4 F O U R


Remus sat on one of the many benches that had been set around the perimeter of twenty different dueling circles. The whole thing was a farce— one thousand people, nearly all of them young idiots who believed this would lead to something more than pain, humiliation, and wasted time. Fighting each other in the saddest excuse for 'dueling' that Remus had ever seen.

It was like someone had dragged the pit fighting and boxing matches saved for the enslaved creatures to the fairgrounds instead of keeping them to the empty warehouse of the week at the dockyards.

He gingerly tested his nose, which was sore and a bit swollen, but thankfully not broken. The little brat claiming to be from Slytherin Street, but who definitely sounded like he was a little country mouse still learning how to not get his pockets picked, had nearly got him, but Remus was older and slightly broader, and those two things usually gave him the edge he needed out smart nearly anyone.

He'd won two matches so far, but he had to win two more if he stood any chance of being one of the remaining five hundred.

One thousand people had moved forward from the first round. In the dueling round, they had to fight five rounds each, and at the end, the officials tallied all the wins and losses and the top five hundred moved on.

The announcer assigned to his ring called his name again. Remus groaned, and next to him, one of the younger ladies, if Remus had to assume, he thought she may be part Faye, competing gave him a half-hearted laugh of sympathy.

"Good luck."

Remus gave her his best grateful smile, well, the best he could do under the current state of numbness to the left side of his cheeks.

Memories stirred of where said cheek had been comfortably pressed the night before, firmly pressed against Ori's firm chest as he listened to his warm, smooth voice as he read Remus stories. Such a frivolous night, and probably the best Remus had every enjoyed. He'd been more than disappointed than he would ever admit aloud that Ori had been gone when he'd woken. There'd been a mark on the pillow instead, but the sight of money had not cheered him the way it normally did.

Hopefully, Ori was starting to become bored with him. Between Ori and the Tournament, Remus had enough distractions. He wanted his ordinary life back, before foolish ideas set in and long-dead dreams began to stir.

Given Ori was one of the marriage candidates in the Tournament, Remus should be suspicious of his motives for spending so much time and money on a competitor. Then again, what did it matter? Once he had the ten slick, he would have all he needed to pay Greyback, and then it was back to his ordinary pattern of work, drink, sleep, and the occasional visit to his mother.

He stepped into the ring as the guard supervising the match gave the signal and faced his opponent: another younger contestant who couldn't have been older than twenty, but looked closer to fifteen. The boy clearly seemed eager to start, his fingers were twitching at his side and Remus briefly wondered if the boy had Magic. It was rare, surely, only the purest of descendants still carried the ability to wield it, but not entirely unheard of. He'd have to keep that in mind during their fight. There wasn't much use to him attempting to overpower someone with magic, no matter how little the amount. But the notion that the boy could be capable of such things all but vanished in the next instance. Remus nearly rolled his eyes as he watched his opponent prepare to charge him while trying not to look like that was exactly what he was doing. Like a hundred other idiots hadn't tried to take him down with all-out run before.

Remus was strong. He was part wolf after all, no matter is hatred for the beast within, it came in handy at times. But strong, did not mean stupid, as so many people assumed and later regretted. He flexed his fingers and rolled his shoulders, resting lightly on the balls of his feet in preparation for the attack. He was quick. One of the quickest when he was younger and racing one another was what children did after a long days work near the docks. Remus had never lost a single race. With the feeling of confidence humming in his veins he took a deep breath.

"Begin!" Cried the guard and the younger opponent across from him, predictably, snarled something crude and charged him—

And tossed some type of liquid into Remus' face.

Instantly, Remus began to groan loudly in pain as the burning sensation began to cloud his eyes where the liquid had settled in a shock.

"Fuck, Scorpia Potion!" He managed to grunt out as he side stepped the boy still advancing on him, miraculously still able to keep his feet under him. Remus quickly shuffled blindly to the side of the ring, rubbing at his eyes with the last clean part of his shirt near the hem, cursing the burins sensation all the while in pain.

The guard at his ring called for him to halt, but Remus hardly heard him through his trembling rage at the dirty little cheat calling after him to not run away like a coward, but then there was a hard crack of something hitting bone and the boy's voice was no longer ringing in his ears. Remus didn't much care, the boy would be lucky he didn't wind up with a limb missing for trying to get away with what he did.

