Rating of R.

I do not own the characters, JKR does. I simply borrow them.

As a hired hit man, Sirius Black's newest target is a potential danger to the motives of the Death Eaters. The only information that is available to him is an age, gender, location, and the condition of werewolf. Werewolf narrows it down a fair bit, yet that's not going to help him when the location just happens to be an all werewolf school.

Major Alternate Universe alert and mild slash.

Coffee Stains

The office was decorated in a way that spoke of great wealth. The carpet was fine and soft, clean and imported. The walls were made of solid wood. There was no doubt that the walls alone cost more than most houses did, and that they were made from trees that were exotic to England.

The fourth wall wasn't wood at all, but rather a long plane of glass. Beyond which lay a sprawling ocean view that gave the property an expensive value.

Bullet and Avada Kedavra proof, I'd bet. What with how many people would like to see this guy dead. Sirius thought as he reclined in the chair that was so well cushioned that one might call it too comfortable. He swung his leather booted feet on top of the polished surface of the desk.

He ground the heel of his boot against the desk, watching lazily as the dirt crumbled from the soles and scattered across the desk top. He smirked silently to himself when he thought of how much the supplies must cost to clean the dark wood, let alone the desk itself. More dirt fell and Sirius glanced over the tips of his boots to the man that sat across from him.

Sirius smiled slightly, just a quirk of the lips, and folded his hands behind his head. The broad shouldered man in the expensively tailored suit and horrible, mustard colored tie glared across at him with thin lips.

"You said you had a job for me?" Sirius asked haughtily, using the tip of his boot to tap the first ball in the pendulum on the desk.

Sterling eyes watched with bored satisfaction as a chain reaction rippled through the row of little silver balls and caused the one on the end to swing out.

Figures, all the rich bastards have at least one of these things. What the hell are they for, anyway?

"I do," the man in the suit said with a clipped tone.

He leaned across the desk and pulled the swinging pendulum away from Sirius while shooting a look of disdain at the boots propped up on his desk.

"Well? I don't have all day."

"I was just getting to the details."

"I think you'd better get to the money before you get to anything."

"It's right here." He pulled an envelope out of an interior pocket of his suit. It was unmarked and thick with money. The notes it held were fresh, mint, and had never been circulated before. Sirius could tell by the smell. The man flicked the envelope open and fingered a handful of the paper currency.

"I said that I wanted gold, not that shit."

"This shit can be easily exchanged. Either take it or leave it."

"Then hand it over."

"Impatient, aren't we?" He asked with a sneer and tucked the envelope away.

"Quarry, I'm not fucking with you-"

"Nor I with you, Mr. Black. You will get your due pay when this little assignment is all taken care of."

"Then I'm showing myself to the door and you can find someone else to do your dirty work. You'll pay me now or we do not have a deal," Sirius growled, still reclined in his chair. "You wont find anyone as good as I am."

"No, but I can certainly find someone half this expensive." Quarry pursed his lips and pulled out the envelope harshly. He threw it on the desk where it skidded across the surface and collided to a stop when it met with Sirius' boots.

Sirius took his feet down slowly and picked the envelope up. His suspicious eyes never left Quarry's face. He opened it and quickly counted through the money inside of it. The smell of it over powered his nose as he counted it twice just to make sure. He sealed it tight after everything seemed to be in good order.

"Alright, now you wanted to say something about details?" He asked, slipping it in his back pocket and putting his feet on top of the desk again.

Quarry's beady black eyes narrowed.

"Yes, details."

"What is it that you need, exactly?"

"I need a hit man-"

"That's probably why you called me," Sirius said dryly.

"I need someone that can take care of something for me."

Sirius sighed. "Who is it that you want me to kill, Quarry?"

"I don't know the name, exactly-"

Sirius raised a questioning eyebrow.

"But my sources tell me that he's an eighteen-year-old male."

The black leather boots landed on the floor with what would have been a thud had the thick, awaiting carpet not swallowed it whole.

"A kid? Quarry, you want me to kill a kid? To what point?"

"To the point where he is a danger to myself and my organization."

"How can some kid who's most likely still battling acne be a danger?"

