Creatures of Habit

CREATURES OF HABIT

By LB Beck

Part One: On Routine, Copious Amounts of Alcohol and Chocolate, Target Practice, and Human Flesh

Night had fallen on Grimmauld Place. The occupants, however, hadn't noticed when the sun had set; the house was always so gloomy and dim, the gas lamps stayed lit even during the daytime.

The full-time residents' routines also varied little between sunrise and sundown. With the exception of three evenings a month, in which four-legged creatures prowled the stairwells and took great pleasure in lifting their legs against priceless family heirlooms, each day passed in much the same way. At its outset, this breezy night in late May looked to be no exception.

Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, old friends and truly creatures of habit, were lounging in the parlor at Grimmauld Place. Remus, as always, was engrossed in a book. The titles themselves varied from day to day; this evening's selection was Hogwarts: A History. (Hermione Granger had left it atop a bookshelf over the summer, and Remus was determined to slog through the entire thing, even if it killed him from sheer boredom. He was nothing if not determined.) He had his usual cup of tea, and the obligatory supply of chocolate.

Sirius Black was doing his usual thing as well. He'd skipped breakfast that morning, as usual, since he slept through it. He'd occasionally have lunch, if he woke up in time. Culinary skills, for Sirius, were relatively simple these days. Lunch, tea, dinner, midnight snack...Ogden's Old Firewhiskey was indeed a versatile substance. Sirius had just had a veritable feast (he'd filled one of the larger tumblers) and was settling down in his favorite chair, having brought his dessert from the kitchen in a shot glass. His evening routine was identical to that of the afternoon; he'd gotten quite good at staring into the fire and brooding.

Remus spoke up from the couch: "You drink too much firewhiskey. At least have some biscuits or something. You need some carbohydrates."

Sirius was engrossed in glowering at the fireplace. "Give me some of your chocolate, then."

"On the other hand, firewhiskey is really quite nutritious," Remus said, clutching his supply of chocolate frogs with determined possessiveness.

Flames crackled, pages turned; firewhiskey sloshed into a glass to become an "after-dinner cocktail"; Chocolate Frog packages were ripped open, their contents devoured as the evening dragged by.

Sirius eventually broke the silence. "We need to remember to push that desk up against the wall before next full moon. I can't reach from the floor."

"If you want to piddle on the family tree, why can't you transform at some other time of the month? Or, easier still, forget about the stupid desk and just do it when you're a human?" Remus suggested absently, turning another page and hoping to Merlin that he'd finish this wretched book before too much longer.

Sirius jumped from his chair. "Moony, you are a bloody genius! I'll be back in a mo'."

Remus bounced his forehead off of pages 788 through 789. "Oh, hell...Sirius, I was joking! Get back in here!" he called.

Just after the noise from Sirius's footsteps pounding up the stairs had receded, the front door opened. Remus grinned. Five...Four...Three...Two...

Thunk.

He didn't have to look. "Hello, Nymphadora."

"Remus," the newcomer snapped, hopping on one foot and drawing her wand, "Do that again and I swear I will hex you."

Remus ignored the threat and continued to read. "If you insist. Hello, Tonks. What'd you run into this time?"

"Bloody doorframe, I swear it jumps out at me every time I walk in here!" she hissed, clutching her shin. Tonks, a creature of habit herself in spite of leaving Grimmauld Place each day due to paid employment, sunk into "her" chair, rubbing the fresh bruise on her leg. "The fire looks different without anyone staring daggers at it. Where's Sirius?"

"He's in the drawing room," Remus said, "taking a pee."

Tonks raised an eyebrow. "Erm. Doesn't one usually do that in the loo?"

"Yes," Remus answered, and turned another page.

"Oh. Okay. Just wanted to make sure I hadn't gotten it wrong all those years. It's been a while since I've been out of nappies and all."

Sirius bounded back into the parlor, re-doing his trouser buttons. "Moony, I swear to you, that was brilliant!" he shouted, punching the air. "I'm gonna have another drink and do it again!"

