Unintended Intentions, Chapter 4: Adumbration
Genre: Romance, Drama, Humor.
Characters: Marauders, etc.
Universe: Set in an AU London, with a King instead of a Queen (will come into the plot later).
Warning: May eventually contain homosexuality, if offended, please do not hesitate to stop reading.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1: Apotheosis | Chapter 2: Antithesis | Chapter 3: Anamnesis
Later Chapter: Chapter 5: Crepuscule
Unintended Intentions
Chapter 4: Adumbration
“Come here and join me, Remus,” he invited, a genial smile brightening up his pleasant features. He gestured towards an empty chair across him.
Remus hesitated for a moment, hand fiddling his guitar strap, eyes darting towards the door and the other man. With an apologetic smile, he sat.
“And to what do I owe this honour, sir?”
“Oh, you can’t be all stiff and polite with me, old friend!” He slapped him hard on the back, chuckling merrily as he watched Remus sputter and gather his wits.
“Then how do I address you?” He asked, fear and nervousness seeping into his voice as he watched him in confusion.
He was astounded.
“By my name, of course!” He exclaimed, looking at him with such an incredulous expression.
He turned away, staring at the table as he began saying his name; as though his tongue was trying on foreign assemble of consonants and vowels. “J-James?” He asked nervously, peering at the said person with such want for approval that James was torn between roaring in laughter at the ridiculousness of it all and giving him a gentle, sympathetic pat on the back
“Yeah, that’s right. Just call me that!” He beamed, flashing a toothy grin so infectious that Remus reciprocated with a slow, shaky one of his own.
“But you’re my employer.”
“Ah, but calling me Mr Potter won’t get my attention, you see.”
He looked up, confused.
James grinned, eyes twinkling in amusement.
“People used to call my dad that,” he shrugged, and continued, “And I sort of associated that with him. Everybody else just calls me James.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” He looked around, beckoning for the bartender for two pints of ale. He turned back to Remus, who looked rather alarmed. He furrowed his eyebrows, a little concerned. “What’s wrong, Remus?”
“Er, well, I -”
“It’s on the house, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he finished for him, noticing the way the guitarist cast a quick look into his breast pockets.
“But-”
“That’s alright, my good man.” He shrugged, jerking his head towards the bar as he explained further, “You work here now, so food and drinks are on the house.”
By now, Remus was flabbergasted, and croaked, “Why?”
“We pull in enough customers, and what sort of a boss am I if I can’t provide for my workers?” There was something about his nonchalance that alerted Remus, and he kept quiet, though still kept his eyes on James, who looked at the bartender who was now entertaining a customer.
“Found Frank in an alley one day,” he began, after a few moments of silence, “All bruised and in a really bad shape.” He turned to Remus, a sad smile gracing his features. “Got mugged of his life’s savings, then some punks came and took the mickey out of him for fun.”
He could only gasp.
James turned away again, this time settling his gaze on one of the waitresses. “Dorcas Meadowes. Ran away from home, dad was a drunkard. Boyfriend sucked the life and shillings out of her. That was two years ago.”
He didn’t need to say it, and Remus knew what lay underneath those stories. Nowhere else to go. He clenched his jaw, felt as though something squeezed his heart and pushed against his lungs that he suddenly found it hard to breathe.
“So what’s your story, Remus?”
He jerked his head up, staring straight into brown eyes gazing at him, trying to penetrate his tense demeanour. It was a while before he found his voice and spoke up.
“Dad got killed,” he balled up his fists, “By a drug addict. Prick didn’t get caught. Mum died not long after.”
“You sure that’s all?”
He jerked violently; eyes flew open as he sat up on his bed, clutching his chest as his breath came in rapid and short bursts. He looked up at the source of the loud sound, and stared in a dazed confusion at the man before him.
“Oh, what are you doing here?” He asked, peering at him inquisitively, and Remus strained harder to see him.
