Authors note: Sorry about the delay. I've been busy with school and speech and whatnot. I'll try and be better about getting this updated.
Glin woke to a rather persistent knocking. If she'd possessed the strength, she would have pulled a pillow over her head to drown out the sound. She felt terribly run down, as if she'd just run a hundred miles before dropping into bed.
She threw a glance in the direction of the alarm clock, and gave a start. They were supposed to be looking over yesterday's photos in an hour. She'd better get moving if she didn't want to be late. She sat up, and went to herself on the bed, when her hand encountered a piece of parchment.
"Cara-
You were a bit tipsy from the wine last night, so I put you to bed. You had quite a spill on the way to your bed, and caught the bureau with your head, so take care this morning. Perhaps you've caught a bug? Stay at home today. Carlos and I will iron out any problems on our own.
~Antonio"
That was probably it. She'd gotten the flu then gotten drunk and the results weren't pretty. It's not like it hadn't happened before. She yawned and stretched a bit. Somehow, she never recalled feeling this run down from a simple virus. It was like every muscle in her body had hit the snooze button and her brain was the only thing really awake.
Although, come to think of it, her brain wasn't working all that well either. A for seemed to have taken up residence in her mind, and fighting to get a thought through it exhausted her. A stinging pain in her eyes had her wincing, which only made it worse. Maybe she was dehydrated? God- how much wine had she had last night?
And speaking of heinous overindulgence, who in the hell was making all that racket? Antonio left the note, Carlos had a key, and none of her friends would be so hideously persistent. Except Ron. Who wasn't really her friend, merely an annoyance. Little did he know that her resolve to lounge about in bed was much greater that his ability to thoroughly annoy her. Sighing, she melted back into her bed.
Ron took to knocking with his head. It made a great deal of sense or certainly seemed to after the first few knocks on the noggin. Perhaps the phrase "knock some sense into" was meant to be taken literally.
He rested against the door for a minute, letting his eyes shut. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He'd become rich, and he'd had his choice of women. Sure, Glin was beautiful, but he'd dated beautiful women before. He'd dated a woman who many considered to be the epitome of beauty and he'd gotten bored. So why was he standing on a woman's doorstep? Some woman who up until a few months ago he didn't even like or respect her for that matter.
When he reasoned it out though, it made perfect sense. Because now he liked her, and now her respected her, and damn it, he was in love with her, and she didn't even care. She knew, too. Well, possibly not the love part, but all the rest of it anyway. She had used him, used him for sex, like she used all men. She just hadn't realized who she was dealing with this time. He'd spent a great many years anticipating the days when he could become a successful womanizer. "Ron 'Love 'em and Leave 'em' Weasley," and all that.
He'd really hoped it wouldn't come to this. He'd tried to play the game the way Carlos had suggested, but it just hadn't worked. Picking up the parcel he'd brought with him, he resolved himself to taking drastic measures.
Minutes later he was out in the back alley, unwrapping his package. Placing the broom below him, he threw the invisibility cloak around himself and began his ascent. He was a bit shaky, but he wasn't considering doing any Wronknsi-feints or anything so he wasn't in any grave sort of danger.
Glin heard the knocking again. No, come to think of it, now it was more of a tapping, a sharp clear sound, but faint. The sound was vaguely familiar, but not, as if it were something she'd heard in a movie, but not in real life. It was like... pebbles on a window. Because it required no movement other than the opening of her eyes, she looked at the glass patio doors that made up one side of her room. Things were still a bit fuzzy, but she made out something that looked like Ron riding a broomstick outside her window. A hazy band of black began to obscure things, and she realized her eyes were close again.
"Fuck," Ron proclaimed loudly. He'd thought the cutesy throwing-pebbles-at-the-window trick would work. Evidently not, because she'd just gone back to sleep. She hadn't even looked annoyed. It was around One, which meant the maid had probably been and gone. He hovered closer to the window and looked at the woman inside. He'd never watched her sleep, not really. Her hair was longer, considerably so, almost to the small of her back, which was odd, because only a week before it had been chin-length. She must have grown it out magically. She looked fragile like this, vulnerable. And he couldn't help but think that all he wanted in the world was to be the blanket that was so haphazardly twisted around her waist. To hold her in his arms and know that she belonged to him completely. That she trusted him completely. He had to wonder why she wouldn't let him. Was he that fundamentally flawed, that she had to push him away and pick at his feelings, trying to make him angry?
