Author: hkpadfoot
Rating: G
Summary: Twenty-eight days out of every month Remus Lupin hated coffee.
A/N: Slash? Maybe. I don't like the ending of this, it's a bit weak. I think there might be a sequel to this, maybe more...Depends on the feedback I get. No point in wasting time if nobody likes it, yeah? This story has actually changed my Sirius and Remus. I've always had Sirius hate coffee, Remus, I don't remember what he thought of coffee, don't think he cared for it too much though. Well, now that's completely out the window.

Twenty-eight days out of every month, Remus Lupin hated coffee. The smell of burnt beans nauseated him. The taste made him sick. The thought made him shudder. Tea, he told his peers, was the thing to drink. It wasn't the disgusting sludge of coffee, it wasn't going to rot your teeth with one sip, and it was much, much better. It was British. And they were British.

It was an endless source of teasing, therefore, when the day after the full moon and the subsequent two days after that, he craved coffee, strong, black, hot enough to scald, coffee. Amidst all the teasing from his three best friends, it was Sirius who, loving coffee no matter what the day, would sneak the strongest coffee the House Elves could brew up to him in the Hospital Wing. Every time he risked facing the wrath of Madame Pomfrey who, like Remus normally did, denounced the evils of coffee, especially on recovering patients.

But when Remus wrapped his hand around the hot mug and took that first little sip, he sighed this sigh and his entire body seemed to melt into relaxation. And to Sirius, that made it worth the risk, so he continued to bring Remus his brew for the next two days, even if Remus was out of the hospital wing. Sometimes he'd find a mug waiting for him in one of the secret passages he used to get to or from one of the classes he had that Sirius didn't have. Other times he'd be interrupted from his notes in the middle of class by a shy and quiet House Elf bearing his delicious sludge charmed so that the rest of the class could neither see nor smell it. With every meal he could expect to have a mug replacing his goblet, in the morning there was one on his nightstand, and should there be a Quidditch match in chilly weather during those two days, Remus would walk to the pitch with his friends, mug clutched tightly in his hands.

Remus could always count on one simple thing through out his life: as long as Sirius was around, even if you were angry and hurt and had forbidden him from spending the full moon with you because he might send another poor Slytherin for him to gobble up, there would be coffee after the full moon. Even if there was a war going on and you hadn't seen each other for weeks because he suspected you and you couldn't tell him what you were doing with the werewolves because of the spy, there was coffee after the full moon.

It shouldn't have surprised him, really, when twelve days into November, 1981 there was no coffee in the morning. But it did. Pushing himself up on shaky limbs, trying to not look at any blood that may be around, Remus reminded himself that Sirius was a murderer, and murderers don't send you coffee when they're in jail, and really, taking coffee from a murderer was a bad idea.

When he finally could, he made himself some tea. Strong, scalding hot, tea.

It wasn't coffee, but Remus didn't like coffee twenty-eight days out of the month for perfectly sound reasons. Abandoning perfect reason for three days just because he sprouted fur was something only a lazy murdering dog would do, not him.