Chatting with Werewolves, by Special Correspondent, Junior Assistant, Ashley Elizabeth


Special Correspondent, Junior Assistant to the fabulous Rita Skeeter, Ashley Elizabeth here for her first ever interview. I will be asking a local werewolf on how he lives and copes in these dark and troubled times.


Remus John Lupin, age thirty-four, sits beside me at the bar in the Three Broomsticks. Our interview is just beginning and he is popping open a fizzy Butterbeer. I quickly take a swig of my Gin and Tonic before pulling my thick notebook and Quick-Quotes-Quill out of my old school bag. I place it on my knees and bounce my foot up and down, impatiently waiting for him to finish his gulp.


Finally, he placed the bottle on the gleaming bar top, focusing his warm brown eyes on my dark cocoa ones. They are very nice eyes, I must admit. Actually, when you get right down to it, his entire physical feature is quite delightful. He has pale skin, thick brown hair, and large muscular forearms. I was just itching to rub my hands all over his body, to try and feel what else was toned.


Oh no! I must NOT get off topic. Back to my assignment. I placed my quill down onto the notebook, where it quivered and stood upright all by itself. I took one more swallow of my alcoholic beverage before turning my undivided attention back to Mr. Remus Lupin.


“You don’t mind if I use a Quick-Quotes-Quill, do you Mr. Lupin? It leaves me free to chat and focus all my attention on you.” I recited Rita’s speech perfectly. My boss would have been proud. I wait for him to reply, looking expectantly with my rather large eyes.


“Er--- I suppose not,” he says, gazing down at the acid green quill apprehensively.


“Fabulous!” I smile. He grins back slowly. I can feel a sort of tickling sensation behind my bellybutton, and I squirm slightly. Why did I have to choose the werewolf with striking good looks?


He watches me expectantly, awaiting my first question. I pull myself together by taking deep breaths, and chant in my head DO NOT DISAPPOINT RITA, DO NOT DISAPPOINT RITA!


Focusing my eyes on his knee cap, which is hidden beneath Muggle jeans and open, shabby robes, I begin.


“So, Mr. Lupin-”


“Remus,” he cut in, grinning politely at me. I could feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. My Quick-Quotes Quill was going haywire across the notebook, scribbling as fast as it could. I saw Remus glance down at it and I followed his eyes.


Junior Assistant Ashley Elizabeth has deep feelings for a certain werewolf, something that would undoubtedly enrage her boss, the wonderful Rita Skeeter. She loves the way his eyes glow-


“Anyway,” I screeched, quickly swiping that particular page out of my notebook and crumpling it into an offending ball. Remus’s face was a pale shade of pink, but I bet my own resembled something close to magenta. Merlin, he was just so cute! How was I supposed to concentrate on my interview when images of a shirtless Remus kept popping into my perverted mind?


I suddenly felt my mind take a reckless swing, and a thought pushed its way to the surface: Who cared what Rita thought? This was my interview, after all. I would cover the subjects that I thought the public needed to know, not the ones Rita imagined. Placing my quill in my mouth, I sucked on the tip as questions exploded in my head. I watched as the blush slowly faded from Remus’s cheeks, and he went back to sipping on his Butterbeer while he waited for me to get on with it. After a few seconds, my first question was ready, and my quill was poised.


“Mr. Remus Lupin, who is it that you are currently dating?” I fired off my question lightning fast, and he choked on his drink, obviously knowing this wasn’t the topic the interview was covering, nor expecting such a question. As he dried up his front with his wand, I waited expectantly.


“Well, no one at the moment,” he confided. I could tell he was reluctant to answer the question, but I guess my innocent doe-eyed expression was just begging for the answer. I scribbled on my notepad, muttering things like, “Interesting…Surprising…”


“Okay, Remus. Am I right in asking that you used to date a Metamorphous by the name of Nymphadora Tonks?” My right eyebrow was arched. I didn’t approve of this flashy young woman, and thought she must have gone through many changes in her appearance to have had Remus fall for her. The whole purple hair thing was just not working for her.


Remus shifted uncomfortably on his stool and his fingers tapped nervously on the bar. “Yes, we dated for a short period of time, but I had to end it because of…complications.” The last word he barely muttered, but my acid green quill picked up on it and quickly jotted it down.


“Those complications…could you enlighten me on what they were?” My gaze must have been very hopeful, but I didn’t receive what I was asking for.


“Sorry, but I don’t think that particular matter is for the Wizarding community’s eyes.” His tone was slightly clipped, and I nodded, not wanting to upset him or have him walk out of the Three Broomsticks. There were still many questions I had on my mind. I waited until he had placed the near empty bottle back to his lips before continuing.


“Alright then, next question. Have you ever had your muffin buttered?”


This time, he really did snort his Butterbeer, and I think I would be right in saying that some came up through his nose as he started coughing. His eyes were very red and watery. I leaned over and started patting his back forcefully until his air pipes had been cleared. He wiped away the tears that had formed in his brown eyes and then looked at me questioningly.


“What in the world does that mean?” The look in his eyes said he thought he knew exactly what I meant, but he would wait until I clarified it, less he embarrass both of us if he was wrong.


