Meet my melancholy blues

Remus 1980 June 14th

He was stumbling in the street. the lights were flashing on him as if he was a prisoner escaping prison.

That couldn't be the furthest from the truth.

Remus Lupin was sloshed. And he couldn't even remember where he was.

While passing a group of sketchy-looking blokes, he eyed them up and down, reminding him of what he hadnt missed from London.

They appointed themselves as punks but were nothing but neo-nazis. He recalled an altercation Remus had had with one back five years ago. Fascist, the boy had called himself, but the way he had acted towards his friend said otherwise.

London was huge and diverse, you could meet people of every sort here, but not everybody was a fan of that.

Especially when Thatcher had come to power.

Despite the fact that Remus had never been big on Muggle politics, he had noticed the shift England was taking, it was a bit horrifying.

And even wizard politics, he feared for the werewolf registration laws they were thinking of introducing.

There were not a lot of people that knew what he was under his skin and bones, except for his family, the ones who once had known had hurt him, and Remus hurt them.

Remus tried to shove away those thoughts, as his doctor recommended.

The city had been his home for a couple of years before, but visiting it now felt odd to him. As if he was a guest in his home.

He decided to take a slight breather, leaning against a brick wall, it was a usual thing in this area of London. Which reminded him of it, Whitechapel, he was in Whitechapel of course.

But his hotel was in Mile End.

As the night took over London, and alcohol was boiling in people's blood, there was almost something animalistic that took over the people in the streets.

Remus' dark eyes could scan them from afar without making more trouble for himself, leaning against the wall in the dark.

It had been raining the entire day, and the air was still damp now that it was night.

He had run errands for the entirety of the day, and taken the tube as he didnt own a car, not even at the age of twenty. But when it began getting darker, and when Remus had nothing more to consume, he found a dingy pub where he had one or two pints too many.

The bartender had forced him out when he began arguing with one of the regulars about politics.

Honestly, it might have been for the best. Remus could not see that ending well for either of them.

He fumbled inside his pocket, searching for the pack of fags he had stolen from the regular's pocket. HA- he had the last laugh. They almost tasted better when they weren't his.

Remus lit up the cig in his mouth.

“Oi can I bum a fag?” an immature voice beside him asked. Remus turned to his left, and he was met with the sight of a young boy, with dark eyes, that looked like they had seen pain before they had seen life. Sadly relatable.

And who was Remus to deny anyone somebody else´s cigarettes? So he threw the packet to him, and the dark-haired boy caught it clumsily. He couldn't see much of the details on the boy's face, as it was dark in the alley, but he could tell he had an alright mug. “Sure, they ain't mine,” Remus mumbled, taking a deep drag.

He could feel the boy's eyes on his face, staring deeply into him. It might have been the scars on Remus´ face. They covered almost his entire self, including his face.

So the staring from the boy came naturally. “What? the fag´s not to your taste?”

The boy laughed, a small chuckle, “depends, where´d you nick them from?,” he exhaled the smoke onto Remus´face while asking.

Remus smirked, “This old geezer from a pub in Hackney, need any more information about the precious fag you´re smokin´?” he said sarcastically.

“sounds like something I´d do, but why´d you steal from an old man?” the dark-haired boy asked curiously.

Remus eyed the boy, to be sure he wasnt saying what he´d say to the wrong sort. But this boy looked harmless, couldn't have been older than seventeen. He had some tattoos on his arms, but not too many, the boy also had a terrible taste in jewellery. The boy had very fake-looking cheap jewellery all over himself. Almost resembling a bad impersonation of a mafia boss from the 20s.

“Bloody Tory innit, wos talkin' about the winter of discontent as if it was an insignificant thing only affecting the homeless,” Remus muttered, waving his cig around as he told the boy about how he recalled the interaction.

The boy chuckled, “I know fuck all ´bout whatchu just said but im very sure the chap had it comin´" he nodded eagerly which only made Remus sigh in disbelief

Remus noticed the tattoos, that began at the dark-haired boy's fingers. It formed a spider web, a massive spider in the middle of it in black, he had some small pieces on the most random places on his body. And lately ever since he´d come back to London small things like that reminded Remus of him, or of them, but mostly of him. Especially tattoos like that. Rems remembered the boy he once knew, the boy who promised everyone he met that once he could he would cover himself in ink.

