that there existed a demographic of the population who truly needed psychological assistance, but he had always equated those people with hospitals and mad outbursts and running about with chamber pots on their heads. In his mind, no rational person needed to pursue therapy.
Then, Hermione told him that she had sought Mandy's counsel. It rocked him; shook his belief system. He had never even considered Hermione might be in need of psychological counselling. She wasn't one of those people. Any yet, she had done so without qualm. His intelligent, logical, rational lover had thought well enough of therapy to pursue it herself. It got him thinking that maybe, just maybe, there might be something to it after all.
Especially since it seemed like the best of a series of bad ideas to ebb the tidal wave of conflicting emotions within him.
Perhaps he also knew that he now had questions he knew he couldn't answer on his own. What had Hermione meant when she said he didn't accept his own duality? Of course he accepted it. He had no delusions that there was always a choice with these things. He could either live with it, or not. When he had been young, he had had those weak moments where a final alternative had been tempting, but he also knew how selfish the decision was. So he chose to live with it, and if that wasn't acceptance, what was?
Remus's human logic amused his primal side. The indecent encounter in the cottage had emboldened the wolf, having acquired for more stage time in the theatre of Remus's thoughts than it ever had before. Enjoying the taste of the spotlight, a darker voice had emerged to chide the hard-won logical side. Moony—for Remus now considered his other half a separate personality altogether—seemed to think that if Remus—the man—assumed Hermione's words merely meant the dichotomy of his physical existence, then there really was no help for him.
Moony relished reminding Remus of how good it had felt to finally mate with a female willing to submit to his Alpha tendencies. How satisfying it had been to see her languid, supine form bent almost double as he slaked his lust; how utterly blissful she had found the experience. Remus tried desperately to bury these thoughts, which was, Moony pointed out, rather Hermione's point.
This back and forth, having played out several times over the course of the journey from Hermione to Mandy, seemed to serve as a fairly convincing argument in favour of psychotherapy. Perhaps it might shed some insight on the uncomfortable battle for supremacy between the monster and the man.
That was, of course, assuming he was ready for the answer.
"I must say, Sirius, considering how quickly your feelings developed, you're rather calm about the possibility of being in love with Hermione," Mandy said as the animagus finished his version of events.
They hadn't differed overmuch from what she had been told by Remus and Hermione, which she appreciated. It gave her a clearer perspective of the whole situation, and she secretly wished she could just tell them that the best solution for all concerned was to throw caution to the wind and create an arrangement involving all three of them, but she knew there was far too much history to overcome to make that a reasonable expectation anytime soon.
With a slight sense of irony, Mandy also suspected that the one person who would have the least issue with the arrangement would be the lady that both men considered far too pure for the lasciviousness of the lifestyle. But that, too, she kept to herself.
Sirius was seated comfortably now, a cup of tea in a thoughtful hand, sincerely considering her comment. "I've felt these feelings only once before, and not as strongly. I may be stubborn and often in denial, but I'm not stupid," he finally said.
"I don't think anyone is accusing you of that," she said.
"Do you really think she…she'll want to give it a go?" he asked, voice soft as if unsure he really wanted to know the answer.
"I suspect that's going to depend entirely upon how you react if she asks."
"Well…honestly, she can't expect me to say 'no'. Not after the…interactions…we've had."
"No?" Mandy asked, slightly amused. "You may have a rather low opinion of your own character, Sirius, but I'm fairly certain Hermione thinks better of you." He seemed confused by this, and Mandy shook her head. "Remus is your best friend, Sirius. Hermione knows how important that relationship is to you. You can't blame her for worrying you'll say 'no' to protect it."
Sirius sighed. "I don't feel like much of a friend to Remus right now. I've done terrible things. Detrimental things. And yet…" He trailed off.
"And yet you're in love with his ex-fiancée."
Sirius let out a whoosh of breath. "Yes."
"So, again, I suspect her actions are going to be dictated by your response."