"Hmm," answered Remus, finally swinging his patched-stockinged feet to the floor and stretching his legs, preparing to stand. "One usually finds the liver most affected by drink, not the kidneys, though I do agree that it's for a noble cause." He proceeded to the tea cart and refilled his cup. "While I'm up, Sirius, I'm assuming you'll want a touch more liquid refreshment," he said as he topped off Sirius's tumbler, "and for you, Nymphadora? Hmm. Are you going to use that to perform aguamenti? Perhaps some nice cold water for you?"

"I swore I'd hex you if you did it again!" Tonks snapped, holding Remus at wandpoint.

Sirius quickly finished off what amounted to be, in his view, a pre-nightcap. "Careful, Tonks. Don't tempt Moony. He's got one hell of a temper."

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. Mild-mannered Professor Lupin? Don't make me laugh."

"Seriously - and I should know, I'm an expert on Sirius - you don't want to threaten him." Sirius finished off his nightcap, and re-filled his glass, figuring that nightcaps, plural, were quite stylish indeed.

"I can't imagine you having a temper," Tonks said, lowering her wand and looking contemplatively at Remus as she filled Sirius's dessert glass with a bit of Scotch.

"Drop by in about three weeks," grumbled Remus, adding sugar to his tea. "I'm a sight more vicious when I have fangs and a tail."

Tonks threw back her drink and giggled. "I'll bet you're cute when you're furry."

Remus heaved a sigh. "Cute doesn't lust for human flesh," he muttered.

"I don't know," Tonks said, eyeing him speculatively. "Sometimes it does."

And with a wink, she slapped him on the bum and made her way upstairs to turn in for the night.

Part Two: Truly Awful Werewolf Pickup Lines and Nicked Knickers

Remus stood, stock-still and in shock, until he heard the door of an upstairs bedroom close. Then, he strode briskly to the parlor door, slammed it shut, and slumped against it, taking in great gulps of air.

"What - in sweet Merlin's name - was that all about?" he gasped.

Sirius threw back his head and laughed. "She wants you, Moony."

"No," Remus wheezed. "No possibility of that, no, Sirius, she doesn't. No. She can't."

"And why not?" Sirius asked, steepling his fingers as he leaned back in his chair.

"Well, let's see," Remus said, pacing the parlor floor. "Just for a start - I'm poorer than dirt due to terminal unemployment, I'm squatting at my best friend's place so I'll have a bleeding roof over my head, I turn into a ravenous beast every twenty-eight days, and I'm old enough to be her father."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Her father? Moony, mate, she's fourteen years younger. What weren't you telling your old pals when we were third-years?"

"Okay, maybe not her father, exactly, but - bloody hell, Sirius, you get what I mean!"

"Well, I can understand your concerns," Sirius said thoughtfully, reaching for the bottle in which he kept his liquid diet, "but really, old friend, my cousin's quite the catch. Would she be so bad to shag, you think?"

Remus was nearly hyperventilating. "She had to be just kidding. Yes, I'm sure she was."

"Moony, don't be a prat. You're not all bad to look at, even if you are a thirty-seven-year-old unemployed homeless werewolf."

"Padfoot?"

"Yes?"

"Sod the bloody hell off."

Sirius opened his mouth as if to reply, then raised one finger and said, "Hold that thought. I'll be right back."

He raced up the stairs, and Remus slumped back into his Usual Spot, thinking hard. Well, of course he couldn't help but fancy Tonks. She was young, vibrant, and fun...In short, all the things he wasn't, these days. I may be a boring old fart, but if I'm lucky, perhaps opposites do indeed attract after all, he mused.

He had to admit that a very small part of his brain - the very small part, mind, that hadn't quite managed to smother his feelings for Tonks in books and chocolate - was leaping for joy at the idea of her returning his still-nebulous intentions. He briefly wondered if that part of his brain was responsible for the rather intriguing dreams he'd been having the past few weeks. They'd been quite...stimulating.

Sirius came back into the parlor, clutching the waistband of his open trousers. "I aimed for the Malfoys this time! Direct hit!" he crowed.

