Guns and Knives

Rating – PG-13, because of possible language

Setting – London, at no particular time. Trust me, you'll know what I mean.

Explanation – A small fic I wrote a while ago and never finished. Before I get flamed to death, I'll just point out that this is a spoof. It doesn't make sense when compared to the actual books by JK Rowling.

Disclaimer – I don't own any of the characters in this here fic. If I did, I'd be extremely rich, which I'm not.

Part One – Introductions

There's not much call for Private Investigators in this city. It's one of the reasons why I remember each client that comes to me asking for help. I guess I'm the best, really. I'm not boasting...I rarely do that...but it's the truth. The only other Private Investigators are either six feet (more like sixty feet) under, or about to be. So people come to me. Luckily, I am currently neither of the aforementioned, which makes my work so much easier. Whether it is to track down a missing person, or work as a double agent for dubious organisations, I'm your man. And it's men I usually work for. That's why I remember her so distinctly. But it's not as though the case was a long time ago. Fairly recently, it was really. I usually give myself a month to recover after especially dangerous cases, but I don't think I'll ever get over everything that happened as a result of her walking into my office that day. And whether I regret or revel in memory of that day, I'm still not sure.

I remember everything about that day. I was sitting in my office, my black shoes resting on the desk. Next to my feet, there was my collection of Sherlock Holmes – A Scandal in Bohemia, The Case of Identity and The Giant Rat of Sumatra. In the corner of the room was a dying – if not already dead – plant that drooped its brown leaves almost to the floor. In my hands, I held the newspaper, scanning the headlines for interesting news. You never know what you might pick up. Sadly today, the only thing that caught my eye was a column advertising a sale at Penny's – the local lingerie shop. I resolved never to go to a lingerie shop unless the woman of my dreams accompanied me, because otherwise fat woman in scarce underwear would attack me.

At that precise minute, when I was amusing myself with fantasies of being attacked by fat women and being saved by Wonder Woman, a woman actually walked into my office.

I don't quite know if walked was the right word. Glided was more like it. She had the air of one who has recently graduated from Swiss finishing school. She was beautiful. Her hair was blood-coloured, and the lipstick she wore matched it. I wondered, at first, whether I had wandered off into Themyscarra.

"Excuse me," she asked coldly. "But I'm looking for Mr Remus J. Lupin..."

My heart did a flip. She was looking for me! I am ashamed to admit that at this point I got lost in her appearance. She wore a low-fronted black dress, with a black fur coat that she draped over her arm. This surprised me, as due to my lack of funding, I have no central heating. Emeralds adorned her neck, and she must have realized that they matched her eyes so perfectly. She raised an eyebrow to look at me inquisitively and I realised I hadn't answered her yet. I stood up.

"I'm sorry, young lady. Remus Lupin at your service."

She inspected me, clearly unimpressed.

"Are you sure? You're not what I expected."

I laughed to myself. What had she expected? An old man in a tweed jacket, maybe? I might be a fan of Sherlock Holmes, but I certainly don't fancy his style. I decided to ignore her comment.

"The gold letters on my door inform me that yes – I am Remus Lupin. So anyway, what's a beautiful woman like you doing in a dangerous town like this?" I asked, hoping my voice sounded suave and sexy. The woman still looked like she'd rather eat a poisonous cactus rather than trust me, however she sat down on the corner of my desk.

"My name is Lily Evans. I think my father was – "

And here I zoned out. Something had caught my attention. Evans...where had I heard that name before? Suddenly, the answer hit me like a runaway train. Lord Adlai Evans...yes...he had been part of the Government for a long time. I remembered a tall man with white-blonde hair and cold blue eyes. He had retired ten years ago looking no older than the day he had joined Parliament, or so the papers told me. But you can never trust the tabloids. I once read my own obituaries. Apparently, I've been stampeded by rampaging elephants on a trip to Zimbabwe with my wife and two daughters. The rampaging elephants seem vaguely familiar but the wife and two daughters are completely new to me.

Yet again, Ms Evans was looking at me peculiarly. I looked up at her.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" I asked.

