Bah, I actually feel kind of bad killing of Wulf, I liked the old man... Oh well.
Well, I was going to make this a short chapter, but I simply cannot write SHORT stories! Hence the length of this chapter...
Our favourite DADA teacher is in this, yay! So I should consider this a spoiler or something, but I figure you've all read a certain book by now, so I guess I shouldn't mind. When I was writing this, I suddenly got reminded of World War 2, and how the Nazi's slowly made the Jew's lives into a hell. Strange thing is that the Ministry, in my fict, takes pretty much the same approach as the Nazi's did here in the Netherlands; they took it slow, first prohibiting a small thing (not allowed to go into theaters, parks or swimming pools), then another small thing (not allowed to go cycling), until, eventually, they weren't allowed to do ANYTHING. Hmmm...
All seriousness and Nazi-similarities aside, I finally must note that I had NO idea of, ah, Remus', uhm, future actions when I was writing a certain character in "Remus Lupin". Funny, the way my mind's works, eh?
For people who've quite forgotten who she is and what she was doing when Remus and she first met, I recommend rereading The chapter "Wolfsbane" of "Remus Lupin". That should do the trick.
Now, onto the chapter!

October 1994.
"I know Umbridge´s a nasty piece of work, though – you should hear Remus talk about her."
* * * * *
Thank you! Every night I pray to you: dear Moony, please send me more food, and you almost never fail. You are a life-saver! Please keep sending it, the only alternative is rats, and although it gives me a strange kind of pleasure to be eating Peter's Animagus-form, I can't exactly call them tasty.
I have finally reached my desired destination, and I found a place to stay (thanks to our old silver-haired friend). So far I have managed to stay out of trouble. I hope this will make you sleep again.
Padfoot.
PS: now who's being childish?!
* * * * *
"Could you get a move on?"
Remus was shoved in the back, just as he looked up from his newspaper. He staggered about a foot forwards, and nearly collided with the person in front of him. He sighed; he'd never liked queues.
He looked over his shoulder and found a crup staring evilly at him from its safe place in its owners arms. Remus glanced a little higher and found the owner of the animal eyeing him with the same angry stare.
So pets really do take after their owners, he thought. He gave the man behind him a curt nod and returned to his newspaper. Only eight people before him…
"PREPARATIONS FOR TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENTS COMPLETED" the headline of the Daily Prophet announced. Remus quickly read the article through. He was so jealous at everybody at Hogwarts. The last time there had been a Triwizard Tournament had been way before Remus had even been born. It seemed like a mere legend – and now it was happening at Hogwarts. If only he was still teaching there… He sighed wistfully.
He got nudged in the back again and he took a few steps forward. Speaking of teaching; he found himself mentally going over his students, thinking about who would be worthy of being the Hogwarts champion. It was a good thing they'd set an age-limit. He briefly imagined how Harry would do at being a champion, but he quickly discarded that thought. Being the Boy Who Lived, and being able to produce a Patronus was one thing (albeit a rather impressive thing), being Triwizard Champion was something different. Although nobody save the Triwizard Tournament organisers knew what tasks the champions had to face, there had been rumours. Most involved fighting a huge, lethal animal, such as a dragon or chimaera.
He was about to read the main article again, when he was once again nudged, this time rather aggressively. He looked up and saw that there was no one before him.
"Yes, how may I help you?" the witch behind the counter asked.
"Uhm, I'm here for the Werewolf Registry," Remus said. "My file – "
"Name?" she cut him off.
"Lupin."
She pointed her wand at a filing cabinet, and one of the drawers opened. A piece of parchment flew out of it into her hand. She caught it with an air that suggested years of experience, and handed it to Remus, along with a pencil.
"Fill this in, then return it," she said. "Next!"
Remus was shoved out of the way by the man with the crup in his arms, who immediately embarked on a long-winded story about his pet, and how it behaved so much different than usual.
Remus stood there for a moment, thinking about where he was going to sit. It was very busy at the Department for Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures. He wished he'd remembered to come early in the morning.
He spotted an empty seat in the row of seats along the wall, and he quickly walked towards it and sat down. Now, I just have to fill this in quickly, and then it's over for another year, he thought. Maybe I can go and visit Diagon Alley this afternoon. See if there are any interesting new books at Flourish and Blotts. But first this.