"Here now," said a gentle voice, and someone tugged away Remus' hands from his searing eyeballs. Another pair of gentle hands replaced them with a cool, damp cloth that smelled familiar to him, like warm milk and some herbs his mother used to mix whenever he came home covered in bruises and cuts. After a few minutes, the same voice said, "There, try to open them now."

Remus did, though he could only partially manage it. He squinted at the person helping him, a handsome individual wearing the same uniform as the guards, but with yellow and red sleeves and a hood that indicated he was a healer. Though, Remus thought the man far to regal looking to be a healer. "Thank you."

"They're still pretty red and they'll probably be sore for a couple days, but you probably know that. You seem acquainted, as quickly as you reacted."

"Like a fucking baby!" Snarled the idiot who'd thrown the potion. "It wasn't even that much. You just quit like a dishonorable—" He broke off as the guards holding him gave a sound shake, hitting him over the head for good measure when he struggled out of their grasp.

Remus, despite his discomfort, heard a small laugh escape him. He couldn't believe his luck, or the absurdity of the situation he had put himself in.

"You cheat, and I'm dishonorable?" He called back, shaking his head. "You're gong to need more sense than that if you plan to keep cheating in fights, tweedling."

"Tweedling — I'm twenty one! And better I win than some old, horrid creature like you—" He yelped as one of the guards clapped his ears.

Then, quite surprisingly to Remus, the healer stepped forward, his presence suddenly much more apparent with the tilt of his chin and shoulders pressed back. "Get him out of here. I want him disqualified from the Tournament immediately."

Remus frowned at the sound of finality in the healers voice, and his confusion only deepened when the guards obeyed his demand. Slowly, the healer turned to him, his brown unruly hair curling over his ears from the heat of the day. He gave Remus a small grin and bowed his head slightly. His hood remained in place over his face, hiding most of his features from any onlookers. And now that they had several pairs of eyes on them, the healer suddenly seemed much more tense at being recognized.

"If you'll forgive me, I must be on my way—"

Before Remus knew what he was doing he reached for the healers arm, stopping him in his tracks as he turned to leave. The man glanced down at where Remus was holding him with an amused expression and then back at Remus who hastily dropped his arm.

"Sorry— I just—" Remus shook his head, unsure why he had felt the need to stop him. "Thanks. Again. I mean— I know you're a healer and it's your job, but anyway— um, thanks."

The playful grin that the healer gave him only seemed to confuse Remus more. Why had he helped him, and why had his command seemed to jolt the guards into submission. Surely Remus would recognize his status, unless he was attempting at a disguise, which Remus now figured was most likely.

"I'm actually not a healer at all. But you're welcome. The name's Prongs, by the way." He stuck out his hand for Remus and he took it slowly, unsure if he should ask why the man was wearing a healers uniform if he wasn't a healer. "Honestly, I'm not even meant to be here, so I should just be going now. Keep up the good work and may the fates see you through the rest of the Tournament. I've got a feeling you'll fair well."

Remus blinked after the man, unable to form words.

Not a healer. And what kind of name was Prongs?

His bemused train of thought was roughly interrupted by the call of a guard wearing Captains marks, "On to the next one with this one then. I want this round finished sometime this century."

"Yes, Captain," the other guard said, but the Captain had strode off, already yelling at somebody else.

Clearing his throat, the crier turned to Remus. "That's three victories in a row for you."

"I'm not sure it's much of a victory if I won by default." Remus grumbled as he continued to press the cool rag the healer had left him to his irritated pupils.

The crier shrugged. "Rules are rules. Cheating is an immediate forfeit. Take your place along the bench, and I'll call you for the next fight, unless you'd like additional rest time due to injury."

Remus shook his head. "Rather be done with this sooner rather than later if it's alright by you."

"Very well then," the crier said, the barest smile curving his perpetually-stern mouth.

Remus sat down and sighed— and looked up as a guard uniform came into view. He looked up to see another younger looking guard handing him a small vial of ointment. Remus frowned.

"What's this?"

"Orders were to make sure you applied this to your injury."

"Orders? From who?" Remus asked cautiously, glancing around. His eye caught the healers, Prongs, who gave him a small bow indicated towards the ointment. Before Remus could blink he was already walking in the opposite direction out of the ring.