"I don't think I possess the will-power to say 'no', Mandy."
"Then I'll ask this: what if she doesn't want anything more than just sex?"
He gave her a sceptical look. "Hermione's not the type to go in for that sort of relationship."
Mandy levelled a look on him. "Are you saying this because you believe it to be so, or because you're hopeful that it is?"
Sirius paused, thinking, and swallowed hard. "Hopeful, I suppose?"
"Then I'll ask again: what if she doesn't want anything more than just sex?"
He closed his eyes for a moment, and Mandy was struck by how sad they looked when he opened them again. "Then I suppose I'll have to be grateful for what I can get."
Mandy's brow furrowed in concern. "And your own feelings, Sirius?"
He shook his head with a small smile. "I learned long ago that love is a fickle mistress. I expect it'll fade soon enough."
"Clearly, you've never properly been in love."
"Or perhaps I'm merely lying to myself for self-preservation, doctor."
"Of that I have no doubt, Mr. Black." Then she smiled. "I think it might be time for you to leave, Sirius, lest you accidentally show yourself to be self-aware and vulnerable."
He stood with a grin as she followed suit. "Now that would never do." Then he took her outstretched hand and pulled her into a hug. "Thank you, Mandy. If only I could enjoy this insightful a friendship with all my one-night-stands."
"Oh, I don't think that's such a good idea, Sirius. After all, there is such a thing as too many friends."
"What the fuck is going on here?!"
Both Sirius and Mandy jumped at the sudden, outraged growl, and Sirius only just had enough sense to push Mandy out of the way before thirteen stone of charging werewolf slammed into him, fist midway back, the sole purpose maximum harm.
"Remus!" Mandy shouted as Sirius struggled to block the taller man's murderous intentions.
"Do…not…touch…my…sister!" Remus roared, his canines starting to show in the heat of the violence.
Sirius, smart man that he was, quickly transformed into his animagus form before scampering out of the way.
"Get back here, you cowardly son of a—"
"Remus!" Mandy shouted again, grasping his arm and struggling to keep hold as he tried to shrug her off. "Stop!"
"You weren't content with Marlene and Hermione?!" Remus growled as Sirius shifted once more to his human form. "You had to go after Amanda as well?!"
"Listen, Remus—" Sirius started, hands up in surrender as he took a tentative step forward.
"No!" the werewolf hissed. "We are done. I forgave you when it was Marlene, because she would never love a werewolf. I could even forgive Hermione, because she's confused and lost right now, but no more! You have stolen enough from me! So go. Go to Hermione. Claim your prize. But I never want to see you again."
Sirius's grey eyes swam with deep, profound pain. "I never meant—"
"Go!"
With a long, unreadable look, Sirius turned and left, forcing himself not to turn back as the sound of a mournful howl filled the quiet country air.
"Well," Mandy said, frustration bright in her eyes as she glared at the man she called her brother. "You really are a moron of the first order."
"Don't you start with me," Remus warned, voice still low and dangerous as he sat heavily in the chair Sirius had only recently vacated. "What the hell were you doing with him?"
"What do you think we were doing, Remus, considering we were standing fully clothed in the drawing room?" she replied primly, hands on her hips. "We were just talking."
"It didn't look like talking."
"No, but what I do in my personal life is hardly your concern, Remus Lupin."
"The fuck it isn't!"
"It may have escaped your penetrating notice, but I am a twenty-eight year old woman who is fully capable of managing herself, thank you very much."
"Amanda, after everything that's happened, how could you even consider…with him?"
"I'm not considering anything, Remus. We were really just talking."
"Then how did he know to find you here? Only a few people know about this house."
"Yes. Including people who have visited before. Sirius and Marlene were childhood friends, Remus. Given your outburst, you could hardly have forgotten."
"Okay, well, then how did he know about you?"
She gave him a look. "Now really, Remus, that's just mean."