Filling in the form was relatively easily. It merely involved ticking off boxes and filling in his name and address. He remembered, with a painful feeling of sadness, how, last year, he had proudly filled in 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry' under address.
He'd reached the questions about his living conditions ('how many members does your family have?'), and had just begun wondering whether a Puffskein could be considered a member of a family, when he glanced to his right. He immediately forgot everything about his family or how many members it had.
What he saw was nothing more than the same kind of form he had in front of him. It was only filled in half, but it were the drawings in the margins which had drawn his attention. Small, half-finished pencil drawings of the people in the room, quick sketches of the animals. As he was watching, he saw the head of a small child appear. He looked up and saw the same child right in front of him, only a few yards away.
"Wow," he said. "Those drawings are really good."
Before he knew, two hands were covering the drawings. He looked up, right into two yellow eyes, about the same colour as his own eyes.
"Uhm, hi?" he said.
"Hey." It was said by a young woman who looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn't exactly say where he knew her from. He could see she was a werewolf – apart from the eyes, the form from the Werewolf Registry was a bit of a give-away – so it had to be something werewolf-related. And the tone of her voice indicated she'd recognised him too.
He figured that asking was always the best way to find something out. "Er, no offence or anything, but do I know you from somewhere? You seem familiar."
She laughed. "And then I hoped I'd made a lasting impression," she said. "A few years ago, remember? With the development of the Wolfsbane Potion? We were the first to test it."
His memory gave an almost audible click.
"Oh, right!" he said. "Of course. You were the one who threw up." Her face fell.
He mentally slapped his forehead. Sh*t. Way to go, Remus. You really are the king of tact, aren't you? 'You were the one who threw up', honestly…
She laughed embarrasedly. "Uhm, yeah. I was."
"I'm sorry," he immediately apologised. "I didn't mean it that way." She looked sceptical.
Remus was frantically racking his memory for her name. He felt so stupid for not remembering it, and he desperately wanted to somehow make up for his comment. Suddenly, his memory seemed to click again. Of course.
"Lova, isn't it?" he said. "How´re you doing?" She gave a relieved smile.
"Okay, I guess," she answered. "Updating my file is always less fun, though."
"Well, when you're done, it's over for another year," he said. "Of course, with your method, it takes far longer than usual…" He noticed that he seemed to be unable to have a normal conversation. Currently, he was sounding as if he was her grandfather or something. He also suddenly noticed that she was wearing a tight, very low-cut shirt. He could almost feel his hormones start raging. Not good.
She didn't notice anything of this. She held the form in front of her. "Well, they are pretty good, don't you think so?"
He agreed. "You really are a good drawer."
"I should be, I do it for a living." She laid the form back on her lap and continued ticking off boxes. Remus focussed on his form as well. He finished before her (well, he hadn't spend half his time on decorating the margins) and he waited until she had filled in the last thing (the date and her signature). They turned in their forms, happy that it was over for another year, then they walked towards the elevators.
They stood there rather awkwardly next to each other, waiting. Lova was winding and unwinding a long, dark curl around her finger. Remus was slowly rocking on the balls of his feet, sometimes glancing in her direction, and immediately looking the other way when he noticed himself doing it. He felt stupid. He had thought that by now, he had managed to outgrow the feelings of a fifteen-year old, but it apparently merely took a scantily clad woman, and he was emotionally turned upside-down. Quite annoying. On one hand, he felt stupid for feeling this way. On the other hand, he already knew he would feel stupid if he wasn't going to say anything. And a little voice in the back of his head, which sounded strangely much like Sirius' voice, said that one should grab an opportunity when it offered itself. He decided to grab it.
"D'you want to drink something with me?" he blurted out. "To, uhm, I don't, catch up, or… something…" Lame, Remus, lame… he thought. But she smiled at him.
"Sure. Any suggestions where?"
He shrugged, feeling immensely relieved. He tried to ignore mental-Sirius, who was dancing and singing about dirty things he didn't want to think about right now. "Leaky Cauldron? I was planning on visiting Diagon Alley anyway."
"Okay."