He sighed, unable to truly care enough to question the man's motives. The pain in his eyes could use any relief they could get. He nodded a curt thanks to the guard and slowly began to apply the ointment. It smelled faintly sweet, and looked something between fresh cream and soft butter. He gingerly dabbed a fingertip in it and rubbed some of it carefully around his sore eyes.

Relief was practically instant. It tingled, but his eyes did not hurt nearly as bad as it did moments prior. The last time he had the misfortune of being on the receiving end of Scorpia Potion, Remus had been stuck washing them with the cleanest water he could find between work breaks at the docks. It had taken just over a week for his eyes to completely recover. Thankfully, the healer seemed to have similar access to that of Ori, as the ointment was a rarely found as the potions Ori had given him were.

Remus eyed the vial once more and found it to have the exact same ribbon tied around it as the one Ori had given him. Strange. It wasn't impossible for the healer— wait, not healer— Prongs? It wasn't impossible for him to have access to the same potions, but to have the same seal? Well, that was surely no coincidence as only High City folk could waste such fabric on wrapping an already enclosed vial.

"Oi— what happened to you?" Marlene's voice startled him out of his thoughts. He lifted his gaze to see her eyeing him skeptically, the briefest hint of concern somewhere hidden away.

"Scorpia Potion."

She stared at him blankly.

Remus snorted. "That's right, I forgot. You haven't much experience in getting your hands dirty."

Marlene quirked one side of her mouth, ignoring the sly blow. "You know Dorcas is the one who prefers the dirty business. I simply get to reap the benefits."

Remus shook his head, unable to fully smile as his face was still sore. "It's a mix of a few herbs and scorpion venom. It's meant to burn everything it touches. Can be a tasty addition to dinner, but not so much in your eyes. I think it used to be use as a military tactic, used in some form of gas to temporarily knock the enemy blind, at least that's what someone told me once, but stories told at the Three Broom Sticks hardly hold up in the light of day." He shrugged. "It's mostly used now by thieves and such, to stall guards and buy extra time. But people will try anything when they're desperate to win."

"Bastard," Marlene huffed and then sighed, "Well, if I want to tell a person to piss off, at least now I have a new strategy. That is— it's not some fancy High City herbs that I'll be needing, is it?"

"Fancy? No. They're cheap, mostly." He considered her profile for a moment before adding offhandedly, as he knew she wouldn't take well to sympathy from anyone. "If you truly need to get your hands on some I could have Frank swipe some during one of his next raids."

Marlene let out a bark of a laugh at hearing this, "Is that what you call his nightly adventures pleasuring the desperately bored house wives? Raids?"

Remus gave her a look. "He hardly leaves empty handed."

Marlene smirked, "Yes, well, it's hardly as if the women he tends to flock to could do with a missing penny or two. Serves 'em right, I suppose. Practically justice."

"Right, justice. Deserves a medal, Frank does." Remus gently dropped the cloth from his eye to glance over at Marlene. "Does that mean someone is bothering you, then? If you're considering alternative security measures? If so, you know all you need to do is ask and I—"

"No. No. Nothing like that." Marlene frowned and crossed her arms, "Well, certainly not anything I can't handle. I'm not a doll, you know."

The pout she gave him caused him to actually smile. "Never said you were, Marls. Offer still stands though."

"Yeah, I know." She all but grumbled and he felt her shoulder nudge his as he tossed the rag over his eyes once more, easing his head back to rest them.

He knew better than to treat Marlene as some weak spinster, but he also knew the type of people who would easily take advantage of someone like her. As much as he wished it not to be true, she couldn't handle everything. What happened to her family was proof of that.

The sound of his full name being called out had him letting out a long groan. What would it take to make them stop calling him that?

"I'll be back." He slowly lifted himself to his feet, only swaying slightly. Before he turned to leave he glanced down at Marlene, "How'd you're latest fight go, by the way?"

She grinned wickedly up at him, showing him her bruised knuckles. "Three out of five."

"Show off." He muttered, making her stick her tongue out at him as he strode off and stepped up to his ring.

Once settled back in he couldn't help the grin that began to stretch over his face at seeing his next opponent.

"Arthur?"

The red-haired man turned to smile widely at him. He was in the same age bracket as Remus, only a year or two older, and also a fellow worker down at the docks for a short while until he got a job in the courts a few years back. Remus always enjoyed his easy, care-free, optimistic attitude and quick jokes. Even if Remus wanted to win this round, he wouldn't try to. If anyone deserved a safe, warm home and regular meals, it was Arthur and his herd of charming children.