Remus wondered if he now had them. He wondered if the boy had taken up on the promise and covered himself in ink. He probably had.

After a while of them smoking in silence and the boy making odd breathing sounds, the ink-covered boy said something that surprised Remus.

“You sort of look familiar to me?” he squinted his eyes, studying his face.

“Do I now? he quirked up a brow, a bit confused about how anyone outside of Wales would know him.

“Yeah– it's like I´ve seen you somewhere,” the boy continued to eye Remus suspiciously, not that he would be able to see that well in this darkness.

For fucks sake, he was in London. He was no longer in rural Wales where he didnt know a soul.

London was filled with wizards and witches, wizards and witches who had all gone to Hogwarts and might know him as the boy who switched schools out of nowhere.

The brown-haired boy came to his senses and got an urge to leave, immediately just leave. Get back to his boring hotel room.

He dropped his almost finished fag before he stomped on it with his old Oxford shoe. Hurrying to leave.

“Oi wait, what's your name?” the boy with the tattoos shouted across the street.

“it's Manky, Manky snatcher, ya should give me a ring sometime?” Remus shouted back almost tripping over himself when shouting back so enthusiastically.

-*-

19th June 1980

Remus woke up with a banging head for the third morning in a row, he hated himself for forcing his body to hurt like this.

Though he had come a long way since he was sixteen and shattered. Some things were hard to let go, including his self-destructing way which included drinking past his limit.

He had been in London for a week now, and he was starting to realise how expensive staying at a hotel was, even though it was a crappy one.

The prices in the big city were absolutely horrifying to Remus'wallet. Especially since he didnt have a job. God, his life really sucked.

One good thing was that London's weather was a lot better than the weather he had experienced the last year. Remus had spent his year in Moskva.

Even though Remus had finished his education at Durmstrang, for some reason they really liked him, or at least one of his professors had.

His politics professor had taken a liking to him. Used to say he had a very intellectual thing about him. Remus had once laughed out loud about it and said he just read books more than he opened his mouth.

A couple of months, after he graduated the older man, had written a recommendation letter to the International Confederation of Wizards, and one day he´d gotten a letter that requested his presence in Russia.

And that was how he ended up there for an entire year.

The only ones who sent him letters were his parents, and maybe the occasional letter from some other unimportant individual.

His job as a nineteen-year-old Welsh boy was to simply define the British media in the ongoing cold war in the muggle world.

Easier done than said.

It did not affect wizard politics terribly but there were some disagreements.

He mostly spent his days reading long letters and articles from the muggle press in Britain and presenting them in the most accurate sense to a group of Russian wizards.

No, he did not have the most important job, but it gave him more time time to see Moskva and to just reflect on a lot of things.

The pay wasnt terrible either.

And it didnt bother his werewolfish problems as he could take time off whenever he needed it.

But what bothered Remus wasnt any of that. No, he even had his own flat there, a nice one. And he´d met people too, very rebellious people, but still, it was the closest thing to friends Remus could call in years.

The issue was that life in Moskva was sad, not boring, but sad. Especially among muggles. The dictatorship had a destructive impact on people. There was poverty and no freedom. He felt as if he was watched at all times. And everyone was frowning, constantly, it was as if the people did not know anything but sadness. The people were tired.

He´d written this in his report when he returned back to Britain, and the Ministry of Magic had called it a ridiculous observation before they asked what the Russians knew of the development with the current election of the new minister of magic.

That's when Remus realised he did now want a job like this again. Despite the fact that it had allowed him to see a new country, and it paid fairly well, much better than any work he would get with his condition.

His father had called him an idiot when another letter had arrived for him at his parents' home in Wales. The letter asked him for another year in Moskva and he declined. Remus simply couldn't do it, it felt useless, and it didnt feel as diplomatic as he´d thought.

Remus wanted to do more with his life.