She wasn't pushing anyone away right now though. Not with her whole body laying limp in exhaustion. One ivory hand splayed out on what would have been his back if he were in her bed. Her lips were slightly open and he imagined she was snoring lightly.
He was just over the balcony now, so he hopped off the broom. He knocked softly on the glass doors leading to her bedroom. She didn't even stir. How could she have fallen so deeply in such a little time? He squinted his eyes, and examined her as closely as he could. He took inventory of her skin, pale, almost translucent. Certainly it was a shade whiter than it had been before. Her lips were set in a pout, which was normal, but they looked different. They looked...blue?
"Fuck," Ron said once again. He pumped the door handle but the results were futile. "Good great fuck." It was locked.
Tracy looked down at the book in her hand, and then up at the number plate on the door. She had been standing on the stoop of Lupin's townhouse for a few minutes now, debating whether it was too early to be calling on him. He had said to drop by, but at what hour could one appropriately and casually drop by?
Rolling her eyes, she banged the brass knocker against the door and silently berated herself for behaving like a 14 year old school girl. When there was no answer, she expelled the breath she'd been holding in a huff and went to knock again.
Unfortunately, the door opened at the last second, and she found her hand on the chest of an unfamiliar man.
A naked unfamiliar man.
He was older than her, probably by around ten or fifteen years. Judging by the shaggy black haircut, and the fact that he was standing in Lupin's apartment wearing nothing more than a bathrobe which was disturbingly open up top, she guessed he was most likely Sirius Black.
"Damn."
"As much as I appreciate a good fondling early in the afternoon, 'damn' isn't quite the reaction I was hoping for," he told her, smiling in a rogue-ish sort of way that she supposed women found irresistible.
"It's not that. It's just... I didn't think Lupin was gay."
Sirius arched an eyebrow. "You have designs on Remus, do you?"
Tracy scoffed, and tried to sound nonchalant. "No, nothing like that. I...I...Well, my powers of deduction are usually better." She could tell he wasn't buying it. "Besides, I have more things to worry about than Remus Lupin's sexual orientation. I just came by to drop off a book we found in Malfoy Manor that he was interested in."
"Right," Sirius said, as he gave her a once over. "And you would be...?"
"Knight," she said, shaking his hand firmly. "Tracy Knight. I'm an auror with the American division of the Ministry."
"Sirius Black. Former convict and dashing rogue," he said with another smile.
"I'll try not to hold it against you," she said as she edged into the house. "Where is he?"
"Remus? He's in the loo. Tea?"
"Nah. I don't plan on hanging around all that long," she replied, clearly uncomfortable.
A voice came through a crack in the bathroom door, muffled by the steam. "Padfoot, what have you done with my bathrobe?"
At Tracy's raised eyebrow Sirius explained. "Just a little pet name he has for me. Rather cute isn't it?"
She nodded in a noncommittal sort of way.
Sirius belted out a reply to Lupin's query. "What did you expect me to wear, you pillock?"
Remus emerged from the bathroom. "I don't know. I'd just think you'd have a little more consideration than to leave me nothing but a single towel." Lupin had the single towel wrapped and knotted around his waist, and was drying his hair with a washcloth.
Tracy assured herself that her mouth was still closed. She may have had a goofy, glazed over look in her eyes, but her mouth was closed, and that was a feat in and of itself. That "single towel" was much smaller than anyone could have imagined. Hell, in her opinion, calling it a "hand towel" would have been overly generous. Although, it wasn't the dubious towel that was causing her heart to stop. It was what it wasn't covering. Long legs, muscular, but not too muscular. A torso that was slim, but so slim that it wasn't manly. In fact, from where she was ogling, there wasn't anything about Remus Lupin that suggested anything other than man.
His hair was wet, and looked darker brown than usual, which was probably because of the water. Gray hairs were sprinkled throughout the mane, but he certainly wasn't an old man. He certainly didn't look like one. In fact, the only thing about him that seemed antiquated was the look on his face.