"Good show," Remus said, with a singular lack of enthusiasm.

"Okay, Moony, what you need is a plan," declared Sirius, sinking into His Chair by the Fire.

"I think you need a plan, too, and I sincerely hope it involves fastening up your trousers," Remus said, looking pointedly at the ceiling. "Your pants have more holes than mine, did you know that?"

Sirius glanced down, furrowing his brow in thought. "Actually, these may have been your pants to begin with. Sorry."

"What are you doing with my pants?" hollered Remus. "It's not like I have a whole assortment to choose from. Stay out of my underwear drawer, Sirius!"

"Sweet Merlin, Remus, I haven't been rooting around in your knickers! We'll just have to do our own laundry if you're going to be so territorial. Kreacher gets it confused."

"Speaking of rooting around in other people's knickers, can we please get back to the point?" Remus asked, exasperated.

Sirius smirked. "Ooh, that was a good one."

"Shut up and button your trousers already, and then we'll talk, okay?"

Sirius managed to re-fasten his slacks, then turned to face his friend. "Okay. Now, like I said, you need a plan."

"A plan."

"Yes, a plan."

"And what sort of plan would that be?"

"Well..." Sirius considered his younger days, in which he'd been quite the ladies' man, thank you very much. "Maybe a good, snappy line that conveys your interest."

Remus frowned. "I don't much like the sound of this, Pads. This is beginning to feel like a late-night conversation from the Marauders' dorm room."

"Exactly!" cried Sirius, triumphant. "Now, let's see. Oh. Got it! It's perfect!"

"Hell."

"Now, what you say is this." Sirius squared his shoulders and deepened his voice: "Hey, baby, got any werewolf in you?"

Then, he made his voice considerably higher-pitched and breathy: "No, I'm afraid I don't."

Back to the deep voice: "Well, would you like some?"

Sirius waggled his eyebrows. "Hey? Hey? Brilliant, right?"

Remus stared at him for a full minute.

"What, you didn't like it?" Sirius asked.

Remus took a deep breath and tried to count to ten. He made it to eight. "Padfoot?"

"Yes, Moony?"

"You're a sodding prat."

"And you're a bloody wanker, mate."

Sighing, Remus regarded his friend. "Really, though, Sirius. I honestly just don't know. I mean..."

"You do fancy her, right?" asked Sirius, giving Remus an unusually shrewd look.

Remus averted his eyes and nodded.

"Well, in that case, since she's my cousin, and I have to look out for her and all, there's just one thing I have to tell you."

"And what's that?"

"If your stash of condoms is in the same shape as your pants, you'd best go buy some new ones."

Sirius roared with laughter as Remus shot him a dirty look. He heaved himself off the divan and strode toward the door. "I'm going off to bed now. Good night, Padfoot."

"'Night, Moony."

Remus climbed the stairs, trying to make sense of his jumbled thoughts. He'd either have to sort his feelings alone, or wait till Sirius sobered up and ask again.

Seeing as how the sun would be rising on Grimmauld Place in another few hours, and another usual day would begin, it looked as though he was on his own for this one.

Part Three: Conclusion...Role Reversal, and When It All Comes Together...

Remus had made it through Hogwarts: A History, and not a moment too soon, as he was certain his brain was about to turn to jelly after twelve hundred pages covering a thousand years of school history. He figured he'd owl it to Hermione at the next possible moment. In the meantime, today's reading selection was much more appealing.

Sirius staggered into the parlor, clutching in his hands what would probably amount to a late lunch. "G'morning, Moony," he mumbled to his friend, then made his way to - of course - his familiar perch in the chair by the fire. The fire must have done something spectacularly offensive that day, judging from the scowl Sirius was sending its way.

"Padfoot, good...afternoon, actually. I think. Well, who knows at this point. Looks as though you've already gotten yourself lunch."

Sirius swallowed the last of the glass's contents and turned his attention back to the flames. "The best. Excellent vintage. Whatcha reading?"

Remus turned slightly pink and muttered something very, very quietly.

