In this chapter, there's a mention of the book Alone in the World by Hector Malot. I don't know whether that's the proper English title - I translated it from the Dutch title. Perhaps you know the story; about the orphan Remi who travels with Signor Vitalis and his monkey Mr Joli-Coeur and three dogs. A real tearjerker.
I noticed that I wrote The Quibbler in this chapter. Everybody seems to do that now book 5 has mentioned it, so it's a bit unoriginal. I'm not sure if I'm gonna do it again...
There's also a little injoke in this - I was writing this and listening to a cd (as sual). First I listened to the soundtrack of Dracula (and instantly added bats everywhere), but after that, I listened to the soundtrack of The Nightmare Before Christmas. And of course, I hád to add a song and three characters in my fict... It's a wonderful, wonderful movie... extra points to those who "get" the characters.
Right, that was everything I wanted to say, I guess. Oh, wait. The quote's from Star Wars Episode 2. That really was everything.
Onto the chapter! Enjoy...

October 31/November 1, 1994

"Just being around her is… intoxicating."

* * * * *

"Ew" is exactly the word I´d use to describe the taste of rats. So I beg you, please don't let me down and send me more food – if you can spare some, that is. I read about that horrible Umbridge-creature-woman. Want me to scare the living daylights out of her? Just need to say it and it's done. Having the reputation of being evil has its advantages.

On an entire different matter; do you know an easy way to get a wand, even if it is a second-hand one? They took mine thirteen years ago, and frankly, living without one is sheer torture. I also asked our dearest Headmaster, so don't trouble yourself with searching too hard for it. I was just wondering.

Padfoot.

PS: hey! This wasn't about my behaviour, thankyouverymuch! I've outgrown such childish things (why do I suddenly have the feeling that, right now, you're looking very sceptical, and you're not believing me? Strange…).

* * * * *

He could only see an red-orange blur in front of his eyes. The colour seemed to change, seemed to darken, but when he tried to focus on it, the colours escaped and turned lighter again.

Remus opened his eyes, and now he saw blue instead of orange. The sky overhead was bright and almost cloudless. A tiny aeroplane flew over, coming from or going to Heathrow Airport. It left long white lines in the sky.

A soft scraping sound to his right made him turn his head. Lova was lying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, reading a magazine. She was dressed in a faded pink bathrobe (which didn't cover her breasts completely, he thought with a grin). Every time she turned a page of the magazine, the pages scraped against a fold in the bedsheet, making a soft scratching sound.

She'd noticed him looking at her, because she said, without looking up: "if you're awake, you might as well make some breakfast."

He rolled on his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows as well, until he was shoulder-to-shoulder with her. "Can I have you for breakfast?" he asked, smiling innocently.

This time she did look up, and she laughed. "I´d be terrible for your digestion."

"Hmm, let me try." He kissed her, tracing her mouth with the tip of his tongue. "Not too bad here." He gave small kisses all over her face ("mmm"), then he rolled her on her back (the magazine protested with loud creaking but neither of them cared) and continued kissing her down her throat.

Fifteen minutes later, he had reached her ankles. Lova was, by now, lying sprawled on the bedcovers, flushed. He crawled back to her top of the bed. He gave a teasing lick over her navel along the way, and she squirmed.

"You know, I really don't think you'd be that bad," Remus said once he'd got face-to-face with her. "You taste fine to me."

She tried to say something but didn't seem to be able to form coherent sentences. He grinned.

"Tea and some sandwiches?" he asked.

"What?" The sudden change of subject startled her.

"For breakfast. Since I apparently can't have you."

"Oh, right, sure." He could see her mind still wasn't really on the subject of breakfasts. He couldn't help but grin. He liked her best when she was like this: sprawled on the bed, naked, his.

Remus climbed off the bed. "Be right back." In a few steps, he had crossed the floor and reached the dingy kitchen, and he began making breakfast. This wasn't the first time he was using the kitchen, and he almost blindly knew where to find plates, bread, teabags.

He had been living here for almost two weeks now. It had been a bit of a rash decision, made in less than 24 hours, but so far he hadn't regretted it. Living with Lova was so much… different from his own dull life. She had the strange gift of making the smallest, most common things seem like an adventure. He had the feeling he lived a more exciting life around her. When he was here, in her strange, bohemian apartment, the world outside seemed to have stopped existing.

