This chapter ha mood-swings, I've been told. Sorry! I noticed it does swing from happy to sad, to happy again and then back to depressed… I didn't do it intentionally.
The quote's from "Moulin Rouge", thanks to my mother and brother who helped me find it. ^_^ My mother was amazed at how much effort I put in my fanficts, but it's no more than logical, is it not? Right…?
Oh well. Read and review, please!
November 1994.
"All night, the penniless sitar player had waited. And now, for the first time, he felt the cold stab of jealousy."
* * * * *
Dearest, dearest, dearest Moony,
Thanks a million-million times! I´ll love you forever and ever for that scarf you send me. (I'm getting a bit redundant by now.)
I'm sure you've heard by now, but I´ll tell you anyway; Harry is one of the champions of the Triwizard Tournament. I don't think I need to tell you how dangerous that is, you used to know Hogwarts, a History practically by heart, and if you still do, you know everything about the dangers involved. Harry wrote to tell me that he has no idea who put his name in the Goblet of Fire, and I believe him. Besides, Dumbledore told me he had set up an age-line, students had to be seventeen to be able to compete, and we both know Harry isn't seventeen. So it's a mystery who is trying to put Harry's live in danger, but I´ll be damned if it isn't someone connected to Voldemort and The Rat. It's all a bit too coincidental – first Peter escapes us, then that disappearance of that Ministry witch, and now Harry who's in the Triwizard without wanting to – it's a puzzle but with too few clues. Ha, how poetical.
Please keep writing and keep sending all the food you can spare. Don't worry about the wand, Dumbledore´s working on that.
Padfoot.
PS: sure, I´ll keep dreaming. Harry can't do with a Godfather who's more immature than he is.
* * * * *
"It's just not working!" Lova threw her pencil to the other side of the room and Remus ducked just in time to avoid being hit. Her sketchbook landed on the floor, and she angrily got on her feet and marched towards the kitchen to get something to drink.
Remus sighed. "What is it this time?" He picked up the sketchbook and leafed through it. "It seems fine to me."
She gestured weakly with one hand, a glass of water in her other hand. "It's just not right – the pose, the way you turn your head. It's not right."
It had been a week since she'd started sketching Remus, to make him a portrait of himself. She had been right about the many sketches – she'd already filled a sketchbook just with portraits of Remus. But somehow, every drawing was missing something. She couldn't get it right, she kept saying.
Remus shook his head, picked up a robe and started to pull it over his head. They'd decided pretty early that he would be shirtless ("you just like to see me half-naked," he had joked, and she hadn't denied it). His body was turned towards the viewer but his head was tilted down. He was looking down a bit so that you could only see a glimmer of his yellow eyes. There was a faint smile around the corner of his lips as if he was thinking about something amusing. It looked fine to him but she didn't think so.
Through the ruffling of the robe he could hear her say something. "What?" he asked when he was properly dressed. She was waving two letters. "Mail. For you."
"Oh goody." This made her raise both her eyebrows. He ignored her and took the letters. One was from Sirius, as expected. He put it in his pocket for later read. The other one was from Romulus. He tore the envelope open and his stomach did a funny kind of somersault of surprise when he took out a card with a stork on it. He had quite forgotten that he had been about to become uncle again.
"Anything interesting?" Lova wanted to know. She had sat herself down on a stool, her knees drawn up, balancing dangerously on the edge.
"Yeah, my brother's just become father again," he told her, meanwhile reading the birth announcement card.
"Boy or a girl?"
"Boy. Named Ralph. That's the fourth in our family with RL as his initials," he said. He put the card down. "Do you mind if I go to Diagon Alley this afternoon and buy him a present?"
"No, of course not," she replied. "I've got something to do myself." Lova had spread out the Daily Prophet and was looking at the paper as she spoke.
"Oh? What is it, if I might ask?" She still didn't look up.
"There was this guy who'd seen my paintings and wanted to see the rest of them, so he's coming over to have a look." Now she did look up. "Oh, at what time will you be back, you think?"
"I don't know," he said with a sort of half-shrug. "Somewhere late in the afternoon, I think."
"Well, if you come back before he's left, at least be nice to him," she said, and she started reading again.
He bowed down and kissed her on her hair. "Yes ma'am."
