A/N: Many thanks to Rae Roberts for taking the time to review...
Chapter Three: The Second Meeting
Remus did not have a long wait. Eight days following his return to London, he was approached by a man while having dinner at his favorite restaurant. The man stepped into the restaurant casually, peered around, spotted him in the corner, and sauntered over as though they had business together. Which, he reflected, perhaps they did.
The man sat down at his table. Remus raised his eyebrows. His guest was average height, with blonde hair and blue eyes: deceptively regular looks, looks that would be easily forgotten or lost in a crowd. His scent, however, belied his typical features; it was pungent, an assault on Remus' sensitive nose.
"Remus Lupin?" his visitor inquired.
"That would be me," he said. "And you are…?"
The man considered. "Inconsequential. I am a courier, no more." He smiled. It did not touch his eyes.
"A courier," Remus mused, disliking him more with every second. "For whom?"
"He did not tell me that you would be well-educated. However, one should never assume."
Remus shrugged. "I taught at Hogwarts once. Education was required."
"Yes, I have heard about that," the Death Eater replied slyly. "No doubt the end of that job was a disappointment for you."
Remus narrowed his eyes. "Naturally," he said, feigning suppressed anger. The man could not conceal his satisfaction.
"You were…fired, were you not?"
He growled low in his throat. His visitor looked slightly wary now. Remus could smell the beginnings of fear on him, heavy, bitter. Standard wizard, afraid of werewolves. "Dumbledore fired me, yes, if you want it in plain terms."
"I can imagine how angered you must have been. Tell me, do you know why he fired you?"
Remus leaned back, apparently suddenly suspicious. "You know," he accused.
"I have certain reliable sources."
"What do these sources of yours tell you?"
"That you are a werewolf."
"You know this, and you still speak to me. What do you want?" Remus demanded.
"We would like your help."
"'We' meaning your master and you."
"Of course."
"Who is your master?"
The man leaned forward conspiratorially. Quietly, he stated, "The Dark Lord."
Remus raised an eyebrow. "Help, you say? What could He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named possibly need from me?"
"He wants you to join him against his opposition." Voldemort's messenger was watching him carefully. "He knows that you must be angry at wizards like Dumbledore who treat you like an animal rather than a human."
"I am an animal," Remus stated, allowing himself to snarl. This, however, was no act. It was truth. The man looked alarmed. The fear-scent grew stronger. Remus gave a feral grin. "Inform your master that I will join, provided that he allows me the unrestricted Hunt I desire."
The man nodded too eagerly: further evidence of his agitation. "He will be in touch with you soon."
Remus' grin did not fade; he knew it frightened the Death Eater, and for some reason, he also knew that it was crucial to unbalance this single link to Voldemort. "Very well. Goodbye, courier." His guest stood and strode from the restaurant as abruptly as he had appeared.