Chapter Text
Remus flicked on the kettle, adjusted the tablecloth, and glanced at his watch for about the 7th time. 10 minutes to go. He wasn’t anxious. At all. Not even a little bit. That’s what he kept telling himself. Unfortunately, continuously lying to yourself didn’t, actually, make the lie true. No matter how much he felt that really, he should be used to this by now, after nearly three decades, he was nervous. The monthly check-ins at the Ministry were bad enough, but he really dreaded the yearly home inspection. It felt much more invasive.
Still, he put on a brave face. Don’t give them anything to use, his mother had always told him, show them you’re just the same as anyone else. Hope had been gone for almost ten years, but he still prepped for every annual inspection the same as they always had. Preparation started several weeks before, when the official Notice of Inspection arrived. Dear Mr. Lupin, This notice is to inform you that the Lycanthropy Control Officer assigned to your case will be visiting your declared residence on July the 2nd to conduct the annual facility inspection… It was always the exact same wording. Even when he had been a child, only five years old, the letter had still come addressed to him, not his parents. As if the idea of a child werewolf didn’t register for the Beast Division.
As soon as he received the notice, and the official date (it was always in July, but the exact date did vary), Remus had started his preparations. First came the deep cleaning. Remus considered himself a generally neat person, and with such a small cottage there really was no choice but to tidy regularly if he didn’t want to become quickly overrun with clutter, but this cleaning was something different. Many people did Spring Cleaning in March or April, but Remus’s annual deep clean was always timed by the home inspection notice. The furniture was dragged out, the floors swept and mopped, the stubborn stains on the kitchen linoleum scrubbed. A morning was spent beating the rug of a year’s worth of accumulated dust, and Remus dutifully washed the curtains, table cloths, throw blankets, and cushion covers. It was times like those that he was thankful he lived in such a small cottage. By the time he reached the week of the inspection visit, his cottage invariably looked like it was inhabited by a particularly diligent housewife.
The week of, he always picked out his clothes. A smart pair of trousers and one of his better jumpers - one of the soft wool ones his mum had bought him. Not the fancy merino one though, that he saved for Christmas. It was a careful balancing act, he felt, choosing clothes that made him look gentle and civilized but not as if he was putting on airs . Nothing that might make the officer feel he needed to be taken down a few pegs. Once the clothes were chosen, they were carefully washed, dried, and pressed. The collared shirt to wear under the jumper was starched, and it was all stored in his little airing cupboard, with sachets of lavender and cloves.
Two days before the appointment, he’d walk down the road to Jones’s Dairy to get fresh cream and butter. Carl Jones was a good man, and a quiet one, more comfortable with his cows than with people most of the time. He never questioned Remus about his solitary life, and gave him a good price whenever he bought anything. The rest of his groceries, Remus got from owl-order, but he always purchased his dairy from Carl.
The morning of the visit, he baked fresh scones by hand using his mum’s recipe. After so many years, he knew it by heart, but he still dutifully pulled down the faded little recipe card from her recipe box, if only just to read her handwriting and feel like a bit of her was still here with him. The feeling of bringing dough together in his hands was comforting but it rankled him sometimes. All this labor for someone who would never eat a crumb of the scones- the idea of eating something made by a werewolf too distasteful to even contemplate. Your hospitality shows the kind of person you are, Remus love, his mum had said to him when he had brought it up, 10 years old and sitting on a stool beside her, round cutter in hand, Their response only reflects on them. Don’t let their actions bring you down. He tried. Merlin, he tried.
Two weeks of preparation and there he was, just like every year, waiting anxiously. Five minutes to go. Warm, beautiful scones were piled on a china plate, with little dishes of butter and clotted cream and homemade raspberry jam. His mum’s nice tea pot was already sitting ready on the table alongside the little cream pitcher and sugar bowl. The two tea cups (which Remus knew would never be used) had already been set optimistically on their saucers, and he had even picked a wildflower bouquet and arranged it in a vase. Everything was ready and there was absolutely nothing left to distract him. The tea kettle whistled and he jumped to grab it, poured the boiling water into the teapot and put the lid on. Nothing left to do, then, but wait.
Remus checked his watch again. Two minutes. Nothing to worry about, he told himself again, nothing at all. At least it would be over quickly. Grimsby, his LCO (Lycanthropy Control Officer), was terribly punctual and terribly curt. His inspections never lasted more than 20 minutes, and he always seemed keen to get his work done with the least actual interaction with Remus possible. So at least there was that. Remus resisted the urge to chew anxiously on his thumbnail. He could just imagine the look of disgust on Grimsby’s face if his thumb looked the least bit chewed upon, or the scathing note he might write in his file (Werewolf Lupin cannot resist biting even when in human form).
A sharp knock on the front door brought Remus out of his thoughts. He glanced at his watch. Always punctual, Grimsby. He rushed to the door, opened it, and froze. It was definitely not Grimsby. For starters, the man in front of him was several decades younger than Grimsby - Remus would have guessed he was somewhere around his own age. And whereas Remus was much taller than Grimsby (a fact he could tell Grimsby hated, which led Remus to always slouch and shrink into himself during their meetings), this man matched him in height. Instead of gazing down, Remus was looking directly into the man’s stormy grey eyes. Which Grimsby definitely didn’t have.
