Chapter Two- The Letter and the Home-Brewed Alcohol

The next morning I awoke at six O'clock to the sound of Sirius singing happily in the shower:

"Money, get away

"Get a good job with more pay and you're O.K.

"Money it's a gas

"Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash."

"I will kill that bastard," moaned James from across the room.

"New car, caviar, four star daydream,

"Think I'll buy me a football team."

"I hate muggle music," groaned Peter, who appeared to have only just woken up.

"SIRIUS, SHUT UP BEFORE I COME IN THERE AND SHUT YOU UP MYSELF!" bellowed James.

The singing abruptly ended along with any hope of sleep.

Sirius was still being annoyingly cheerful over breakfast. "Why are you so happy?" asked James who appeared to be suffering from sleep-deprivation.

"Last Potions lesson for seven weeks," answered Sirius. "And a chance, at last, to meet some decent girls… There's none left here."

"You should know, Padfoot, you've dated them all," said Peter. He stifled a yawn.

Sirius grinned. "Not true, Wormtail. Not true at all." He grinned evilly. "I haven't once dated your girlfriend."

James snickered but I just glared at Sirius, who could be quite a bastard where picking on Peter was concerned.

However, my anger towards Sirius was short-lived because at that moment an owl landed on the table in front of me and started helping itself to my toast.

"It's eating your toast, Moony. Are you not going to stop it?" asked Peter.

"Do you ever think of anything except food?" snapped James at the unfortunate boy. Sirius giggled in a slightly girly manner.

I ignored them all and allowed the owl, which looked near-collapsing point, to eat my toast. I removed the letter from it and read:

Remus J Lupin,

Monsieur Jean-Pierre Lupin died at one O'clock this morning.

You are hereby requested and required to attend the reading of his last will and testament on Monday July 19th at eleven AM at the office of 'Feraud and D'Hubert: Magic Solicitors Since 1674', Rue de l'Or, Calais. You are not permitted to bring your parents on the expressed wishes of your late grandfather.

Yours faithfully,

Gabriel Feraud

I stared at the letter, waiting to feel sad. The sadness for my dead grandfather never came but I did begin to feel miserable as I contemplated travelling to France alone instead of going straight to James' house to spend a couple of weeks with James and Sirius (who now lived with James in the holidays).

"What is it?" asked Sirius, seeing my miserably expression.

"My grandfather's dead," I said, handing Sirius the letter.

"I'm sorry, Moony," said James.

"Yeah, really sorry, Remus," added Peter.

"Your grandfather lived in France, right?" asked Sirius.

"He did."

Sirius looked impressed. "If he only died last night then this letter got here really quickly. No wonder the owl looks half-dead!"

"Sirius!" chided James. "Try to show a little sympathy!"

"Remus didn't like his grandfather, did you Moony? He said he was a miserable old git who never left his castle and-"

I interrupted him. "Still, don't speak ill of the dead, eh?"

"Right."

Both James and Peter were staring at me. "Did you say 'castle'?" asked James.

"Erm, yes."

"Your family's rich and you never told us!" Peter exclaimed.

"I've never seen any of the money," I explained. "Hell, I've only ever seen my grandfather once and that was a chance meeting in a supermarket when I was on holiday in France a couple of years ago. My grandfather fell out with my dad after he married a muggle. They never spoke again."

"But now," said Sirius eagerly. "According to this letter Remus is about to inherit his granddad's millions!"

"The letter says no such thing!" I said. I was beginning to feel slightly embarrassed.

Sirius grinned at me and began to sing.

"Money get back

"I'm alright Jack keep your hands off my stack,

"Money it's a hit

"Don't give me that do goody good bullshit

"I'm in the high-fidelity first class travelling set

"And I think I need a Lear jet…"

"Sirius, that song's meant to be a protest against materialism not something to sing when you're preparing to con your friend out of his inheritance," said James, somewhat harshly.

"I don't want any of Moony's money," replied Sirius indignantly.

"I HAVEN'T GOT ANY MONEY YET!" I protested loudly but I was altogether ignored by both Sirius and James:

"You say that now but as soon as Remus has a few galleons in his pocket you'll be wanting new parts for the motorbike…"

"I won't!"

"…Magazine subscriptions…"

"Yeah right!"

"…An electric guitar..."

"I'm saving up for one."

"…Beer…"

"I'm not a bloody alcoholic!"