That was why he ended up back in London

His parents were strongly against it, they opposed his idea and said that there was a reason that they moved from the city.

But the twenty-year-old couldn't take more of the life in rural Wales, he couldn't accept that his fate was to be some sort of nonfunctioning spy for both sides, or neither, he still wasnt sure who it was he´d spied for.

No, Remus longed for London, and he longed for a purpose which he swore to his parents he´d find here.

Somewhere deep in his brain, he was scared that he tricked himself into believing that he was there. That black hair and cruel grey eyes were his purpose.

Remus assumed he was somewhere in London. Making his cruel family happy with being their perfect son. After all, he´d almost turned a sixteen-year-old werewolf into a murderer. If that wasnt cruel Remus would not know what cruelty was.

A week had gone by and Remus had only gone a hundred pounds poorer, and a lot more hopeless.

That he felt pathetic would be an understatement.

It did not mean he would return to Wales yet.

Remus just had to find a cheap room for rent. Maybe if he found somewhere to stay he could find a meaning.

A meaning to why he´d forced himself back here.

After debating his existence for a while, there was a knock on his door.

He groaned but dragged himself to open up the door to his small room, “yes?” he asked the short woman who stood on the other end. He might have come off as annoyed and regretted his tone as he sent her a smile.

That might have made it worse since the woman looked a bit confused. “Eh, good morning sir, I was sent up here to see if you were not dead, someone in the reception got worried after your well uh your appearance last night.”

Remus blushed embarrassedly at how drunk he had been, honestly, he´d been acting like a teenager ever since he´d arrived in the city. “Yes, I am terribly sorry madame for that disturbance.

To Remus´surprise, she only giggled. “It's alright, it happens often around here, now I get off in ten minutes…”

“Mhm well, that´s nice,” he smiled politely.

The girl giggled again, “Yes it is nice, so would you want to have a coffe with me?” she asked more directly.

Remus looked at her once again. She was pretty, very pretty actually. Her dark hair was styled perfectly and her brown skin, nearly the same colour as her hair looked beautiful. The way her white teeth smiled at him, and how her chocolate brown eyes looked at him would have anyone on their knees.

“I´m sorry love, but I've got a job call in half an hour, an important call you see,”

He did not have an important call.

She looked impressed. “It's alright, we can take it later yes?”

-*-

Remus had walked out with this girl all the way to the telephone booth because he didnt want to reject her.

God, he was such a wimp.

After Remus had waved her awkwardly off from the small booth, he hit his head for a good minute before he decided to call his mum.

He hadnt talked with her ever since he arrived in London, and he figured she must be quite worried.

“Err hello?” he always began every conversation in that awkward manner, some things simply never changed.

“Who is this?” Hope´s clear voice clanged through.

Remus chuckled, “What mum, you´ve forgotten me already?”

“Ohhh fy nghariad bach– GWEN he´s on the phone!” Remus heard his mum shout his aunts' name.

He could quite literally hear his aunt Gwen run over to the phone. “ALRIGHT REMY, ITS YOUR AUNT GWENYTH, HOW ARE YOU IN MOSKOW? I BELIEVE IT TO BE QUITE LUSH NOW IN JUNE YES?” She was shouting into the phone, and Remus had to pull the phone a little back to not get deaf.

“Goddamitt Gwen, there´s no need to shout, he can hear you just fine even if he´s in another country–” Remus heard his mum say.
Then he heard some complaining about how the new electric phones made no sense.

“I am in London Aunt Gwen you´re aware of that I hope?” Remus interrupted their feud.

“Are you really? What the hell are you doing in London then?” Aunt Gwen was talking at a more normal volume, thankfully.

“Gwen! Are you cussing at my son?” Remus' mum hissed,

“Oh you Mother hen, we both know your son ain´t an innocent one, arent´chu a little chopsy Remy?” Gwen asked, and Remus couldn't help but laugh.

He´d missed their bickering. It was an odd thing to miss, but he really liked listening to his mum bicker with her sister again.

Remus was sure he´d never seen his mum as happy as when she was in Wales. She was cherished here, and Remus could tell that Hope was not one for city life. No, she bloomed in the lands and farms of Wales.