"Lupin!" Arthur announced cheerfully. "When was the last time we tussled like this? After a night at the Three Brooms sticks, surely."

Remus laughed. "I still have the scar on my ribs to show it."

Arthur light touched his nose, still crooked from the breaking Remus had given it during their many roguishly younger nights out. They were probably only twenty or so, Remus mostly whoring, but working the docks from time to time, because the customers like his muscles and extra pennies were always worth it. They'd started out not friends, apparently he had given the impression of flirting with the woman Arthur was after— Molly his now late wife— but after on drunken brawl and a half-shilling in damage and a very short conversation through heaved breaths that involved Remus more or less spelling it out to Arthur that he preferred the company of the male persuasion— and well, more or less, they got on after that and the strangest of things can turn a man into a friend.

The guard raised his arms and gave the starting cry as he dropped it.

The fight hardly lasted long, and Remus laughed when the guard called the end. Arthur helped him to his feet. "They said you had joined, but I didn't believe it. You're probably the most level-headed of us."

Remus shrugged. "I'm doing what's necessary. How many fights is that for you?"

"Five," Arthur grinned.

"Fate-favored bastard. You can buy me a pint sometime, and several after you're a lord." Remus shook his hand, and they went their separate ways.

He dropped down on the bench once more, wishing absently for a pint right then. Anything, really. All this dueling was exhausting work. Couldn't they offer up a few sips of something?

A good portion of the crowd that had been gathered that morning had dispersed, all those who'd definitely been eliminated heading home. Those who remained still totaled more people than would actually pass to the next round.

If he didn't win his last fight, he definitely wouldn't.

His last fight came a few moments later: another cocky, overexcited youth. Except this one certainly a half-breed if the blue discoloration in her skin was anything to go by. Not to mention the abnormally large biceps that seemed far too large on her tiny frame. Though she was smarter and tricker than the previous young fighters he'd faced, he'd predicted all of her moves long before she'd attacked. He'd seen it all a million times from people much skilled than her.

She stormed off, red-faced and hissing, similar to that of a snake sound, toward a cluster of her friends— one of whom was the boy Remus had first defeated. Well, hopefully he wouldn't be going up against them again any time soon. If he recalled correctly, and if what he remembers of the stories Ori had read was right, the next challenge up would be some manner of puzzle or hunt. It was the only challenge where nobody was disqualified, since its sole purpose was to sort them according to what nobles they'd be competing for.

He sat down on the bench, brightened when a man cam over bearing a tray weighed down by cups of not bad-ale, though it was a touch bitter than Remus usually liked. But free drink was free drink.

A little while later, they brought around food as well, and he'd just worked up the nerve to help himself to a second round of bread and cheese when the announcers called for attention. Remus assembled with his little group and waited to hear his name.

When it came several minutes later, he nearly sank to the ground in relief. Finally, finally, it was over.

He could give Greyback his damned money and get back to work. Rent was due soon, damn it, and he really needed to do laundry and see about new boots for the winter season that loomed. Hopefully, his jacket and winter cloak would hold up another year, because he definitely could not afford new ones.

Eventually the reading of the names concluded, and Remus did the already familiar shuffle over to the tables.

He was three people away in line when some of the chatter broke through his thoughts enough for him to overhear one of the clerks admonishing a person in the next line as she collected her ten click. "—attempt to take the money and not return to compete, you or your relatives will be located and made to repay the debt."

Remus' stomach dropped. He was an idiot. Of course— of course, it wouldn't be so simple. Of course they'd have something in mind to prevent outright theft. He'd been so focused on getting the money and paying off Greyback that he hadn't thought what the Tournament officials would do if he took their ten slick and ran. Why should they care? But of course they would care— ten slick was a fortune, especially multiple by five hundred. He was going to have to stick with the Tournament until he lost.

His ruined mood did not improve at the reassurance that he would probably lose in the next round. It was only because he'd spent an ill-advised amount of time as a boy getting into scrapes and later as a young man getting into even less admirable circumstances across the Realm that'd he'd made it this far. Though, even he could admit that the next round did intrigue him.

He had always been rather gifted in sorting information. His brain, his cleverness, was his best weapon, along with his survival instincts— which he didn't exactly consider a weapon so much as a necessity. Regardless, the next round was to be a puzzle. Most likely a test of wits or brain-skill.

