#remus 1

“Wow! Remus! Fancy running into you here!” Mio didn’t know what possessed her to say hello to Remus Lupin, but it spilled out of her before she knew what was happening. She always thought he was cute, but he was usually hanging around with other boys who were, well, also too cute to talk to. Perhaps it was the strength she found in the bustling city that was London or the fact that they weren’t at school that gave her the courage to say something. 

Location: Burlesque Club ‘L’Étoile’, Wizarding London Time: 1am, 5th of March Status: Closed, for @inconsolcble

Lu didn’t mind the hate-spewing conversation topics amongst their more generous patrons. After all, how did they affect Lu personally? And one had to remember that the regions of raging anger and lust sat quite closely in the brain, so really, just letting their patrons rage about Muggleborns was doing half the job already. But Ganymede’s wasn’t that big, and after a certain amount of nights spent there, you inevitably ran into the same people, all of which usually preferred to think you an exclusive shiny little item for their own private collection. So it came that every other night, Lu chose bars and clubs of lesser Pureblood prestige. 

They were sitting at a table decorated with empty champagne coupes when a boy walked into L’Étoile who simply did not belong here. Not only wore he -- in Lu’s eyes -- rags, but he was also of such a demeanour it was as though he was scared to enjoy himself too much. “What does he fear? To be scooped up by one of our large-wigged ladies who’re serving the tables?” Lu asked, giving their seat neighbour a nudge and redirected her gaze towards the boy, now standing pressed against a wall. Clarissa cackled. “Should we go save him?” She placed a hand on Lu’s shoulder: ‘And you think you’d scare him less?’

Lu returned their attention to the stage where yet another number of terrible singing and even worse dancing began. There certainly were too many sequins and too few items of clothes; it was a divine night. And until then, they had quite enjoyed themselves, the thick air in the room making it impossible to escape the alcohol’s effect, the laughter bright and piercing into your chest, and the music -- albeit awful -- loud enough to make you forget about everything else. Well. Until then indeed. Now their mind was on the boy by the door -- ah, he had moved, a little closer to the bar, but he didn’t look any less terrified. What a poor creature. Who on earth had recommended him this place? Was this his first night out, ever? Was he looking for someone? Lu shook their head and decided it was none of their business.

The first time Edgar had properly talked to the young Mister Lupin, it had been down here, in the forest near the McKinnon Farm.

Lupin’s introduction to the Order had been a brief but impressive one. Entering the meetings room, he’d found his spot next to James who’d put an arm around his shoulders declaring him an old friend, and then he had made his suggestion: let wild werewolves stay in this forest. Refugees, close to the farm, safe from themselves and the world hungry to mistreat them. The discussion that had followed had been one of the longest and most intense ones Edgar had ever witnessed since joining the Order. And he’d joined the Order so long ago...

He had barely argued along. He’d stood in the back, listening attentively to write it all down later on, and kept his gaze on the new member. Lupin had looked so frail and weary, young and worn at the same time, and yet he’d uttered and explained his suggestions without fear or hesitation, and Edgar had felt his chest swell with pride.

It had deflated as though perforated by a silver bullet when James had revealed the secret a week ago. Not because Edgar suddenly no longer thought Lupin brave and forward-thinking for his suggestion, not because he was shocked like some members by the news (in a way he’d known for quite some time, hadn’t he?) but because he realised that without his digging, this might’ve never happened. Had he not been so eager to solve the mystery of Lupin’s injuries, Mary would’ve never gone to talk to Emmeline and James, and it would’ve never gotten that far. Was this his fault? And his lungs exhaled a brusque breath filled with guilt.

The truth had had to come out eventually, after all, no? But Edgar had hoped Lupin would come forward himself after receiving Edgar’s thermos and message -- a tentative invitation to come talk to him. Not that the truth would come out of Lupin’s best friend’s mouth. Not on the day of a mission. Not right before the same best friend gave his life for that mission.

After waking up from his injuries, Edgar had learnt of what had happened that night of the 14th, and each new information made his hands cramp tighter. To hear that Lupin had disappeared, well, that was quite frankly an information that didn’t really manage to preoccupy him quite as much. He just prepared another thermos filled with hot chocolate and sent it to Lupin, trusting his owl would find the way, but this time it came without a message.

Only after they had gone looking for Ainsley, Edgar had found the time and patience to think about Lupin again. About the first time he’d entered the meetings room. What were the werewolves in the forest by the McKinnon Farm to think now? Had they already heard that the one who had gotten them there, who had fought for their safety, was now gone? Possibly in danger -- not by any outside forces but by the very same people who were granting them refuge?

Hence, on the 21st, Edgar decided to go down to the forest himself and inform them that even without Lupin here, he’d try to continue letting them stay here. And this time he would participate in the discussion, if he had to. Packed with tea, wrapped into his warm, gigantic and colourful winter coat, and with his left hand still in bandages, he walked through the forest, straight ahead and hoping the right words would come to him when they were needed. It was there, still on his way and at least fifteen minutes away from where the pack camped, that he saw a figure ahead of him. It wasn’t particularly familiar, but he recognised it instantly all the same.

Location: McKinnon Farm, court Time: 10th of January, rather early in the morning Status: Closed, for @silveranddittany​

Usually Bran would’ve tried to argue her way out of this job, or at least accepted it solely with a visible, palpable air of disgruntledness. Today she was just ... tired. It wasn’t the first time happened. Being called to the Estate and ordered out on a job. Being asked to put her medicine training into use by brewing people tea. Being this tired...

More failures after stupid arguments after failures after illness. This was how she’d recapitulate the last three months she had had. There was not a single thing gone right. No cause for joy or celebration or even pride. The Order decided on yet another mission? Sure, whatever. The Order refused to listen to the points she had to make and how they could actually begin harming the other side? What else was new? The Order sent her an owl at six in the morning, ordering her around to run after one of those whiny children that for some reason wanted to be in the Order but had no willpower whatsoever? All right!

Dorcas packed her things faster than she ever had before, waiting for Remus to leave the classroom before hurrying after him. God, she felt so bloody creepy. But she put on a bright smile and called, “You all right, Remus?”