DISCLAIMER
Last I checked, I'm not a humongous-ly rich blonde Brit. I'm a broke-ass brunette, student-waitress paying for a room in Canada with an unhealthy obsession with Harry Potter. Thus, I do not own the franchise or the characters, sadly.
I also don't own Marvel. I wish I do though.
This is mostly a filler chapter, in preparation for a bang.
You're going to see me on breaks, btw -.-zzz
31 July 2012
Remus nervously patted himself to look more presentable. Well, as presentable as he can manage. He's wearing his best professional attire; the better of his two black working pants, his black high-neck cotton sweater that Delilah gave him for Shakespeare Day this year, an umber-colored blazer that once belonged to James Potter that he kept in pristine condition through decent tailoring charms and by saving it for THE DAY, and his new black leather shoes. He, also, spritzed on some of the cologne Olga gifted him for his birthday two years ago. It is mostly full as he also only uses it for special occasions, which are a few.
Despite being decently employed for the past decade, he kept to a low cost of living. He can afford Wolfsbane Potion now. However, it costs a third of his salary on his gig as a foreman at a high-end club, and it is the better-paying job of the two he has. The money he earns from the restaurant, he keeps in a withdrawable investment at Gringotts for the possibility of lying low when he is discovered as a werewolf. And if that time never comes, the restoration of Graciela's Garden. All the tips he get, he put on a long-term investment at a muggle bank under Harry Potter's name as his seventeenth birthday gift. Although decently wealthy, he only lives on the portioned salary he gets from the club. Delilah and Olga tried to help him multiple times, but he rebuffed all their effort and charity.
The two understood where he was coming from. So, through Delilah's instigation, they compromised by giving him gifts EVERY holiday and 'notable' event. From birthdays to Valentines, even Mother's Day. One time, they bought him a set of hankies on his first day back from a week off work due to flu as a 'Welcome Back, You Didn't Die' gift. Ultimately, this became a tradition for them. They would give him gifts; he would cook them dinner. He was an amazing chef after all, and the two can't cook even if their life depended on it.
After last night's happenings, the two dragged him to the nearest open department store and bought him new leather shoes as a thank-you gift for kicking the terrible duo out of their lives. They then went to Delilah's cottage for dinner, which he cooked. The day ended in a tipsy snog-fest. "For luck tomorrow," they said.
"Honestly, when can I have a normal relationship?" He thought to himself.
Tomorrow became today.
As he was technically jobless today, being offered no position at the Manse by the Thames after being fired by Benjamin and booking off working at the club because of urgent personal matters, he started his day with a jog in the morning and contemplated on life. When he got home, he prepared his attire, ate breakfast, and took a bath. He has an appointment at 10 am today with Tony Stark at his hotel to negotiate the terms of his employment. A sudden feeling of being at a loss came over him. He wanted this job. How Mr. Stark took interest in him, he would never know. However, with his 'ailment', this new venture may not come to fruition. How would he explain his monthly disappearance? The usual chronic illness with a medical record from a fake doctor as proof? Nope. He would not be able to fool Tony Stark with his AI around.
He rubbed his eyes and looked at himself in the mirror, checking himself for any dirt or fur. He admired himself a bit. He doesn't look too old compared to his werewolf contemporaries. His hair was artfully shaggy with a few white hairs that aren't too noticeable without scrutiny. His face has lines brought by smiles, not pain. He has eyebags, but it was the same ones he had during Hogwarts. And his build was no longer skinny, but muscular and lean. Chuckling to himself, he thought of how far he'd come through the help of Delilah and Olga. The couple practically adopted him. A sad smile crept to his face as he also remembered another old friend.
-.- zzz
Flashback, 2002.
Like clockwork, Remus woke up at 5 am, no matter what time he slept or how tired he was the day before. He groggily walked out of his bed and took his towel from a wooden chair's backrest. He rented a room at a low-end homestay. It wasn't an ideal place to live in. The place was near the train station and a brothel. Thus, grime, smoke, and drunken altercations were a commonality. The bathrooms were communal, therefore Remus had to wake up early to do his morning ablutions.
He worked a gig last night as a bouncer at a club that's frequented by university students and young adults. As much as he appreciated the flirtations from the customers, intellectual debates with drunk men, demonstrating his strength on troublesome folks, and taking home excess food from the night, the job was tiring. It was like keeping toddlers away from hurting themselves or six pairs of Sirius and James from trouble.
The thought of the traitor made him scoff. How had they missed it? Trusting him had cost his other friends, James, Lily, and Peter.
James used to make the world brighter and lighter with all his quirks and outrageous ideas. Remus enjoyed their adventures together even though he appeared reluctant, for the sake of it. James was the instigator of every good memory he had in Hogwarts. His friend inspired him to do everything with his best despite all odds. He was the first one outside his family who accepted his curse, initiated the Animagus transformation with the intent of aiding him, and saved his and Snape's lives when the traitor tricked Snape into the Shrieking Shack. James was his best mate, even though the traitor was his.
