Remus' Nifty, Big, Red, Beautiful Book

Author's Notes: Thanks to my new beta Ashley. Sorry it took me so bloody long to get this up, but I couldn't find my betas and I had writers' block for about two months. Here's July, at any rate, and I swear, August will be coming; it's done, it'll just have to be beta'd. Cheers!

Thursday, July 1, 1981

Yesterday was insane. I was wrong, okay? They came. Greg and David showed up, something I had completely made up my mind against. Looking back, it went something like this...

"Sirius will be here in a minute," Sue said calmly. Winston made a small growling noise.

"Great," I said unenthusiastically.

When the little bell above the door rang, Sue, Winston, and I all looked up, expecting to see Sirius come waltzing in. Winston was even gripping his alien spray, but it wasn't who we were waiting for.

"Sue, right?" Greg asked as he and David made their way to the counter.

I think my jaw dropped. David glanced at his watch.

"Right on time, Greg," he announced. "And you." The two looked my way.

"Remus," I said quietly.

"Sorry," Greg said loudly. "I didn't catch that, speak up!"

Sue stifled a laugh and I growled, louder, "Remus. I'm Remus."

"And that's Winston, just so you know," Sue informed them, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder at Winston. Winston glared.

"That Sirius bloke is late," Greg announced, looking at David's watch. The hands read 6:05.

"Only by five minutes," Sue pointed out.

"True, true, but still..."

Just then, Sirius pushed the door open with his free hand, he had a heavy-looking pack dragging in the other hand. Winston hissed quietly, but otherwise didn't do anything to draw Sirius' attention.

"Sorry I'm late," Sirius said to no one in particular. "I usually get out of school at four. They, uh, kept me after."

"Getting detention even after graduating from our old school?" I asked him.

"Not detention," he said, dropping the backpack with a heavy thud. "That'd be easy. Laps. Lots of them. I had to run for thirty minutes straight. Then he had me run obstacle courses, and Remus, you know what those are like."

Sirius is good at making casual wizarding references in front of Muggles, I realize.

"Could tell something was up," Sue said. "You look exhausted. You're all gross and sweaty, aren't you?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. You'd be too. I would've stopped home, but I'd be even later than I already am. I had to speed on the roads anyway."

I just rolled my eyes. Sirius finally seemed to register David and Greg. "Oh, hello," he said, mildly surprised.

"Hey," they said. "What kind of car you got?"

"No car," Sirius responded, taking a bottle of water from Sue. "Bike."

Greg and David looked at each other.

"Motorbike," Sirius confirmed, opening the bottle.

"Wicked," the guys chorused. David turned slyly to me, he asked (I assumed in hopes to get to know what he was dealing with), "What do you drive, student?"

Sirius coughed up some water. This earned a brief glance from everyone. He was the only person there that knew what my car looked like. Sue and Winston never see me drive home. After thirty seconds of no answer from me, David moved to Sirius.

"You," he said. "You know what he drives."

It wasn't a question. Sirius acknowledged that fact. When he didn't say anything, Greg asked, "Well?"

"It wasn't a question," Sirius explained.

David and Greg rolled there eyes. "What does he drive?" they asked Sirius.

"Ah," Sirius said, sitting on the opposite side of the counter than us with his boots on the table. "Well, Remus here drives an...interesting car. It's brown." Here Sirius paused to think, drinking more water. "Not in the...best shape."

"That can mean a lot of things, Sirius," Greg said. "And what's your last name? Your name is too long."

Sirius snorted. "And what if my last name's Cassopolis?"

"It isn't," David said.

"No it isn't, Mr. Confidant. Last name's Black, and by all means use it."

"Well, Black, as I said, 'not in the best shape' can mean many things," Greg said again.

"In this case," Sirius began, "it means his car sucks."

"Is it here? His car?"

Sirius looked at me. Disgruntled, I nodded.

"Lead on," Sirius said with a wicked grin playing across his face. He took his feet off the table and stood up. "Show us to your trusted vehicle."

I think they overreacted a bit.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!" Greg and David shouted upon seeing my car. We had left Winston and, against her will, Sue at the shop.

"That's his car," Sirius said conversationally, as if all cars were in such terrible shape.

"That's no car," Greg said. "That's a bunch of metal bits held together with gum!"

"Hey, don't be so harsh," Sirius ordered. "There's only a little part where a bit of gum holds it together."

I groaned. That didn't help.

"God, how slow is it?" David asked, drawing his leg back to kick my car.