“Good afternoon!” The man’s voice was undeniably posh, and that took Remus aback too. Lycanthropy Control Officers were hardly posh. Bureaucratic? Yes. Prejudiced? That went without saying. But posh? No one with an accent like that would get within a mile of an undesirable position like Lycanthropy Control Officer.
“I- er- was expecting…that is-” Remus was so caught off guard by this sudden change in his carefully planned appointment that his mind was several steps behind his mouth.
“Remus Lupin, right?” The man asked, running a hand through his black hair. “I’m Sirius Black. The new officer in charge of your case.”
He held out his hand for Remus to shake. Remus stared at him, then carefully shook.
“I see.”
“May I come in?” Black asked.
Still reeling, Remus nodded dumbly, and moved back to let Mr. Black in. The sudden appearance of a new control officer had knocked all of his careful manners out of his head. Last time he had had a change in case officer, they had notified him. Hadn’t they?
“Yes, of course, I apologize,” he mumbled hurriedly. Shit, he thought, this was really not the impression he wanted to make on his new officer. He was being rude. Black waved off his apologies though, looking around the little cottage.
“Lovely place you’ve got,” he said. His eyes lit upon the kitchen table. “Are those fresh scones?”
Remus nodded again, and waited for the usual awkward refusal, the thin excuse of timeliness and busy schedule. Instead, a grin lit across Black’s face.
“Brilliant! I could use a cuppa!”
Remus stared at him. Surely he’d heard wrong? When he didn’t respond, Black turned to look at him and seemed to see something in his expression.
“If that’s alright, I mean? Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed- you must be having guests over later.”
“No!” Remus said quickly, “No! I mean yes, that’s alright. I’m not having company. I made tea in case you wanted some. Welsh hospitality, you know? Sorry, I just didn’t expect- er nevermind. Would you like to have a seat? I can pour you a cup- unless you’d like to pour your own…”
Merlin, Remus didn’t think he’d ever said so much to his LCO in one go before. He usually tried to keep his answers short, clear, and respectful. What the hell was wrong with him? The last thing he needed was for Black to think he was an idiot who couldn’t be trusted to live and transform alone.
“Tea would be brilliant. Cream no sugar,” Black said, already dropping into the kitchen chair. Remus thought he saw the hint of a smirk on Black’s face.
That was how Remus found himself sitting at his kitchen table having tea with his new LCO. He sipped slowly on a cup of tea, not trusting himself to eat anything. Black, meanwhile, had already polished off two scones complete with cream and jam, and was making quick work of a third. Remus might’ve felt the compliment in that, if he wasn’t so bloody off-center.
“Fucking delicious,” Black said appreciatively, as he finished the third scone, “Where did you get them? Not even my favorite cafe does them this well.”
Remus felt his pulse race. Of course. Black hadn’t realized he had made them himself. That was why he’d been okay eating them. He took a deep breath and braced himself.
“Well, the cream is from Jones’s Dairy just up the road,” he said carefully, “And I made the scones and the jam myself.”
“Did you?” Black looked thunderstruck and Remus felt himself shrinking. How had he fucked this up so entirely, so quickly? He nodded miserably.
“Merlin, you have a gift,” Black said, shaking his head, “That old codger Grimsby must be hopping mad that I’ve taken over your case just in time for the home visit. I know I would be if someone deprived me of these scones.”
Remus blinked. Black reached for a fourth scone. Remus blinked again.
“I- er- thanks?” Remus did not like how much it sounded like a question. “I- I’m glad you like them. The recipe was my mother’s.”
“Then your mother must have been brilliant,” Black said kindly, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Because of course Black would know- all the basic facts about Remus’s life were in his file, including his family or rather his lack thereof. Still, the condolences were unexpected. Remus didn’t think Grimsby had even said anything the month following her death.
“I- thank you,” Remus said, “That’s…very kind of you. It’s- It was a long time ago.”
This was the strangest inspection visit he had ever had. Usually, by this point, Grimsby would already be long gone, having ticked all the boxes on his paperwork. And Remus would have been unfailingly polite and quiet and altogether forgettable just like he wanted. He took a deep breath and tried to recenter himself as Black finished the last of his tea. Black had clearly been hungry. That was it. Now that he’d eaten, the visit would go back to normal. Reassured, Remus let himself relax (just a little) and waited for Black to demand to see the place where he transformed.
“So, Remus Lupin, tell me about yourself,” Black said, leaning back and kicking his feet up to rest on the edge of the table. Remus tried not to look disapprovingly at Black’s feet on the table.
“You want to know about me?”
“Mhm.”
“About- about my transformations, right? I have a secure place to transform, of course.”
“Well, I’ll need to see that at some point- for my paperwork,” Black said carelessly.