“You know…has someone ever tickled you fancy? Stroked your ego? There are multiple ways to put it.”


Remus looked rather alarmed that I would be asking such a question, and that it would be going down on paper. He leaned forward and spoke in a strong whisper, “Is that some form of innuendo?”


“Why yes, I think it just might be!” I replied happily, glad he was catching onto my way of wording so quickly. People in the office I had been practicing with never seemed able to understand what my true meaning was behind my phrases, and it greatly affected the way the interview would progress.


“Uhm…is that really a type of question you should be asking for an interview?” He checked over his shoulder, as if imagining the entire pub crowded around us, listening in. “I was under the impression that this interview would be about werewolves.” Remus was right of course, but these were the questions that I wanted answered for myself. But I guess I could appease him in a few ways. I took another gulp of my forgotten Gin and Tonic before answering him.


“Well, I think I’ll make you a deal. I won’t write anymore of this interview down if you promise to answer any questions I have for you truthfully.” I pushed my notebook back into my bag and held out my right hand to him. He hesitated. “Oh, go on Remus, it can’t hurt anyone,” I pleaded. He finally let out a deep sigh before shaking my outstretched hand and draining the last of his Butterbeer and knocking on the bar, bringing Madam Rosmerta to our end.


“A glass of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey, Rosmerta, please.” I looked at him questioningly while Madam Rosmerta poured out the dull yellow liquid into a tall pitcher and handed it to him. “This interview will need some alcohol if I plan on getting through it,” he replied while thanking Madam Rosmerta. The bartender refilled my Gin and Tonic before making her way back to the other end of the bar to attend to a few flirtatious Ravenclaws.


“All right, next question,” I began, “What do you find attractive in a mate?” He studied me curiously before taking a sip of the rich whiskey. A grimace formed on his face, and he looked as though he wanted to stick his tongue out in disgust, which I giggled inwardly at.


He crossed his arms and leaned dangerously far back over his barstool before answering my question. “Honesty is one. I wouldn’t want a woman whom I intend to spend the rest of my life with if she were a living lie.” He paused and allowed his eyes to sweep over my face again, and I found I was blushing. When his gaze leveled on the pink spots on my cheek, his honey eyes immediately fell downward and rested on my old schoolbag, on which my Gryffindor badge still roared with pride. He smiled at the gold lion on the scarlet background before continuing. “A bit of humor wouldn’t hurt anything either.” His eyes were twinkling, and I think he was only humoring me.


“So, honest and funny. Anything else?” I prompted. I needed something to go on.


“Unpredictable, cheeky, and above all, trustworthy,” Remus said. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to add to it, or say something else, but instead took a rather large gulp of his foul-smelling whiskey. I have no idea how he was downing that. Whiskey was revolting. When he placed the large glass back on the counter, he turned to me and asked, “What sort of qualities do you want in a man, Ms. Elizabeth?”


I visibly gagged on the name he had called me. “Please do me a favour and never call me Ms. Elizabeth again. That’s my grandmother. It’s Ashley…or better yet, it’s Ash.” I tucked a lock of my stringy blonde hair behind my right ear as he chuckled at my outburst.


“Okay, Ash, answer the question then.” He looked so adorable, gazing at me with puppy dog eyes that I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.


“You’re my favourite quality so far.” It took me a second before my brain registered what my mouth had practically screamed, and I clapped a hand over said mouth, mortally embarrassed. I’m sure my entire face looked like a ripe tomato. I could feel the back of my neck growing hot, and knew that my ears were probably glowing.


“Uh…that is to say…well, I meant…I…ah, bloody hell.” I was basically screwed. I don’t remember Remus mentioning on his Quality List ignorant, stupid, blatant, blunt, and a bloody idiot. I fit all of those.


Remus was staring far off, looking into the mirror that hung over the bar, but I could tell he wasn’t seeing anything in it; merely thinking intently. A small grin graced his lips, and I sat there, studying him, still feeling the remains of my blush and a growing self hatred. Remus, though, seemed to come to a conclusion and suddenly bent very close to where I was pitying myself. I looked up and locked my eyes onto his.


“Tell me, Ash. Does it bother you that I am a werewolf?” He held my gaze and didn’t seem to need to blink, almost as though I were a particularly weary hippogriff. His eyes bore into mine, and I found my palms sweating and my stomach churning.


“No,” I breathed, “Not at all.”


His eyes brightened considerably, and I sighed in relief, knowing I had given the correct answer. He quickly downed the rest of his whiskey in two gulps, an astonishing feat in itself, before slipping off the stool and offering me his hand, which I gripped tightly as he pulled me off my own stool. I checked my large schoolbag before looking into his face, which was lit by a bright smile, which seemed to take years away from his lined features.


“I think,” he said, lacing his fingers into my own, “That you’re my favourite quality so far as well.”


We left the Three Broomsticks hand in hand, and he promised me that he would soon be calling me for another drink at the bar, or to anywhere else that ‘tickled my fancy.’ I assured him I would be too pleased to accept his invitation.


I now sit alone in my cozy living room, in my cottage that resides on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. I just finished my story of my would-be interview. And I never plan on handing it over to Rita Skeeter, either. I had better start searching for a new job as soon as possible.