Wild Amenity » Remus Lupin

7. A bishop on the loose

Saturday, 28th February 1976. 13 days after the full moon.

Remus joined the Ravenclaw table after dessert. For the first part of dinner, he had remained on the Gryffindor's, sitting next to Lily Evans and her friends, as he now usually tended to do. Maybe he didn't want to be disrespectful towards his house, or perhaps he needed some time for himself after having spent the majority of the day with them, but Judson understood. If it were for him, he would never sit at another table.

Maverick was showing Juniper and him the newest drawing he had made when Remus showed up, smiling and waving his hand as he slumped on the seat in front of Judson. Their eyes met for a moment before Judson returned his gaze to the sketchbook on the table. He loved when Remus willingly decided to join them, but that didn't mean it didn't make him feel nervous from time to time.

Remus followed his eyes until they fell on a drawing of the whole Great Hall, seen from the entrance, and his mouth went agape. Somehow, Maverick had been able to incorporate the motion, the lights from the candles, and perhaps the sound, too—all just with a single pencil.

"Did you do this?" he asked Maverick, who nodded his head as he inspected his job.

"It could be better, though," Maverick hummed, "but it turned out alright, I guess."

Remus dragged himself closer to him to have a better look, and pointed at the open sketchbook before him. "Can I see more?"

"Be my guest."

Eagerly, Remus flipped through Maverick's drawings. He was in awe of his talent, considering he couldn't even draw a proper star, as he claimed. Maverick placed a pencil on his hand and asked him to give it his best try, and Judson almost laughed at what resembled a triangle with thorns coming out from its sides. He didn't laugh, though—his stars also looked like a complete disaster.

"Ah, this one's beautiful!"

Judson glanced at the drawing from behind the cup he was taking to his mouth, and almost spilled half of the liquid inside. In the paper, a boy with glasses was reading a book while a fireplace burned in the background. Judson remembered having been so invested in the story to even notice Maverick had been drawing him for at least an hour.

"Ah yes, one of my best works," Maverick explained, puffing his chest with pride. "He didn't know I was drawing him or else he would have made it impossible for me. Not that I care, I know his pretty face by memory at this point, but it always turns out better when my muse is behaving, which that day he was."

"Fuck off," Judson said, rolling his eyes and taking another sip of his cup. "I'm always up to lend you my face for your drawings. You should be thankful."

"And I am! That doesn't mean you aren't a pain in the arse when it comes to it, though."

"Same goes to you," he muttered, stabbing a strawberry with his fork.

Judson was used to that kind of complaint. Every time Maverick asked him to pose, he tended to have a lot of conditions and quirks he wasn't probably aware of. "Turn your head to the right, please," and, "stop fucking moving your eyes, I can't get the shape right," were some of the lines scaping his lips when he was in his artist mode. And when Judson dared to point out he needed to do something—say, breathing—, he'd get a tap on his head with the pencil and a remark on his misbehaviour.

"Lupin, would you be my new muse? Considering my current one is a bit annoying."

Judson let out a dramatic gasp. "I thought I was your only muse."

"And what about me?" Juniper jumped in, a hand placed over her chest. Maverick clicked his tongue and dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

"Dears, an artist needs variety—and unprotesting muses." He turned to Remus again. Poor thing, he looked terrified. Maverick pouted, "Can I draw you again, please? I don't need extravagant poses, just presence."