"Bloody hell!" He exclaimed, leaping back inside the safe confines of the bathroom. "Black, why didn't you tell me we had company?"
"You didn't ask." Sirius replied matter-of-factly.
"Get me some clothes, you wanker."
"Just look at the abuse I have to put up with," Sirius said with a wink as he disappeared into the bedroom. He reappeared moments later with a set of neatly folded clothes in his hands, and handed them to Remus through the small crack in the door Lupin had left open.
She should have know Remus was gay. An attractive man who lived alone, yet kept a neat little house. He never dated. It really wasn't that hard to figure out once she had all the facts in front of her. She was pondering her idiocy when Remus stepped out of the bathroom, clothed, and visibly embarrassed. Sirius wasn't far behind, and was pouting.
"Moony has suggested that I take McGonagall back to Ginny's while he entertains you," Sirius said, hanging his head forlornly as he walked into the study. He stage whispered to her as he walked past, "I've been a naughty boy. One can only hope he'll punish me later."
"That is quite enough," Remus barked at him as he shut the door after Sirius. "I'm terribly sorry about that. He has absolutely no sense of proper behavior."
"Well, they say opposites attract," Tracy shrugged.
"Right," Remus said, furrowing his brow in confusion. "You wanted to see me?" Then he blushed, like a school boy. "Although perhaps not that much of me."
She almost told him that she hadn't minded so much, then decided to embarrass herself as little as possible. "Right. It's about the book from Malfoy Manor you were interested in."
"'La Histoire du Loup Garou?' by Bisclavret?" His eyebrows raised in shock. "That isn't it, is it?"
"Yeah. Why so surprised?'
Remus plucked the book gingerly out of her hand, and caressed the cover, releasing a bit of the dust. "It's incredibly rare, and old. The binding isn't just leather. If the rumors are true, this is the hide of one of the werewolves which comprised the Gandillion family. Probably Pernette. She was killed by an angry mob, not burned like the others."
"That is incredibly gross," Tracy said, looking down at her hands.
"It could very well just be part of the legend. After all, there are many rumors about the Gandillions, including the idea that they maintained their true form, even while behaving like beasts."
"So you're saying that could be human?" Tracy asked in horror.
"It's highly unlikely," he assured her.
"Why did you want it anyway?"
"It's never been fully translated. There have been passages quoted here and there, but this, the definitive book on werewolves has never been fully translated. There is one passage in particular that interests me." His tone was apologetic. "You don't mind if I look at this right now, do you?"
"Nah. I'll just show myself out."
"No need," Remus said, walking into the kitchen while thumbing through the text and talking distractedly at her. "It should only take a moment and then we'll have tea. Ginny sent some of those little lime biscuits she makes. They're absolutely delightful."
How had she ever thought he was straight? She followed him into the kitchen, and sat next to him at the little breakfast nook, being careful not to get to close to the curious book.
"Well, I didn't expect it to just leap at me like that," he exclaimed under his breath.
"Hmm?"
"The last paragraph is about the publication of the book. He says he's bound it with the death shroud of Lycaon."
"Who would be...?"
"The reputed original werewolf. From Greek times. It's complete and utter bullocks, of course. He probably believed it was true though. Or..." He began furiously translating again. "The invention of the typewriter really was beneficial to literature as a whole," he mumbled. "Manuscript is so unreliable... There... The article modifier is too faded to read. It may very well read 'a shourd of Lycon,' rather than 'the shroud of Lycon.'"
"Which would mean...?"
"It would mean that it could very easily mean that it was the shroud of any werewolf, as long as they were under the influence of a lycanthrope potion."
"Lycanthrope potion?"
"It's a salve, reputed to transform someone into a werewolf. Not as much of a curse because it's not permanent like the typical lycanthrope. In fact, it's rather like the animagus spell, only with a set time limit for the transformation. It's rubbed on the body with a strip of the pelt of a wolf."
"That is incredibly disgusting."
"Not exactly legal either. It's pretty far within the realm of the dark arts."
"Is all of that in there?"
"Mhmm... Including a rather basic recipe for the solution. 'Aloe, henbane, hemlock, poppy seeds and solanine.' Luckily amounts aren't given. One would have to experiment for an infinite amount of time to get this right."