Remus's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Are you telling me that Sirius Black, arrogant wanker of the Noble House of Black, made the trip out to Hampshire solely to seek your counsel in a professional capacity?" Sarcasm dripped from his tone.
"And if he did?"
Remus gave a hollow laugh. "If you can cure that head case, Mandy, then you are worth every sickle of your ridiculous hourly rate."
Mandy gave a long-suffering sigh and sat again. "Really, Remus, I do so love it when you visit. The boost you provide to my ego could cure the world of all inadequacy issues." It was her turn to employ heavy sarcasm.
"Yes, well, I wasn't expecting you to be hosting a mental health clinic."
"In point of fact, neither was I, but I rather think I should set up country hours," she replied drily. "Now, brother dearest, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?"
He ran a hand through his hair. "Have anything to drink?"
She arched a silent eyebrow, motioning wordlessly to the tea service between them.
He shook his head, his exhaustion once again gripping him. "Something stronger?"
Appraising him for a moment, Mandy stood and walked over to the liquor cabinet in the corner. Pouring him a generous finger of firewhisky, she walked back to him and placed the glass in his outstretched hand. Then she resumed her seat and waited for him to speak.
After draining the glass with a grimace, Remus said, "I did something incredibly stupid."
Mandy refrained from expressing the mildly-malicious thought of 'So what else is new?' and said instead, "Oh?"
"I slept with Hermione."
Mandy tried to school her expression of startled concern, both for Remus and for the worry that she had given Sirius the absolute wrong advice, and merely repeated, "Oh?"
"And then she dumped me."
"Oh," Mandy repeated a third time, barely able to keep the relief from her voice.
"Yeah," was all he said before holding up his glass. "Do you think I could have some more, please?"
Understanding that Remus's stay—and subsequent story—might be a protracted one, Mandy went to fetch the bottle and set it in front of him. He immediately helped himself to a very large pour. Once she had settled herself back on the sofa, she said, "I'm sorry."
He brushed the comment away. "It was my fault." He drained his second glass and went for a third. "Fucking wolf."
Mandy frowned. "Did…you didn't…" She swallowed the bile that had started to rise at the horror of what she was about to ask. "You didn't shift and…and do something…did you?"
She had seen his werewolf shift. Well, less actually seen and more heard when he locked himself away or fled to the woods. The little she knew about it was terrifying, all violence and blood and destruction. Deep down, she knew Remus couldn't have shifted—dusk had only just approached and it was weeks before the next full moon—but she didn't trust her knowledge well enough to know for certain that accidents couldn't occur.
Remus let his head fall back, closing his eyes. "May as well have," he murmured.
"Is…is she…is she okay?"
"Oh yes. Just fine. Simply peaches," he said bitterly. "She's probably at Grimmauld Place right now, shagging Sirius's brains out."
Mandy exhaled, only then realizing she had been holding her breath. "Good." He cracked an eye open to glare at her and she hurriedly added, "Not good that she's shagging someone else. Good that she's…not hurt."
She didn't know if her addendum was necessarily better, but Remus seemed mollified enough as he closed his eye again, mumbling, "Bloody mutt."
Mandy waiting for him to continue but Remus gave a small snuffle, then a snore, and the empty glass slid from his fingers to bounce on the carpet. She rolled her eyes, looking heavenward in quiet supplication, wondering what on earth she had done in life to deserve that day. All she had wanted was a quiet weekend. Was it really so much to ask?
She grabbed the knitted throw and went to tuck it around the slumbering older man. He curled into it, mumbling gibberish before snuffling again. Mandy smiled slightly, shaking her head resignedly before picking up the glass, dimming the lights, and leaving to tell Bekky to make up a spare bedroom for Remus.
Then she took a quick moment to thank Merlin for her single status. Love triangles, she concluded, were far less distressing when confined to the pages of a novel.
Or, she assumed they would be, if she was ever given a moment to read one in peace.
Thanks for reading.
Hope you liked it.