Lily had been his confidant and compass. She had been his study buddy since their first year, his first crush, his sneaking partner to the kitchens since their third year, the one who gets the Marauders out of trouble, the shoulder he cried on when his mother died in his fifth year, and the woman he based his ideal woman on – not that he would try to find one with his own monthly cycle going on.
And Peter.
Well, Peter was Peter. He was an integral part of the Marauders, one of his brothers. Even though he didn't feel too deeply for the stubby boy, his death still pained him. Moreso when he remained steadfast to the end.
Back in his room, he pat himself dry, wore clothes, made tea, and ate the leftovers he had from the club. He didn't eat much as he knew that Graciela would make him eat with her. Putting the food in stasis and fixing his room with a few wand flicks, he got up and started towards Graciela's Garden. The air was damp and stank of rancid beer, dried vomit, and unwashed underwear. His nose was irritated from the smell, but he wouldn't wrinkle his nose or make a face as the people might take offense and take it out on him, as before. He was able to take care of himself then and had cowered the attackers, but he wouldn't risk ruining his day so early.
He got to the shop early. Pocketing his key, he started doing his task. Flowers needed tending, supplies organizing, and deliveries retrieving and sending. After organizing the shop and greenhouse, he went about delivering pre-ordered items to customers using Graciela's son's old motorbike. Graciela wanted to give it to him, but he declined, stating that his neighbors might steal it. It didn't stop her from insisting now and then, though.
When he got back thirty minutes past seven, Graciela was awake and cooking breakfast. "Remus! Get your smelly arse here!" She called out as Remus was parking the motorbike.
"Coming, Gracie!" he replied, with a smile.
Opening the door and heading up, he was welcomed by the smell of egg, basil, and seared tomatoes. "Good morning, Gracie." He greeted her as he entered the kitchen. Graciela waved at him in reply as she was testing the taste of her tomatoes. He washed his hands and started placing plates, utensils, and cups, reporting the deliveries to Graciela as he did so.
"Kevin McGill gave the wrong address." He recounted. "There wasn't an Angelica Fisk there. I think we should probably call him. Jericho was furious. He started fighting with his wife – You know Anastasia, right? Anyway, I just left. Didn't want to get sucked into a marital drama. I already have enough drama from you."
"It wasn't a wrong address." She said with a smirk as she put tea leaves and other herbs in the kettle. "You were there the wrong time."
"What do you mean?" he asked, pausing at the refrigerator from taking a bowl of blueberries.
"I think you're old enough to understand why." She replied as she turned around to give him a knowing look, stirring the pan all the while.
Remus' eyes bulged and his mouth formed an 'O' as he caught on and continued his blueberry retrieval. Then his brows furrowed, "But the delivery time in the record was 7 am?"
Graciela grinned as she plated the sauteed tomatoes. "I'm sure old ladies, such as myself, usually make errors. You know how our ears and eyes aren't as sharp as they used to be."
They looked at each other and laughed, well more like cackle in Graciela's case and guffaw on Remus'. Her wit was still sharp despite nearing eighty. The woman is one of the most respected persons in town, nobody tried to mess with her and hers. Everyone adored the endearing matron and turned to her for advice and comfort. She used to live in her old cottage but her sister-in-law who used to live with her died. Alone, she decided to move into a smaller space and gifted her cottage to Delilah, her only niece.
"I'm already seeing Mr. McGill storming over," Remus said as he wiped a tear from his eye, placing the bowl of blueberries on the table. Some have fallen, he bent down to pick them up and then proceeded to throw them in the compost bin.
"No business of him screwing another man's wife, even though said man is playing hooky at the brothel. Just desserts, Remus, just desserts. Although, I'm being more of a matchmaker than an adultery bobby for this instance." She intoned as she sat down after placing the plates of tomatoes and eggs on the table. Remus waved his wand towards the stove to turn it off as the kettle whistled and levitated it toward him. Still levitating, he poured tea into their cups and placed the kettle into stasis before placing it on its cooling rack. Graciela always likes seeing the kettle float by and pour on its own, thus Remus humors her. She caught him using magic in his first month when he instinctively stopped pots of imported, not to mention expensive, plants from falling when a rack gave out. "I knew that stick wasn't just a fetish." She said then as she schooled her shocked face, making Remus blush.
Luckily, Graciela knew of magic through her husband, Edward, who was a squib. Their son, Andrew, was also a squib. However, all her granddaughters were magical and had attended Hogwarts. Remus was good friends with Paula, the youngest, who was the same age as him and was sorted to Hufflepuff. He hasn't met the others, yet.