"So I take it you'll want to keep it?"
"Could I?" He said, rather taken aback.
"Malfoy doesn't want it back. He said to dump all the harmless stuff in museums. As near as I can tell, you're not too far away from a museum."
"True," he smiled. "At the very least I can assure you Sirius will be amused. He seems to have an inordinate amount of interest in the macabre. I daresay he'll want to read whatever I have translated by the time I he decides to leave."
"Are things bad between the two of you?"
"Things are strained. I haven't heard from him in years, which tends to test the barriers of a friendship."
"Especially when they're as close of friends as the two of you are."
"I suppose you could say that." Remus stood and went to get their tea. "I've already forgiven him. He just doesn't know it yet. Sirius doesn't stay in one place very long, so sometime you have to think about these things rather quickly."
"I suppose that makes things rather difficult with romantic relationships."
"I suppose so." Remus replied rather abruptly. "I really wouldn't know one way or the other. You're sound like you're interested in him."
"No," she told him, laying a hand soothingly on his arm. "I don't lust after other people's boyfriends. You don't have to worry about me trying to steal him away from you. Besides, he's kind of smarmy at times."
Lupin's face blanched. "He told you we were gay?"
"He implied it. I didn't realize you didn't want people to know," she said hurriedly. "I promise not to tell anyone."
"You haven't anything to tell. Sirius has been up to his old tricks. He seems to think his antics are still amusing."
"Oh." She looked down at her watch. "OH!" I'd better be off. Law and I have a meeting in fifteen minutes, and she loathes tardiness."
"Right then." Remus showed her to the door. "I'll let you know how the Loup Garou text turns out."
"Thanks," she said standing in the doorway. "So you're not gay?"
"No, not that I have any objections to those who choose to live their lives in that manner. I'm just a boring, old, heterosexual man."
"Oh. Good."
But before he had a chance to ask what "good" meant, she leaned in and captured his bottom lip between her teeth. This lasted for a moment, before she released her hold on it and put her tongue in his mouth, and pressed her body against his. An eternity later she pulled away and whispered in his ear.
"You're wrong about the old man part."
Glin woke to a rather persistent knocking. If she'd possessed the strength, she would have pulled a pillow over her head to drown out the sound. She felt terribly run down, as if she'd just run a hundred miles before dropping into bed.
She threw a glance in the direction of the alarm clock, and gave a start. They were supposed to be looking over yesterday's photos in an hour. She'd better get moving if she didn't want to be late. She sat up, and went to herself on the bed, when her hand encountered a piece of parchment.
"Cara-
You were a bit tipsy from the wine last night, so I put you to bed. You had quite a spill on the way to your bed, and caught the bureau with your head, so take care this morning. Perhaps you've caught a bug? Stay at home today. Carlos and I will iron out any problems on our own.
~Antonio"
That was probably it. She'd gotten the flu then gotten drunk and the results weren't pretty. It's not like it hadn't happened before. She yawned and stretched a bit. Somehow, she never recalled feeling this run down from a simple virus. It was like every muscle in her body had hit the snooze button and her brain was the only thing really awake.
Although, come to think of it, her brain wasn't working all that well either. A for seemed to have taken up residence in her mind, and fighting to get a thought through it exhausted her. A stinging pain in her eyes had her wincing, which only made it worse. Maybe she was dehydrated? God- how much wine had she had last night?
And speaking of heinous overindulgence, who in the hell was making all that racket? Antonio left the note, Carlos had a key, and none of her friends would be so hideously persistent. Except Ron. Who wasn't really her friend, merely an annoyance. Little did he know that her resolve to lounge about in bed was much greater that his ability to thoroughly annoy her. Sighing, she melted back into her bed.
Ron took to knocking with his head. It made a great deal of sense or certainly seemed to after the first few knocks on the noggin. Perhaps the phrase "knock some sense into" was meant to be taken literally.
He rested against the door for a minute, letting his eyes shut. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He'd become rich, and he'd had his choice of women. Sure, Glin was beautiful, but he'd dated beautiful women before. He'd dated a woman who many considered to be the epitome of beauty and he'd gotten bored. So why was he standing on a woman's doorstep? Some woman who up until a few months ago he didn't even like or respect her for that matter.
