Better Than Chocolate - The Bittersweet Symphony of Moony and Jayne

Remus Lupin walked up the stairs of the old tenement building thinking gratefully, that with the money he had made working at Hogwarts for the past year he would be able to live in a far more respectable flat. Before his short tenure at his beloved alma mater he had kept his requirements in a home to the absolute bare necessities, four strong walls, running water, a fireplace and a door with a very good lock. His new flat was still far from extravagant, but it was in a charming neighbourhood, quite close to The Leaky Cauldron so that he wouldn't have to walk as far to the potions master from whom he would purchase his draught of Wolfsbane Potion.

When he had reached the top floor of the building there was a landing, if you turned to the right there were three stairs that led up to the door of his one-room flat. Turning to the left and up three stairs was a door to someone else's flat, his new neighbour. He tried to be very quiet as he moved his things from the landing, aware that it was somewhat unconventional for a person to move into their new home in the middle of the night. His late night move however, provided, by far, the simplest solutions; it allowed him to take his belongings on the Knight Bus and then to use a locomotion spell to bring them up four flights of stairs. Not to say that he was moving an excessive quantity of boxes, but the few trunks and boxes he did have were certainly a bit of an inconvenience to move alone.

He entered his new home and quietly lowered all of his belongings, which had followed him in, to the floor. Looking around he sighed, it wasn't much, and it certainly wasn't Hogwarts, but it would do. He took out his wand and waved it at the fireplace and muttered "incendio." Immediately a warm crackling fire started burning, it did wonders for the atmosphere of the flat. He sat on a dusty chair and surveyed his new space thinking of the spells and charms he would be performing to make it secure. At the waxing of the full moon, each month, this flat would become his cage. He considered unpacking, but thought better of it, deciding that it would give him something to do tomorrow. Once again, his waking life was reduced to the constant mystery of how to fill his days.

When Remus woke the next morning he knew it was fairly early by the pale light streaking in through the window. He surveyed the landscape of his new home, his bed in one corner, a wooden table and chairs on the opposite wall, an old sofa facing the fireplace and two large bookcases. He again considered unpacking and again decided against it, and instead settled on going for a walk. He would walk around and investigate the neighbourhood; while it was still relatively early and there weren't too many people on the streets, he could also stop at the market to buy some provisions and then come back to unpack.

While he realized that with the wave of his wand his trunks and boxes would expel their contents to their appropriate places he had decided to unpack by hand, in the hope that such an activity would fill up an hour or so of his time. His time, stretching out in front of him like an endless road, a road that he could only see a spot of darkness at the end of. He would stop thinking about his time. Dressed in his muggle clothes, a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a pair of worn trainers, he stuck his wand in his back pocket and made sure that the back of his t-shirt was at least mostly covering it. Once again he needed to address the age-old problem of how to conceal his wand when dressed as a muggle. It wasn't so bad in the winter when he wore long sleeves and coats, but in the summer it proved more challenging. As he walked out of his door, deep in thought about the potential of invisible pockets, he was startled out of his minutia by the woman standing on the shared landing at the bottom of the steps to his flat.

"Oh," she said with a start, "I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone had moved in."

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you," said Remus.

"It's alright, well, welcome to the building I suppose," she said as she gathered up a large flat case and an overstuffed brief case.

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry to run off, but I am going to be late for a meeting as it is. Good day," she finished quickly and took off down the stairs. Before slowly descending after her, he watched briefly as her dark wavy curls trailed off behind her as she turned down to the next flight of stairs. He could hear her footsteps grow fainter all the way down. It was somewhat unsettling; until now he wasn't consciously aware that moments ago he could feel the walls of his flat and his world closing in on him. It was unexpected for someone else to be there and talking to him. It wasn't until he heard his own voice echoing in the stairwell that he realized how little he had spoken out loud since leaving Hogwarts.