"That's not your place to ask. All you need to worry about is finding him and disposing of him without a trace of evidence. Now, can you handle that or do I need to find someone else?"

Sirius sighed and ran a hand over his face. "No. No, you don't need to do that. What else do you know? I mean, that's real helpful and all but there are a lot of eighteen-year-old boys in the world."

"I was just getting to that," Quarry said and folded his hands neatly on the smooth desk top. "He's also a werewolf."

Sirius looked up at Quarry slowly, a spark of interest igniting in his eyes. "Go on."

"A werewolf in attendance at Stonegate. It's an educational facility for lyrocanthropes in Ireland. I use the words educational facility lightly. Zoo is a better fit," he said with a snort and handed a vanilla file folder across to Sirius.

The black haired man took it and paged through it. Inside were pictures of the supposed school along with a list of students, staff, location, and a little background information about the school and the area in general. Sirius studied the front page carefully and a frown creased his brow.

"This is too easy," he muttered to himself and snapped the folder closed. "What's the catch, Quarry?"

"The catch, my friend, is that I do not know who he is."

"Nothing? You don't know a single damn thing?"

"Nothing more than what I've told you, no."

Sirius leaned back and rotated the folder slowly in his hands. "So, you need me to find this kid and kill him? Is that right?"

"That's exactly what I need you to do. But...If you think it's too much...The door's right behind you. Just be sure to leave the money on the desk."

With a snort, Sirius rose to his feet and took the envelope out of his back pocket.

"No need to worry about that, I'll get it done. Nothing is too much for me," he said, turning to leave with his mind already focused on how to get into Stonegate, the educational facility for werewolves.

The scenery beyond the window all blended together. Everything looked exactly the same. The murky gray of the river no longer held any individual appeal. Now it looked the same as the sickly color of the vegetation and the polluted hue of the atmosphere. Everything beyond the thin glass of the window was bleak and lifeless.

Remus sighed and tore his eyes away from the sight. He focused instead on the face across from him.

A frown line had permanently creased itself on his father's brow the moment they had gotten into the car and set out on their journey. It looked as if it had no intention of leaving anytime soon.

Remus was surprised at what he saw in his father's face. Lines that had never been there before. Age and worry lines that had no right to be there at all. He wondered when John had found the time to grow an eternity older over night.

John Lupin saw his son watching him closely out of the corner of his eye and looked over at him. Remus' eyes met his. Eyes that looked as if they had fought a battle everyday since he was born.

Well, it's almost true, isn't it? John thought bitterly.

His hands tightened around the steering wheel subconsciously. Remus' eyes shifted from John's face to his white knuckled hands. John followed his gaze and forced himself to relax, if not for the benefit of staying on the road, than for Remus'.

"Are you sure that you want to go, Rem? You just say the word and we'll go straight home. You could just stay home, if you want." With me.

Remus knew the question was coming, it always came without fail every year. Once the night before they had to leave. Again the morning before they finished packing. Right before they got into the car. Sometime while they were in the car. And once before John stopped the car and let his son part from him over the long and lonely months that would come to follow.

Each time he asked, it got harder and harder for Remus to decline the offer.

He opened his mouth and his breath hitched in his throat. Remus shut his mouth and cleared his throat quietly.

"Yeah, Dad, I know."

John waited silently for his son's answer with stilled breath, hoping that for once it had changed.

"I'd love to come home, you know that. But—"

John sighed and turned the wheel deftly so that the little two door car rounded the curve in the road smoothly and easily.

"I know, I know. I mean it's just a couple of months, right?" He asked with a strained smile that Remus could hear in his voice.

"Right, it's my last year, after all," Remus tried weakly to reassure both of them that it really wasn't that long.

"Yeah, only one last year. This is it. That's all there is to remember."

The car drove on in silence with the bleak world passing by outside of its metal confines, and neither of them tired to lie to themselves anymore.

Another office, this one not so elaborately decorated, was where Sirius sat in a chair that would never be described as 'too comfortable' let alone ever 'comfortable.'

There's no pendulum on this desk, Sirius thought as a different man on the other side of the desk looked through his personal file and résumé.