When he reasoned it out though, it made perfect sense. Because now he liked her, and now her respected her, and damn it, he was in love with her, and she didn't even care. She knew, too. Well, possibly not the love part, but all the rest of it anyway. She had used him, used him for sex, like she used all men. She just hadn't realized who she was dealing with this time. He'd spent a great many years anticipating the days when he could become a successful womanizer. "Ron 'Love 'em and Leave 'em' Weasley," and all that.
He'd really hoped it wouldn't come to this. He'd tried to play the game the way Carlos had suggested, but it just hadn't worked. Picking up the parcel he'd brought with him, he resolved himself to taking drastic measures.
Minutes later he was out in the back alley, unwrapping his package. Placing the broom below him, he threw the invisibility cloak around himself and began his ascent. He was a bit shaky, but he wasn't considering doing any Wronknsi-feints or anything so he wasn't in any grave sort of danger.
Glin heard the knocking again. No, come to think of it, now it was more of a tapping, a sharp clear sound, but faint. The sound was vaguely familiar, but not, as if it were something she'd heard in a movie, but not in real life. It was like... pebbles on a window. Because it required no movement other than the opening of her eyes, she looked at the glass patio doors that made up one side of her room. Things were still a bit fuzzy, but she made out something that looked like Ron riding a broomstick outside her window. A hazy band of black began to obscure things, and she realized her eyes were close again.
"Fuck," Ron proclaimed loudly. He'd thought the cutesy throwing-pebbles-at-the-window trick would work. Evidently not, because she'd just gone back to sleep. She hadn't even looked annoyed. It was around One, which meant the maid had probably been and gone. He hovered closer to the window and looked at the woman inside. He'd never watched her sleep, not really. Her hair was longer, considerably so, almost to the small of her back, which was odd, because only a week before it had been chin-length. She must have grown it out magically. She looked fragile like this, vulnerable. And he couldn't help but think that all he wanted in the world was to be the blanket that was so haphazardly twisted around her waist. To hold her in his arms and know that she belonged to him completely. That she trusted him completely. He had to wonder why she wouldn't let him. Was he that fundamentally flawed, that she had to push him away and pick at his feelings, trying to make him angry?
She wasn't pushing anyone away right now though. Not with her whole body laying limp in exhaustion. One ivory hand splayed out on what would have been his back if he were in her bed. Her lips were slightly open and he imagined she was snoring lightly.
He was just over the balcony now, so he hopped off the broom. He knocked softly on the glass doors leading to her bedroom. She didn't even stir. How could she have fallen so deeply in such a little time? He squinted his eyes, and examined her as closely as he could. He took inventory of her skin, pale, almost translucent. Certainly it was a shade whiter than it had been before. Her lips were set in a pout, which was normal, but they looked different. They looked...blue?
"Fuck," Ron said once again. He pumped the door handle but the results were futile. "Good great fuck." It was locked.
Tracy looked down at the book in her hand, and then up at the number plate on the door. She had been standing on the stoop of Lupin's townhouse for a few minutes now, debating whether it was too early to be calling on him. He had said to drop by, but at what hour could one appropriately and casually drop by?
Rolling her eyes, she banged the brass knocker against the door and silently berated herself for behaving like a 14 year old school girl. When there was no answer, she expelled the breath she'd been holding in a huff and went to knock again.
Unfortunately, the door opened at the last second, and she found her hand on the chest of an unfamiliar man.
A naked unfamiliar man.
He was older than her, probably by around ten or fifteen years. Judging by the shaggy black haircut, and the fact that he was standing in Lupin's apartment wearing nothing more than a bathrobe which was disturbingly open up top, she guessed he was most likely Sirius Black.
"Damn."
"As much as I appreciate a good fondling early in the afternoon, 'damn' isn't quite the reaction I was hoping for," he told her, smiling in a rogue-ish sort of way that she supposed women found irresistible.
"It's not that. It's just... I didn't think Lupin was gay."
Sirius arched an eyebrow. "You have designs on Remus, do you?"