The voice. He could never have mistaken it anywhere, and he narrowed his eyes at the stranger, suddenly realizing that he could be a spy.
“What are you doing here?” He retorted, not bothering to hide his annoyance.
The dark-haired man threw his head back in laughter, and shrugged nonchalantly as he made his way to the other bed. “Obviously en route to Hungary, of course.”
“Oh? Did you not follow me here or something just to teach you?”
“My, you’re rather prickly, aren’t you?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Well, no, I didn’t follow you. You were gone when I attempted to, though.”
“Good.”
“Do you have that sort of ardent admirers?”
“Plenty before you.”
“I’m not that sort of admirer.”
“Oh how the raven lies.”
“You should do some soul-searching. You just might find one,” he retorted, as he seated himself at the edge of his own bed.
Remus snorted in reply, and got up to organize his papers and hide them from the stranger. He felt the other’s eyes on him, watching him as he shuffled the pictures. It was unsettling, at the very least. He detested this watchful fellow. The task he was assigned this time could prove to be rather tricky. He would have to take extra precautions, he noted, as his eyes flickered over to the stranger, meeting a pair of grey eyes staring unabashedly at him. He took a deep breath as he averted his gaze to his papers, relieved that at least his reports were encrypted.
“Would you like to have dinner with me?” Sirius asked, finally speaking out after the sudden silence settled on them. He tried gauging the other man’s reaction, though judging from his impassive mask, he was clearly adamant at being enigmatic with him. His lips curled in an amused smile; apparently approving this sort of little game that he knew the other man had no intention of playing.
Remus took his time to answer, carefully keeping his expression blank. It was best, he thought, if the stranger did not know that he was giving the matter a serious consideration that it certainly should not be given. If he did agree to have dinner with him, it would be a splendid opportunity to gauge just where did the stranger stand to gain by following him around. If he did not, then he would be without that slight advantage, yet he would not need to spend a significant amount of time in agony - just to bear with the man’s presence.
He let out an audible sigh, eyes half-lidded as he directed a lazy gaze at him. “Perhaps,” he murmured, apparently loud enough as the black-haired man now grinned at him. “Only if you do not bother me.”
Sirius chuckled, shrugging casually as he stood up and made his way to the door. “Very well, then. I’ll see you at six. Good day, Remus,” he purred, throwing a charming - and infuriating, as the recipient glared at his audacity - smile as he glanced back at the man.
He did not reply, and merely slammed the stack of paper on the desk. The man was obviously one of those men, he concluded, despite all the claims otherwise. To add on to that blasted fact, he was also rather calculating. Remus would have to have to form his own staunch defence against his subtle, shrewd advances. He wondered for a moment, if perhaps this unlikely and ill-timed appearance of the stranger would be worth a mention in his reports, though he quickly brushed it off with a contemptuous snort. The King would have a laughing fit had he known just how rattled Remus was with this man.
The King.
Ah. He would have to compile the various aspects of his findings, now that he was alone. He seated himself, and began writing.
***
Sirius smirked, rather pleased with himself as he thought of the morning’s progress. His artful manner of exuding his charm on the unsuspecting female population on the ship gained him delicious morsels of news. They were surprisingly willing to share their bit of knowledge, even at the slightest persuasion on his part. He suspected that their husbands’ prolonged inattentiveness only served to irate them further. At the thought of their irateness, his mind wandered spontaneously to his cabin mate.
He leaned against the railing, letting the gentle sea breeze unsettle his long, black hair as he gazed out on the open sea. Remus Lupin. He was truly an enigma. To Sirius, anything or anyone that he considered to be a riddle or puzzle should be solved. By hook or by crook, he would crack the code, so to speak. Yet, this new fellow was so unlike those before him. Sirius could not help but to heed that nagging feeling that this one had many more depths to him than he previously thought.
