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Werewolf for Hire


James and Sirius were gone to Quidditch practice and Peter had fallen asleep working on his Divination homework. Remus laid across his bed on his stomach, a catalog he’d knicked from the Muggle Studies classroom in his fists. Professor Kotes had been telling them about how muggle mail worked, including shop-at-home catalogs and he’d stolen one for the sake of doing some birthday shopping for Sirius.

He flicked through the pages slowly, looking over all the stuff that was in there. He thought maybe Sirius would like a new leather jacket - which was on a page with a bunch of clothes and all, but he hated the idea of Sirius not wearing his current jacket (with the collar popped) and he wrinkled his nose at the other shirts on the page. They were all preppy and clean-cut looking, things that maybe he or Peter or James might’ve worn, but Sirius Black would never be caught dead in any of that lot. He flipped onward.

Finally, Remus sat forward, excited, putting the catalog down on the bed and staring down at it, having found the page he’d been looking for.

New! Portable tape player,” he read quietly, “Great-looking, great sounding ‘mini’ component-type 8-track stereo tape player. Plays all pre-recorded 8-track cartridges… Listen to all your favorite music in exciting stereo in the comfort of your living room. Rosewood-finished plastic cabinet makes this unit a great addition to any living room. You get terrific stereo sound from two big 4-inch speakers in separate mahogany plastic closures. Separate volume controls for each speaker and tone control let you select the level of sound you desire. Comes with five tape storage compartment to keep all your cartridges safe when not in play.

Remus bit his lips and ran his fingers down to the bottom of the picture of the very nice looking player. “Sirius is gonna love this, it’s perfect!” he mumbled…

Until he got to the price.

“Fifty pounds... Bloody hell! That’s nearly…” he did math quickly in his head, “Thirty-three galleons! And that’s without buying a single tape!” He stared longingly at the player, though, his brow furrowed. If only he were rich… he sighed and flicked sadly through a list of 8-track taps that were available to purchase to play on the deck. His fingers ran over names and songs that he recognized from all the times Sirius had laid about singing.

The dormitory door banged open and Remus shoved the catalog off the far side of his bed, so that the book fell down between his bed and the wall as Sirius and James came in the room.

“I’m telling you,” James said, “He’s not seeing --” James stopped as he stepped into the room, “Hey Rey.”

Sirius slammed into the back of James, craning his neck about to look into the room. “Hey! You’re here!” he practically shouted it and Peter snorted and woke up, muttering something that sounded like strange, strange as he woke up and looked about. “Would’ve thought you’d have gone off and some somethin’ ‘round about the castle while we were gone!” he said, coming in the room and ripping off his quidditch pads.

“I told you he’d be up here, you don’t listen,” James said, rolling his eyes and putting his broom up on his bed and tearing his uniform jersey off over his head.

Remus laughed, “Where would I go?”

“Dunno, loads of places,” Sirius said.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Remus said, “My boring arse hasn’t peeled off this bed since you left.”

Sirius nodded, then turned and started pulling off his jumper and chucked it into his trunk all dirty and sweat-soaked. Remus made a face, in disbelief that Sirius could possibly think that jumper was clean enough to keep with all his other clothes.

James said, “See?” under his breath at Sirius.

Sirius waved him off.

“Have I missed something?” Peter asked, yawning.

“Not really,” James answered. He looked at Peter’s crystal, nestled in his lap on a black jumper he’d curled about his knees. “You’re actually messing with that thing? Is it doing any good?”

“Got me some sleep,” Peter said with a shrug. “The meditation bit’s really relaxing.”

“But did you see anything?”

Peter thought for a moment. “You know, I have no idea,” he said, and he screwed up his face funnily. “It seems like I saw… something, I dunno. Maybe it was just a dream.”

“Don’t feel bad if you didn’t, Pete, I don’t reckon anyone else’s seen anything in that classroom yet,” Sirius announced. “I sure as hell haven’t!”

“Have any of the rest of us lot even played with our balls?” asked James.

There was a brief pause and then James, Sirius, and Remus started cracking up laughing, “I just heard it,” he muttered wiping his eyes, even as Sirius deadpanned an answer in a snooty old-fashioned accent, “Of course I have. Thrice a day!”

“Three times a day? Bloody hell,” muttered Peter, “Nobody does that much homework really, do they?”

“Aw, Pete, you didn’t get it,” James said, smirking, “That’s cute. You lot, he’s so cute and innocent he didn’t get it.”

“Wait, what’re we talking about?” Peter asked, eyes widening, realizing he was being stupid.

Remus threw a pillow at Sirius, “You’d better slow down mate, you’re gonna end up chaffed!”

Sirius hooted with laughter.




Remus walked resolutely through the halls the next evening, his stomach tied up in knots, clutching the catalog in his fists. He paced for a moment on the fifth floor corridor and drew a deep breath, tucking the catalog into his rear pocket and going up to the gargoyles. Go on now, he told himself, He told you that you could go to him about anything. Anytime, he said. Remus breathed deep and stared up at the stoney eyes staring back. “Watermelon lollies,” he said.

The gargoyle stepped aside and revealed the doorway that led to the moving staircase, which wound all about the tower, up-up-up to Dumbledore’s office. Remus walked nervously up to the door, noticing the wellingtons and umbrella that were usually at Dumbledore’s doorway were missing and in their place was a funny little tree with little radishes hanging from it.

Remus stared at the tree with a confused look on his face, then knocked on the wood.

“Do come in,” Dumbledore’s voice carried through the wood.

