Chapter 3
The first time Remus Lupin met Sirius Black was a fluke.
There were no heated glances or flirting. No hidden looks or half concealed attraction. They barely paid one another a glance. Remus just did his job, not exactly paying much attention to the other man.
Since getting out of the hospital, Remus needed money, and fast. Not many places were willing to hire a highly scarred teenager with not even a diploma to show that he had finished school. Even more promising places turned away at his request to leave at least three days a week. Legal establishments, that is.
Job hunting was exhausting, and his homeless image didn’t exactly leave anything to the imagination. For a few weeks after the incident (as he dubbed it) he had been bedridden until he ran away before the next full moon. The last time he had a shower was at that very same hospital, and he’d left it a while ago.
He didn’t expect much as he stepped into a dim bar on the edge of the city centre. The place was unassuming at best from the outside and didn't look all that special from the inside either. He’d spotted outside, on a chipping off wooden window, that the place was hiring. The position wasn’t specified. Trying out shouldn’t hurt, he thought. He was desperate enough.
There was no bell or alarm to alert anyone of his presence. The glass-paneled door clicked back into place softly, and he was left to wander around until he found a single employee in the place.
The inside of the bar was decorated in shades of red and brown. It was a bit gaudy in places where textures and patterns clashed together unpleasantly, but for a place that resided in an abandoned-looking building, it looked good enough. Whilst the outside didn’t make the place out to be all that big, the inside was enormous. Low ceilings, privacy booths, and a stage with a pole in the middle. There was a muffled shout somewhere back that sounded somewhat hurried. Remus gulped, taking in the space around him once more. Even if he was eighteen, he felt a bit uncomfortable being here.
“Hey!” the same voice called out, and Remus looked back from where he was staring at the mosaic windows to take in the person in front of him.
It was a woman, seemingly in her fifties. Her lime-colored hair stood up in distinct spikes, brown hair growing from the roots. Wearing an apron over some sort of sleeveless uniform, he could see a multitude of tattoos covering her arms in two sleeves. She had a laid-back smile on her face and was scrubbing a tall glass with a napkin.
“Hello.”
“Here for the job?” she asked, her eyes glittering with excitement.
“Well.. yes.”
She squealed in delight and ran at a speed that Remus wasn’t expecting. She poked him in the arm, made him do a little turn and nodded in what seemed to be approval. Her gaze stayed on his leg, where she must’ve noticed him favoring his left leg over his right one. Remus almost shrunk away from her calculating gaze. After staring him up and down from a distance once again, she seemed to make up her mind.
“You’re hired.”
Remus stared at her, blinking slowly. Then, he blinked again. The woman giggled at his bewildered expression.
“What?”
“You’re perfect! Of course, you’ll need a shower and a change of clothes, but that can be arranged," she smiled warmly and tugged at his arm in an effort to make him follow her. He didn’t protest, his mind still reeling from the suddenness of everything.
They entered a door behind the bar. Entering inside, he saw a clothing rack with what seemed like identical uniforms to the one the woman was wearing. There was a coffee machine on a smaller table to the side and a mini fridge beneath it. A shoe rack stood beside the uniforms, and a loud red carpet covered the floor.
He stared at her strangely as she rummaged through the uniforms, occasionally looking up as if to determine what size of clothes he wore. Once she found what she liked, she jumped over to him with two uniforms she’d taken. She compared them to him, holding each of them to his sides.
The uniforms had a black vest and a grey button down shirt. Along with it came a blood red apron and Remus wasn’t sure what to think about that.
“What sort of position have I been hired for?” he asked shakily after forcing his tongue to untwist. She stared at him with a baffled expression.
“What do you mean?”
“There was no information on the flier.”
She cursed like a sailor and Remus blinked slowly in response. Was something wrong? She contemplated something before looking up to meet his eyes. The woman was about a head shorter than him.
“A bartender.”
“That’s it?”
She grinned, all her previous skepticism was gone.
“What were you expecting? This is a bar, after all.” she teased and pushed one of the uniforms into his hands. “You start today.”
He was shown to an employee bathroom and shower. Feeling hot water hit his skin brought tears to his eyes and relief coursed through his bones. Maybe things would start looking up for him.