They had his mum's entire family here, along with all four of her sister, and Remus' grandparents but his mum´s parents did not like either Remus nor did they like Lyall. So Hope had decided that she did not like them either.

“Go get dressed Gwen, you can talk with Remy later yeah?” Remus heard his mum tell her sister. His aunt said her quick goodbye before her voice disappeared.

“Everything alright mum?” Remus asked, a bit worried.

“Yes my sweet boy, but me and Gwen are leaving for church right now, and I have something to ask of you,” His mum was hurrying her words.

Was it Sunday already?

“That's fine mum, honestly, I´ve got a bit of a packed day as well, so much to do, work and all,” he lied terribly, and Remus really hoped his tone didnt sound too false over the phone.

“Im glad you keep busy fy nghariad bach,” she whispered her words full of love, despite that he couldn't see her or sense her touch, Remus felt the motherly love through the call.

“When you have time, will you go pick up some old letters that got sent to our old house? They´ve all been transferred to the post office at Diagon Alley now, will you do that whenever you get time?” She asked him, and of course, he said that he would, it wasnt like his days were spent much more productively in Europe's biggest city.

“Take care, my sweet boy.”

His mum hung up before he even got the chance to say goodbye.

Alright, at least she wasn't worried.

And Remus had plans for the day.

-*-

The tube was honestly quite the horror for someone who wasnt used to it.

It was uncomfortable.

Disgustingly reeking.

Sometimes even creepy.

But for some odd reason, Remus took every chance he could to take the tube.

No matter where he was going in London he would take London underground there.

Remus knew why, deeply inside him he did.

Maybe he wanted to run into him, or just any of them, but especially him.

Even though four years had gone past and it still hurt, Remus couldn't forget him. It was like a curse over him, it wouldn't let go.

But London was huge. Always had been. The chances of running into a young boy who happened to be a part-time dog, were quite small, especially when said boy was the heir to the richest wizarding home in all of England.

However, the chances of running into him in the Oxford streets for wizards were quite a bit higher.

And if not him, chances were big of meeting someone from his past there, he feared it, more than he wanted to admit. But it wasnt like he could avoid places like that in London only because of fear, cause to contrary belief, Remus did belong there. Among other wizards and witches, there was no way he would let himself miss out on that solely out of anxiety.

It wasnt before he found himself at Charing Cross Road, that things began to feel more real.

He hadnt been to diagon alley in years.

But wow, he´d forgotten how nice this street was. Full of expensive and antique bookshops. Not that he could afford any of that, but it was always nice walking into these small shops and being followed around till the owner told you “Get out you no good bovver boy”. Remus was definitely not one, so it wasn't even a remotely correct insult.

Whatever money did, Remus wished it did it to him. Not that he was materialistic, oh not at all, he just wished he was treated with an ounce of dignity.

Maybe for a while, he thought he could have been.

But what had been, would never be again.

-*-

Diagon Alley was full.

Of course, it was.

There was life buzzing on the streets, children running around, mothers stressing, and bankers complaining to one another about whatever they could complain about.

He tried to blend into the busy crowd, and he did it quite well, or he would have if it wasnt for the fact that he was six feet and four inches. It didnt help that his back was hunched and if one would take a proper look at him they´d think he was some intruder.

He walked at a fast pace down the street, trying not to get eye contact with anyone. Remus just wanted to get to the post office as soon as possible, get the letters, and get back to his hotel room where he could sulk for the rest of the evening.

At it was nice, ah, the air here was actually quite nice, it smelt of magic, like explosions and freshness. It must have been–

“Goddam!” a rasping but faint voice cursed as Remus feel himself crash into someone.

And oh god, he really couldn't believe it.

Well, it didnt seem like she could either.

“Are my eyes deceiving me or is it really you Mr Lupin? ” the older woman had to take off her glasses and she squinted at him, but her thin lips were turned upwards in a small smile.

Remus wouldn't imagine that he would feel this fine if he´d met anyone but the warmth filled his entire self quickly.

His old professor was standing right there. It was no other than Minerva McGonagall herself.