~*~
It was almost half past four in the afternoon when he returned. It had taken him quite a while to find a nice gift – he had been stunned to find out how much one could give a baby. He was sure half of it was more for the fun of the parents than for the baby itself – what would a baby want to do with a miniature broomstick with Snitch? Or a mobile with actually moving dragons?
He'd finally settled with a plush mouse, he'd figured that something like that was always good. He had even scraped his money together and bought Julia, his sister-in-law, a gift; a book with short stories he thought she'd like.
Remus unlocked the door and got in. He climbed the stairs in the dark – the lightbulb had broken a couple of days ago but neither of them had cared to fix it. He was about to open the door to Lova´s apartment when he heard voices inside, and he remembered she had a visitor.
He opened the door more carefully than he would have otherwise. Lova was sitting at one of her long tables. She was talking animatedly to a man who was sitting opposite her. He was dressed in a leather jacket and a pair of faded jeans. His hair was slicked back. And he was bowed towards Lova in a bit too affectionate way for Remus' liking.
"Hey," he interrupted their conversation. Lova looked up and smiled at him. Far from reassuring him, her smile only worried him more. Was it genuine? Was she really happy to see him? Does she have do put her hand so close to his on the table?
The man had turned his head as well and he was now getting up. He stretched out his hand. "Bill Hunter," he said, squeezing Remus' hand. Remus took an instant disliking to him.
"Remus Lupin."
"I understand you live with Lova," Bill Hunter said. "I envy you!"
"Thank you," Remus answered shortly. He turned to Lova. "Did you show him everything?"
"Except for my works in progress," she said and she smiled a conspiring smile at him. Remus felt a surprising surge of relief.
"Well, I must be going," Hunter said. He hadn't noticed anything. He picked up his coat and Lova walked with him towards the door. Remus pretended to be reading the Daily Prophet, but he was actually trying to hear what they were talking about. Apparently Bill Hunter hadn't quite decided which painting he liked best, because they were agreeing he would come back the day after tomorrow. Lova closed the door after him, then she walked towards Remus. She put her hands on her hips. "What was that all about?"
Remus raised both his eyebrows. "What? What was what about?"
"I thought I asked you to be nice!"
"But I was! Wasn't I?"
"Well yeah, save for that glare of death you gave him when you walked in!"
"Oh, well, sorry!" he replied snappishly. "How did he like your paintings?"
Her expression softened. "Very much. He liked them so much he can't decide which one he likes best, and he hasn't got money to buy them all."
"Sad for him, good for you."
"Indeed. How did your shopping go?" Remus shrugged.
"Okay. It's a pain to find something nice, though."
"Hmm." She had walked into the kitchen and was looking at the utensils with a pensive expression on her face.
"What's up?"
"I don't feel like cooking," she said. "How about we order a pizza and I try and make a decent portrait of you again?" He walked towards her and hugged her from behind.
"Best idea you had all day."
She smiled and patted him on the arm, then she gently released herself and picked up the phone. "No salami and anchovy?"
"As usual."
~*~
Remus Apparated with a crack near his brother's house. It was later than he had planned; he had almost forgotten to take the gift with him, and to make it worse Lova had done something that…annoyed him. Today was her second appointment with Bill Hunter, and she had dressed up nice to look representative. But it turned out that her idea of nice was low-cut and tight fitting, and that was not Remus' kind of nice. He had surprised himself by his jealous, practically territorial feeling. He hadn't said anything, he didn't think it really important enough to have an argument over if he could avoid it, but it irked him to no end.
In short, it wasn't the most perfect way to start ones day.
The youngest Lupin lived in a quiet suburb of London. Small detached houses in usually green gardens, most of them with cars parked before them. The only exception was Remus' destination – Romulus and Julia could both Apparate so they didn't need a car.
Remus noticed someone had placed a wooden stork in the front garden, and there were blue balloons tied to the miserable-looking animal. He figured it had to be a Muggle tradition, because he couldn't remember his parents having done it when his brother was born. Then again, he had only been three then.
He looked on his watch. Half past two. He would arrive any minute now. He briefly considered Apparating back despite his promise he really wouldn't interrupt, but before he could make up his mind Romulus had caught sight of him through the window, and he had opened the door.
"Finally decided to come?" he asked. "You're the last one. Mum and dad are already here."
"Well, the best always come last, you know," Remus replied. He inwardly gritted his teeth because it appeared he had no choice, then he told himself to get a grip, and he got inside.