Tracy scoffed, and tried to sound nonchalant. "No, nothing like that. I...I...Well, my powers of deduction are usually better." She could tell he wasn't buying it. "Besides, I have more things to worry about than Remus Lupin's sexual orientation. I just came by to drop off a book we found in Malfoy Manor that he was interested in."
"Right," Sirius said, as he gave her a once over. "And you would be...?"
"Knight," she said, shaking his hand firmly. "Tracy Knight. I'm an auror with the American division of the Ministry."
"Sirius Black. Former convict and dashing rogue," he said with another smile.
"I'll try not to hold it against you," she said as she edged into the house. "Where is he?"
"Remus? He's in the loo. Tea?"
"Nah. I don't plan on hanging around all that long," she replied, clearly uncomfortable.
A voice came through a crack in the bathroom door, muffled by the steam. "Padfoot, what have you done with my bathrobe?"
At Tracy's raised eyebrow Sirius explained. "Just a little pet name he has for me. Rather cute isn't it?"
She nodded in a noncommittal sort of way.
Sirius belted out a reply to Lupin's query. "What did you expect me to wear, you pillock?"
Remus emerged from the bathroom. "I don't know. I'd just think you'd have a little more consideration than to leave me nothing but a single towel." Lupin had the single towel wrapped and knotted around his waist, and was drying his hair with a washcloth.
Tracy assured herself that her mouth was still closed. She may have had a goofy, glazed over look in her eyes, but her mouth was closed, and that was a feat in and of itself. That "single towel" was much smaller than anyone could have imagined. Hell, in her opinion, calling it a "hand towel" would have been overly generous. Although, it wasn't the dubious towel that was causing her heart to stop. It was what it wasn't covering. Long legs, muscular, but not too muscular. A torso that was slim, but so slim that it wasn't manly. In fact, from where she was ogling, there wasn't anything about Remus Lupin that suggested anything other than man.
His hair was wet, and looked darker brown than usual, which was probably because of the water. Gray hairs were sprinkled throughout the mane, but he certainly wasn't an old man. He certainly didn't look like one. In fact, the only thing about him that seemed antiquated was the look on his face.
"Bloody hell!" He exclaimed, leaping back inside the safe confines of the bathroom. "Black, why didn't you tell me we had company?"
"You didn't ask." Sirius replied matter-of-factly.
"Get me some clothes, you wanker."
"Just look at the abuse I have to put up with," Sirius said with a wink as he disappeared into the bedroom. He reappeared moments later with a set of neatly folded clothes in his hands, and handed them to Remus through the small crack in the door Lupin had left open.
She should have know Remus was gay. An attractive man who lived alone, yet kept a neat little house. He never dated. It really wasn't that hard to figure out once she had all the facts in front of her. She was pondering her idiocy when Remus stepped out of the bathroom, clothed, and visibly embarrassed. Sirius wasn't far behind, and was pouting.
"Moony has suggested that I take McGonagall back to Ginny's while he entertains you," Sirius said, hanging his head forlornly as he walked into the study. He stage whispered to her as he walked past, "I've been a naughty boy. One can only hope he'll punish me later."
"That is quite enough," Remus barked at him as he shut the door after Sirius. "I'm terribly sorry about that. He has absolutely no sense of proper behavior."
"Well, they say opposites attract," Tracy shrugged.
"Right," Remus said, furrowing his brow in confusion. "You wanted to see me?" Then he blushed, like a school boy. "Although perhaps not that much of me."
She almost told him that she hadn't minded so much, then decided to embarrass herself as little as possible. "Right. It's about the book from Malfoy Manor you were interested in."
"'La Histoire du Loup Garou?' by Bisclavret?" His eyebrows raised in shock. "That isn't it, is it?"
"Yeah. Why so surprised?'
Remus plucked the book gingerly out of her hand, and caressed the cover, releasing a bit of the dust. "It's incredibly rare, and old. The binding isn't just leather. If the rumors are true, this is the hide of one of the werewolves which comprised the Gandillion family. Probably Pernette. She was killed by an angry mob, not burned like the others."
"That is incredibly gross," Tracy said, looking down at her hands.
"It could very well just be part of the legend. After all, there are many rumors about the Gandillions, including the idea that they maintained their true form, even while behaving like beasts."