He grinned, now standing erect as he made his way to the captain’s cabin for a private luncheon. For now, he would leave Remus and resume his duties as was ordered. He had a reputation to keep.
***
Dearest Remus, my good and loyal friend,
Aboard the ship you will find your partner. He has been in my service for as long as you have, if not longer. There is no need to question his loyalty, despite his many, many flaws that you will no doubt find to be of hindrance to you. His various skills are impressive at best, and his assistance in your task is crucial. Therefore, I implore you to gather your abundant patience and grace to tolerate his misgivings, which may prove trying on you, of course.
On the seventh day aboard the ship, you are to meet him at the main deck of the ship, starboard side. Remember to leave the white gloves in your side pocket visible, as he is also instructed to watch out for it. When he has shown you his symbol, only then may you show yours. Please refrain from interviewing the people aboard, as it is his task to do so. You are to observe and report on anyone and everyone you deem to have some pertinence in your task.
Godspeed, and may you find fortune in your task.
It was unsigned, as usual. When he had finished transcribing the message in his private code, he took out a lighter, and began burning the original message. With such an inquisitive cabin mate, leaving such a message would be his undoing. At the thought of the exasperating man, he looked at the wall clock, noting that it was now teatime. Two more hours until torture. He sighed, and continued writing his report.
***
He didn’t return to his cabin after the long lunch with the captain. Instead, he sought out the quietest, secluded place on the ship and went there to collect his thoughts and organize the information he had acquired so far. The only place he thought suitable was the kitchen. The cook and several assistants were present, but they ignored him in favour of performing their tasks zealously. There was always so much to be done in the kitchen. Almost unending.
He sat at a table in the corner, where the light was dimmer, and let his gaze settle on the repetitive actions of a kitchen hand peeling some potatoes.
“Sirius Orion Black!” A shrill shriek reverberated throughout Grimmauld Place.
“Yes, mother?” He replied contemptuously, not bothering to pretend.
She ignored his petulance, and went on, “You are to assume your duties as the Heir, now that your father is deceased.”
She took out a bundle of papers, and he narrowed his eyes when he caught sight of the word ‘contract’.
“Sign that,” she spat, her mouth set in a disapproving sneer as she observed just how substandard her firstborn had turned out to be. He could almost see her thoughts, as he met her eyes in a defiant stare, grey eyes staring coldly into a pair of black ones.
“I refuse.” He pushed it away from him, still staring at her. It had begun.
“Oh, so the mudblood finally shows his true colours!” She laughed shrilly.
He winced at the high and cruel laugh, knowing the worst was yet to come. “I’m not a mudblood.”
She stopped laughing, abruptly, and glared at him for a moment before speaking in a low, dangerous voice. “Cavorting off with those Potters -sympathisers of filth.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, jaw clenched and arms stiff, by his sides. He did not answer.
“Mingling and breathing the same air as those scum,” she sneered, and they both knew she needn’t mention their names.
“Say what you like, but I won’t sign it,” he replied coolly, more confident than what he actually felt.
“Then you shall be disowned.” She tried to keep the tremors of anger out of her voice, but to no avail. Her arms were stiff against her sides, fists already clenched as she tried to refrain herself from striking him.
“Then so be it.”
“Out.”
And he left.
He took out a necklace, a beautifully-carved locket hanging from it. It had been a gift, from his deceased brother, when he was sent to public school. He opened it, caressing a picture of two similar-looking boys standing next to each other, both half-embracing the other as they smiled at the camera.
He smiled bitterly at the thought of Regulus, almost immersing himself in more bitter memories when a voice yelled at him, making him jump slightly in his seat.
“Oi, you! Get outta here! It’s almost dinner time, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to kip there and get in our way!” The cook looked angrily at him, face flushed as he now approached Sirius. He got up, smiled cordially in apology and made his way out.
His next target: Remus Lupin. Intriguing fellow.