“Right…” Remus said uncertainly. He wasn’t sure whether that was his cue or not. Black certainly seemed in no rush to get up. His eyes flicked unconsciously over to Black’s feet on the table again. Black noticed.
“Sorry!” He said, scrambling to bring his feet down to the floor.
“No! Sorry!” Remus said hurriedly, “Don’t worry about it, I shouldn’t have-”
“Nah, that was my fault,” Black said, “Not so used to all this formality at work yet.”
“You’re- you must be new? To being a Lycanthropy Control Officer?” Remus asked. On second thought, he realized that might have sounded a bit rude. Black nodded.
“Yeah,” Black said with an eye roll. “I’ve been put on desk duty.”
“Oh,” Remus said, “are you from the Werewolf Capture Unit then?”
Black scoffed.
“Absolutely not. I was an Auror.”
Remus stared at him. It did make sense, really, why Black was so different from the LCO’s he’d interacted with in the past but-
“How the fuck did you end up in this job then?” Remus felt the blood drain from his face. He could not believe he had actually said that out loud. His internal panic was cut short by Black’s bark of laughter.
“Pissed some people off,” he said, grinning ruefully, “Won’t be a permanent transfer, but it’s taking some…time to sort out. So you’ll probably be stuck with me for a few months at least.”
“Can’t be worse than Grimsby,” Remus said, and immediately clapped his hand over his mouth. There was clearly something wrong with him. He wondered for a moment if he had somehow swallowed veritaserum - or maybe he’d just finally cracked after years of maintaining the carefully polite facade. Black didn’t seem to mind in any case, shooting him an amused grin.
“Shall I show you where I transform now?” Remus asked quickly, desperately trying to get the visit back on track.
“Trying to get rid of me already?” Black joked. “Alright then.”
Remus thought about trying to say something polite in response, but ultimately decided that he didn’t actually trust himself to open his mouth again. Black gamely stood up and followed him back out the front door. They went around the back of the cottage and walked the twenty yards to the cellar doors.
“This is the cellar where I transform,” Remus told Black. He unlocked and opened the heavy doors. “As you can see, the inside of the doors are lined with silver, to prevent the wolf from getting out. They are also heavily warded, and require a wand to unlock, preventing any muggle from accidentally stumbling upon me.”
Black nodded, and followed him down the steep cellar stairs.
“The walls are all reinforced and, again, heavily warded.” Remus took a deep breath, bracing for this next part. “I don’t currently utilize any restraints, given how well the cellar has been reinforced to prevent escape. But if you think it necessary…”
He held his breath and waited for Black’s answer. Black looked at him, confused and mildly…horrified?
“Restraints?” He asked, “Why would you need those if you can’t get out anyway?”
Remus let himself relax. Whatever else Black would turn out to be, he didn’t appear to be sadistic. Remus shrugged.
“I don’t see much point to it,” he said, “But some officers think…”
“Well, I’m definitely not one of them,” Black said, “It looks well warded to me.”
They headed back up the cellar stairs, and Remus closed and locked the doors behind them. As they turned to go back to the cottage, though, Black stopped and frowned. Remus froze. That couldn’t be good. Black’s eyes tracked from the cellar doors, to the cottage, and back.
“You transform here, about 20 yards from your cottage?” Black asked.
“Yes..?” Remus said, anxiety spiking. What issue could Black have found with his arrangements? He had seemed happy with them! Was it too close to the house? That couldn’t be it… he had been told that some people transformed in an actual cellar!
“And you live alone? No friends nearby?”
Remus nodded, confused.
“That seems like a long way for you to go the morning after the full moon,” Black said, still frowning.
“Er, no it’s fine!” Remus said quickly.
“But from my understanding, the transformation can be quite taxing. Sometimes there are severe injuries, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, but it’s not a problem. Really,” Remus rushed to assure him.
“It doesn’t seem safe,” Black pressed. “If you suffered a serious injury, you could end up stuck there, with no way to get out and no help. That doesn’t seem like an arrangement we should be approving.”
Merlin, this must be what a mental breakdown felt like. Remus wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. Of course, of course, the person that finally got his home transformations revoked wasn’t going to be some prejudiced prick, it was going to be this confusing man worrying about his safety. Panicked, Remus grabbed Black by the wrist, immediately thought better of that, and let go.
“Please, please, just let it be,” he said, voice desperate, “I’ll be fine, I always have been.”
Black studied him.
“I’m concerned about your safety,” he said.
“Please,” Remus said again, “It’s better than the alternative. Anyth- it’s better than having to transform at the Ministry.”
Black stared at him intently, then exhaled loudly.
“Alright,” he said, still looking troubled, “if you’re certain.”
Remus nodded.
“I am. Thanks.”
Black glanced down at his watch.
“As much as I would like to stay, I unfortunately have another appointment to get to,” he said, “But I’ll see you in two weeks for your check-in. Take care of yourself. And thanks for the scones.”
And with a crack, he was gone. Remus went back inside and put on the kettle. He really needed a good strong cup of tea after that.