The elevator arrived, clattering loudly. The two of them got in, and Remus pressed the gold-coloured button to get to the main hall.
To their surprise, they found the atrium filled with people. And not just an ordinary crowd, but people with signs and banners.
"What the h-" Lova began. Remus read one of the banners, and he immediately understood what was going on.
"It's a demonstration," he said.
"I got that," she replied dryly. "Against what?"
"Umbridge," he said softly. He saw people holding signs with "we are not animals", "give us a way to live" and even a daring "we are not the monsters here, the Ministry is".
"Oh no," Lova sighed. "What has she thought up this time?"
"I don't know," Remus said through clenched teeth, "but no doubt something horrible."
This wasn't the first time Dolores Umbridge had done something to upset the werewolves. She was fairly new at the Ministry, but had risen fast through the ranks. She was now something important at the Department of Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures, and had apparently something against what she called 'half-breeds'. Last November, she had begun drafting anti-werewolf laws, slowly making it virtually impossible for them to get a job or make any kind of living whatsoever. And by the sight of it, she had just announced a new restriction.
Remus stepped forward, wriggling through the mass of curious witches and wizards who had come to see what was going on. As usual nowadays, when there were a lot of werewolves around, there were people handing out leaflets for werewolf-support groups and other Lycantrope-related stuff. Werewolves were almost considered a 'hot item' (they would have been, were it not for the Triwizard Tournament, Quidditch and the events of the last Quidditch Worldcup).
He stuffed the leaflets that were pressed in his hands, in his pockets, stubbornly walking on. He tapped the first werewolf he reached on his shoulder. "What is going on?"
The man turned around, at first rather aggressively, but his expression softened when he saw Remus. "Oh, one of us. Umbridge´s at it again."
"Well, I figured." Love had wriggled herself through the mass of people as well, and had now reached Remus. "What's she done this time?"
"Here." The other werewolf handed Remus a sheet of parchment. "Got this from the Registry this morning."
Remus took the sheet and quickly read it through, Lova reading along with him over his shoulder.
"Basically, it says that, on Umbridge´s order, they are informing everybody's employer that we're werewolves," the other man told them.
"Basically, it says that a lot of us are going to lose our job," Remus said. He gave the sheet back. "I'm going to kill her."
"Get in line," the other werewolf commented dryly.
"And there I was, thinking that there was a slight, slight chance that I was going to get another job," Remus said angrily.
"At least you won't be fired," the man said, a sad expression on his face. "Unlike me."
"Well, maybe you can start your own business," Lova tried to lift their spirits. "Then there's no chance that your employer's going to fire your because you're a werewolf."
"That won't work, because nobody in their right mind would want to sell something to or buy something from a werewolf," their fellow werewolf said. "And you won't be able to get a big enough loan from Gringotts anyway, it's not allowed."
Remus was about to start ranting about Umbridge, when there was a sudden commotion near one of the walls of the atrium, where the fireplaces were. The people there started waving their banners violently, and the entire group started buzzing with angry excitement.
"There she is!"
Remus was suddenly pushed forwards by the people behind him. It got very crowded since everybody was trying to get closer to the fireplaces, to see Umbridge.
He had no desire to. Romulus, his younger brother, had once had the pleasure to meet her, and he had described her to Remus. Squat, ugly, pink, and seemingly perpetually in a mood like poisoned honey.
Love was pressed against him, and she used her elbows to get a little more room to breath. "Can you see what's going on?" she asked. Remus obediently got on tip-toe, but it didn't really improve his view.
"Nothing," he said. "There are too many people."
They suddenly heard other voices join the chorus of werewolves chanting anti-Umbridge yells. Apparently she had got assistance of some kind of guard-wizards. The atmosphere was starting to get tense and violent.
"Get back or we'll stun you!" Remus heard a man shout. A wave seemed to ripple through the crowd, and everybody suddenly seemed to want back, instead of forward. But in the back, the group had grown, and there wasn't much space for more people.
If this goes on any longer, people'll get squashed, he thought, panicking slightly. He wanted to get out. Love had stopped nudging everybody with her elbows, and grudgingly allowed herself to be pushed this way and that, squeezed against Remus. He was vaguely aware of her angry muttering, her hands on his shoulders, her breasts against his back…
"Let's get out of here!" she yelled through his thoughts.
