Title: Backstage: My Own Private Crackverse
Wordcount: ~11,000
Rating: T
Genre: Crack!fic AU, humour, slash
Characters: Various incarnations of Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and many others
Pairing: mostly Remus/Sirius
Summary: A behind-the-scenes look at what the Harry Potter characters get up to when they're not "acting" in canon or fanfiction.

Backstage
My Own Private Crackverse

PART ONE
THE DRESSING ROOM

Eleven-year-old Remus Lupin sighed and put his hand on the door marked with a star and the initials "R.L.", reluctant to give it the final push. This was always his least favourite part of every gig. Someone bumped into him from behind, pushing him forward and forcing the door open.

"Watch where you're going!" he snarled at the large, hairy Someone behind him.

"Get a move on, kid!" the werewolf in the corridor growled back, baring its teeth.

Rolling his eyes, Remus entered the brightly-lit, bustling room. A few of its occupants greeted him warmly - and the wolf behind him grudgingly - but many of them did not look up from the curling pages of their scripts at all.

The room was large and circular, with interspersed mirrors and wooden doors running its entire circumference. In front of each mirror was a chair with a different name written across the back. Some were occupied, but many were empty. Powder compacts, bottles of foundation, eyeliner pencils, and various bits of costuming were liberally strewn over every surface.

"Hey, guys," the boy said despondently, perching himself on the chair marked "First Year Remus".

"Hello, lad," said the kindly, middle-aged man to his left, carefully setting down the script he was reading on top of a large photo album. "Are you well?"

He smiled sadly at the boy. His chair was labeled "Post-OotP Remus". First Year Remus wondered what that meant, and why the man looked so sad, but he shrugged it off. It was not in the nature of most eleven-year-olds - even sensitive boys like Remus - to think overmuch about the troubles and feelings of adults.

Instead, he merely responded with a shrug and said, "Okay, I guess. I got called in for a job today, which is good. Some girl's writing a fic about me." He wrinkled his nose delicately at the word girl. "Something to do with me making some new friends at school. I think one of them is called 'Cyrus' or something. But I don't see why anyone would want to be friends with someone, y'know, like me."

The older man looked as if he were about to say something, then closed his mouth, thinking better of it.

"New friends?" butted in a gangly teenager. "I bet it's Sirius and James and Peter. They're brilliant! You'll love them!"

A number of the men in the room stiffened at the mention of these names, but the two young Remuses barely noticed.

"Yeah?" said First Year Remus warily.

"Oh, yeah," the teenager sat backwards in his "Sixth Year Remus" chair, which had a school robe draped over one arm with a prefect's badge pinned to it. "They're the best. Especially Sirius." He grinned wickedly.

The young man sitting next to him - according to his chair, "Post-Hogwarts Remus", punched the teenage boy in the shoulder. "Hush!" he said. "You'll spoil it for him. You know we're not allowed."

"Not so much a spoiler as a warning," said a man in his mid-twenties - apparently called "Lost Years Remus" - darkly from across the room. "If he's about to meet Sirius Black -"

"Sirius Black!" snorted another teenage boy - Straight Remus - loudly. "All this lot ever talks about is Sirius Black! I mean, all right, he's a good friend, but honestly! Listen to me, boy; you don't want to end up like this lot. Look at them! They all turn out a lot of sad old poofters."

"Don't pay any attention to him." Sixth Year Remus grinned at his eleven-year-old counterpart. "He's just bitter because he's stuck with that horrible girlfriend. That Mary Sue Muggleborn, or whatever her name is." He patted First Year Remus's hand. "Trust me; you don't want to turn into him. Classic closet case. Our way is much more fun."

Post-Hogwarts Remus nodded in agreement. "Just go out there and get to know those other boys," he said with a wink. "And don't worry about the future; it will happen naturally in its own time."

First Year Remus nodded uncertainly. He didn't really understand what the older Remuses were talking about.

"Oh, Yes!" another Remus, about the same age as Post-Hogwarts Remus, leered at him as he flounced across the crowded room. "Do what feels natural. I know what comes naturally to me when I see the divine Sirius. You know what he's simply faaaaahbulous at?"

Post-Hogwarts Remus elbowed him sharply. "Shut up, Flamboyant Remus!" he hissed. "You're going to give us all a bad name!"

"Well, if you're going to be like that!" said Flamboyant Remus in a very huffy tone, taking a crumpled cigarette out of the pocket of his tight leather trousers and dangling it from limp fingers.

"Hey!" said Post-Hogwarts Remus. "I don't smoke! You're being a bad influence in front of our young counterparts here."

Flamboyant Remus stuck out his tongue and lit up. "I can't influence him," he objected, dramatically blowing out a cloud of smoke. "None of us can, really. He'll either turn into me or be all stodgy and middle-aged before his time, like you. It's predestined. It's written. Nothing we can do about it."

Post-Hogwarts Remus glared at him for a moment longer, then turned back to the boys. "Ignore him. Turning into him is almost worse than turning into Closet Case over there. Though I'm not entirely convinced the one won't become the other," he added thoughtfully.

"Give that one a couple years," smirked Flamboyant Remus. "He'll give new meaning to the term 'nancy-boy'." He leered at the boy's hunched shoulders, then appeared to lose interest. "I'm going to go spy on the Sirius dressing room. Anyone coming with?"

Looks of sad longing appeared on the faces of a couple of the older Remuses. The friendlier of the two teenage Remuses looked as if he might be up for the caper, but at last, he sighed and said, "I wish I could, but I'm on in ten, and I wouldn't want to be late for this." He waved a sheaf of papers. "Anyway, the Siriuses don't get along half as well as we do. They fight like cats in a sack."