"Hey officially old guy with two children," he greeted Romulus.
"Hiya freak."
"Where's the little tyke?"
"If you mean my firstborn son," Romulus said stiffly, "he's upstairs. With his grandmother, in fact."
"Being strangled – I mean cuddled to dead?"
"Yeah, sort of." Romulus closed the door and hung Remus' coat on a peg. "Want something to drink?"
"Sure. Tea?"
"I think there's some left, unless dad's drunk it all." Mr Lupin´s love for tea was well-known in the family, and often made fun of.
Remus followed his brother into the kitchen. Sure enough, his father was sitting at the kitchen table, stirring a cup of tea. His face lit up when he saw his eldest son.
"Remus!" He got to his feet and took Remus in a bear-like hug that didn't fit with his respectable age of sixty-eight springs. Remus often felt older than his own father.
Mr Lupin pushed Remus away again, his hands on his son's shoulders, and took a good look at him. "You look worse for wear. We'd better get some weight on you before you mother comes down, takes one look at you, and drags you off under her wings again as if you were five instead of thirty-five." He gestured towards Romulus. "Give your brother something to eat, and there's still tea."
"Oh, you haven't drunk it all?" Remus said with a small smile. He had forgotten how parents always have a way of acting as if you're still a child, no matter how old you are. In a way, it was both irritating and comforting. On one hand, parents never seemed to understand that you can take care of yourself. On the other hand, it was reassuring to know that no matter what and despite everything, your parents still love you and care for you.
He sat down at the table. Romulus pushed a cup of tea in his direction while his father –
"Err, dad, are you leaving something for us as well?" Romulus asked, only half joking. Mr Lupin had cut an abnormally thick slice off the cake and laid it next to Remus' teacup.
"Eat the lot," he said. "Before your mother sees you."
Remus obediently took a bite. The cake nearly melted on his tongue, and he could only just keep himself from moaning with pleasure. He had no idea cakes could taste like this.
"This is so good," he said muffled around a mouthful of cake. "Who sold his soul to make this?"
"Err, you mother did," his father answered. "But I don't think she sold her soul. At least, she doesn't seem soulless."
"Who is soul – Remus!" Remus was about to turn around and make a comment but was caught mid-turn in a hug that was almost as tight has his father's had been. Remus patted his mother a bit awkwardly on the arm; the position she was keeping him in was hardly comfortable.
She followed the same routine as his father; first a tight hug, then an inquisitive look. Because he was still sitting, he had to look up to her, and suddenly he did feel five years old. He got to his feet, and now she had to look up to him.
"What are you eating?" she asked incredulously. "It's all the fault of that Umbridge woman. She makes you starve to death."
"She keeps saying that," Remus' father commented. "She seems to think Umbridge's got something against you personally."
"And prove me wrong!" Mrs Lupin said snappishly. Remus gently squeezed her arm.
"Mum, I'm fine. Really. I'm not dead yet, not by a long shot."
"Hmm," she said, still doubtful. Remus pitied anyone who dared to touch his mother's 'baby'. She didn't really look it – Remus had inherited her frail build and fair, pale complexion – but she could be fierce and vengeful when driven to it.
"And how do you like your second grandchild?" he asked. Her face lit up.
"Very much!" Her love-rant was cut short by a voice coming from upstairs. Julia, Romulus' wife, had apparently become bored with being alone, and she was now demanding to know where her tea was, or should she come downstairs and get it herself?
"Oops," Romulus said. "Excuse me."
Remus rolled his eyes. "Fathers nowadays," he said jokingly while Romulus made his way out of the kitchen and sprinted up the stairs taking two steps at the time.
"Come and take a look at your nephew," Mrs Lupin said, and she pulled Remus out of the kitchen. Mr Lupin followed suit, the teapot in his hand (because Romulus had forgotten it, although his sons took this opportunity to tease their father some more).
Arriving on the landing, the three of them were greeted by Thirza, Remus' niece of almost four. She was clutching a rag-doll with one arm, and was sucking on her thumb. She smiled when she saw her grandparents and her uncle coming up the stairs.
"Hey," Remus greeted. "How's your brother?"