The night was stressful and hectic. He knew no cocktails and certainly wasn’t familiar with any of the drinks the customers asked for. His saving grace was a guide on his counter that told him how to make each drink, alas with little detail. There was another bartender working with him, but the guy seemed disinclined to spare Remus even a single glance.
There were a few upset customers, but they backed off with a little ‘encouragement’ from the lime-haired woman.
Remus wasn’t sure what to think of the place.
When the night came in full swing, the woman sought him out again.
“Time for the other part of your job," he looked at her, a little lost.
She pointed at the door, where two guys were wrestling and throwing punches by the entrance.
“Fighting customers is bad for business. Your task is to separate them and throw them both out if they seem too drunk to stay civil. Think you can do that?” she looked him over, pointedly taking in his scars as if she knew something he didn’t.
Sighing, Remus nodded. If that’s what it takes to keep a job that promises to pay, he’d do anything.
He placed the napkin he’d thrown over his shoulder on the counter and waved at the other bartender to cover him. The guy didn’t even look up from where he was pouring a beer, just threw him a thumbs up.
The closer he moved to the two men fighting, the more exasperated he became. He hated fighting, hated people who fought. There was a little crowd around the pair, cheering one guy or the other.
One of them was a tall, lean blonde guy. From what Remus could see at a distance, his nose had been broken. The other man was a little shorter, with curly black hair. Blood ran down his face, bright against his pale skin. The blonde was pulling at his opponent’s long hair, trying to tear him away from where he’d been choking him.
It seemed like more than a little brawl, so Remus rolled up his sleeves and breached the circle of people spectating the fight. Upon seeing his uniform and nasty scowl, most of the crowd took a few steps back.
“Stop this right now.” he growled and felt the wolf uncurl from his sleep in the back of his mind. The feeling was unwelcome but not unfamiliar. His eyes stung, and he hoped they weren’t glowing amber. Somebody in the crowd whistled.
The two assailants stopped for a second, turning to look at their intruder with a confused gaze. From what Remus could see, they were absolutely sloshed. With anger and alcohol fueling them, their faces were flushed red and their pupils dilated. Remus knew the drunk look from long nights he'd partied with friends.
“Alright, you’ve had enough for tonight," he grabbed the two guys by the scruff of their necks, being tall enough to do so. Dragging them to the door, he addressed the silent crowd.
“Party’s over, scatter.”
Grumbling and groaning, the people dispersed. A single person followed close behind him, looking intently at the black-haired drunkard.
Remus opened the door and let them go once they were outside.
“No more drinking or fighting tonight. Yeah?” he asked, crossing his arms.
The blonde man grumbled and gave one more heated look to his opponent, then slumped down the sidewalk.
Another figure emerged from behind Remus and went straight to the man who was left standing alone.
From what Remus could see in the dark, they were identical. Curly black hair, similar height, and the same pale skin that seemed to glow in the moonlight. The only difference were their clothes and haircuts. One of them distinctly smelled of dog, but Remus pushed the odd thought away.
“Thanks for separating them," the sober one thanked and threw his supposed brother’s arm over his shoulder.
“No problem.” Remus responded, but the pair was already on their way. They took the path opposite from where the blonde went, so he was content to think they wouldn’t get in any more fights that night.
The woman bounced over to where he was standing outside the door and lit a cigarette.
“You’ll be working five days a week, from 11 pm to 4 am."
He looked at her with a pleased smile on his lips. Her gaze turned mischievous as she stood up on her tippy toes in order to whisper in his ear.
“With four days' paid leave on the full moon, of course.”
Remus stumbled back, his eyes wide and unseeing. The wolf in his head roared, sensing imminent danger.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Your secrets are safe with me.”
He licked his dry lips and cleared his voice to ground himself. Crossing his arms to keep them from shaking in terror, he looked at her relaxed figure. She smoked, looking at the night sky. Warning bells rang in his head at her relaxed expression.
“How did you know?”
Were there more people like him? His father always said that he’d hunt them and there weren’t many left besides his bastard son and that monster, Greyback. Was this woman a werewolf as well? Maybe the other bartender was the same as him? Was this one of those magical bars his father loved frequenting when he hated being home with his son of a monster?
“My secrets are my own, darling," she took another long drag of her cigarette and gave him a playful look. “You’ll figure it out in due time, I suppose.”