The walk was pleasant; it was quite nice out. He walked and tried to remain aware of his surroundings as he got lost in his thoughts. He was still reeling from the events of the last few weeks. It was such an off putting mix of emotions. Sirius was innocent and on the run. Peter was alive and appallingly guilty. I've spent the last 12 years trying to convince myself that Sirius was the cold-blooded murderer and turncoat that events had so indisputably proven him to be, and all along I was right to doubt the facts. He was my best friend and I knew him. He is my best friend.

It was strange for Remus to be able to think of Sirius in the present. For 12 years Sirius, Peter; they had been his past, an ever-present memory. Like James and Lily. Like the life that he had grown to love and the future he had envisioned for himself, for all of them. His friends were his declaration of normality, his chance at a real life. They were the dream team, he always believed that they were destined for great things. Maybe that was just the arrogance of youth, but once the unit was broken he was just a sickly half-breed, terrifying and reviled. As an adult he recognized how powerful the innocence of youth truly is. As an adult, one approaches difference with fear and loathing; as a child it is nothing more than a possibility, if the difference is even recognized at all. And so, on snaked his writhing and unsettling thoughts as he walked and walked.

He went into a market and bought some food and tea. It was mid-day and getting rather hot by the time he returned to his flat. He opened the windows to air it out, sat and slowly ate his lunch. After he was finished eating he set to work cleaning, by hand. He really wouldn't have minded the work at all if it weren't quite so warm. As he sat taking a break later in the afternoon, sipping lemonade, once again he was startled back to reality as a large, colourful bird gracefully landed on his windowsill, cocked its head and stared at him. For a moment Remus sat staring back and then he grinned slightly. He got up and walked to the unusual creature, and put out his hand. The bird dropped a small scroll of parchment into his open hand. He unrolled it to find a note from Sirius.

Moony,

I hope you are settled somewhere. I feel terribly that as a result of everything that happened, you had to leave the school. It really was the perfect job for you, not to mention that it would make me feel much better to know you were there keeping an eye on Harry. Peculiar how very little ever seems to work in our favour...well, enough of that. I'm all right; I will keep in touch as much as possible. Hopefully we will be able to see one another again soon, preferably under less dramatic circumstances. Would have been nice to be able to attend the World Cup Match this summer.

Your friend,

Padfoot

My friend. And he was. Sirius on the run, this was an endeavour that suited him far better than imprisonment. The bird sat looking at Remus inquisitively. "Yes, I'd like to send him a note back, do you mind waiting a moment?" he said looking at the bird, but really speaking only to himself.

Remus grabbed a quill and a bit of parchment from an open trunk and quickly scrawled.

Padfoot,

Glad to hear from you, I hope the run is going well. It seems that you might be getting some well-needed sun. Please don't worry about me, if nothing else I am perseverant. I had only recently stopped thinking that it was all too good to be true, when it turned out to be exactly that. I will keep my ear to the ground as far as the goings-on at the school. I asked Dumbledore to keep me informed of any noteworthy developments. He told me before I left that they are working to bring the Triwizard Tournament back for the upcoming year. That would be something to see. As far as the World Cup Match goes, I thought the same thing, but I have to make my money last as long as possible. Besides, it just doesn't have the same appeal as if we could have gone together. Hope to hear from you again soon.

Your friend,

Moony

He looked over his note, determined that it was cryptic enough should it fall into the wrong hands and gave it to the bird. With a graceful leap the bird soared off high into the sky. Remus stood at the window and watched until it disappeared. He then turned back to his trunks. It was time to unpack.

A few days later Remus sat by his window reading. His flat looked less like a home and more like a library with some home furnishings. His books had far exceeded the two large bookshelves and lined the fireplace mantle, the floor along the walls, and the windowsills. He'd even put some in his kitchen cupboards. His travelling trunks had become a coffee table and a bedside table. Despite the clutter of all the books it was very neat and orderly. All things considered, it was rather homey. He looked at his watch, put his book down, grabbed his keys and tucked his folded robes underneath his arm. Just as he had locked the door to the flat and put his keys in his pocket, his neighbour, again carrying several large and overstuffed cases, began to climb the flight of stairs leading up to their flats. She looked up and smiled at him. She had a nice smile that made her eyes crinkled around the edges.