"No, don't kick it!" I said quickly.

I wasn't fast enough. David's foot collided with the side of my car, causing a headlight to fall off. Sirius started laughing. I bowed my head in defeat. David glanced at the headlight.

"I'll fix that," Sirius said, his laughter slowing. David looked at me.

"What?" I asked.

"How slow is it?" he repeated.

"I dunno..."

"Slow enough," Sirius said.

After a brief, undertone conversation, David and Greg came to a conclusion.

"You need a new car," they said.

Going to see my car used up about all the time we had for 'lessons', so David and Greg ordered that I start a savings account for a new car.

"Save it in the bank, save it in a tin can, save it in a glass piggy bank; as long as you start saving, we're happy," David said.

Those two left, and Sirius 'fixed' my headlight. That is, he asked if I had duct tape, and when I said no, took out a few strips of cinnamon chewing gum. I stared as he stuck it in his mouth and picked up the headlight.

"You've got to be kidding," I said.

"Nope," Sirius replied, around the gum, "I'm not. I can't attach it the way it was attached, because the headlight would either break apart or start to crack."

He spit the gum into his hand and stretched it across the back of the headlight. As he stuck it to the car, he said, "Remus, you've been really stressed lately. Come over Friday."

"Ok," I agreed. I swore to myself if it had to do with 'denerdifying', I would hurt Sirius.

Friday, July 2, 1981

I expected tea or whiskey from Sirius. He gave me a sword.

His ideas of relieving stress are not the most common. They include crosswords and, apparently, sword fighting.

"You're mad," I said calmly.

"I know. Now, have you ever done sword fighting or fencing or dueling?"

"No, Sirius, I haven't, have you?"

"Of course I have! Here, I'll go easy on you. When I put my blade out here," he said, bringing his blade closer to me, "and draw back," -he sharply drew the sword back- "that means I'm going to stab you."

Instinctively, I stepped back.

"Sirius," I said, "I'm not too sure about this."

"Oh, it's easy!" he insisted. For the next two hours, Sirius Black instructed me in what he called 'Death by Sword (And How to Avoid It)'.

Wednesday, July 7, 1981

Today's lesson: scent.

"The way you smell is very important," Sue began, wiping a spill on the counter up with a sponge.

There are too many of us to fit behind the counter now, so I was forced out to stand on the other side where David and Greg sat on chairs and Sirius sat on one of the tables. Sue remained to help Winston if necessary.

"How I smell?" I asked, hardly believing what I had heard.

"Yeah, how you smell," Greg said.

"You don't smell bad," Sirius assured me. "You just don't smell...good either."

"Which means?" I dared to ask.

"Which means you don't have a smell," Sirius informed me. "A scent, and aroma, an odor, a -."

"I get it!" I cut him off.

"Smell him," David said, pointing at Sirius.

I was pleased to see that this time, Sirius looked just as stunned and concerned as me.

"What?" I asked. Sue was laughing, and Sirius was looking at David as though he were mad.

"Smell him. I can tell, he has a scent. Now do it."

Slowly I went over and - God, this is really weird to write - smelled Sirius. The only satisfying thing about it is I could tell Sirius was uncomfortable.

"What does he smell like?" Greg asked.

"Um... Well, his breath smells like cinnamon."

"Anything else?" David asked.

"Well he's wearing cologne or something..."

"Very good!" Greg cheered. "Do you wear cologne?"

"No, I don't."

"Well, you should. If you wanna get the ladies, you got to smell good."

"I don't want to get 'the ladies'," I argued.

David paused. "You do, you know...like women, right?"

"Yes!" I shouted. "I am not gay!"

At that really bad moment of my outburst, a customer walked it. I could feel my face heating up as Sirius, David, Greg, and Sue laughed. Winston took the order of the customer.

"I'm not gay," I repeated quietly.

"We heard," Sirius said. "All of London heard."

"So you're straight. Why don't you want the ladies?" Greg asked, leaning back on his chair.

"I...just don't."

"He wants one in particular," explained Sirius. Some friend.

"Who?" David asked interestedly.

"Oh, she's not around. She's in Africa, at medical school."

"A doctor?" David and Greg chorused, horror-stricken.

"Is she ugly?" David asked hopefully as Greg said, "Black, a word."

Sirius slid off the table and the three guys made a huddle. They weren't all that quiet though, so I could hear some of it.

"...no chance...doctor," Greg said, shaking his head.