He looked at her oddly for another second before nodding slowly. As long as she didn’t tell anyone it was a great opportunity for him. A paying job, willing to give four paid days off to accommodate his illness. Tears sprang from his eyes and she chuckled softly, raising a hand to rub at his shoulders in a soothing way. The comforting smoke of her cigarette drifted through the air as he cried for the first act of genuine kindness he’d experienced in his life.
By the time Remus finished his portfolio, it was the start of summer.
He’d snagged a little flat not too far from the bar. The owner was a little old man that only wanted a down payment, promising not to ask any questions. That didn’t paint a nice picture of what kind of neighbors he’d have, but he supposed he was no different. Leaving home at night, coming back early in the morning. Remus knew what sort of impression he gave off with all his scars and odd working hours. He was incredibly grateful nobody in his building stuck their nose into each other’s business.
When he first moved in, the flat was mostly bare. There was a single folding chair and a plastic table in the kitchen. The kitchen itself had just a single counter, a rusting stove, and a leaking fridge. He'd wash his dishes in the bathroom sink, since the faucet of the kitchen one didn’t work.
There was no living room, just a small open space with a window overlooking an alley. He saw more than a few shady dealings there and was wise enough to ignore all of them.
The bathroom was a little cleaner than the rest of the house, surprisingly. Everything worked well enough; the bath had a showerhead and curtain.
The last room, which the landlord said was supposed to be a bedroom, was also empty. If anybody lived here before him, they probably took all their stuff with them. There were odd stains on the wooden flooring and brown patches around the window. Remus didn’t want to know. This window, however, opened into the street. It wasn’t the nicest sight, but it was marginally better than that shady alleyway.
All in all, it was better than he could’ve expected since the rest was quite low. It didn’t take a huge dent out of his paycheck and Remus was overcome with relief. The down payment did to say goodbye to most of his paycheck that month, but he could go without eating until he got to the bar.
The month passed mostly without issue. He settled in, slept on his clothes like he did when he was still homeless. The thought made him grimace. Once he had a roof over his head and a miniscule amount of heat through the radiators, he couldn’t imagine how he’d lived in the streets for over a month.
Perhaps his brain chose to push away those memories and focus on the present.
Even while homeless, Remus managed to draw. He lost a few of his precious supplies along the way, but most of it was intact. His work was a bit stained around the edges, some of his pieces had a weird smell that permeated the paper. He just stole some paper from the copy printer at work and redrew those pictures.
One evening, while he was leaning over his dining table, sitting crouched in the tiny folding chair, a sense of accomplishment came over him. He was looking through his portfolio for the fifth time that evening, each time more hurried and excited.
He had fifty finished works, all with inkwork that was pleasing to the eye. He made sure every piece was unique in some way, showcasing his unique skillsets and willingness to work in different styles. He knew that some of the pieces were way better than others, but that was because building up his portfolio had taken him over a year. Through consistent effort, he’d become better over time. Remus hoped that a possible master would be able to see his growth as a positive, and not dismiss him outright.
Overjoyed and full of energy, Remus went to work in high spirits that night.
“What’s got you over the moon today, Lupin?”
Over the month Remus worked at the bar, the bartender he’d met on his first night slowly opened up to him. There were a few other workers that changed shifts with him occasionally, but the two of them got along quite well.
“Remember that project I told you about?”
“Yeah,” he leaned against the counter with his hip, looking at Remus. The guy was intense in every way of the word. From his looks, to his manner of speech and to the way he carried himself. He had a weird atmosphere around him that Remus had never felt before.
“Well, I think I’m done,” he sighed wistfully, tying his apron around his back and then up on the front of his hips. “It’s something I’ve been working on for a year now and I think I’ve got something good.”
“Good job, mate,” the bartender patted Remus’ shoulder in support and headed for the back door. “I’m going for a smoke, wanna join?”
Remus nodded, throwing on the bomber leather jacket he’d found at a thrift store the other week. It cost a ridiculously small amount, and even with his savings scraping the bottom, he had to get it.
They sat on the bench outside, lighting both of their cigarettes with Remus’ lighter.
After the first few drags of his cigarette, the guy turned to Remus with a curious look.
“What’s that project about?”