She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"I think my father was murdered," she said in exasperated tones.

"Oh," I answered. I'd heard this story many times over. "Why do you think that?"

She sighed again, and this time I think she was just doing it to be dramatic.

"He was found dead in his bed at ten o' clock on Monday night. After doing an autopsy, they found poison in his arteries. But that's all they could find. The police won't do anything about it. They say that the case is closed because they have no evidence, but I know who did it!" she said urgently.

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow, and I did it to the best of my abilities.

"Then tell that to the police," I answered cynically.

She shook her head.

"I can't. They're too scared to react. That's why I came to you..."

"And what do you expect me to do?"

"The police demand proof before they will arrest him. I need you to get that proof. You can do that...can't you?"

I surveyed her expression. It was no longer dislike, it was distress. She really needed my help.

"Who is it?" I asked simply.

"A very evil man. You might have heard of him. His name is...Sirius Black..." she said quietly.

I almost fell off my chair. Instead of that, my foot slipped, and I ended up banging my elbow on the desk.

"You're kidding," I announced, rubbing my elbow. "No wonder the police are too scared. No one's going to challenge Sirius Black! And I'm not going to be the first. Christ! I quite like my head where it is thanks, and not at the bottom of the Thames!"

She bowed her head, and I thought she was livid with rage at my outburst, but when she looked at me again, her eyes were full of tears.

"Please...I beg of you...I really need your help! I can't go to anyone else...please..." she implored to me.

I am a complete and utter fool for women. If they're pretty, and they want a favour, I'm first in line. If she'd asked me to jump off a cliff, I would have rented lead shoes. If she'd told me to kill someone, I'd have hired the mortician and paid for the funerals.

But I really liked this woman. And if I wanted her to like me too...I'd have to say something funny. I smiled at her.

"What's in it for me?"

Ok, so it wasn't the quip of the year, but it got me somewhere.

Suddenly her tears disappeared (and I suspect they were of the crocodile variety anyway) and she flashed me a roguish smile.

"Two hundred pounds a day, plus expenses," she told me.

I shook my head.

"Nuh-uh, lady. I'm the only Private Investigator in this hellhole of a city. If you want me that bad, you're going to have to cough up a bit more than two hundred."

She looked rather taken aback, but recovered quick enough.

"Did I say two hundred? I meant two thousand," she said innocently. "Plus...if there's anything else I can do for you..." she added, batting her eyelashes.

Well, that wasn't expected. I nodded.

"So...for two grand, I go to Sirius Black's place, find out all I can by getting close to him, get some evidence, bring it back and if everything adds up, he's behind bars and I've got a huge sum of money in my hands. Sounds good to me..."

Ms Evans smiled at me.

"Good. I'm glad you agree, Mr Lupin. When can you start?"

I sat down and thumbed through my date-book. The date was Wednesday. I had dinner with myself tonight, and then tomorrow I had a special conference meeting with myself, and then in the evening I was playing golf with myself – and I'd be very angry with myself if I had to cancel on myself again.

"Friday," I told her simply. She beamed at me.

"Good. Come to my estate at eleven in the morning. We can sort things out there..." she pulled some paper out of her pocket and proceeded to note down her address with a black and gold fountain calligraphy pen. Her handwriting was very loopy. It reminded me of Elizabeth I's writing. When she was done, she folded the paper and put it on the desk.

"Just come up to the house. My butler will give you the details," she informed me. She bent over so that she was inches from my face. She was fixing me with a stare I couldn't hold. I averted my eyes downwards. Big mistake. I know I must have gone rather red, because she giggled. I couldn't help but inhale her perfume. It smelt of magnolia. She lifted her fingers to the back of her neck and undid the clasp of her emerald necklace. Taking it delicately from her neck, she pressed it into my hand. She put her finger under my chin so that I looked at her, and she ran her slim fingers through my hair.

"And don't be late, ok?"

With that, she pulled away, standing up. She stalked over to the door and turned back one more time to look at me.

"Goodbye, Remus J. Lupin."

And she left.