"…Potions books to replace the copies that have 'Professor Miller is a dickhead' scribbled on every page…"

"I told you- that'll erase!"

"…A dog collar…"

"Padfoot is not the sort of dog that wears a collar!"

"…Clothes…"

"Hmpf!"

"…Jewellery…"

"---"

"…Hair gel…"

"---"

I gestured to Peter that we should leave and we did, running out of the hall before either Sirius or James could notice our absence.

That lunchtime I wasn't feeling hungry so I went for a walk in the grounds in front of the castle. Eventually, I came to the bank of the lake and sat down. I had spent the morning trying desperately to make myself feel sad about my grandfather's death but it had only left me in a bad mood.

Sirius, however, chose to ignore my terrible mood and try to cheer me up. Looking back, I'm glad he did.

"James made alcohol!" he declared happily, handing me a bottle of clear liquid and collapsing on the ground next to me.

"Out of what?" I asked.

"Potatoes."

I tried to sound enthusiastic. "Potatoes? To alcohol? That's some pretty impressive transfiguration he's mastered!"

Sirius chuckled. "Don't be too impressed," he said. "He ordered a muggle home brewing kit from one of their catalogues and it's still taken him six months to produce that one bottle."

"It must be good then," I said, deciding that getting drunk would be an excellent way to spend the lunch hour. I uncorked the bottle, put it to my lips and (extremely conscious of Sirius watching me) swallowed.

Then I began to choke on what was, undoubtedly, the foulest thing I had ever tasted.

I spluttered like an air-drowned fish while Sirius laughed. "Not man enough for it, eh, Moony?" he teased.

"That was disgusting," I moaned.

"Tastes a bit like a cross between vinegar and truth potion, doesn't it?"

Sirius was certainly right about that. "You could have warned me," I said.

He shrugged. "James didn't exactly warn me…" He shook his head. "Poor James has failed again; yesterday he failed to turn Snape into a lizard and today he has failed to make alcohol." Sirius didn't sound terribly sympathetic, only rather disappointed that Snape was still human. "Poor James."

I just couldn't help myself. "Poor Remus," I said. I felt ashamed as soon as the words had left my lips but it was already too late.

A frown appeared on Sirius' face. "Beg pardon?"

"Oh nothing. Nothing. I'm cold; we should go inside."

But Sirius, typically, was having none of that. He took off his own battered leather jacket and wrapped it round my shoulders. "Now you're not cold," he said quietly. What's the problem?"

I had to confide, of course. If I hadn't Sirius would probably have tickled it out of me anyway.

Not that that would have been so bad…

"I don't want to go to France," I said. "I always feel so alone there: like an outsider, an alien. And this time my parents won't even be there."

"I should certainly hope not!" laughed Sirius, who appeared to have found my problem rather amusing.

"It's not funny," I said, feeling rather upset at his behaviour.

Sirius stopped laughing. "Oh, look at me, Moony."

I refused to meet his gaze, until he put a finger under my chin and tilted it up forcing out eyes to meet.

"Don't you see?" he asked. "We're going to have a great holiday. There's going to be sun, sea, sand and all the rest of that crap. You're going to be rich by that point so you can buy me a drink in every bar we pass and we can camp under the stars if you like. We can be two aliens together, which I think is far better than being an alien alone."

I stared at him in disbelief. "You're coming with me?"

"Hell yes! Of course I'm coming with you! You have a memory like a goldfish, Moony. I told you in Transfiguration before lunch!" Suddenly, Sirius looked worried. "I did tell you I was coming didn't I?"

How on earth Sirius could haveforgotten to mention this was rather beyond me. Nevertheless, I did my best to smile at him reassuringly. "Oh yes, I remember now. How on earth could I forget?"

I am a very good liar.

Sirius grinned, produced a cigarette from his pocket, lit it and inhaled deeply. "It'll be good, you know. France. Together."

France. Together.

Why did that sound so interesting?

Dear Diary,

Had a duelling competition in Defense. 'Harmless duelling' it was supposed to be. James was disqualified for turning Snape (much to the joy of Sirius) into a lizard. Side note: I really must congratulate James on his transfiguration skills- the green scales were very realistic.

But I'm getting off the point now. The final was Sirius versus myself. Now from experience I know that Sirius can be rather deadly with a wand. So I was happy when Sirius called it a draw and lowered his wand.