"He's sleeping," she said seriously. She stretched out her arms, wanting to be picked up. Remus obediently did so, and he walked into the master bedroom. Julia was sitting in bed, propped up against some pillows. The room was practically filled with presents, ranging from babyclothes to the strangest toys. A cradle was placed next to the bed, on Julia's side. She waved when she saw Remus enter.
Remus put Thirza down on the bed gave his sister-in-law a welcome-kiss. "Romulus forgot about you? You should've married me instead."
"Yeah, maybe I should have," she replied evilly.
"Hey!" Romulus said, offended. Remus winked at him. "So, where's that child of yours?"
"In his cradle of course," Julia answered. "Let Romulus take him out, he's been asking to do it for a few hours now." Romulus scowled at his wife but obeyed nonetheless. While he gently took his son out of his cradle, Remus' mother pushed her eldest son down on the bed.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Remus wanted to know.
"Now, Remus, if you want to hold him, you have to hold your arms like this –" she instructed.
"Hmpf, I can hold a baby!" he scowled. "Look." He took the baby from Romulus and carefully and gently held it in the crook of his right arm. Little Ralph was half-asleep, but instinctively turned his face towards Remus. He was sucking on a dummy, and he unconsciously reached out with one tiny finger and scratched his nose. It was very, very endearing.
"See?" Remus said, looking up. To his surprise, his mother and sister-in-law were looking back, reduced to a small puddle of goo, completely melted away by the cuteness of Remus holding a baby. "Oh Merlin," he muttered.
"Cute, huh?" Romulus commented.
"Who, me or him?" Remus said dryly, nodding to Ralph.
"I´d say him, but some of us haven't quite decided on it yet." Romulus winked. This shook Julia and Mrs Lupin from their reverie, and they both flushed.
"Looks like you should have married her," Mr Lupin said. Remus nodded.
"Well, the best idea seems to me that I´ll just keep Ralph, and you can come by and look at the two of us being cute," he said, and he got to his feet and made to walk out of the door.
Julia immediately sat right up. "My baby!" she said angrily. "Give him back!"
"Okay, okay, hold yer horses," Remus said hastily. "Shall I throw him or just give him to you?"
Julia glared. "Give him. Can't you Lupins do anything normally?"
"No," Romulus answered the question. "Isn't that why you married me?" Julia took the baby from Remus and smiled wickedly. "No, actually I married you because – "
"Yes, thank you," Remus interrupted her. "That was really more than we wanted to know…"
~*~
It was already early in the evening when Remus returned to Lova´s apartment. He was humming to himself; he had forgotten how good it was for his mood to visit his family. He had dined there as well, his mother – as usual – fussing over him, encouraging him to eat more and Romulus and his father laughing at her motherly behaviour.
When he arrived in Lova´s flat, she wasn't there.
The room was still dark and cold, there wasn't a sign that she had been there in the last couple of hours. He froze in the doorway. Worrying thoughts immediately shot through his head. He remembered the feelings of unrest he had had early that day, and his brow furrowed.
He sat down at one of the tables and tried to reason his fears away. Obviously, something completely innocent had happened – bad traffic, or she had forgotten about the time, or she had decided to do something else…
More than an hour later, she finally came home. Lova didn't notice him at first, and he watched her walk in and do a little dance, face alight with a radiant smile.
"Where were you?" Remus said, startling her.
"Oh! I didn't see you," she said. For a microsecond, she seemed to look disappointed, but the next moment, Remus was sure he'd imagined it.
"I've been to Diagon Alley," she said. "And I've eaten something in the Leaky Cauldron." Her answer set him at ease, he knew how much she liked Tom's cooking.
"How did your appointment go?" A bit to his surprise, a broad smile appeared on her face. She did her festive dance again. "Good. Very good. I sold a painting."
"Really? Great! Which one?" Remus was smiling now, her good mood was infectious.
"Oh, the one with the waternymph," she shrugged. The painting, showing a mermaid on a rock gazing at the starred sky, wasn't one of her best works. "Guess how many I sold it for!"
"Uhm…"
She danced again, too happy to stay still. "You'll never guess it. Three hundred pound!"
He gasped. "T-three hundred pound? That's incredible!"
"Told you." She grinned. He embraced her, and she hugged him back, immensely happy.
"What shall I buy you?" she asked. "A new robe? A book?"
He, however, didn't react. He buried his face in her hair again, smelled deeply… "Do you have a new perfume?" he wanted to know.
"Uhm, no?" she said, uncertainly. "Why?"
