Okay. Thanks to Erikskitty, who kindly reviewed this story, we've decided to put up another chapter. Thanks also to nna, who also reviewed. Enjoy.
Point of Contact
Chapter 4: Coffee Anyone?
Muttering beligerently to himself, Alastor took down the vase, carefully, and withdrew a fistful of Floo powder. Tossing it into the fireplace, he struggled to ignore the Muggle fieldman's bemused stare, and the old man's annoying air of superiority. If Remus didn't know these people, and couldn't reassure him they were on the level, then he wasn't sure if he could resist the temptation to Obliviate the smug bastard. Not that he'd need to Obliviate the injured man. With that concussion, he was lucky he could see straight. He probably thought all this was some kind of fever dream. Shaking his head, Alastor called up his werewolf comrade, looking forward to straight English, untainted by this incomprehensible french accent.
Looking confused, Remus appeared in the flames. "Alastor? Where are you? What's up?" At the sound of those anglisised words, Alastor gave a heartfelt sigh of relief. Finally!
"Remus? Salut! Ca va? Vous allez bien?" Alastor spun, to see Jean Pierre leaning forward in his chair to look at Remus with recognition and friendly interest. Remus smiled in surprised delight.
"Sensei! Salut! Une moment! Je viens!"
"What?" Alastor spluttered, but he was ignored as Remus climbed through, stepping out of the fireplace and brushing himself off before walking up to the frenchman and shaking hands like old friends. A string of enthusiastic french followed, which elicited an agonised groan from the beleagured Auror. Vincent, in his corner, merely blinked at the man from the fire, and dropped his aching head back into his hands. Alastor felt rather like joining him.
"Alastor? What are you doing here? Jean Pierre doesn't usually entertain wizarding guests, at least not without a recommendation from me or Arthur." Remus looked at him with mild interest.
"Arthur? As in Weasley? Married to Molly? What the bloody hell does he have to do with this insane bloody frenchman?" Jean Pierre raised an eyebrow at this, but Alastor was past caring. Someone had better explain things to him, and soon, before he was forced to exercise his interogation training! Remus looked about to answer, but Jean Pierre, possibly in polite revenge for the insane comment, caught the werewolf's attention again.
"How is Arthur, these days? As I recall, he was in the midst of a long and stormy arguement with his wife when we last spoke. Something about a name for their sons?"
Remus laughed. "Oh yes. It was a long, involved, and sometimes painful arguement, but he finally won. By sheer stubbornness, but he did it. They're heading for their sixth kid, at this point. Some stamina, has Arthur." Jean Pierre laughed. Alastor growled, but as the pleasantries wore on, he realised that there would be no answers from those two until they were good and ready. Snarling to himself, he stalked over to Vincent and plopped down beside him. The other man looked up at him, smiling wearily.
"At least," the injured man offered, "he is fully clothed this time." Alastor stared.
"Then ... You know about his ... furry little problem?" This was an odd developement.
The fieldman smiled a rueful little smile that told Alastor that yes, he had met the 'other' Remus. "Few people can hit a moving target, in the dark, at seventy paces. Even fewer see that target ignore it and keep coming. Even fewer again spend the night in a tree with a Glock pointed at this creature, and in the morning see it become a man, naked as the day he was born. At the time, I didn't really think this was an improvement." The pain and confusion from the head-injury were obviously receding, as the sentance structure improved. The English sentance structure. That almost distracted the Auror from the subject matter, but not quite. It was quite a tale, and his estimation of the man went up. Not only had he gotten the drop on an experienced auror, but he'd faced down a werewolf long enough to see the dawn, and the transformation. He was right. Few men could claim that.
"Telling tales on me again?" Remus came over, smiling warmly at Vincent. "One would think you'd have gotten over it by now."
"It is not a thing one gets over easily," Vincent replied. "Besides, it is not a story I get to tell to many. My reputation would be irreperably damaged."
Remus looked slyly at Alastor, putting the auror instantly on alert. "You look impressed, Alastor. I would have thought it would take more to do that to you. Unless ... Unless he managed more. Did you encounter the second weapon too?" Alastor couldn't help the slight, chagrined wince, and the insufferable grin on the werewolf's face widened. The auror harumphed loudly, and pointedly avoided looking at either of them. Unfortunately, this brought his gaze onto the older frenchman, and his slight, knowing smile. Scowling angrily, Alastor stood, sidestepping Remus, and walked over to the fireplace.
"So how did you run into these guys, Remus? And how did Arthur? Tell me what is going on, werewolf boy, and it had better be good."
Okay, people, we know it's a short chapter, but we get into explanations next chapter, so we thought we'd better leave it here for now. We are continuing this, okay? So could you review it, pretty please? With cherries on top. Thanks.