Ficlet: The Werewolf Who Was a Ghost (Remus/Sirius), PG
Title: The Werewolf Who Was a Ghost
Author: rose71
Characters: Remus, Sirius
Summary: What did Remus really do for a living during the First War?
Rating: PG
“Moony, what’s the big secret there?”
“No secret, just some writing.” Remus looked up from his quill and saw a black leather jacket looming over him. A leather jacket with Sirius in it, and some very tight jeans below. It was hard to decide whether the punk getup looked ridiculous or sexy, so Remus settled on “ridiculously sexy.”
Instinctively, Remus turned his parchment face-down. Then he reached up to hook Sirius by his ridiculously sexy metal-studded belt.
For once, Sirius was not to be distracted. “Aha! You are hiding something!” He made a gleeful snatch for the parchment, but Remus was too quick for him. He let go of Sirius and dived for the table.
"Accio Moony’s notes!” With a rustling whirr, the paper sailed neatly out from under Remus’s arms and into Sirius’s hand.
There was a moment of silence. Remus could feel his heart pounding. This really isn’t a big deal, he tried to tell himself. He did not find himself very convincing, especially when he saw Sirius’s expression changing from a grin to a scowl.
“Remus, what is this shit?” Sirius started reading aloud, “Even as the slavering jaws of the werewolf rushed toward me, I was not dismayed. A quick flick of my wand, and then-”
“Well, it’s a parody, obviously,” Remus interrupted hastily.
“A parody?” Sirius’s scowl only deepened.
“You are familiar with the concept of parody?” Remus asked. “Or is that another of those Muggle things? Because, you know, the wizarding world could definitely use more humor right now...”
“No!” Sirius held up his hand peremptorily. “I’m on to you, Remus Lupin. You are not going to distract me with talk of Muggle culture. Or with lewd overtures.”
Sirius involuntarily glanced down at his own belt, and Remus found himself grinning wickedly. That was an invitation, if he’d ever heard one.
But, just as the snogging was getting really good, Sirius suddenly tore himself away. “No!” he yelped again. “Don’t make it even harder for me. We need to talk about this.”
“Do we? OK. Padfoot, I think I may I fancy you. You all right with that?”
“You prat, sometimes I wonder why I fancy you,” Sirius said, brushing his fingers over Remus’s lips. “But, really. We need to talk about this werewolf self-hatred thing!”
“What, is that some new syndrome you’ve been reading about?”
“Sort of, yes. I mean, not with werewolves, but other oppressed groups. That’s why people need positive messages-you know, ‘Black is Beautiful,’ ‘Gay is Good.’”
“How about ‘Werewolves are Wonderful’? If we’re doing alliteration.”
“See, that’s exactly what I mean. You just try to act cool and ironic, but then I find you here, writing this shit about evil, slavering werewolves.”
I give up, Remus thought. He mumbled, “I’m just doing it for the money, OK? Now, can we please not talk about it?”
“Wait, you’re demeaning werewolves for money? And how is this not self-hating?”
“Look, I hate to say this, but some of us actually need to earn a living. And can’t get normal jobs-”
“Remus, you don’t need to remind me about werewolf-phobia! That’s what I’m talking about-”
“No, you’re talking about whether I love myself. I’m talking about work. At least, this way, I get to do something with all my NEWTs.”
“And what is this so-called work that makes you write this rubbish? It doesn’t even sound like you!”
“Thank Merlin for that! It’s not supposed to sound like me. It’s supposed to sound like Gilderoy Lockhart.”
“Lockhart…” Sirius looked dumbfounded. “Not that conceited ponce who was in seventh year when we were firsties?”
“Ponce?” Remus teased. “Who’s self-hating now?”
“I’m not saying he’s queer, I’m just saying he’s a ponce. Poncing around with his curled hair and pink robes. But that’s not the point. The point is, why are you impersonating that idiot?”
“Not impersonating. Ghost-writing. His new book, Wanderings with Werewolves. I think of it as a parody, though. So before you say I’ve been lying to you, please don’t.”
“All right, mate, but am I allowed to say this? You could have just told me the truth.”
“Well, I did sort of … swear an Unbreakable Vow to Lockhart, not to reveal his secret methods. Or,” he amended, “Lockhart thinks I did. Actually, the binding spell was beyond him, but I didn’t want to bite the hand that feeds me.”
“Oh, so now we’re back to biting, are we? You are a self-hating werewolf.”
“No, just a busy one. I have to write another 800 words by tomorrow, and we could be out all night with the Order. Want to help me?”
“Moony, what I know about the devious, infuriating ways of werewolves could never be captured in 800 words.”