"Best idea you had all morning," he yelled back. "This way, we'd best use the telephonebox, the fireplaces will be impossible to reach." He somehow managed to turn around, and he put an arm around her shoulder. They started to wade through the mass of people.
Unfortunately enough, they weren't the only ones wanting to leave. A lot of people had decided that the ground had got too hot under their feet, and they began pushing wildly to get towards the telephonebox or one of the fireplaces on the other side of the atrium.
"This is getting dangerous," Remus said to nobody in particular. People had started to climb into the Fountain of Magical Brethren to avoid being crushed. On the other side, Umbridge had apparently managed to escape the crowd, and the wizards, now no longer guarding her, somehow thought that the best way to calm a group as large as this was randomly stunning people. The situation was rapidly getting out of hand.
Remus almost got kicked in the head by a little boy, sitting on his father's shoulders, and crying loudly. He was clutching a sign reading "My dad is no monster!"
Remus had had enough. He gripped Lova firmly around the shoulder. "Hold on," he said. Then he turned ninety degrees until he was walking shoulder-first, and he started whacking himself a way through the crowd.
It took them another ten minutes until they reached the telephonebox. They squeezed themselves in together with four other people. Remus was the one to slam the door shut, in the face of other people wanting to get in. A witch next to the telephone had dialled the number to get up, and never before had Remus been so happy to stand in the box and see the atrium disappear out of sight.
~*~
"I mean, it's ridiculous, , now it's practically impossible for us to get a job! If I hadn't resigned last year, I would've been fired now – " Remus nearly growled.
"You had a job?" Lova cut in. "You had an actual job?!"
"Yeah, but – "
"What did you do?"
"I taught Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, but that's beside the point. Listen – " He was unable to finish his sentence. Lova stopped mid-step.
"You were what?"
"I taught Defence Against the Dark Arts," Remus repeated. "Is it such a big deal?"
"Well, I've never heard of a werewolf with such a… big job before," she said, awed.
"There was one in the Wizengamot once," Remus said.
"Yeah, but he was bitten after he got in there. And he eventually had to resign," she retorted.
"Anyway," Remus continued, "who is she to set such laws she's half toad herself, I mean, c´mon, what's she got against werewolves – "Remus was ranting and he knew it. But he couldn't stop himself. Lova was only half-listening as she was leading the way to her 'studio', as she called it (they'd decided the Leaky Cauldron would be too busy and too "anti-werewolf-wizard filled"). She now turned her attention to him, however.
"How d´you know she's half-toad?" she asked.
"Well I don't," Remus admitted, "but she looks it."
"Wow Remus, way to be stereotypical," Lova teased.
"Well – but – I –" Remus sputtered. Lova cut him of before he could continue his rant.
"There it is," she said. She pointed to an old building. Some windows were boarded up.
Remus was amazed that this house was considered fit for living, but Lova determinedly walked to the front door and unlocked it.
"You coming?"
The hall was lit by merely more than a bare lightbulb. The stairs creaked. He could hear water dripping somewhere.
"Do you actually live here?" he said.
"No, I live here," she replied. She'd unlocked her door, and swung it open with a theatrical gesture. "Táda!"
"Wow," he whispered. Lova occupied the entire top floor of the house. There were large windows in the ceiling, through which bundles of light fell. There wasn't many furniture in the room; a bed, two couches, looking lonely in a sea of space, and two long tables, cluttered with buckets with paint, marmalade-jars with paintbrushes in them, and loads of other painting-utensils. To the left, there was a small kitchen, towards which Lova now headed.
"Coffee?" she asked. She pointed to a hatstand on which she had already hung her coat. He followed her example.
"Uhm, yes." Remus walked towards one of the tables. There was a pile of sketches on it, and he picked up the first sheet. It were merely sketches, nothing really finished, and he couldn't say he had an eye for art, but he could see that this was good, this was really good. Apparently she had been practising drawing rays of light, because the sheet was covered with sketches of her own room bathing in the light coming through the windows.
"Like it?" Remus jumped. Lova was standing next to him, two cups of coffee in her hand. She handed him one.