And he couldn't lose, because it was just sorting. The 'worst' outcome was being sorted into the group that would compete for the chance to marry one of the fifty-four barons. The 'best', of course, was making it into the small group that would compete to marry into the royal families.

Damn it.

He was going to have to get through the sorting, then lose in the challenge after that. And the sorting could take days, depending on the challenge. Buggering-fuck. Would it never end?

After collecting his money, a feat that should have felt like relief, he was finally allowed his leave and began to head away from the fairgrounds.

He glanced over at the sound of a loud roar of applause. Damn it, they were issuing out victories now that the far less preliminaries were nearly finished. He had wanted to be far gone by the time the crowds began to build again or it would be a lifetime before he made it home. He quickened his pace then. The sooner he got back to the city, the sooner he could pay Greyback and go drown his frustrations in a pint.

He was halfway there when he realized he kept looking around for Ori. Scowling, he kept his eyes ahead of him. Ori probably had much better things to do than spoil him for another evening. It wasn't like Remus could do anything tonight, anyway, unless Ori wanted to settle for a quick and dirty suck-off in a grimy alleyway.

Hastening through the gates, he hurried across the city to his room, where he fetched the additional five flick he needed. The rest of the money, little though it was, he left in his room, because he'd learned the hard way that Greyback was always happy to collect interest.

Back on the streets, he cut across several streets and alleyways until he reached the section of Low City that Greyback festered with his pack. It was mostly scattered with abandoned homes, overgrown with thick forestry and smaller cabins built at oddly placed sections of the yards. The strangest bit being the large, run-down temple, that Greyback had coveted some years ago when he began working for the Courts 'officially'.

Two dark, bulking figures guarded the main door, such as it was, to the temple. Remus saluted. "Lovely afternoon, Dolohov, Rabastan. How are my favorite gargoyles fairing these days?"

Rabastan rolled his eyes and grunted. Dolohov gave one of his toothy, silvery smiles. Rumor had it he'd been handsome once, before Greyback got his claws into him, but Remus couldn't imagine it with the view he was taking in now.

"Go in, get inside, little mutt." He demanded smugly, as if the word 'mutt' was the highest of insults, meaning he didn't belong. Little did he know, Remus actually took it as a compliment. "His patience is about to run out."

"Funny. Wasn't aware he had acquired any." Remus muttered as he stepped past them into the damp, moldy, and smoky-smelling temple. The smooth floor had long ago been shattered, most of it cracked, broken, and cover in splattering pools of dried blood and other rotten things Remus didn't take in the sights long enough to name.

And beyond the main atrium, into the private rooms reserved for priests, ironic that, everything there had been repaired and better tended, at least moderately. Remus was sure that Greyback had been the interior decorator, and well, his tastes were barbaric to say the least. It smelled of the giant beats heavy musk sent, the smell of Alpha and copper and everything that resembled death. It was not a place Remus wanted to linger for longer than strictly necessary.

The worst of it was the way his body reacted to being so close to others. It was as if the wolf inside him knew he could run freely and rip and tare and run, run, run with a pack. His pack. If he would just let go—

Remus inhaled a sharp breath. Uncertain how he let his thoughts wander that far down without his consent. It hadn't done that since he had first been bitten. He gritted his teeth, suddenly feeling torn between vomiting and collapsing in surrender.

"Hello, pretty boy."

Remus snapped his attention to where the voice had come from to see a guard dressed in mismatched armor probably stolen from at least six places. He was leering wickedly at Remus.

"If you think calling me pretty is going to get you anything, it's no wonder you can't afford more than a visit to the brothel every second full moon.

The guard leer turned into a heated sneer and he quickly approached Remus, shoulders tense with fury. "You fucking filthy little—"

"Enough!" Greyback barked from somewhere within the vast doors just behind them. "If you can't resist the taunt of a muddy little runt-damned whore, why am I trusting you to guard anything? Send the pup in already and go do something useful for once! Pup, get in here and give me my money!"

Remus tilted his head a little, a small smirk playing on his lips as he held the guards gaze until he slowly, unhappily, stepped aside for him. Remus gave him a wink as he passed for good measure. "Good dog."