"Hello," she said as she ascended to the landing.

"Hello," he said.

"I'm sorry for having been so abrupt the other day. I hope I wasn't too rude."

"No, not at all," he replied. She was rather attractive, her dark brown hair pulled back, she had bright brown eyes and a long nose. As she dropped her bags to fish out her keys he noticed her curvy hips and her narrow waist and silently admonished himself for having noticed such things.

"I was running late and I didn't want to keep my clients waiting," she explained.

"Oh, that's okay, I understand," he said, willing himself to look innocent.

"Well good, I'd hate to have started off on the wrong foot with a new neighbour," she said with a friendly smile.

"Yes, of course," he agreed, nodding his head slightly.

She also stood nodding slightly, lips pressed together, before breaking what was on the fast track to awkward silence by saying, "Okay then. Have a good evening." She turned to unlock her door.

"Yes, thank you. You too." Remus you prat. She's your neighbour and you go acting like a socially inept fool. He headed down the stairs. How about asking her name? That would have been a polite, neighbourly thing to do. When he got outside into the late day warmth he headed for The Leaky Cauldron. Upon his arrival at the pub, he unfurled his robe and put it on over his muggle clothes.

Some wizards chose to wear their robes everywhere, but Remus had made it his business to blend in, to avoid drawing attention to himself in both the muggle and wizarding worlds. In the muggle world, anonymity prevented questions. In the wizarding world it would have prevented far more informed and probing questions. Anonymity was not a luxury he enjoyed in the wizarding world. Questions, from: "Didn't you have the Defence Against the Dark Arts job at Hogwarts?" to: "Where were you last Thursday?" And "You're not looking well, are you sick?" to the especially loaded: "Weren't you Sirius Black's friend?" That question often had the name Sirius Black substituted with James Potter or Peter Pettigrew. Legends, all of them and only a handful of people knew the truth about their stories.

"Afternoon, Sir. Can I get you anything?" Tom asked from behind the bar.

"No, thank you, not now Tom. Just passing through to take care of some business," said Remus.

"Good day then," said Tom, turning back to a man sitting at the bar.

Remus walked through to the back alleyway. Three up, two across, he tapped the brick and the archway opened. Remus headed directly for the potion master's quarters. Housed in the basement of a building on the corner or Diagon and Knockturn he rang a bell and the door slowly opened. The room he entered was dark and damp with the sharp smell of aconite. He sighed as the potion master entered from a back room.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lupin. Or is it evening?" asked the short, squat elderly wizard in stained robes, squinting to see in what little light was coming in through a small clouded window at the top of the wall.

"It could go either way I suppose Mr. Whitewood. So good day to you, sir."

"I just finished with your draught of Wolfsbane potion. I'll go get you a goblet full," said the potion master.

"Thank you," he said as he pulled a sickle from his pocket and placed it on the counter. Mr. Whitewood left and returned quickly with a smoking goblet full of potion. Remus took it from him, closed his eyes and downed the whole thing in a few quick gulps. Putting the goblet down, he coughed twice, his eyes watered a bit. "God that is bloody awful!" he choked closing his eyes tightly.

"Thank you," said Mr. Whitewood, his smile baring his crooked teeth, "I do my best."

"You really can't do anything for the taste?" Remus said with a half-serious grin, he knew the answer all too well.

"Are you staying in Diagon Alley?" asked Mr. Whitewood.

"No, I'm living in a muggle area, nearby," said Remus.

"How is that?" asked Mr. Whitewood, curiously.

"It's fine, I go about my business and nobody bothers me."

"Well, that's not too bad then, I once lived next door to muggles, they yelled all the time."

A fleeting picture of his neighbour flashed through Remus' mind as he said, "No, my neighbours are very quiet; they seem nice enough."

"Well good. Have a good evening young man and I will see you tomorrow," said Mr. Whitewood.