Remus glanced in her direction. Lova had rolled back on her stomach and was flipping through her magazine again. She was swinging her feet in an endearing, child-like way.

He piled some cheese sandwiches on a plate, managed to pick up both the plate, two teacups and the teapot, and carefully made his way back to the bed. Monster noticed food was ready, and he crept from under the bed to demand his share. It had taken him only half an hour to find out that paint wasn't edible (apart from his aching stomach, Lova had told him so in no uncertain terms), and now he stuck to normal food.

"Here you are, Lo," Remus said, handing Lova her tea.

"Thanks, Re," she hit the ball back, sitting upright and accepting the cup of tea. "Did your mother like Alone in the World?"

"I'm not named after Remi, but after Remus, the founder of Rome. Well, the twin brother of the founder, actually." He took a sip of his tea and wriggled his toes. "Why did your parents name you Lova?"

She shrugged. "Liked the name, I guess. Hey, did you know that the French are using the Triwizard Tournaments, through Beauxbatons, to invade England?"

"Er, no. Should I?"

"Oh, and Umbridge´s a weretoad, but you obviously knew that already."

He raised both his eyebrows. "Do I even want to know where you go that from?"

She didn't answer, but showed him the cover of her magazine. He groaned.

"Don't tell me you actually read The Quibbler." Lova shrugged again.

"They got pretty funny stories."

Remus didn't respond. He thought there was a definite difference between "funny" and "downright stupid and made-up", but he didn't want to argue about it. Monster had finished the breadcrusts Remus had laid on the floor, and the furry animal now began gnawing softly on Remus' toes. It gave a strange, softly tickling feeling. Remus shook his toes to get the animal off.

"What are you going to do today?" he asked Lova. She had been emerged in her magazine again, but she raised her head to look at him.

"Finishing that painting I've been working on all week. Why?"

Now it was his time to shrug. "No reason. Do you want me to go shopping?"

"Oh, yes, if you would. Make sure to buy something with pumpkins, it's Halloween after all."

"Oh, right, of course." He had forgotten. Halloween. Out of sheer habit, he went over everything that had happened on Halloween. James and Lily died. Harry defeated Voldemort. Was it only last year that Sirius cut the Fat Lady to pieces? It seemed much longer ago…

"What's wrong?" Lova interrupted. "Don't you like Halloween?"

"Sure, I like it," he said, a bit hesitantly. "But I have some bad associations with it… friends of mine… died on Halloween."

"I'm sorry," she said. He couldn't tell whether she meant it or if it was just politeness. He discovered he didn't really care. He got to his feet.

"Well, I best be going, before the crowd comes and there are no pumpkins left."

"Don't forget to dress first."

He looked down. "Oh, right."

~*~

It appeared there was no avoiding the crowd. Diagon Alley was positively packed with people, everybody was trying to get some last decorations or sweets. The owners of the shops didn't help much: trying to earn as much money as possible on the holiday itself, they were selling pretty much everything on a discount price. This year, decorations with small bats on them were especially popular, and before the end of the afternoon Remus had got sick with the small winged animals. They reminded him too much of Snape.

For a moment, he played with the idea of buying underwear with tiny bats on them and sending them to the Potions Master ("Of course, I don't mean anything with it, but…"), but he didn't want Sirius to find out – he would never let Remus live with the fact that he bought underwear for Snape. Speaking of Sirius, Remus couldn't resist buying a large, warm, comfortable scarf for his best friend – a scarf decorated with bats of course.

Around five o'clock it was starting to get dark, and it was cold, so Remus decided it was time to get home. At the last moment, he remembered he was supposed to buy a pumpkin, so he ran into a vegetable store and managed at the last moment to buy one. It was a bit battered, but so was the rest of his stuff, and they would throw it away after a week anyway.

He left the magical world through the Leaky Cauldron and walked towards Lova´s flat. The sun had set completely, and the street lanterns were lit, casting an orange light that fitted perfectly with Halloween. On his way home, Remus saw that Halloween wasn't just a wizard holiday. Many Muggles were celebrating it as well, all the more enthusiastic because it fell on a Saturday. Several front-yards were decorated with pumpkins or paper skeletons, and he met quite a few people on their way to parties, dressed up as witches (albeit very clumsy) and monsters (even a werewolf with a plastic head and a pair of wolf-paw slippers for feet).