Remus made sure there was an entire three steps between them and his hand ready on the door handle as he said it, knowing the taunt was to only make the guard lunge at him. He couldn't be sure, but he figured if the loud thump on the other side of the door was any indication than he suspected correctly. With a satisfied air about him he turned to face Greyback, gesturing only slightly with his arm for a greeting.

"Seems security isn't all that it used to be Greyback. I'd hate to find that you've been lessening in numbers. A shame really."

Greyback was sitting in an overwhelmingly large chair behind a heavy wooden desk, the kind Remus had once seen in the office of a merchant who'd called him in as a boy to ask him questions about a theft. Remus wouldn't be surprised if this desk was the very same, stolen probably, to accommodate for Greybacks need to overcompensate. It was bigger than Remus' bed, dark and carved all over the front and sides with ornate depictions of animals, wolves mostly. The absurd chair he sat in creaked slightly as the larger man twisted slightly side to side, eyeing Remus with a mixed expression Remus couldn't quite place.

"That's hardly any of your concern, but I appreciate it all the same little pup. Sit."

"I'd rather not." Remus replied with a crinkle his nose as he eyed the chair before the desk. Much to close to Grayback for his liking. He didn't need the smell of this place lingering on his clothes as a reminder of his visit.

A sly smirk twitched on Greybacks lips just as quickly as it faded.

"Very well. Let's get on with it then. Where's my fifteen slick?"

Remus sensed Greyback's hopeful tone. Perhaps he was looking to make a deal that involved Remus running errands to repay his debt or worse, provide other 'services' for him to make up for not having the money. Remus thanked the Fates that it wouldn't come to that. He reached into his inner pocket and tossed the coin purse onto the desk before Greyback. It landed with a thunk, and Remus nodded at it.

"All there. All fifteen slick."

The words caught like rocks in his throat. His fucking father. How much money would Remus and his mother have if it hadn't been for his useless, selfish excuse of a father. Fifteen slick. The coin purse was practically taunting him where it no lay in Greyback's large rough paws as he counted it out. That was enough money for him to take care of his mother and himself for more than a year, perhaps two if he stretched it cleverly enough.

"You've got your money now. We're even."

"Even." Greyback confirmed with a drawl, sitting back in the absurd chair, linking his fingers over his stomach. "For now."

"I'm not concerned with debts that do not exist yet." Remus stated with little patience for the man. "So if you'll excuse me. I have things to do, people to see and all that. Lovely visiting with you as always."

Just as he turned to exit Greyback's voice rang throughout the damp room again, and Remus wasn't sure if it was the damned temple and it's overwhelming inhabitants that caused his feet to remain rooted to the spot— as if the wolf inside him was eager to listen to the Alpha's words. The thought alone made him feel sick.

"I hear you're in the Tournament."

Remus' shoulders tensed, but he immediately schooled his features to remain impassive as he turned on his heel and shrugged.

"How else was I to get the money so soon? Not sure how it concerns you though."

The smile that crept over the beastly mans face was one he always seemed to reserve just for Remus. Remus hated it.

"I like you, pup. Truly." He sighed heavily and added, "Though your mouth could do with some manners."

"Your point?"

"There are certain parties extremely interested in winning very particular parts of the Tournament. You'd do well to keep your goals modest and be better off getting out entirely."

Remus frowned. That almost sounded like a warning.

"It's not as if it matters. It's rigged. Besides, I only entered the idiotic thing to get you your money. I have no intentions of marrying some High City brat."

"Yes, rigged meticulously and expensively over a lot of years. People who work that hard to get what they want don't take lightly to interference."

"You seem to have a point that you're trying to make?" Remus lifted a tired brow.

"Do yourself a favor, pup, and lose quickly."

There was no mistaking his tone this time. Definitely a warning.

For some reason, it annoyed Remus, making his next string of words come out bitter and cold. "That was the plan all along. I got in for the money and anyone who sees me as a threat is a fool. But thanks, eminence. It's always so reassuring when you pretend to give a damn about anyone other than yourself."

Greyback sighed again. "There's that mouth I hate."

Remus smirked then, sharp and goading. He knew exactly how much Fenrir hated his mouth. He bent his head slightly and turned on his heel before calling out, "Hopefully, I won't see you soon. Goodnight."

Out in the hall, the temperamental guard had been replaced by a much calmer one that Remus knew well. It was usually the guard that Greyback sent out looking for him if he hadn't wanted to make the visit personally.

"Have a nice evening, Bones."

