Title: Shot of Life
Author: Liz Huisman
Rating: PG-13 (implied slash)
Disclaimer: I would hope it'd be obvious by now that none of these characters are mine.
Thanks, JK.
Spoilers: Pre-Prisoner of Azkaban timeframe, but I don't think there's any spoilers in here.
Summary: See me, see me slip again. Remus/Sirius implied slash.
Soundtrack: Under the Table and Dreaming, Dave Matthews Band - writing
Appetite For Destruction, Guns N' Roses & Followed the Waves [single],
Auf der Maur - editing
A/N: I haven't dabbled in Harry Potter fic for quite some time—literally, years. I was at PoA
for my third time a couple days ago, and I got a couple of ideas. This vignette is one of
them. Title adapted from Bob Dylan's 1981 album Shot of Love. Enjoy.
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A cold wind blew through the open window, rustling the drapes and awaking the man sleeping on the bed. Remus Lupin shivered and opened his eyes, groaning. He shuffled out from underneath the worn covers of his bed and shoved the creaky window shut, latching it and drawing the curtains.
Remus threw on his old, tattered robe and made the short walk from his bedroom to his kitchen. The old cottage creaked in the strong wind, and stray gusts blew through holes in the exterior, only adding to his cranky mood. Another lost job yesterday, which meant another month's rent would have to be late. He snapped a fix-it charm at the wall, and the holes hastily mended themselves. He then turned on the stone fireplace in the corner of the kitchen, and started a fire. After hanging a kettle of water to boil in the fireplace, he sat down at the kitchen table and rested his head in his hands. It always worried Remus, after losing a job, about how long it would take to find something else that would pay. Rent was due, and, as he had sadly observed last night, his cupboard was sparse. It had been a struggle since he left Hogwarts, but the last few years had been especially stressful, as more people found out about his lycanthropy. Years ago, he remembered, Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts headmaster, had told him to owl if he ever was in need of something, but Remus had never taken him up on the offer, and didn't want to have to now. His pride was one of the only things he had left in his life.
The kettle whistled, and he grabbed it from the fireplace. He poured a cup of water, and threw in a teabag. It wasn't his favorite way to make tea, but it required the least amount of effort.
He had just sat back down at the table when he heard a knock at the kitchen window. Sighing, he stood back up and let in the impatient owl. Tied to the owl's leg were a letter and a copy of the Daily Prophet. Puzzled, he set the rolled-up paper to the side, and opened the letter.
Dear Remus,
I hope this letter finds you well, and recovered from the recent full moon. (Poppy sends her best, I should add. She would be absolutely ruffled if I didn't remember to send her greeting!)
My purpose in writing you now is to offer you a job. Our last Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had a rather unfortunate accident, and can no longer teach. In looking for someone to fill this position, both Minerva McGonagall and I thought of you, Remus. You were the top of your class in this subject, and there's no one we would rather see in the position than you. If you are worried about your transformations, Severus Snape has agreed to brew the recently discovered Wolfsbane Potion for you.
I must admit, however, the reason for the offer is twofold. I do not know how much you have heard of recent events, but you will understand the second after you read yesterday's headline in the Daily Prophet.
You may send your reply back with my owl.
Yours,
Albus Dumbledore
A job? Albus Dumbledore was offering him a teaching position? Remus could hardly believe it. Teaching was what he had wanted to do after graduation. He wanted to find a nice school to teach in, but no one would hire him after finding out about his illness. He had accepted long ago that he would never be a professor of anything.
He set the letter down, and picked up the newspaper. He didn't keep up on the latest events in the Wizarding world, hadn't for sometime—subscribing to the Daily Prophet was something he could no longer afford to do, and he rarely went into the nearby village these days. He undid the small ribbon, and the paper unrolled, revealing something he was completely unready for.
Sirius Black.
Remus threw the paper down on the table and turned away, trying to catch his breath. Sirius had escaped Azkaban. No wonder Dumbledore was offering him a job—he was worried about his safety. It wasn't far-fetched that Sirius might try and find his old lover; of course, what would happen if he did find him made Remus worry slightly. The last time he had seen Sirius was the day Sirius moved out of their apartment. He had been getting increasingly distant over the last month of their time living together, and the tension came to a head the night Sirius came out and accused Remus of being the spy in the group, for feeding Voldemort information about James and Lily Potter. He left that night, and the next day, James and Lily were dead. It was a cover, Remus had realized later. Sirius had been trying to place the suspicion on him so he could continue to stay close to the Potters. It obviously had worked—James and Lily distanced themselves from him as well, and chose Sirius as their secret-keeper.
Remus turned back to the table, and picked up the paper again, staring intently at Sirius. He'd spent so many years trying to get him out of his head, to forget about the accusations, and the hurt. It had worked, to a point, but everything came flooding back now, and Remus felt his anger rising. He let out a strangled scream and threw the paper into the fireplace with as much force as he could. He watched as the fire burned Sirius to ashes.
It took Dumbledore's owl pecking at his shoulder to shake him out of his thoughts. Hurriedly, he grabbed a quill and a small piece of parchment. His reply of acceptance was short, and the owl was soon on its way to Hogwarts. Tea forgotten, Remus went into his living room and collapsed onto the sofa. His mind was running over possibilities and trying to fight back the anxiety that crept over him. Thoughts and worries over James and Lily's son Harry were his last before he fell into a restless, dreamless sleep.
END