He passed three children dressed up as a witch, a devil and a small skeleton singing a song ("this is Halloween, this is Halloween, pumpkins scream in the dead of night…") and swinging pumpkin-shaped lampoons (thank god no bats). The moment he passed them, they screamed "trick or threat!" and burst into an almost hysterical giggle.

Remus ignored them and walked towards Lova´s house. He unlocked the door and got in.

She was sitting on the sofa, barefoot. She had stretched out one leg and was sketching her foot. The whole room smelled of paint and varnish.

"I'm back," he said, putting his shopping-bag down on the table.

"I noticed," she replied, continuing sketching.

"Then you aren't blind." Remus began storing things away.

"I know. Good thing too, eh?"

"Hmm." He stored the pumpkin on one of the long tables for later decoration and began making dinner. He might be a mediocre potion maker, he was a pretty good cook, even though he said so himself, and he had always enjoyed cooking. At least it didn't involve poisonous ingredients that could explode. Lova was using this for her advantage: she always let him cook for the two of them.

She had begun sketching her other foot. It was such a curious sight that Remus had to ask. "What are you doing anyway?"

"I found out I wasn't good at drawing feet," she muttered. "So I'm practising." That made sense.

About twenty minutes later, dinner was ready (nothing special, a simple salad, rice and chicken). Remus handed Lova her plate and sat down on a stool at one of the long tables.

"It was horrible finding a pumpkin, by the way," Remus said conversationally. "Diagon Alley was packed."

"Hmhm," Lova said around a mouthful of rice. She managed to balance her plate on her lap and her sketchbook on her drawn-up knee, and had continued sketching.

"Do you always draw?" Remus wanted to know. Lova swallowed.

"Yep. Always have done, always will do. It's compulsive. Why? Do you feel neglected? Want me to draw you?"

"Well, I, uhm –"

She had already turned around so that she was facing Remus (the plate wobbled dangerously), her pencil at the ready. "Well? I can make you a nice portrait."

"Just like this, you mean?" Remus gestured towards his plate, the cluttered table.

"Sure, why not?" She put the tips of her index fingers against the tips of her thumbs, making a rectangle. "'Remus eating rice'. Could make millions."

Remus laughed. He stood up and went to sit next to her on the sofa. "No, seriously. Would you paint me?"

She nodded. "Hmhm. We can begin now, if you like."

"Okay." He put his plate on an old crate that served as a coffee table (an old label said the crate once contained frames for paintings). "Go ahead." He drew up his knees and turned so that he was facing her, and waited expectantly.

"Just a minute." She stuffed the last rice and chicken in her mouth and shoved her plate under the sofa (where Remus would find it a week later, covered with a white-green mould). "Okay, there we go. I must warn you though, I make a lot of sketches and the result always turns out different."

"I don't care," he said. "Draw."

Lova put the point of her pencil on her paper and began sketching.

~*~

"Were you actually going to do something with that pumpkin?"

Remus looked up from his part of the Sunday Prophet. "What? Oh. That pumpkin. Er, I dunno. Were you?"

Lova tossed the pumpkin in the air and caught it again. "Not sure. I´ll think of something." She sat down and picked up the first part of the Sunday Prophet. She spread it all over the bed and began reading.

"Aren't you finished with that one yet?" Remus asked. "I´d like to read it as well."

"Hush," she muttered. "There's nothing interesting in it anyway."

"Can I judge for myself?"

"There's just stuff about that Triwizard Tournament… wanna know who the Champions are?"

"Sure," Remus answered, only mildly interested. He didn't even take the effort of looking up from the page he was reading (the horoscopes, 'What do the Stars have in store for YOU?'. Apparently he was supposed to spend more time with his loved ones, he would have some financial luck and there would be problems at work. What work?).

"Okay, here we go," Lova continued. "Beauxbatons…is a girl named Fleur Delacour. Durmstrange has got Viktor Krum, naturally."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Naturally? The Triwizard isn't about playing Quidditch."

"Nah, but still… Oh, and Hogwarts, of course. Cedric Diggory – "

Remus smiled. Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff Prefect ánd Quidditch Captain. Perfect choice for the Champion.