"Oh, yeah," he said. He took a sip of his coffee and nearly burned his tongue. "They're very good."
"Well, they're only sketches," she shrugged. "I got some finished ones over here." She took him to a corner of the room, where she had stored all her finished paintings. Some were better than the others, but overall they were very good. They almost looked like a photo, except that they were so dreamlike (or sometimes nightmarish) that they could never have been photos. He also noticed that every painting somehow seemed to have a wolf in it. When he said something about that, she said: "I don't really plan it. It's just something that happens. Anyway, I sell mostly to Muggles, and there's a growing interest in nature and the supernatural. They call it the new age or something." She shrugged. "As long as I can sell."
"Anything to make a living, right?" Remus pointed to another painting. "A self-portrait?" Indeed, the painting showed Lova, holding a brush in her hand and looking directly at the viewer.
"Yeah, in a mirror," Lova explained. "I wanted to try how it would work out."
"It's looks great," Remus said. He meant it. "Ever thought of making it move?"
"Yes, once, for five seconds, then I decided that there was enough of me already, and I didn't need a moving, talking picture of myself."
The clock on the wall struck half past five. Remus jumped and looked on his watch. Idiot, same time of course.
"I got to go," he said. He put on his coat and hung his scarf around his neck while she carefully put her paintings back. Then she lead him to the door and opened for him. He stepped onto the landing.
"I´ll be seeing you?" he said, an unintentional question mark at the end of his sentence.
"Okay," she said. "Maybe this time we can really catch up." She grinned.
He didn't grin back. Instead, without really realising what he was doing, he bowed forward and kissed her on the lips.
She kissed back, hard and daring.
~*~
"Stupid things!"
Sirius threw the stones to the other end of the cave and glared at Buckbeak, who glared right back. Then Sirius took to glaring to the small pile of dry leaves and branches. At least that didn't glare back.
For the past two hours, he had tried making a fire, and he now realised how easy life was with a wand. Rubbing two sticks together didn't work, twisting a stick on a small piece of wood didn't work, banging two stones together didn't work, trying to shoot fire out of his eyes didn't work…
"Time for extreme measures," he announced. "I want to get warm today." He took one of his trusted plastic bags and rummaged around, until he found a small box with a swallow on it. Allumettes, it said with red letters. Sirius figured that that was French for matches.
He opened the box and took out one match, then he tried to remember how Lily had lit one. It had been on a Christmas. She had lit candles, and James had excitedly told his fellow Marauders how she had done it, not with her wand but with small pieces of wood. Then Lily had had no choice but to show them all how it worked. At the end of the evening the entire house had been filled with burning candles – and the table was covered with burned matches.
Sirius vaguely remembered scratching the match against the brownish side of the box, and he tried it a few times. Then he turned the match around and scratched with the red, thicker side of the match. To his surprise and relieve, a flame burst from the head.
"Alleluia," he said. "Let there be light!" Careful not to drop the match, he held it to a piece of paper, which immediately burst into flames. Then he blew the match out and laid the burning paper on the branches. Soon enough, a small fire was flickering.
Buckbeak watched it apprehensively, but he noticed the warmth, and he scooted closer. Sirius held his hands above the fire, nearly burning them, but he didn't care. He made a mental note to write to Dumbledore and beg for a wand – there had to be an easy, inconspicuous way to get one for him, right? After all, he could hardly walk into Olivander´s and buy one…
He got to his feet and took out his blanket, which he folded neatly. Then he laid it on the ground and sat down on it. He might as well make himself comfortable.
Speaking of comfortable – this cave hardly was. "I should start collecting things again," he muttered, looking around. "Merlin knows how long I'm going to stay here."
He sighed. Suddenly, being Harry Potter's Godfather seemed like the hardest job around.
* * * * *
Thanks for being so worried about my sleep. I can assure you that everything is alright as far as that is concerned. As for your diet – rats?! Ew! The minute I read that, I started searching my own supplies for something more tasteful. I trust you've found it by now.
Keep praying, and, oh, keep out of trouble – as usual.
Your personal god.
PS: may I remind you of your very 'mature' behaviour when you were, say, seventeen? I am not half as immature as you were then.