"Night, mutt. Have a care where you crawl."

Remus lifted a hand in lazy farewell and hit the streets again, biting back the urge to laugh and cry all at once. The heavy effect the temple and Greybacks lodgings had on the inner beast inside him was quickly vanishing and it felt as if he was coming up for breath. The first few times he'd done this, he had laughed, mostly so he wouldn't cry. But everything grew tedious with time, and paying Greyback had worn out long ago.

Greyback's warning to stay out of the Tournament was unsettling to say the least. The thought kept trying to pick at him, but Remus ignore it. He was going to lost the moment he reached the first challenge anyway. Whatever games other people where playing, they had nothing to do with him.

Hauling back to his part of the city, he quickly retried his coin from his room then headed to the Three Broom Sticks, which had been the favored pub for him and his friends for years, right around the time he'd quit whoring full-time. The place was already busy when he got there, and it took only a glance to locate his friends. Peter, Frank, Kingsley, Marlene and Dorcas were already tucked into the round corner booth, waving him over when they spotted him. He signaled he'd be there in a moment, rising the few steps to the bar to grab his ale first.

When he finally got his ale, one for each hand, he carried his glasses over to the table and took the open space on the edge next to Frank, who hastily threw an arm over his shoulders in greeting. Remus tried not to wince under the weight, his muscles sore still.

"How'd the fighting go? You look like death." Frank asked as Remus down his first glass in a few hurried gulps. "These other sorry tossers couldn't hack it."

"Oi—" Peter interjected petulantly, "—I lasted longer than Kingsley at least."

"That's hardly difficult." Dorcas mumbled teasingly, gaining her a mocking glare from the larger, dark skinned man across from her. She winked at him.

"Suppose you're the only one left in the Tournament from our lot, Re." Marlene said glumly from across from her.

"Yeah, which means—" Frank said as he reached for the glass Remus was just beginning to lift to his mouth and took a sip of his own. "—when you become the arm candy of some pompous Duke or great Earl or something, drinks are on you from now on."

Peter scoffed, "Drinks? The bastard better buy the whole pub."

Remus rolled his eyes and gulped down a large amount of his ale. He did not want to talk about the Tournament.

"Har har," he said eventually, placing down his second empty glass. "Don't put any money on it. I'm sure you'll all be buying me conciliatory ales in a few days time."

"Well, you're still the winner for now so buy me an ale," Frank said, placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek that Remus hastily whipped away. It was clear that Frank had already had his fair share of ale, but Remus got up all the same. Grabbing them both another round.

He'd just about finished his forth ale when the table went quiet and half of them stared, then broke into smirks and goading grins. Remus frowned, unsure why none of them seemed to be paying attention to his retelling of his visit to Greybacks.

"Ah— Re." Dorcas cleared her throat and then nodded at something behind him. "I believe your suitor is back."

"I don't have a suitor." Remus said irritably. "What are you all looking—?" He broke off as realization knocked him upside the head, and he twisted in his seat to see that, sure enough, Ori was walking towards them, that idiotic smile on his face. "What in the buggering fuck is he thinking?"

His friends all laughed, and Frank elbowed him in the ribs. "You've certainly been busy these days. Winning the Tournament and snaring a handsome lord in the process."

"There has been no winning or snarling thank you very much," Remus snapped. "And keep your voice down."

Frank rolled his eyes and muttered to the others, "Somebody has a raw dick. Touchy-touchy."

"I'll show you a raw—" he broke off as a hand fell heavy on his shoulder, fingers curving intimately to graze his collar bone through his thin shit. Remus scowled at his bodies reaction to the touch, shivering like a bloody love-struck moron. He turned his scowl on Ori's stupidly handsome face. "Hello, again."

Ori's smile widened. "I'm sorry I missed you after your duel. When my father decides to lecture me, he'll try to go until the seas run dry, and if I dare to leave while he's still going, I usually wind up in the sea." His grey eyes glanced around their small group, "But I'd hate to interrupt you and your friends…"

Remus' friends, the helpful bastards that they were, immediately assured Ori that he was welcome to do with Remus as he pleased so long as he bought them more ale first. Ori laughed, appearing only slightly awkward before he found that they were being serious, and then hastily dropped several pennies on the table. Enough to keep them all covered for three more rounds. "Will that cover it?"

