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Rain was never Remus’ kind of weather. From the moment he woke up, the usual dampness would cling to his skin until he reached a room with proper air conditioning. Water always seemed to find its way into his socks on the roads. Then there were the gloomy grey skies that would make his own mood become dismal, as well as the musty scent of wet earth hanging in the air. The only reason he didn’t leave the rainy city of London was because of the family bookstore downtown, which was where he was heading at the moment in a cab he had managed to catch after standing in the rain for fifteen minutes. When Remus looked outside the car window dripping with raindrops, a queue of unmoving trucks and automobiles told him that he would be stuck there for quite a long while. With a sigh of resignation, he resorted to passing the time with the book he had wisely brought along with him.
In the page he had left off, Sherlock Holmes was in the middle of explaining one of his remarkable deductions to Watson. “‘Here is the foresight,’ said he, putting his finger upon the little disc and loop of the hat-securer. ‘They are never sold upon hats. If this man ordered one, it is a sign of a certain amount of foresight, since he went out of his way to take this precaution against—’”
The sound of the cab door clicking open drew his attention away from the book, but it was just before Remus tore his eyes away from the pages when a heavy, coat-clad and most horrifyingly wet mass threw himself on the seat next to him. “’scuse me, ‘scuse me. Scooch up a little, please.”
With a small yelp, Remus instinctively pulled the book under his coat to prevent its pages from getting wet. “What do you think you’re doing?” He hissed, unwillingly scuffling over a little to adjust to the sudden lack of space, not wanting to get soaked because of the man next to him. “Can’t you see that there’s someone already in here?”
The intruder gave him an odd look. “Yes, I know you are in there. I’m not bloody blind.”
“Well, then you might as well get out of this cab. I was in here first.”
“Well, I suppose I got here second.”
Remus blinked. “What? But—”
The man held a hand up to stop him mid-sentence. “No butts. No asses. I need to get to this job interview real quick.”
Beyond words with this sudden disruption, Remus could barely manage to form coherent words, let alone speak up. “You’re not the only one with an important errand to attend,” he countered.
“Well, I could bet that mine is undoubtedly more important than yours.” When Remus showed no sign of relenting, the man rolled his eyes. “I’ll pay your fees as well, okay? Just let me get there first.”
Remus glared at the man next to him, who apparently had no umbrella while waving out in the streets for a cab. Water was dripping down the man’s coat and onto the leather seat, technically making him sit in a puddle. It was like sitting next to a wet dog, decided Remus. A very rude and self-centred dog. “I’m not going to say anything until you leave this cab.” To prove his point, he moved his gaze to focus on the stuck-up dark hair on the back of the cab driver’s head.
The dog-man shrugged. “Fine. Hey,” he called out to the driver, whose existence Remus had forgotten about until just a few seconds ago. “A little change of plan, here. Head for Lupins’ Literacy store first, then wherever this bloke was heading. I’ll pay for his fees.”
Remus’ brows furrowed without him even noticing. He doubted his own ears. Lupins’ Literacy?
The driver looked back at them through thick-rimmed glasses. “That’s where he was heading,” he nodded at Remus, who had reached for his shoulder-bag and started digging through it to find his folder.
“Really? You another applicant?” The man asked, frowning at Remus, who was shuffling away from the man in fear of getting the contents of his folder wet.
Remus found the one and only application form that had been sent in and held up the attached photo for a good look. He set his eyes on the man next to him, then back at the photo. It was no doubt the same person, except the man in the photograph had much drier hair that certainly did not stick to his ears in a strangely endearing way. Sirius Black, read the small black letters inked onto the form.
“Guess my name,” he blurted out, eyes still glued on the photo. He could physically feel the strange look the man was giving him.
“You are one odd bloke.”
“Guess my name.”
The man—Sirius—threw his arms in the air in obvious exasperation, sending a spray of water towards him which, for once, Remus didn’t care about. “I’ve no clue, John, maybe?”
“My name’s Remus.”
“Well, Remus, you better muck up this interview because I bloody well need this job—”
“Remus Lupin.”
Rolling his eyes, Sirius threw him another odd look. “Oh for God’s sake, Remus Lup—” He froze.
The cab curved along the wet street right in front of the sidewalk. “Lupins’ Literacy,” called out the driver. “You said you were paying?” He nodded at Sirius, who had his mouth gaping.
“I believe he did say so,” Remus answered cooly, collecting his bag and reaching for the door handle on his side of the cab. “Thank you for paying.” His umbrella unfolded in one fluid motion under the rain, and Remus made his way across the wet road and onto the streets with an impossibly light mood, heading for the golden glow of the bookshop as he ignored Sirius’ yells behind him.
As soon as his two passengers left the cab, James Potter, an engaged man aged 24, clung to the steering wheel and started laughing hysterically.