"So you're saying that could be human?" Tracy asked in horror.
"It's highly unlikely," he assured her.
"Why did you want it anyway?"
"It's never been fully translated. There have been passages quoted here and there, but this, the definitive book on werewolves has never been fully translated. There is one passage in particular that interests me." His tone was apologetic. "You don't mind if I look at this right now, do you?"
"Nah. I'll just show myself out."
"No need," Remus said, walking into the kitchen while thumbing through the text and talking distractedly at her. "It should only take a moment and then we'll have tea. Ginny sent some of those little lime biscuits she makes. They're absolutely delightful."
How had she ever thought he was straight? She followed him into the kitchen, and sat next to him at the little breakfast nook, being careful not to get to close to the curious book.
"Well, I didn't expect it to just leap at me like that," he exclaimed under his breath.
"Hmm?"
"The last paragraph is about the publication of the book. He says he's bound it with the death shroud of Lycaon."
"Who would be...?"
"The reputed original werewolf. From Greek times. It's complete and utter bullocks, of course. He probably believed it was true though. Or..." He began furiously translating again. "The invention of the typewriter really was beneficial to literature as a whole," he mumbled. "Manuscript is so unreliable... There... The article modifier is too faded to read. It may very well read 'a shourd of Lycon,' rather than 'the shroud of Lycon.'"
"Which would mean...?"
"It would mean that it could very easily mean that it was the shroud of any werewolf, as long as they were under the influence of a lycanthrope potion."
"Lycanthrope potion?"
"It's a salve, reputed to transform someone into a werewolf. Not as much of a curse because it's not permanent like the typical lycanthrope. In fact, it's rather like the animagus spell, only with a set time limit for the transformation. It's rubbed on the body with a strip of the pelt of a wolf."
"That is incredibly disgusting."
"Not exactly legal either. It's pretty far within the realm of the dark arts."
"Is all of that in there?"
"Mhmm... Including a rather basic recipe for the solution. 'Aloe, henbane, hemlock, poppy seeds and solanine.' Luckily amounts aren't given. One would have to experiment for an infinite amount of time to get this right."
"So I take it you'll want to keep it?"
"Could I?" He said, rather taken aback.
"Malfoy doesn't want it back. He said to dump all the harmless stuff in museums. As near as I can tell, you're not too far away from a museum."
"True," he smiled. "At the very least I can assure you Sirius will be amused. He seems to have an inordinate amount of interest in the macabre. I daresay he'll want to read whatever I have translated by the time I he decides to leave."
"Are things bad between the two of you?"
"Things are strained. I haven't heard from him in years, which tends to test the barriers of a friendship."
"Especially when they're as close of friends as the two of you are."
"I suppose you could say that." Remus stood and went to get their tea. "I've already forgiven him. He just doesn't know it yet. Sirius doesn't stay in one place very long, so sometime you have to think about these things rather quickly."
"I suppose that makes things rather difficult with romantic relationships."
"I suppose so." Remus replied rather abruptly. "I really wouldn't know one way or the other. You're sound like you're interested in him."
"No," she told him, laying a hand soothingly on his arm. "I don't lust after other people's boyfriends. You don't have to worry about me trying to steal him away from you. Besides, he's kind of smarmy at times."
Lupin's face blanched. "He told you we were gay?"
"He implied it. I didn't realize you didn't want people to know," she said hurriedly. "I promise not to tell anyone."
"You haven't anything to tell. Sirius has been up to his old tricks. He seems to think his antics are still amusing."
"Oh." She looked down at her watch. "OH!" I'd better be off. Law and I have a meeting in fifteen minutes, and she loathes tardiness."
"Right then." Remus showed her to the door. "I'll let you know how the Loup Garou text turns out."
"Thanks," she said standing in the doorway. "So you're not gay?"
"No, not that I have any objections to those who choose to live their lives in that manner. I'm just a boring, old, heterosexual man."
"Oh. Good."
But before he had a chance to ask what "good" meant, she leaned in and captured his bottom lip between her teeth. This lasted for a moment, before she released her hold on it and put her tongue in his mouth, and pressed her body against his. An eternity later she pulled away and whispered in his ear.
"You're wrong about the old man part."