“It is really me professor,” he smiled, as he got pulled into her brief hug. She was a short woman, and he remembered her as one, but good god, she had really shrunk, or perhaps he´d gotten taller.

“Oh stop it, we´re not at Hogwarts anymore, call me Minerva please,” she smiled as her eyes went every at him, almost as if she was analysing him.

“Well only if you call me Remus,” he sent her a cheeky smile that she didnt miss.

Minerva folded her hands together as she skimmed cheerfully at him. “How has it been with you? I haven't seen you since, well, in too long,” Remus could tell something went over her, as she remembered the lost memory. He didnt mind that she didnt bring it up, hell, he didnt even want to bring it up.

“Oh I´ve been alright, I finished at Durmstrang,” he told her, trying to keep it short and nice, to not bother her with uninteresting details.

She smirked knowingly. “Yes I heard, you´re making quite the name for yourself amongst us academics,” Minerva boasted proudly. “You were one of my greatest students, always knew you were made for the greater things.”

“Thank you pro– I mean Minerva, but you´re being too kind,” Remus felt a bit awkward hearing such from the woman he had idolised since he was eleven.

“Oh, bullocks, do not act modest with me, we both know what you´re capable of.” she waved her hand dismissively, but not in a rude way. “Now I want you to tell me why I haven´t heard from you.”

Remus didnt really know how to respond to all the recognition. “Well as of lately I've had some work, well if you could call it that,” he muttered darkly.

She raised a brow, seemingly interested, but then as something dawned on her she slightly grimaced.“I would have loved to invite you for some tea, but I have a meeting with the Department of magical education,” she told as if the meeting itself annoyed her. But then her slight grimace turned into a small smile. “Im sure a young man like yourself has his days full either way, have you caught up with the boys now have you?”

Remus fought the urge to roll his eyes or to break down, he wasnt sure which emotion was stronger. But he didnt do either, instead, he simply shrugged. “No, and I am not planning to,” he said persistently.

“Aye and that is, that is very valid of you Remus,” the older woman nodded as if she understood why, but something in the way her smile twitched just a little told him that she didnt agree with how he was isolating himself.

Remus felt the air around him change a little, and it made him more uncomfortable than settled. “Well it was nice meeting you, professor, good luck with your meeting,” he smiled politely before he was set back to leave.
“Wait Lupin,” she grabbed his arm before she put a small card in his scarred hand. “Please write to me dear, don't be a stranger.”

The brown-haired boy wasnt sure what to say, so he just nodded politely before he continued to walk towards the post office.

He was a little shaken, thoughts racing through his head, not able to know what to feel or think. This meeting with the past hadnt been something that came naturally to him. Not after four years. And especially not with this woman he idolised. He couldn't count all the times he´d gone to her office during his free time just to talk, about careers, literature, and even about the future.

Stumbling across her in this busy street made him rethink his little choice of isolation, and maybe he blamed himself more than them.

Maybe the cause of his own misery hadnt been grey eyes, but they had been his own brown eyes, the same ones he loathed staring into whenever he looked at himself in the mirror.

The red post office was small, and very cramped, especially for being the most popular wizarding post office in all of London.

“Good evening sir, what can I help you with today?” The man behind the counter asked him professionally, but Remus could see his eyes wander carefully over his face, probably eyeing his scars.

“My family moved from a flat here in London about four years ago, it was registered under a wizard address, but after we moved there seems like a muggle family must have moved in,” he said quickly explaining the situation to the young man who looked sort of intrigued.

“And not everybody where informed about our well, our relocating, so I assume our letters have arrived here yes?” Remus quirked up a brow looking behind the counter where there were letters stacked about every single space behind him.

They were in no order, and Remus was very curious about how this great system worked.

The man chuckled, “Oh well it seems like it must be here then.” The blonde turned around to face the mess that was behind him and let out a small sigh. “Family name?” he asked with his back still turned around.

“Lupin,” he said looking over the man's head where there was a picture of an elder man. “You work here alone?” Remus asked curious about how a man that young could manage an important place like this.¨

The man looked over his shoulder into Remus´ eyes, “For now im the only one working here, but it's my grandfather's office, been in the family for decades I think.”