They didn’t usually talk whilst smoking, so the question caught Remus off guard. The guy was a little closed off, but otherwise a nice lad. Their silence was never uncomfortable, so he got used to it. To hear his coworker ask a question after a stretch of comfortable silence was unusual, though.
“Creating a portfolio, I want to take it to a tattoo shop and search for someone to take me in as an apprentice," he shrugged, crossing his legs and leaning back on the bench. The sky already showed the barest hint of stars in the horizon. "I don't know how that’ll work out for me, but I’ll try.”
The other guy hummed, and they fell into silence once more. Once Remus finished his cigarette, he lit another one, unwilling to break the comfortable bubble he sat in. The whole world was far away, his troubles muddled by the excitement of finishing his hard work. There was anxiety nagging at the back of his head, but he ignored it for the time being.
“You know,” the bartender trailed off, seemingly a little unsure. "There's a tattoo studio a few blocks away from here. My cousin works there full-time. I could put in a good word? I mean, jeez, your work ethic is the best out of all of us,” he joked and got a gruff little laugh out of Remus as well. He did try hard; he had no desire to lose his first decent job.
“I’d be grateful, mate.”
The guy grinned at the rest of their break, which passed without much more conversation. Whilst his eyes got used to the night sky, he could start making out a few more stars. The moon wasn’t full, so they weren’t very bright, but it was still a beautiful sight.
When their boss started threatening them from inside to get back to work, the two men walked back with relaxed little smiles on their faces.
When Remus was younger, he couldn’t sleep at night.
He’d stay up until rays of sun passed through his little window, then spend the whole day nodding off. Eyebags marked his young face, exhaustion clung to his bones. He lived like this for a few months, constantly on edge and without rest.
When his mother, having grown incredibly concerned, asked him what was the matter with his continued unrest, he burst into hot tears.
At eight years old, when he was old enough to remember the night he was bitten, Remus grew incredibly terrified that the big bad werewolf would come back and hurt him again. He’d tremble in terror, each dark night filling his exhausted imagination with horrible visions of blood and toe-curling pain. If he did manage to nod off, his dreams showed only the memories he had from the night he’d been bitten.
He told her, through sobs and gasps for air, what he was scared of. Why he trembled at night, how every little noise outside reminded him of the horrible sounds that the monster made.
That was the first time he saw his mother, who was always so strong and cheerful, crying.
Hope grabbed onto her her son, holding him close and putting his little ear near her heart. They cried together, finding comfort in each other. She stroked his wavy hair, whispered sweet nothings in his ear to calm him down.
She mourned her son’s childhood, mourned his health and future. She cried hot tears of anger and shame. Why wasn’t she strong enough to shield her baby from such horrors? Why wasn’t magic strong enough to protect their family from heartbreak? Worst of all, she couldn’t even see through her son’s fears until they grew too noticeable to ignore.
Lyall had become apathetic. He’d come back from work and immediately reach for a bottle. Sometimes, she was so invested in their shattering marriage that she wouldn't even check on her son, who had it so much worse than her.
So when his mother learned of his struggles, she put aside her own problems and spent more and more time with her son. Every other week, they’d spend their evenings at a park, go out for ice cream and treat themselves to a day of relaxation.
Over time, with his mother helping through every nightmare and panic attack, Remus managed to subdue his nighttime paranoia. It never really went away, he was still, more often than not, tossing and turning at night in fear of an attack, but it was contained. By ten years old, he’d managed to more or less secure a respectable sleep schedule and, on rare occasions, wake up well rested.
Now, at eighteen years old, Remus sat at an ice cream parlor, his portfolio on the table in front of him, trying to shake off the tension clinging to his body. His voice, when ordering his coffee-flavored ice cream, came out trembling, but the ice cream calmed some of his frayed nerves.
The tattoo studio he was recommended to was just a street away, but he needed a few moments to recollect himself. The whole moment felt a bit surreal. To think he’d come this far. A roof over his head, a steady income, and away from his father’s hand.
He felt the barest of hints of a soft hand on his shoulder and smiled, his head turning to look at the bright sky. He put his own hand on his shoulder, where he felt the ghostly pressure. He liked to imagine it was his mother, giving him strength.
Remus has come this far and he would make her proud.