"What's your gig?" asked First Year Remus, curious about the sort of fics he would be playing in five years hence.

Sixth Year Remus blushed, but looked faintly pleased with himself. "It's - er - a romantic story."

"Let me see that!" Flamboyant Remus snatched the script out of his hand. "Oooh!" he squealed. "It's a 'first time' fic! I love these!" He thumbed through the pages. "Though she does seem to use the word 'throbbing' a bit much for my tastes. Listen to this -" He struck a dramatic pose.

"His eyes burned with passion unspoken, but the throbbing bulge in his trousers spoke volumes. He stripped, proudly displaying the first hint of chest hair. 'Oh, Baby - '"

He glanced critically over the top of the pages. "'Oh, Baby?' Since when do we refer to anyone as 'Baby', except in the context of 'don't be such a baby; it's not that big'? And have you even got any chest hair, Dahling?"

"Well, why do you think I came in to makeup so early?" muttered Sixth Year Remus self-consciously. "Give me back my script; it's not fit for Little Moony."

"Who?" asked First Year Remus, confused.

"It's not fit for anyone," sighed Flamboyant Remus tragically. "I swear; the quality of fanfic today! Anyway, off I go to have a peep at Messrs Tall-Dark-and-Sexy. TTFN, ladies!" He waved gaily and exited the room.

"Will you lot keep it down over there?" growled the werewolf. "How's a bloke supposed to memorise his lines amidst such carryings on?"

"What are you talking about?" said Sixth Year Remus. "You haven't got any lines. You're a sodding werewolf, for Merlin's sake!"

"Well, in this, I have," the wolf replied with some dignity, indicating a much-rumpled script marred by muddy pawprints. "And I want to memorise them. Also, has anyone seen my snout powder? It's gone missing again. I hate it when my nose goes all shiny."

"You're sitting on it," pointed out Post-Hogwarts Remus. "I swear; dogs never look before they sit down." He shook his head in disgust. "To think I have to be anything like him once a month!"

"Thank you," said the werewolf coldly, dignity somewhat impaired as he fished about under his plumed tail for the powder puff and compact.

He liberally applied dark powder to his nose, with the end result looking very much the same as it had begun, nodded at the mirror in satisfaction, and went to one of the dozen or so doors that ringed the room. The door was labeled "Shrieking Shack". First Year Remus thought that sounded somewhat ominous, but refrained from commenting. If there was a door for it, he'd probably end up there sooner or later.

"Wish me luck, boys," said the wolf, and turned the knob with his paw to grudging calls of "luck," from his fellow Remuses.

The room beyond the door looked dim and dusty and was littered with broken furniture. Mum wouldn't want me going into a place like that, thought the youngest occupant of the dressing room.

"Cheer up, lad," said a Remus in his mid-thirties - one whose chair was mysteriously labeled "Reunited Remus" - "It's not all doom and gloom. There will be good times as well. Many good times."

Lost Years Remus and Professor Lupin gave Reunited Remus matching incredulous looks. Lost Years Remus immediately turned bitter eyes back to his section of the countertop, and glared at his collection of eye shadow, but Professor Lupin looked thoughtful.

"Right. There will be lots of good times!" agreed Post-Hogwarts Remus enthusiastically. "And lots of hot se - You'll fall in love!" he hastily amended. He and Reunited Remus exchanged knowing smiles.

"Yes, it was wonderful," intoned the melancholic Post-OotP Remus. "There was definitely enough good to balance the bad. But such extremes! It was hardly to be endured."

"Hush!" said Reunited Remus. "You'll spoil the ending for all of us. What are you in for today, anyway?"

"Nostalgia fic. Bonding with Harry. Heavy on the reminiscing." He patted the photo album. "You know; the usual."

First Year Remus noted that all of the other young Remuses looked just as confused as he felt. "Who's Harry?"

The oldest Remus smiled at him a little sadly. "One thing at a time, lad. You haven't even met James yet."

"Oh," said the youngest Remus, tiring of the "wait until you're older" line and quickly losing interest in the thought of people he didn't know, however important they might become to his life one day. "Well, I guess I'd better get to it."

He took one last look at his script, and then set it carefully down on his chair before heading toward the door labeled "Hogwarts Express". As he opened the door, the sound of a train rushing along its tracks could be heard, and the English countryside seen streaming past the windows.

All the other Remuses in the room fell silent as they watched the young boy go through the door to meet his destiny.

As the door gently closed behind him, shutting out the sound of the rails, Post-Hogwarts Remus turned to Sixth Year Remus and said, "How long do you think it will take him to figure it out?"

"That's sort of up to the fangirls, isn't it?"

"Well, you know, it is and it isn't," said Post-Hogwarts Remus. "Sometimes I feel I can almost reach in and tweak their minds - pull the threads of the story to my own liking. Not the overall plot, of course, but I can usually get them to give me a scene or two, or nudge them in the right direction, if I whisper to them what I want. So, how long? I bet you a tenner he's one of the quick ones. I'll bet he knows by third year."

"Oh, c'mon! Fifth year at the outside! And it took you longer," his sixth year counterpart scoffed.

"Yeah, but I've got a feeling about this one, and I'm looking to make some money," said the older Remus.

"You still owe me for Closet Case over there. I said he'd take even longer than you did."

"Well, he hasn't quite made it that far yet, has he?"

"Wait and see," said Sixth Year Remus. "After all, it's not for us to guess the endings."