Author's note:
Right, I'm finally uploading this story ... started writing it last summer when my computer crashed and I lost the original version of "Strangers" ...
Besides, I wasn't really satisfied with this story, still not entirely ... I guess it's cos it's a Mary Sue of sorts, an invented character. Bueno, I hope you like her and the story - please review and tell me what you think. New chapters will be added whenever possible .... :)
The story is set after "Prisoner of Azkaban", will probably run parallel to "Goblet of Fire". An idea about what could have been happening in Lupin's life at the same time as the events of the TriWizard Tournament, before Ms Rowling brings out the next book and proves me completely wrong ... in other words, something to keep me occupied till the next book!! Wahh, I want it now ....
Disclaimer: I don't own anything (neither Harry Potter nor the Doors) though I'd love to own Remus Lupin. Actually, I'll add him to my Christmas list of fictional characters I'd love to have a living copy of ... maybe one day technology will be advanced enough for this ... muahaha!! Ahem.
Rating: PG-13, to be safe. I think. May change.
THE LONE MARAUDER
Chapter 1: "Hello, I Love You"
It was a busy day at the Three Broomsticks. The summer was upon Hogsmeade, the heat drawing everyone out of their houses to the great outdoors - that is to say, shopping, hiking, and of course a cool Gillywater at the best-loved pub in town. Rosmerta bustled about with trays, flower vases, smiles (mostly gritted because her new heels were giving her blisters the size of Bludgers). Despite the fact that there were fewer tourists these days - the novelty of being able to leave your house without risking your life, after Voldemort's downfall, had now finally worn off - Rosmerta could still do with some more help at the bar. She made a mental note to send that owl, paused a second, and decided a mental note wasn't going to last five seconds in this bedlam. She reached for her notepad and her quill -
"Could I have a chilled Butterbeer, please?"
"Can't you see I'm busy?" Rosmerta snapped wearily, not looking up.
"Oh - I'm terribly sorry - I'll wait" the familiar voice said hastily, but courteously. Rosmerta glanced up to see the young yet worn face of one of her current guests at the inn. That nice professor from up at the school - or, well, not really a professor anymore, on account of his being a werewolf, as everyone knew by now. News travels fast and furious over mulled mead.
She put down the pad with its scribbled note, and smiled genuinely at him. Since her pub was frequented by all sorts of bizarre two-legged creatures ranging from hags to warlocks - even the occasional muffled banshee - she had no problem with a perfectly reasonable wizard who just happened to sprout four paws once a month.
"Coming right up, Prof - Mister Lupin."
She poured him a tankard of Butterbeer, and passed it to him. He thanked her, and drank deeply. Rosmerta took the opportunity to lean against the bar for a bit of a rest. He was awfully handsome, after all.
"How's the job-hunting going, then?"
Remus groaned and set his mug down. "Terrible. All the clothes shop assistants I've spoken to shudder just to look at me, and that's before I even mention the lycanthropy." He took another deep swig. Rosmerta tsk-tsked at the injustice of it all. Those shop assistants must be blind. "Not even Zonko's will take me on ... There has to be a vacancy somewhere, or at least, an odd job going begging ... some pesky Dark Creature in need of a vanquishing!"
Something clicked in Rosmerta's tired brain. "Wait a second - my friend - " She scribbled an address on the notepad, and passed it to him, pointing at the name on it with a turquoise fingernail. "Lena Richardson. I think she said she had a ghoul problem in her attic. She, er, works for the Hogsmeade Tourist Board, but I don't think they have any vacancies - the way they're going she'll be joining you at the Job Centre too, soon - but it's an odd-job for you, at any rate. Don't worry about paying the rent for now" she waved a generous hand over his protestations, "use the money to get some smart - preferably tight-cut - robes, and those Gladrags witches will be falling over each other to sign you on forever, believe me." She leaned over, kissed him lightly on the cheek, and then had to rush along to table 7, where the warlocks were toasting each other so hard they were cracking the tankards. Still, it was a nice interlude.
Remus, still blushing, considered the note in his hand. Well, it was something. He downed the remaining Butterbeer, and set off.
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"AAARRGHH!"
Lena let out a heartfelt scream. What a horrible day: all the undemanding, friendly holiday types with the cameras and the silly T-shirts seemed to be dropping away in droves these days. The batch she'd had to guide around Hogsmeade today had been die-hard history types, die-hard hiking types and die-hard geology enthusiasts - die-hard pains in the arse, in other words. She had only taken this job because she'd thought it'd give her a chance to "see the sights" instead of be cooped up behind some desk. She wasn't a history expert, or botany, or hiking or anything, and she was seeing the wretched "sights" in her sleep by now.
And to top it all, she had come home to a raging din in her house. The ghoul was going ape up there, he'd been playing up for weeks now. Lena really hadn't thought there was anything left in her attic to hurl or break by now, but she was obviously wrong. Maybe he was tearing the roof off.