"You smell… different." Strangely familiar… somehow.
"Oh, that." She laughed (nervously?). "There was this new shop in Diagon Alley that sold perfume and the like, and I kind of tried their entire supply, so you're probably smelling that."
He raised his eyebrows. "Did you buy anything?" She shrugged, laughing again.
"Should I have?"
He grinned. "I bet the salesman wasn't happy."
Lova smiled as well. "No, indeed. He was rather pissed, actually. Can't imagine why." She gently released herself from his hug.
"Yes, you do have this tendency to make people react like that…" he teased.
"Well hush." She shook his finger at him. "I feel rather lucky and inspired today. Can I have another go at you?"
He embraced her again and kissed her. "Hmm, what kind of go would that be?"
"Mmm, I was thinking… your portrait… but maybe… some other time?"
"My thoughts exactly…"
~*~
It was not even half past five when Lova opened her eyes. She rolled onto her back and dreamily stared at the ceiling and the night sky visible through the window. She had had the most excellent dream, and she suddenly had the feeling she should start painting right now, because her Muse said so. She looked to her right.
Remus was sleeping, his back turned towards her. His left shoulder seemed like a small mountain. In the faint orange light from the street lanterns coming through the windows in the ceiling she could see a long white scar on his shoulderblade. The sight of his back seemed to spark something inside of her. She sat right up, looking at him. She unconsciously put a lock of hair in her mouth and started chewing it.
So far she had always drawn him en face, turned towards her. But what if she tried drawing him seen on his back? But how would he have to hold his head…? It would be ridiculous not to show his face.
Remus provided the answer without knowing it. He shifted slightly, his right hand rubbing over his left shoulder. His shoulder was turned slightly away from Lova, and his head was turned so that it seemed as if he was about to look over his shoulder. His profile was clearly visible on the white pillow. His greying hair hung before his eyes, his mouth was opened slightly, and he breathed slowly and softly.
Lova smiled. There was her muse. She reached out and muttered "Accio sketchbook. Accio pencil." The two utensils flew into her hand. Careful not to wake him or in any other way make him move, she flapped the sketchbook open. This might just become my best painting yet, she thought optimistically.
When Remus awoke, four hours later, Lova had just begun preparing a new canvas.
~*~
The raunchy scent of the trashcan filled Padfoot´s sensitive nose. He tried to think his nose shut, but to no avail. He nearly fainted with nausea and disgust when he pulled out a moulting bread. Again nothing. He growled softly. Don't they throw edible food away anymore nowadays?
Cursing his life in general and his living conditions and Remus in particular, Padfoot trotted down the main street of Hogsmeade, leaving the bread for creatures that wanted to eat rotten food. Stupid werewolf seems to have forgotten how to answer a bloody letter, he thought angrily.
He took the back way, keeping in the shadows and avoiding humans. He was in no mood to be petted by people who thought he was 'loveable'.
When he arrived in his cave he immediately changed back into Sirius. Buckbeak wasn't there, he was probably off hunting. There were no owls with letters either. Deprived of any kind of company or occupation, Sirius plopped down on his bed and moodily stared into space. Things weren't going to good lately.
First of all there was this whole deal with Harry being Hogwarts champion. Then of course there was Peter still running around freely. And to make things worse Sirius hadn't heard of Remus in ages either. Which was strange, because Remus was usually the one who maintained a steady correspondence.
Buckbeak came trampling into the cave, a dead rabbit in his beak. Sirius had threatened him with all kinds of nasty things if the Hippogriff dared fly, or go back to Hagrid, and, to his surprise, Buckbeak had taken the threats seriously. Pity that a walking Hippogriff turned out to be more noisy than a flying Hippogriff. Oh well.
The animal unceremoniously dropped the rabbit in front of Sirius. The rabbit's head was torn half off the body, and Sirius felt a wave of nausea going through him by the mere sight of it. He pushed the animal towards Buckbeak. "You can have it."
Buckbeak happily started tearing the rabbit apart and devouring it. His cold was over and his appetite was completely back.
Sirius turned around until he was sitting with his back towards Buckbeak. He buried himself a little deeper in his scarf. Everything seemed to go wrong. He had no food, no real company, no shelter to speak of…
He let his pessimistic, depressing side overcome him, and he suddenly found himself wondering if things would ever work out for him…
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