"Well, uh, Mr.—" The squat man broke off with a cough. "You seem to be just the type of man we're looking for—"

"Black."

The man in the thick rimmed glasses blinked twice, startled.

"Excuse me?"

"Black, the name's Black. Seeing how you'd forgotten, I thought I'd supply," Sirius said in a tone that spoke in volumes of how much he disapproved that the man that had forgotten his name had just been looking though his personal records.

Records that had his name printed at the top corner of every sheet. The least he could do was get the damn name right. The tips of the man's ears turned a bright pink color.

"Right, Mr. Black. As I was saying, I think you'd be well suited for the job. You're just what we've been looking for. Someone with the physical ability to keep these...kids...In their place. I'm surprised that you want the job. We don't have many people that would ever want such a job in an institution like this."

Sirius grinned and shrugged.

"What can I say? I've always liked a challenge."

"Well, then I feel safe to say that you'll be an excellent teacher here at Stonegate Academy."

Academy? Sirius thought as he leaned across the table with some fake smile or another to shake his new employer's hand. What's the point of dressing it up? Everyone knows what this place really is.

"Great, Mr. Black. All very good. Now, I'll show you to your quarters and also where your classes will be," the headmaster of Stonegate said, gaining his feet.

"If you don't mind, I'd rather show myself," Sirius countered, also rising to his feet.

His employer looked up at him, startled. He straightened his shirt and cleared his throat.

"Right, you can find your quarters on the lowest level along with the other teachers'. I'll give you a little hint. Your room will be the only empty one," the headmaster said with a strained smile. He was not used to being turned down.

"I don't think I'll have a problem finding things for myself," Sirius called over his shoulder before he let himself out of the office that was so unlike Quarry's million dollar, ocean view location.

"It's going to be a long ten months. Completely isolated from the intelligent world," Sirius muttered to himself as he set off down the long corridor in search of the dorm room where the eighteen-year-old werewolves would be staying.

The knock on the door was short and sharp. It was as if the owner of the hesitant hand wished they could take the action back and be anywhere other than in front of the headmaster's door at Stonegate Academy.

Wilton sighed from his place by the window that over looked the grounds and the wild tangle of cruel forest beyond. He glanced at the wall clock and saw that it was only half past ten. The headmaster shook his head. Not even four hours into the first day of the September semester and someone was already in trouble.

What else do you expect from this lot? Wilton thought wearily as he put on a stone cold mask of unforgiving ice and opened the door.

His well prepared mask shattered the moment he opened the door. Standing on the other side of the door was Remus Lupin. Remus Lupin, one of the select few that showed interest in his studies and had yet to have a black mark against his name. Remus Lupin who was supporting a rather impressive split lip and an erupting bruise that was forming on his right cheek.

"Lupin," Wilton said, gaining his mental footing. "You're...Not who I was expecting."

"I'm sorry, sir. It's just that Mrs. Solon sent Mike and me down," he said quietly, hand cradling the side of his face and right eye shut against the pain in his cheek. "She said to see you one at a time," Remus added, more out of need to break the silence than anything.

"What are you doing down here, Lupin?"

Remus looked up at his headmaster with the confused eyes of someone that had already thoroughly explained the situation.

"I guess...We were fighting."

"Fighting. Fighting is a serious offense."

"I know that, sir," Remus recovered quickly, eyes flashing nervously. "I can explain, I swear I didn't do anything—"

Wilton sighed and brushed the rest of his sentence away with a flick of his wrist. Remus' mouth snapped shut and he bit gently at his lip, being careful not to upset the painful slit running down the middle.

"I know it wasn't you, Lupin. It never is," the headmaster rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Why don't you stop at the bathroom and get yourself cleaned up, then head onto class. What do you have next?"

"Pubs," Remus muttered under his breath, eyes darting away from Wilton. "Defense."

Wilton nodded. "Right, head on down there, then. Send Mike in on your way out."

He turned back to the window in a clear indication that he considered the conversation over.

Remus waited a moment, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. He waited patiently to see if Wilton would write him a pass. He sighed when he saw that the headmaster showed no intention of writing him one.

"Yes, sir."