The beautiful bastard liar. He managed to turn my fingernails pink with some sneaky charm. Pink! As if it's not hard enough for a gay werewolf to maintain some semblance of dignity without pink fingernails…

I really ought to be mad with Sirius but I can't be because I love the evil sod. And sometimes I want to scream 'damn him for making me feel like this!' And sometimes I want to proclaim my love for him, scream it from the rooftops, whatever.

I love him and that's that.

-Remus

P.S. Wouldn't have minded the duelling prize though. Lovely little bronze statue of a vampire…

P.P.S Grandfather's dead.

I set down my diary and resolved to write no more until I had anything productive to say. At a loss for what to do now (the rest of the Marauders were serving their last detention of the year) I went down into the common room with a book and settled in my favourite armchair.

Sirius finished his detention as I reached page seventy-four of 'Wuthering Heights'. "Moony?" Sirius whined, his head suddenly appearing where the page had been seconds before.

"What?" I growled (I hate being disturbed when I'm reading).

"You're not mad at me over the duelling incident are you?"

"I don't give a damn!" I said, which was true, as Sirius probably would have beaten me anyway. He's very sneaky where duelling's concerned.

"Can I remind you to pack light because the motorbike won't-"

"We're taking the muggle ferry to France," I interrupted.

"The muggle way!" said Sirius, sounding appalled.

I shot him my most authoritarian look. "Well, if you think I'm riding to France on that death-trap; on that practically-falling-apart, excuse for a flying motor bike then you've got another thing coming!"

"But-"

"But nothing!" I said.

Sirius was not quashed by my anger. "Ooohh… Remus," he cooed in a girly voice. "I love it when you go all manly on me! It makes my knees go weak and the hairs on the back of my-"

I hit him with my book.

"We're going on the Hogwarts express to London like everybody else," I told Sirius. "We're then catching a train to Dover-"

"A train! Oh mon dieu!" cried Sirius in a mock-French accent.

Yet again, had to laugh. "You know some French?"

"Two phrases."

"What's the other?" I asked, foolishly.

"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?"

I hit him with my book again.

"Ouch! What did I say? James told me that was 'Isn't the weather nice?'"

"And you still trust James after the alcohol he gave you?" I said incredulously. "Unbelievable."

Sirius shrugged. "Let's go to dinner."

After dinner I decided it was best to start packing. I had a muggle suitcase instead of a trunk, which would be rather inconvenient and liable to cause muggles to stare.

When I opened my suitcase to pack I was surprised to find it was not empty. Lying in the bottom was a little figure, cast in bronze, of a vampire.

"Oh Sirius," I whispered.

I slept badly that night: tossing and turning constantly. Once again, Sirius woke me with his singing:

"Money it's a crime

"Share it fairly but don't take a slice of my pie

Money-"

James' feelings towards Sirius were made apparent with his first words that morning: "SIRIUS BLACK, YOU BASTARD, SON OF A BITCH! I'LL KILL YOU!"

"Count your blessings," I told James later. "At least you're not trying to take him on holiday!"

Secretly, however, I was beginning to feel rather excited with the prospect of having Sirius Black to myself for a while. My excitement didn't evaporate despite the hurried breakfast, frantic boarding of the Hogwarts Express, finding of a compartment that was empty (or at least it was after we had thrown the first years out...) and surviving a journey with Peter who suffered from motion sickness.

By the time that the Express had crawled into King's Cross, there was little time for partings as Sirius and I had to dash for our train to Dover. I waved goodbye to Peter who was hurrying in the direction of the nearest toilets, then turned to James.

"Hurry up in France and get to my house!" said James, shaking my hand.

He then offered his to Sirius who shook his head. "Manly hug!" he demanded.

"There is no such thing as a manly hug!" laughed James.

"Then we'll have a girly hug," said Sirius implacably. "Christ, Prongs, show me a little affection after six years!"

They embraced.

"Right," said Sirius, moving away and addressing me. "Which direction is King's Cross Station?!"

"This is King's Cross."

"So it is! Excellent! How do we get to platform four?"

I dragged Sirius across to platform four, ignoring the looks that commuters were shooting at Sirius and his trunk.

"This is great, Moony," Sirius said.

I glanced around at King's Cross Station, London, to see exactly what it was that was 'great'. Nothing caught my eye. "What's 'great'?" I asked.

Sirius laughed. "This! Us! Going on an adventure! A foreign country!"

I laughed with him. "You won't be saying that when you're sea sick on the ferry crossing to France…"

In case anyone doesn't know, this means 'will you sleep with me?'