Forever Yours

Chapter 8 Marauder

You had heard somewhere that a girl was considered dressed as a whore if she attempted to flaunt too many aspects of her body at once: legs, stomach, shoulders, arms, breasts; etcetera. As a result, the frock you selected for your date with Remus was black and knee-length with a fairly high neckline and spaghetti strap sleeves. It was made entirely of a soft, but somewhat tight fabric.

While you were fixing your hair there was a knock on the door of the flat. "Blast!" you muttered. You'd intended to meet Remus outside the flat to save him from being interrogated by your parents. Now, there seemed to be no way of avoiding it.

"Hello," you overheard your mother greet after the door had been opened. "You must be my baby's date, Remus Lupin."

"Guilty as charged," he cheerfully replied. You smiled to yourself, knowing that Remus' polite charm would win your mother over in seconds.

"Her boyfriend is here?" demanded your father. "Show him in. I wanna talk to him."

You gasped and hastily finished styling your hair. Remus didn't deserve to be treated like a criminal, which was undoubtedly how your father would see him, and you wished to prevent that if you had the opportunity. You checked yourself in the mirror one final time, smoothed out your dress, and strolled out of your room.

Your father was sitting upright and tense in his favourite chair, glaring at Remus.

He must have just asked your date a question because Remus was serenely saying, "No, Sir. I haven't known your daughter for even a month. Why would I sleep with her?"

It took all of your self-control for you not to flush to the roots of your hair. You cleared your throat to get everyone's attention focused on you and away from Remus. It was fortunate that you did. If you hadn't your parents may have been inclined to notice that when Remus' gaze fell upon you his eyes began to trail down your figure, however, he caught himself swiftly and looked back up at your face, embarrassed. You suspected that he might not have been ashamed of himself if he was aware that he'd given you the precise reaction you were seeking, for he had courteously refrained from staring at you as if you were something to eat, but he'd been tempted to; therefore you were confident that you looked attractive.

"Where's the camera? I have to take a picture of you!" gushed your mother.

You groaned loudly.

Remus got up and stood beside you. "Humour her," he counseled almost inaudibly to avoid being heard by your parents.

Resignedly, you gave your mother's camera a false smile. The flash nearly blinded you. Blinking furiously, you allowed Remus to guide you outdoors. Your blinking was almost immediately replaced by gaping at the vehicle that awaited you in the street: a sleek, red stretch limousine.

"How-"

Before you could complete your inquiry Remus stated simply, "Sirius has connections."

"Connections already? You lot just got here about two weeks ago!"

"Never underestimate a Marauder." Remus smiled.

"Marauder means 'plunderer' and though Sirius gets around with more girls than most I don't think he plunders," you pointed out, amused.

"No, not quite. It's just that me and my friends call ourselves the Marauders."

You were perplexed. "Why would you call yourselves that?"

"When we were twelve we got detention from one of the many Defense teachers we went through and she called us that as an insult, but James liked the sound of it, so it became our official name. It's the most admired and hated name in our school."

"You got detention?" you exclaimed, disbelieving.

"Several times," he ruefully informed. "Well, shall we go?"

"Okay." What's everybody going to do when we show up in a limo? you wondered with a combination of anxiety and excitement.