Remus pushed open the door and stepped inside slowly, swallowing back his nerves. Behind the great ornate desk sat the headmaster, already wearing a long pyjama gown with blue stripes and a matching stocking cap that hung from his head and wrapped about so that it laid across his shoulder. Dumbledore looked quite ready to crawl into bed. Remus felt funny, like he’d intruded, and he looked away, blushing to see the headmaster in his pyjamas like that.

“Mr. Lupin,” he said, smiling, “Welcome. Please excuse my attire, I’ve an early meeting at the Ministry tomorrow and I was going to be headed to bed early tonight. Was just about to go when I remembered I had some paperwork to go over here for a moment…” he rubbed his beard and sat back in his chair, clutching the arms of it with a smile as he looked over Remus. “To what do I owe the occassion of this visit, Mr. Luipn? The full moon is weeks away still.”

Remus took a deep breath, still not quite looking directly at Dumbledore, “I have… a question… well, a proposition, really.”

“Let’s hear it,” Dumbledore suggested.

Remus asked, “Do you… do you ever hire any of the students? For, you know, small jobs about the castle… Like, literally anything at all is good. I’m willing to give anything a go.”

Dumbledore studied Remus a moment, “Hire a student?”

“Like an employee,” Remus explained. “I could clean floors for Filch or something…”

Dumbledore’s eyes were still looking him over carefully and Remus shifted uneasily in his seat. “And what would you recommend we pay you for your services?” Dumbledore asked.

“I’d do whatever it took to make about thirty-five galleons, sir,” Remus said point blank. “However long you needed me to be working to earn that amount would be fine. Week, month, year, whatever it is, sir, I’ll do it. I’m very good at washing floors,” he added quickly, “Some might even say exceptional. I’d just need my payment up front with, er, five to six shipping days prior to November 3rd, sir.”

Dumbledore considered this a moment, then he asked, “Wouldn’t it be easier to ask about an advance on your allowance?” He was joking, chuckling, and he reached for a drawer on the desk as he said it, pulling out a parchment.

“Possibly,” Remus muttered, “Except my father hasn’t said a word to me since summer…” He flushed, having not entirely meant to tell Dumbledore that, really. There was just something about the old headmaster that once you got in his presence you typically found yourself telling the truth even if you didn’t quite mean to. It was some sort of feeling that the headmaster exuded, as though the air about him was laced with veritaserum.

The headmaster’s eyebrows went up and he paused in unfolding the parchment he’d been about to shake out. “What?”

Remus’s face went even redder.

“Why hasn’t he spoken to you since the summer?” Dumbledore demanded.

Remus said, “We had a row.”

“A row?”

“Yes, a bad row.”

“What about?”

Remus stared at his feet.

“Mr. Lupin?” pressed Dumbledore.

“He found out I’m gay, sir,” he finally whispered, “And… apparently, having a gay, werewolf son was… just too much for him.”

Dumbledore’s eyes were a bit too wide, and his jaw was very hard-set. He stared at Remus for a very long time without saying a word, his nose flared. Remus didn’t look up or else he might have seen the tear that escaped Dumbledore’s eyes. He swept his hand over his eyes and looked down at the parchment, shaking it loose. “It so happens that I could use some assistance,” he said.

Remus looked up. “You could?” He was actually very glad that Dumbledore hadn’t done his usual words of wisdom speech that he’d been expecting. He very much rathered this glossing over the horrible facts that they were apparently about to do. The last thing in the world that he wanted was Dumbledore telling him some wonderful things that would attempt to make what Lyall had done better. Nothing could, and Remus felt as though hearing a Dumbledore speech and not feeling better at the end was just a tragedy and he hated to think of the headmaster wasting a speech on him if he wasn’t going to feel any better. Nothing could make Lyall Lupin’s words hurt less.

“Yes,” Dumbledore looked the parchment over. “You see, I’ve been working on a project with a friend of mine, he’s writing a very involved thesis on a new set of spells he’s looking to submit to the ministry and I have been doing some fact checking and what have you for him… Well, I just recently told him that he ought to have some of the wand motions illustrated for his thesis… and I’ve heard that you have a very excellent set of coloured pencils and markers and quite a wonderful talent for drawing. Is this true?”

Remus nodded eagerly, “Yes sir… I have the pencils and markers sir, yes, and Sirius Black says my drawings are great.”

“Excellent!” Dumbledore said, “Well how about this. You come up and visit me once or twice a week and we’ll have you illustrate Mr. Flamel’s writings and in return Mr. Flamel and I will pay you forty galleons for your completed work.”

“Forty! Wow.” Remus thought of all the 8-track cassettes he could buy to go along with the player for forty galleons… and all in exchange for something as easy and enjoyable as drawing? Excitement coursed through him.

Dumbledore smiled, “So that sounds like a fair deal, then?”

“Yes sir! Is it ever!” Remus replied, nodding eagerly.

“Very good.” Dumbledore said. “Come by Thursday evening and I will have the first set of wand motions written down for you to illustrate. I shall pay you in advance at that time as well.”

“Yes sir. I’ll be sure all my pencils are sharpened!” Remus grinned and jumped up from his seat. “Thank you sir!”

“Thank you. Your services will be most heartily appreciated, my boy.” Dumbledore waved as Remus left the office and the door closed behind him. He stared after him for sometime, then he glanced at a clock and murmured, “Not too late for a quick visit, I don’t think…” and he got up, pulling off the stocking cap as he went swiftly to his private chambers to change into something more appropriate for travelling.