"He's dated her before," Sirius told them loudly. They shushed him. "They...school...and...loved... And my wedding...back...talked the whole time."

"But still," David insisted. "How...I mean...coffee shop?"

"It's quaint, maybe...likes coffee?"

They broke up their little powwow and returned to their seats (or table, in Sirius' case).

"Our ending point today...," David began.

"...is that a good cologne will help you get the doctor of your dreams. And you need all the help you can get," Greg finished

"We've got to go," David said.

They turned and left. I looked at Sirius, expecting to hear what those two guys told him over there, but he didn't say anything except, "I believe you've got a chance. See you later!"

Wednesday, July 14, 1981

Odd, I've taken to writing only once a week in here. And it's always after my 'lessons' at the coffee shop. Do they really affect me that much?

Anyway, I got a break today. Sirius broke his arm and shortly after he started running a fever, so Elle wouldn't let him leave her sight. David was grounded by his parents. Greg stopped by for a minute to inform us of David's predicament. I guess he didn't want to come without David. Sue decided I could take a break and actually work on a Wednesday evening for a change.

Sunday, July 18, 1981

My car died today.

Tuesday, July 20 1981

It seems Remus won't tell how his car Grandma died, so I, Sirius, will have to do it for him.

On Sunday, he was driving. I don't know where he was going. But at any rate, he hit the big hole it the road. Grandma, of course, is too delicate of a car for that kind of rough roadwork, so she stopped running. Remus, being Remus, got out of the car and, instead of calling a professional service, went into a phone booth and, with much hassle I would think, found the telecrome number of my flat. (Elle, being muggleborn, likes the telecrome and has Muggles she likes to talk to on it; That is why there is one in my possession.)

Elle picked up the telecrome and, once hearing it was Remus, called me over, told me not to yell into it, and handed it to me. Remus wanted me to come down and fix his car. My God. He told me where he was, and I, being the good friend I am, got on my bike and drove to the road he said he was on. Luckily, it wasn't a busy road, or he would have been a road block. On this road, the cars just went around Grandma.

So for the next two hours, I tried everything and anything I could think of, succeeding only in getting hit it the head when the muffler fell off, sprayed with oil, and rained on. Yes, it began raining. After just over two hours, I got up, oiled, bruised, and wet, and told the dry, uninjured, un-oil-covered Remus who was waiting in the diner across the street that unless he wants to try and fix his own damn Grandma, she's legally considered DEAD. The fellow diners looked utterly confused and horrified. I dunno why. It's just a shitty car.

The funeral service was today. It was rather nice. Okay, so it was a farce of a funeral, but still. We buried the muffler amid the garbage cans where Remus used to park his car. Now he has no choice but to get a new one, or else ride a tricycle to work.

Sincerely,

Sirius

Wednesday, July 21, 1981

Sirius, I'll bet you snuck into my house just to read and write in this. If I have to tell him one more time that it's called a 'telephone'... He probably knows. He shouldn't have been writing in here anyway.

Speaking of Sirius, all my 'professors' at the coffee shop have reached a conclusion that's great for me. Vacation! Classes will resume in September, Sue said. We came to the decision because of a few things.

First, David is still grounded, and he will be for another two weeks. Second, Sirius was sick again today, and he won't have to be extremely careful not to be held after training. His training ends in September, which is why Sue figured it'd be a good time to start up again.

No more classes for the summer is fine with me!

Saturday, July 31, 1981

There hasn't been anything to write about for the past week, but today was Harry's 1^st birthday. We all spoiled him something terrible. James had us all at his house.

Harry's quite the lucky little boy, to have so many people caring about him. I'm going to try and remember who all was there.

James, Lily, Harry, Sirius, Peter, and me (of course); Harold, Ilka, Olivia, and Virginia (James' family); Sarah and John (Lily's parents); and little Neville, along with Alice, Frank, and Frank's mother and uncle. Since Neville was coming, his parents and Harry's parents decided to make it a double birthday party. (Neville's birthday is on the 30^th, you know.) All the Longbottoms were very nice, but Frank's Uncle Algie worried me. He's a bit of an oddball.

Harry got plenty of presents, as did Neville. The most memorable gift was James' to Harry. It's similar to a snow globe, only with a Quidditch field and two teams playing. Lily could only roll her eyes at it. She fears James is already corrupting her son's mind with Quidditch.

It's a real relief that I haven't got to worry about being "made cool" at work for a while. I don't have to see that David and Greg until September now! Honestly, they scare me a bit.