“Well, then, let’s make a start...”
Poll
Author: rose71
Characters: Remus, Sirius
Summary: What did Remus really do for a living during the First War?
Rating: PG
“Moony, what’s the big secret there?”
“No secret, just some writing.” Remus looked up from his quill and saw a black leather jacket looming over him. A leather jacket with Sirius in it, and some very tight jeans below. It was hard to decide whether the punk getup looked ridiculous or sexy, so Remus settled on “ridiculously sexy.”
Instinctively, Remus turned his parchment face-down. Then he reached up to hook Sirius by his ridiculously sexy metal-studded belt.
For once, Sirius was not to be distracted. “Aha! You are hiding something!” He made a gleeful snatch for the parchment, but Remus was too quick for him. He let go of Sirius and dived for the table.
"Accio Moony’s notes!” With a rustling whirr, the paper sailed neatly out from under Remus’s arms and into Sirius’s hand.
There was a moment of silence. Remus could feel his heart pounding. This really isn’t a big deal, he tried to tell himself. He did not find himself very convincing, especially when he saw Sirius’s expression changing from a grin to a scowl.
“Remus, what is this shit?” Sirius started reading aloud, “Even as the slavering jaws of the werewolf rushed toward me, I was not dismayed. A quick flick of my wand, and then-”
“Well, it’s a parody, obviously,” Remus interrupted hastily.
“A parody?” Sirius’s scowl only deepened.
“You are familiar with the concept of parody?” Remus asked. “Or is that another of those Muggle things? Because, you know, the wizarding world could definitely use more humor right now...”
“No!” Sirius held up his hand peremptorily. “I’m on to you, Remus Lupin. You are not going to distract me with talk of Muggle culture. Or with lewd overtures.”
Sirius involuntarily glanced down at his own belt, and Remus found himself grinning wickedly. That was an invitation, if he’d ever heard one.
But, just as the snogging was getting really good, Sirius suddenly tore himself away. “No!” he yelped again. “Don’t make it even harder for me. We need to talk about this.”
“Do we? OK. Padfoot, I think I may I fancy you. You all right with that?”
“You prat, sometimes I wonder why I fancy you,” Sirius said, brushing his fingers over Remus’s lips. “But, really. We need to talk about this werewolf self-hatred thing!”
“What, is that some new syndrome you’ve been reading about?”
“Sort of, yes. I mean, not with werewolves, but other oppressed groups. That’s why people need positive messages-you know, ‘Black is Beautiful,’ ‘Gay is Good.’”
“How about ‘Werewolves are Wonderful’? If we’re doing alliteration.”
“See, that’s exactly what I mean. You just try to act cool and ironic, but then I find you here, writing this shit about evil, slavering werewolves.”
I give up, Remus thought. He mumbled, “I’m just doing it for the money, OK? Now, can we please not talk about it?”
“Wait, you’re demeaning werewolves for money? And how is this not self-hating?”
“Look, I hate to say this, but some of us actually need to earn a living. And can’t get normal jobs-”
“Remus, you don’t need to remind me about werewolf-phobia! That’s what I’m talking about-”
“No, you’re talking about whether I love myself. I’m talking about work. At least, this way, I get to do something with all my NEWTs.”
“And what is this so-called work that makes you write this rubbish? It doesn’t even sound like you!”
“Thank Merlin for that! It’s not supposed to sound like me. It’s supposed to sound like Gilderoy Lockhart.”
“Lockhart…” Sirius looked dumbfounded. “Not that conceited ponce who was in seventh year when we were firsties?”
“Ponce?” Remus teased. “Who’s self-hating now?”
“I’m not saying he’s queer, I’m just saying he’s a ponce. Poncing around with his curled hair and pink robes. But that’s not the point. The point is, why are you impersonating that idiot?”
“Not impersonating. Ghost-writing. His new book, Wanderings with Werewolves. I think of it as a parody, though. So before you say I’ve been lying to you, please don’t.”
“All right, mate, but am I allowed to say this? You could have just told me the truth.”
“Well, I did sort of … swear an Unbreakable Vow to Lockhart, not to reveal his secret methods. Or,” he amended, “Lockhart thinks I did. Actually, the binding spell was beyond him, but I didn’t want to bite the hand that feeds me.”
“Oh, so now we’re back to biting, are we? You are a self-hating werewolf.”
“No, just a busy one. I have to write another 800 words by tomorrow, and we could be out all night with the Order. Want to help me?”
“Moony, what I know about the devious, infuriating ways of werewolves could never be captured in 800 words.”
“Well, then, let’s make a start...”
Poll