"Yes sir, I will see you tomorrow," Remus replied and as he walked out of the shop. Walking up the stairs to street level he squinted to block out the setting sunlight. He stopped at Florean Fortescue's, feeling a bit like a child having a lolly after taking potion, but the chocolate raspberry ice cream really helped to get the awful taste out of his mouth like nothing else.

He then stopped in Flourish and Blotts to see what was new. He thumbed absentmindedly through a rather sensational looking book called Wizards Without Wands, True Stories of Incredible Subconscious Magical Feats. There was a story of Maribel Blakely, a young witch of only three, whose cat went missing; as she sobbed uncontrollably over her lost pet she began to repeat over and over again "Kitty's in the well, kitty's in the well." Lo and behold the next morning a man whom they had never met before from four streets away, arrived at the doorstep wanting to know if the kitten he found in his well belonged to them; the pathetic creature mewing gratefully in his arms. Another story told of Icabod Brown whose broom had split in two somewhere over the Indian Ocean. He fell into the sea, as his last breath of strength left him and he could no longer swim another stroke, he sprouted gills as though he had swallowed gillyweed. He was able to swim 400 miles to land. Finally, he skimmed the story of Sarabeth Simons, a witch who was able to reroute an avalanche from destroying her home and killing her family as she stood and stared down the coming tide of destruction while hanging laundry in her garden. Remus shook his head as he put the book down, thinking the whole thing very wooly. "Rubbish," he mumbled to himself, or so he thought.

"Yes, admittedly I thought the same thing, but apparently the stories are all documented," said the shopkeeper from behind him.

"Really?" he sounded no less sceptical, "it sounds like a lot of nonsense to me."

"Yes, you may very well be right," the shopkeeper looked at the books on the table, "hmmm, why don't you take a look at that red book there? It is a fascinating history of Vampire attacks in South East Asia and the ancient magic wizards there used to combat them."

"Thank you, I will have a look," said Remus. He thumbed through the book for a few minutes before paying for it and departing. He thought about how it might be best not to enter the bookstore every time he came to Diagon Alley; it was a temptation he couldn't afford.

His life slipped into the monotony of routine quickly, mostly reading and walking, sometimes both. If it wasn't rainy or too hot out, he would go and sit in St. James Park and read. Sometimes he walked through the National Portrait Gallery, looking at the motionless faces of historically relevant muggles. If a face peaked his interest he would read about them to find out why they were important enough to have had their picture painted. That meant trips to a muggle library, a whole other world of books, in many ways equally as fascinating. And of course, there were always trips to Diagon Alley.

Returning from one such outing to visit Mr. Whitewood, shortly before the first full moon since his relocation, he saw his neighbour.

"Oh, hello," she said.

"Hello, how are you?" he asked, determined to behave more mannerly than at their previous encounters.

"Fine thanks, and you?" she asked looking at him, her brow furrowed slightly. Remus was used to this when he was looking pale and somewhat shaggy.

"I'm okay, it's nice weather we're having," he changed the subject, "I realized that I've been here almost a month and never properly introduced myself, I'm Remus Lupin." He held his hand out to shake hers.

"Oh, yes, I guess I never did either, I'm Annabel. Annabel Jayne." She shook his hand and smiled.

"It's nice to make your acquaintance, Annabel Jayne." Their handshake lingered for a split second as he smiled shyly at her.

"Likewise," she smiled back.

"Well, it looks like you're in a hurry; I won't keep you any longer."

"Yes, I should be going," she said slowly, "just going to run some errands."

"Have a good evening."

"You too, Remus."

He unlocked his door and went into his flat. "You too, Remus." It was nice, the way she said his name. Stop behaving like a schoolboy. He was exhausted. It was his disease taking its toll. He lay down on his bed and immediately began to drowse. "You too, Remus." Those three words echoed in his head as he drifted off to sleep.

He spent the next two days in his flat. The transformation was uneventful, but gruelling nonetheless.