Lena wanted nothing more than a rest and a cup of tea, but the loud clangs now emanating from above made any hope of peace impossible. Scowling furiously at the ceiling, she strode over to her CD player, pressed a button, and suddenly The Doors blared out through the house. Dancing clumsily all the while (if she wasn't going to get any rest she may as well make the most of the racket), she changed into the baggy shorts and T-shirt combo she liked to wear around her home. She decided that at least, a cup of tea was possible, and so it was through the almighty din of an apoplectic ghoul, a crooning Jim Morrison and a hissing kettle that Lena, miraculously, heard the distinct and always ineffably polite sound of a doorbell.
"Urgh ..."
She ran to and opened the front door without even switching the music off, and stopped short at the sight of a man stood expectantly on the porch, someone she did not know. He was tall, and thin, but with a sort of lean, angular grace to him. He wore scuffed boots, shabby tan robes - he carried a tatty briefcase. And his face ... angular and handsome, under thick, straight greying brown hair somewhat raggedly cut (but that was the style these days), with intense hazel eyes ... his eyes ... his eyes that were blinking at her as his lips moved somewhere beneath them, soundlessly mouthing something that looked suspiciously like her name.
Lena was unable to stop herself staring, but she did manage to adopt a responsible lady-of-the-house voice and say, "Hello?" Unfortunately, at that moment The Doors chimed in loudly behind her -
Hello, I love you
Won't you tell me your name?
The stranger, perhaps seeking to salvage the situation, chose that moment to stick out his hand and say politely, "Remus Lupin. I came to inquire -"
Hello, I love you
Let me jump in your game!
Lena stared wildly from his proffered hand, to her deceptively innocent-looking stereo, back to his hand, now drooping slightly with bemusement, and then to the stereo again. "Er, hold on a sec, will you ..."
Hello, I love you
Won't you -
"Won't you come in, Mr, er, Lupin? Sorry about the racket," she glared at the now-silenced Sony, "What brings you here, then?" The ghoul, which had kept quiet for almost thirty seconds flat, as if listening to their little interlude, decided to make its presence felt again. It let out a heartfelt wail, and produced an equally heartfelt clang! to accompany it. Lena's expectant smile became somewhat rigid.
"Well, I -"
"Cup of tea?" she asked brightly, remembering the kettle. Remus's look of bewilderment was beginning to look more like fright.
"Er, yes, that would be -"
"Sugar? Milk?" Lena now bustled off to the adjoining kitchen, hoping to give herself some air of efficiency, and kicking her colourful work clothes surreptitiously out of sight as she went.
"Milk, no sugar, er," The note of panic had reached his voice, but there were no more interruptions for a while, as she stirred the tea. He took the opportunity to look her and her house over; their meeting at the door had been too chaotic for him to take in anything at all.
She was relatively tall, too, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. Her figure was long and strong, angular, though at the moment she was hurrying about the place in a way more reminiscent of an anxious terrier. Her nervousness obviously hadn't impeded her friendliness - she had invited him in as if she hadn't had a visitor in moons - er, months.
"Right, here you go," Lena smiled, and awkwardly offered him his cup. She took her own, but did not drink yet, choosing instead to ask him, "What was it you said you were here for?"
"Er, I'm looking for a job, I used to teach at Hogwarts, but well, now, obviously I don't, and I'm staying at Madam Rosmerta's - I mean, the Three Broomsticks - she referred me to your ghoul." That didn't come out quite as he'd anticipated, it seemed, from the blank look on her face. "I taught Defence Against The Dark Arts. I could get rid of your ghoul problem for you." There, that must have worked; she was smiling now.
"Really? That'd be great! When can you get started - er, can I see your qualifications please?" It must have worked pretty well, she barely scanned the paper he had drawn out of his briefcase, and that mentioned the lycanthropy and all, albeit in very small letters. Remus beamed. His people skills must be improving.
"It might take a while, right?"
"Yes, sometimes a sensitive ghoul needs coaxing ... some advocate more brutal methods of exorcism, but they're usually harmless so no point in cruelty. Do you want it removed, or should I try to get it to calm down? That could take longer, and I would have to spend a lot of time here with it."
"Calming-down sounds good to me. I've got plenty of space," she gestured around the cluttered but comfy-looking house, "you can hang around as much as you like". Blushed. Damn, damn, focus on ghoul. "I've grown attached to that ghoul, anyway." Lena smiled in an affectionate manner, but the moment was somewhat spoilt by the unearthly, foundation-shuddering wail the ghoul promptly emitted. "Though he's not exactly Jim Morrison, is he ..."
"Jim who?"
"Morrison. Muggle singer. Joke, Mr Lupin."
"Remus." He grinned. Lena grinned. They both grinned stupidly until, suddenly, "Hello I Love You" sounded out again through the house, although this time, the ghoul was doing the honours.
"Well, at least he got the joke."
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