"What's that?" Sirius asked, turning mid-glare, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I said, I'm reading..." mumble mumble

Sirius leapt up and snatched the book from Remus's hands. "Holy hell, Moony! The Salem Witch Files IV: A collection of passionate letters sent to the editors of Playwizard? Now this looks like a good read."

Remus grabbed it back. "Unfortunately, Pads, reading is my thing. Brooding is yours. Now sit down, shut up, drink yourself into a stupor, and piss off so I can read my book."

Sirius looked longingly at the book for a moment, then shrugged and went to pour himself another drink. "Can't argue with that logic, mate. Can I at least borrow it when you're done?"

"I suppose," Remus sighed, and reached for another chocolate frog.

The afternoon wore on, Sirius getting quietly inebriated as he contemplated the roaring fire, Remus feeling a bit punch-drunk himself as he finished his reading. Bad idea, bad idea, should've read those dusty old back issues of Transfiguration Today or something; that book did not help my state of mind, he thought. Creeping across the room, he slipped the bottle of firewhiskey from a snoring Sirius's hands and poured a generous amount into his teacup.

Just then, Sirius woke with a start, and though Remus made to hastily shove the bottle back into his friend's hands, Sirius realized that his ever-present alcoholic security blanket had been pilfered.

"Sorry, Padfoot - I needed something a bit stronger than tea tonight," Remus said, cringing.

Sirius grinned and looked at him through unkempt hair and bleary eyes. "Make you a deal, mate - I'll share my booze if you share your book. Deal?"

"Deal." Remus tossed the paperback toward Sirius's chair, then settled himself on his sofa, face-down in the cushions, willing himself to be calm.

The door opened. Footsteps approached. Three, two...

Thunk.

"Good evening, Tonks," came Remus's muffled voice.

"Sod it all, what is it with that doorframe?" Tonks said through clenched teeth.

Sirius had retreived the book and stuffed it under his shirt. "I have no idea, cousin dear, but I think I'll get as far away as possible from that nasty door. I'm off for a pee, and then it's straight from the drawing room to my bed. 'Early to bed, early to rise,' you know?...Oh, bloody hell, Remus, stop laughing at me...Well. G'night, Tonks. Night, Moony."

"Sleep well, you great prat," Remus snorted, his face still buried in the upholstery.

Tonks set forth to the tea cart, casting curious glances over her shoulder. "So. Remus. Not reading tonight?"

Remus raised his head a fraction of an inch so he could speak without mashing his teeth in brocade. "No, no book tonight. I gave it to Sirius."

"Sirius is going to read? So, I guess you're planning to settle in for a nice, long evening of heavy drinking and staring at the fire whilst contemplating the unfairness of the universe?"

Tonks had fixed herself her usual shot of Scotch, and she brought it to the edge of the divan, settling herself against Remus's feet.

Remus shifted sideways and watched Tonks as she tipped back her drink. "Nah. Actually, I thought I might break with tradition. Just for this one night, you know?"

Tonks raised an eyebrow. "Go for it, mate. So what's your plan?"

Plan. Oh, no. She didn't just say...plan? Sirius, you've ruined a perfectly innocent word forever with your scheming. I will get you for this.

Remus regarded Tonks. He thought about the utterly debased literature he'd spent the afternoon perusing and considered his options. There was a petite, pink-haired Auror perched against his tatty socks. She'd whacked him on the bum the night before. Okay, let's consider, shall we, Moony, old chap?...

Flicking his gaze briefly downwards, he thought, No heaving bosoms there.

He thoughtfully surveyed his own lap. No, the loins are most decidedly not throbbing, and I doubt they could if they tried.

Indeed, Moony my boy. This is what we've got to work with...And no matter how much of a prat I make of myself, it's definitely going to be nowhere near as ludicrous as the total crap I spent the afternoon reading.

"So, tell me, Tonks..." Remus trailed off, biting his lip and trying very hard not to burst out laughing.

She looked at him through wide eyes, as though fearful for his sanity. "Yes, Remus?"

He felt his face split into the widest grin in years. "Got any werewolf in you?"