Remus nodded curiously, “Impressive.”

The man smiled before he turned back around searching through the letters. “It took me months to pick up on the system here, I´ve just finessed it.”

He had to let out a small chuckle.

“Lupin you said?”

“Yeah, with just one n,” Remus said.

“Well Lupin with just one N, there are just no letters under that name,” he smiled politely at him, turning back to him.

“Hm, how odd, can you try, well I don't know, maybe Howell,” Remus asked about his mother's maiden name.

The man nodded before he went back to the bunch. “Oh lord, there's an entire bunch of letters here, someone in your family must be very loved,” he winked at him. “I will need an ID card tho,” he said.

And Remus began searching his deep pockets, finding an old Russian coin, some loose tobacco and oh his ID card.

He pulled it up and gave it to the man, who analysed the picture with a serious face before he broke into a laugh.

“We´re wizards silly, we don't use ID cards, nice picture tho,” he handed Remus the ID card.

Remus groaned, how could he have forgotten? “Alright you got me there,” he chuckled at his own idiocy.

“I don't need identification, your mum called today that her `handsome` boy would come to collect them,” the blonde man tossed his hair before he grinned at Remus.

Did that mean Hope knew he´d have no plans, and would do this immediately? Remus felt a bit embarrassed if that was true.

“Course she did, so you were just having a bubble mate,” Remus raised a brow at the man.

He shrugged his shoulder. “If that means I played you a fool then yes, I did do that,” the blond looked proper proud of himself. “Are you just visiting then?” the man made small talk once again while he was looking for the mail.

“Nah, I was planning on staying here in London for a while,” he smiled while being handed the massive bag of letters. “Bloody hell, you´re right that is a big bag.”

“Oh yeah, why don't you go places for your lot hm?” the man said as casually as one would say hello.

Remus stopped up, as he felt a wave of dizziness hit him. “Excuse me?” he stared at the man with a twinkle of anger.

“Oh I just meant that there are more suitable streets than Diagon Alley for—” he tried to explain himself almost looking a bit anxious.

“I think I understood you quite well, now fuck off,” Remus spat at the man before he stormed out the door, as he still heard the voice of the blonde trying to explain himself.

What an absolute cunt.

Remus felt a rage inside him, he tried to hold it back whenever people would assume or say something that felt like prejudice, but sometimes it took over him.

He rushed down the street, he could hear some people curse when he stumbled into them, even though he was polite by default.

And as Remus' mind raced thinking of new and creative insults, he finally found himself back in Muggle London. Where he belonged, right, what an idiot.

The man sat down at the nearest bench, letting himself rest for a second. Remus was in terrible shape for a werewolf, it didnt help that he was a smoker and that he always overestimated his own form.

Fuck.

When he was able to sit down the realisation of his actions hit him. Maybe he might have overreacted, perhaps he should have heard the young man out.

Remus chuckled at how idiotic one had to be to fuck up that bad. The blond might have something entirely else. It was almost hilarious how terrible he was at making friends.

He lit his own fag, with wandless magic, he´d gotten more bold with using magic amongst muggles as of lately.

The brown-haired boy noticed how he was clenching the bag he´d gotten from the post office. Remus felt his curiosity take over as he opened the bag full of letters.

It must have been at least a hundred in there, and that was if he guessed loosely. His dad must have a lot of friends it seemed.

Maybe, there were some letters to Remus as well. Maybe one or two.

He inhaled the smoke from the fag before he put his hand in the red bag, and grabbed a random letter, reading the envelope.

´Lily Evans´, it read, from 1977.

Remus gasped, as he dropped the cig in shock.

The brown eyes boy clutched another one.

´Lily Evans´, from 1976.

And another one.

´Lily Evans´, 1977.

He had to look at another one.

´Lily Evans´, from Oh god this one was from a week ago.

The dark began to fall over west London, that new moon night. As the darkness took over the nicer views of London, the werewolf of a man, sat there on that hard bloody bench. reading letters from Lily.

Because all hundreds of them were.

They were all from Lily.