Frank gaped at the money, glanced at Remus and then nodded quickly to Ori. There was a round of cheers in approval as each of them sauntered off towards the bar with the pennies. The commotion loud enough to draw attention of the others in the pub. Remus felt a flare of annoyance curl inside his chest. Remus reached for his ale as Ori accepted gratitude from Dorcas and Marlene. After downing the last of his drink he rose from his seat and stormed out. He hadn't made it far down the street when he heard someone coming up behind him, felt the already familiar feel of Ori's fingers wrapping around his arm—

And why his touch becoming so familiar and practically comforting— dammit.

"Remus—"

Remus sighed and turned away, gently tugging free of his hold. "What?"

"Did I do something wrong? I thought—" He broke off with a frown, eyes skittering away as if looking for the answer. "I thought you'd be happy to see me."

Remus had to hide his desire to scoff. Happy. As Remus could afford such a luxury.

"It's one thing to approach me, but I don't need you interrupting me and my friends and throwing coin around like a few pennies are nothing to you."

"I— I'm sorry." Ori sputtered out, "I was trying to play along. I didn't mean to overstep."

Remus made a frustrated noise. "Forget it. What do you want?"

Ori's brows rose. "I wanted to see you. Spend time with you. Isn't that obvious?"

"We aren't friends." Remus reminded him, and even to his own ears he heard how painful the words sounded but was too irritated or exhausted to care. "We had fun, and you were more than kind to me last night, but we both know this will end in a few days or weeks or however long it takes for you to become bored and move onto something or into someone else."

Ori's look of confusion morphed into a hard grimace. "That's an awful lot to assume after just a few encounters. You know nothing about me or my motives."

"You're exactly right. I know nothing about you." Remus nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. "But you know where I live, where I drink, where to find me whenever it strikes your fancy to do so. I'm completely at your mercy, my lord. That will never change throughout all the time we spend together. And frankly, I don't want to keep wasting my limited free time on a man who's eventually going to toss me aside and forget all about me."

He hadn't meant to be so honest, but bugger it.

"You know, you could give me a fair chance." Ori replied tightly.

Remus did scoff then. "To what end? And surely you don't think me stupid enough to believe any of this means anything to you. Ask anyone here how often giving a High City a fair chance ever plays in their favor. It always end the same, coming down here to slum it and fuck a few grateful commoners, throw some pennies around, and then go back to your comfy castle lives without a care for the hurts and aggravations you've left in your wake."

"Says the man fighting in a Tournament to join said lifestyle."

"I'm in the Tournament to pay my father's debts so I don't wind up floating in the harbor," Remus replied with a snarl. "I'd quit now if they weren't going to demand I return the money I no longer have. I'd rather have my damned throat slit than become one of you lot."

"I see." Ori said, voice trembling briefly before he visibly tamped down on his anger and his expression smoothed out. "I guess all Low City are the same, too. Incapable of caring about anything but money…" Ori's gaze darkened, causing Remus to stiffen slightly at the sudden change in demeanor. Ori had never looked evil to him, or even capable of such a thing, but now it was glaringly obvious that it was possible and the look of it was directed strictly on Remus. "… but then again, I suppose the whores are good at pretending otherwise if you pay them enough."

Remus recoiled, flinching back and feeling as if he had just been struck. Before he could recover, Ori had stormed off and vanished around the corner. Remus swallowed, feeling raw and cut open. He wanted…

Fuck, he didn't know what he'd wanted.

No. That wasn't true. He'd wanted it over with before he did something stupid like get attached.

Too late, a small voice said in his head, but he immediately rejected its validity.

At least Ori's nasty parting shot confirmed everything Remus had suspected. If their fight hadn't happened tonight, it would have happened later, and been all the uglier and more painful from the delay. He'd done the right thing, being rid of Ori.

But he still felt sick to his stomach and ready to put his fist through a window. Laughter spilled out of the pub as the door opened briefly, and it was like salt in his wounds. The sound of laughter, of happiness.

I thought you'd be happy to see me.

Shoulders hunched, Remus turned away and headed home, grateful when he was finally able to fall into his creaky little bed and ignore the world for a few precious hours. Or at least, attempt to.

As he drifted off to sleep, he finally allowed his anger to subside enough to admit to himself that he had been happy to see Ori, and wasn't that just fucking great.

Oh well, another ending to a barely there beginning. Remus was more than used to those.