***
He looked up, eyes narrowed as he chewed on the savoury filet mignon. The man was uncharacteristically quiet, and this only made Remus all the more suspicious. Just as the man looked up, he averted his gaze and concentrated fully on slicing his meat perfectly in quiet, clean slices. He could feel the man now returning the gaze, though with some subdued intensity. He was not going to succumb to his charms.
“Well, you’d rather talk to your beef, don’t you?” He could hear the light sneer, but ignored it anyway.
“It is a more pleasant company.”
“Then I feel sorry for you.” He looked up, sharply, almost glaring at the man, who now held an amused smile.
“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed, stabbing the meat viciously now.
The man leaned forward, abandoning the meal now as he rested his chin so elegantly on one hand.
“Why not?” He asked, innocent curiosity laced in his tone.
He stopped attacking his broccoli, all actions halted abruptly as he raised his head to meet his dinner partner’s curious stare. He opened his mouth to answer, but no words were formed. No one had asked him that before. The question was just… just absurd!
Silence overcame them, slowly, and heavily. Neither of them spoke a word, nor moved.
“Well, I suppose we’ve had enough. Have a good evening, Remus,” he got up, bowed slightly, and left. His gaze followed the man making his way out of the dining room, before he too got up and decided that it was time to retire to bed.
***
Mr Black - Remus had heard him introduce himself to a few besotted young ladies - had not continued their line of conversation, nor did he strove to make life any more difficult for Remus. This made him a little appreciative of the man’s consideration, and slightly guilty for judging him earlier. They exchanged quick pleasantries whenever they met, but it never went further than that. In fact, as Remus observed, it seemed as though Mr Black was a completely new persona. He was usually up before Remus was, and he would return much, much later in the night to the cabin - always taking care not to rouse him, but Remus’ sharp hearing could always catch the faintest rustle of clothes and bed sheet and the slight click of a closing door.
Still, the mysterious change of his cabin mate was the least of his problems. He had been compiling various observations of the people aboard the ship, and still had not found any sign of his supposed partner. He groaned, rubbing his tired eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to go over the names and faces he had found out. None seemed plausible. Whoever it was that His Majesty had assigned to him was surely a very formidable and stealthy man.
Speaking of said man - he sat up suddenly, eyes wide in realization - it was the seventh day.
***
He walked about the main deck cautiously, watching the starboard side for signs of a man standing alone. There were many, though none seemed to be expecting company. He sighed, and leaned against the rail, hand in his pocket as it fiddled with the lid of the pocket watch idly. A flurry of movement caused him to turn swiftly, and he saw a flash of brown hair, and his eyes automatically darted over to the pockets when his breath got caught in his throat. For the moment, he was stunned, feet planted stubbornly on the ground as he watched the other figure stand nervously near a rail.
Remus Lupin.
***
He bit his lip, glancing at his watch every now and then as he checked the time. There was no appointed time, but he knew that time is of the essence, especially if they were to establish a connection. He bit his bottom lip, eyebrows furrowed as he willed himself to look as pensive as possible as he looked out to the sea.
“Good afternoon, Remus.”
He rolled his eyes inwardly, cursing mentally as he recognised the source of that voice. Of all days to start speaking to him again, he had to choose such an inopportune time. Nevertheless, he turned around, a very stiff smile plastered on.
“Good evening, Mr Black. I’m afraid I’d have to-” He paused, eyes now seeing the Royal Insignia on the inside lid of the pocket watch that Mr Black had taken out. Wordlessly, he pulled the right sleeve up, showing a guitar pick bearing the same symbol, attached to a brown leather cuff bracelet. They regarded each other for a moment, before Black broke into a smile, and extended his hand. Remus took it, though still speechless.
“You can call me Sirius, Remus.”
“Er, I …”
“Perhaps it’s best if we discussed in our quarters?”
“Yes, yes, you’re right.”
“But of course,” he replied easily, earning a glare from his cabin mate, now his missions partner.
All was well.