" – and Harry Potter. Is the hosting school allowed to have two champions?"

"No," Remus began answering the question. "Not that I know. But perhaps they've cha-" he suddenly realised what she had said, and he stopped mid-sentence. "What was that last name?"

"Harry Potter. Why?"

Remus just stared.

~*~

Sirius had discovered Hippogriffs could catch colds. Normally (ha, as if his life was normal), he would find this funny. Not now, however. The problem with Hippogriffs with a cold was, namely, that they got in a bad mood. And if they had to live in a draughty, cold cave, they got in a very bad mood.

"At least he's smart enough to understand that attacking and killing me is a bad idea," Sirius muttered. He was wrapped in his blanket and staring and the cold fireplace. He didn't allow himself to make a fire during the day, so that it would look less suspicious. It was a good idea, of course, but it was the first of November and it was ice-cold. And it would only get colder.

He sniffed and drew the blanket tighter around him. He hoped Hippogriff-colds weren't infectious for humans, the last he could use now was a cold. He shivered and look expectantly to the sky. He hadn't had a letter in ages. Dumbledore apparently had had nothing interesting to say, and neither had Harry. For some reason, Remus had stopped writing as well, even though he was usually the one who wrote the most. So much for friendship… Sirius would never have guessed he would be so anxious to get mail.

Of course, when you want something really bad, you get it most of the time. Sirius jumped to his feet, suddenly energetic, when he saw three owls flying towards his cave. They landed deftly on a rock and started hooting, each one anxious to give his letter first. Sirius untied all the letters (well, two letters and a package). He immediately recognised the handwriting of Dumbledore, Harry and Remus. Well, that's a coincidence.

Remus' and Harry's owl (not Hedwig, but a large barn one) took off immediately, but the Headmaster's owl waited patiently. Apparently it was a 'reply immediately'-message.

Sirius opened Dumbledore's letter first. It wasn't really long, but it was certainly interesting. Dumbledore told him that yesterday, the Champions of the Triwizard Tournament had been chosen. Much to everybody's surprise, Harry was one of them – despite the age limit that had been set. Dumbledore suspected that someone else had put Harry's name in, and he didn't mean one of the students. He didn't have a clue as to who it could be, but he wanted Sirius to know anyway.

He also said that he would contact Mr Olivander to see if there was an inconspicuous way to get Sirius a wand. Sirius took out his pencil and wrote a few words on the back of Dumbledore's letter and tied it to the paw of the owl again. The animal flew away, and Sirius opened the second letter, Harry's letter.

Dear Sirius,

You told me to keep you poster on what's going at Hogwarts, so here goes – I don't know if you've heard, but the Triwizard Tournament's happening this year and on Saturday night I got picked as a fourth champion. I don't know who put my name in the Goblet of Fire, because I didn't. the other Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory, from Hufflepuff.

Hope you're OK, and Buckbeak – Harry.

It was old news (well, five minutes old anyway), but it worried Sirius all the same. If both Dumbledore and Harry said something was wrong, then it definately was wrong. Nobody knew who put Harry's name in the Goblet, but Sirius wouldn't be too surprised if the person who had done it, was somehow connected with Voldemort, Peter Petigrew and the events at the Quidditch Worldcup.

He growled at the letter. There was just no easy living for him, was there? He picked up Remus' letter-with-package and hoped that his friend had better news.

Remus didn't have news, but he did have a gift. Sirius raised his eyebrows when he unwrapped the package: a large scarf with bats on them. Well, it wasn't so much a scarf, more a tablecloth-wannabe. It was more than six feet long and about 2 feet wide. Sirius immediately wrapped it around his neck and his head, enjoying the warmth. Remus was forgiven.

Sirius sat down again, thought for a moment about lighting his fire earlier today, but decided against it, and he opened Remus' letter. "Give me some consolation, Moony," he muttered, and he started reading.

* * * * *

Padfoot,

Enclosed is something I thought you might appreciate. See it as a gift to celebrate Halloween. Sorry there are bats on them, but they are apparently fashionable this year, and there was no escaping them.

I don't know anything about second-hand wands. I'll look around for you next time I go to Diagon Alley. Altough Dumbledore might be more useful when it comes to matters like this.

Moony.

PS: outcrown childish behaviour? Ha! Dream on!