Graciela's first years with Edward was an amusing family debate of 'Why can't I marry a muggle when I'm a squib?' and 'Carmichaels don't mate with muggles!'. Eventually, Edward won as his father died in the 60s and his mom had been on his side all along but didn't want to be disowned by her husband. Being an only child, Edward remained the Carmichael steward until he passed it on to Andrew when he became of age. Paula took the mantle of Lady Carmichael when her sisters passed it on to her before their marriages, with the blessing of their respective fiances.
The two ate as Remus recounted the deliveries and the tasks for the day. "Will you be alright being alone this afternoon while I deliver the remaining orders?" he asked. Delilah often comes over to help on her off days in the restaurant she's working at, however, she got the pre-winter chills.
"I can manage just fine." She replied as she delicately stirred a dollop of honey into her tea. "I might even get myself entertainment. Pity you wouldn't be there to witness it."
Remus just smiled as he chewed. Swallowing, he replied, "I think I have enough entertainment with that old cat-lady or with Madame De La Fontaine." He looked at his fork with all the pompousness he could muster and impersonated the subject's fake French accent and shrill, "Vhas zees? Hyu col zees hae fle'or? Zees eez hae zd'ed vweed! Mon Dieu! Zees ees pro-"
"So, when are you marrying my niece?" Graciela cut in suddenly, which made Remus choke on his saliva. Graciela just cackled as she slid him his warm tea. Remus glared at her as he controlled his coughing, and drank his tea.
"You do make the worst timings on jokes." He said dryly as he regained himself.
She beamed at him through her cup as she sipped on her tea, "Who said I was joking?"
Remus narrowed his eyes which made her cackle once again. "You know she's with Olga, right?" he asked.
She just pouted and placed her cup down with a clank. "I want grandbabies." She huffed as she crossed her arms like a petulant child.
"You already have grandbabies!" he retorted with a roll of his eyes and started popping blueberries in his mouth.
She scoffed saying, "I want more! The adorable little ones. Not the ones I already have that only talk business and vacations in Italy. You had already besmirched her purity, why not go all the way?"
Her statement made him choke on a blueberry, which made her grip her stomach from all her cackling. "I – I did not steal your niece's womanhood, woman! Olga already took it from her!" He said in between coughs.
She abruptly stopped cackling as a slow grin crept on her face, and she slowly drawled, "And how would you have known that young man?"
Remus groaned and slumped to the floor. "It was one time! One time! And we were drunk!" he defended from under the table. Graciela was soon sitting on the floor as she cackled merrily in chorus with a curled ball named Remus' chanting of "Kill me. Just kill me now."
-.- zzz
Present day, 31 July 2012
Remus missed the old lady. Her humor and story never ceased to amaze him, even after her death. When she died in 2006, the building of the flower shop was left to him, along with a few pounds, Andrew's old motorbike, and a new one that Graciela bought him, supposedly for his birthday. A pang of guilt caught him when he remembered when he had to close the shop down in 2008 due to another recession. He almost drove himself to debt to keep the shop afloat. What stopped him was Delilah and her threat upon his person with a frying pan, and a job offer at the place she was working at. He still lives at the flat above the store, in the spare bedroom he used to crash in when Graciela was still alive. He left her old room open for Delilah and Olga whenever they came around. He wanted to open the shop up again, but with the way that things are going on currently, it would be much too soon.
Looking at the picture of him with Graciela when they dragged him for a family Christmas dinner in 2005 at the Carmichael London townhouse, his heart went out to the woman who became her second maternal figure. He accepted him and didn't treat him differently, even after she found out that he was a werewolf. No look of pity or fear came from her, dissimilar to his mother. Graciela and Delilah opened the cottage's basement as his pad on his 'dog days'. Graciela cradled him in her arms every morning after his transformation, from the first one he had after their knowledge to the last before her death. Delilah and Olga continued the 'dog pile', but it wasn't the same. He smiled as he imagined the berating he would have had from her for having cold feet.
"I won't let you down, Nana La." He said as he caressed the picture of her face. Steeling himself, he went out of the house, mounted his birthday motorbike, and rode toward his new life.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
I didn't get the job I was hoping for, so I channeled all my negative energies into something positive. So, new chapter! Yay! Trust me, Graciela and the Carmichaels are important characters, even though I came up with them as I was writing this. I didn't just place them to make something. Well, technically I did, but for good reason. I also sprinkled a lot of tidbits for the glorious future into this chapter.
"Vhas zees? Hyu col zees hae fle'or? Zees eez hae zd'ed vweed! Mon Dieu! Zees ees pro-" in normal speak is "What is this? You call this a flower? This is a weed! My God! This is pre(posterous)". Remember, the lady is a try-hard French, but she can't reach it.
Unbeta-ed, thus errors are errors. I will not be having regular updates as I also have a life and writing fanfiction is not a paid job. Do check out some of my library readings for other AWESOME stories. I will update my bio accordingly for any reasons that would impede or progress my writing magic.
Til we meet again in the next chapter.
TragicErato
