Beautiful Things | Wolfstar

Fifteen

The room is dimly lit, enough for personal mingling but hardly adequate to find anyone outside an arms distance.  Long legged models strut about draped in ghostly silk dresses with glasses of champagne. Their steel cut gazes dart about the room as they weave in and out of conversation. Photographers line the walls like leeches, getting the best shots of anybody worthy of gossip. The night is one big social event wrapped in business deals.

Remus stands off to the side with a half empty glass of flat champagne. His tall frame is elegantly dressed in an black suit, accentuating his lines and slim physique; even his hair is neatly combed through with just a touch of gel to keep it in place.

"By golly is that actually Remus Lupin?" Remus rolls his eyes, not even having to turn around to know who spoke. James strolls up beside Remus in a forest green suit of equal opulence. "These events are something, eh?"

Remus nods exhaustedly, downing the remains of his drink. "I look like a pretentious douchebag," he says, toying with the end of his tie. He'd spent most of the night running around to ensure that Sirius wouldn't have to lift a finger tonight, finally catching a few minutes to himself.

"We all look like that." James motions to the room with a sweeping arm. "Everybody in this room is dreadfully terrible. Like him." Remus glances at a rather pudgy bloke dressed in a navy suit. "That's Harrison Carter the fifth. His parents are actually second cousins and he comes from a long line of breeding exotic tigers in Malaysia for the secret circus society Churchill started."

"You're kidding!" Remus gasps.

"Yeah, I am." Remus scoffs, both with annoyance and slight disappointment that it was a lie. James only laughs, scratching his chin with his thumb and forefinger. "I have no idea who that guys is, probably some investor named Ryan. It's a game I like to play, and sometimes the rumor actually spreads around. Keeps me alive when I have to come to these stuffy things."

"Won't Sirius get upset?"

James smirks. "Who do you think started the game?" He claps Remus on the shoulder with a firm hand. "I'll catch you later. I'm going to try and convince Evans that the guy she's talking to is actually a former mafia leader."

Remus watches James make his way across the room, charming women and men alike. He sets down his now empty champagne glass and heads out into the hall for a breath of fresh air. Photographers shimmy past him through the double doors, murmuring names he'd never heard of. The heels of his dress shoes click against the marble floor, echoing in the vast hall. The noise of collective voices drowns to silence when he rounds the corner, only to find Sirius standing in a room by himself; his stance is rigid with one hand pressed against the wall and his phone in the other.

Remus conceals himself behind the door, peering through the crack to get a better view. Sirius paces in and out of view, his lips pressed into a thin line. Every step has a thunderous rage that threatens to shake the room.

"I can't believe you're asking for more," Sirius snaps with a bite. His chest fluctuates heavily as he listens to the receiver. "I give you everything you want and you're still fucking me over. Haven't you done enough?"

Silence.

Remus licks his lips nervously when Sirius slams his fist into the wall. He brushes it off like nothing.

"Fine. I'll have it to you by Friday."

Remus grimaces at the sight, deciding it best to walk away while he can. Slowly, he slips out from behind the door and makes a b-line straight for the main ballroom. He's only five paces away when Sirius clears his throat from behind.

"Remus." The name is like a knife to his throat.

Remus spins on his heel, mustering up the best I didn't overhear your private conversation look. It's not a pretty one.