The pub door opened, but it was a red-bearded wizard who entered instead of the red-haired witch that Remus awaited. He turned back to the bar, considering the half-full glass of cider sitting there. Maybe whiskey would have been smarter. Whiskey always made talking about anything easier. Too easy, maybe.

No, for a thing like this, he wanted his wits about him. She would certainly have hers. He would need to be sober for every painful moment of it so that he could watch her reaction. Not the big things, like a shaking voice, or edging away from him, or drawing her wand, but the subtler tension of her muscles, or the forced smile, or her guarded words. Besides, she wouldn't really pull her wand on him, would she?

Remus downed the second half of his cider, wondering if it would be enough to at least give him a buzz since he hadn't been able to eat all morning. Most of his experiences with alcohol left him as either the only sober one of the group, or with pieces of the night missing from his memory the next agonizing morning, so he wasn't sure exactly how to achieve that light, fuzzy sort of feeling in his brain with a lighter drink than firewhiskey. Oh well. He was bound to find out now.

He'd prepared for every likely outcome, anyway. He hadn't bought robes for the wedding yet, so that may be just as well. And Jim could talk to her if things went badly. He'd do that for Remus. It wasn't like Remus could get him into any more trouble today. Right? And she was a reasonably understanding sort of woman. Maybe he was doing all this worrying for nothing. Maybe she'd just take what he had to say calmly and really give him a chance.

"If James sent you to plea his case for him, you can go back right now and tell him to shove his excuses up his conceited arse. And you can help him with it."

It was a very inappropriate moment for Remus to think that she and Jim deserved each other. He thought it anyway.

With as much calm as one could muster under that green-eyed glare, Remus offered a friendly smile. "Hello, Lily. Would you care for a drink?"

"I don't intend to stay that long," she informed him. Indeed, she looked quite disinclined to so much as take off her gloves. She looked him over, taking in his pale face and tired eyes. "I see you haven't quite recovered from your little party."

"Mm." Yes, whiskey probably would have been the smarter idea.

"Well?" She asked. "You asked to meet me here. Is this about James or isn't it?"

"Well, no, not precisely."

The way she arched one eyebrow reminded him very much of how McGonagall regarded any poor soul trying to explain why their homework wasn't finished.

"Not precisely?"

Trying not to feel like an errant school boy, he answered, "No. Well, it does have to do with Jim, but he didn't send me. He doesn't even know I've asked to meet with you."

Her glare eased, a hint of curiosity slipping into her eyes. "Then you're not trying to cover for him?"

"I'm trying to tell you some things you should have already been told, especially after he proposed. It's James that's been covering for me."

That did the trick. Her glare disappeared completely. "What—?"

Remus stood up, coming to a sudden decision. "Let's talk outside. I don't like crowded places, anyway."

She glanced at the eight or ten other witches and wizards spread through the pub, but said nothing.

Remus pulled on his cloak and led the way out. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he trudged through the snowy street, wondering why he hadn't thought to bring gloves. Misletoe and holly stil hung from most of the buildings, and the charm on the caroling snowmen outside of Honeydukes hadn't quite worn off yet.

"Jim doesn't know that I asked to meet you," Remus said without looking at her, "so don't think this is some masterful plan on his part. And he would have told you ages ago if I hadn't told him not to. Well, begged, more like, but that's another story."

"You're making this sound very bad."

He shrugged. "It is bad. Or it can be bad. It depends on you, really."

After a moment, he added, "Did that sound harsh?"

"No, I don't think so."

He watched the other footprints in the snow, criss-crossing and weaving. They were nearing the edge of Hogsmeade, where the footprints overran each other less.

He stiffened when her hand landed on his shoulder and pulled him to a stop.

"Slow down, Remus. You look like you've just seen a dementor."

The concern in her voice confused him; what had happened to shove-it-up-your-arse Lily?

"What's wrong?" she asked, standing in front of him so he had to look at her. "I haven't seen you this tense since we sat the NEWTS."

"I suppose it's silly, really."

She let him continue walking, this time at a slower pace.

"But I've never done this before, you know. Everyone else…they find out some other way. But you never know how anyone will react. They never react the way I think they will."

Both remained silent for a few meters before Lily said, "Are you trying to tell me you're gay?"

He stopped and stared at her, not sure whether to laugh or shout. All he managed was a faint "Gay?"

Lily's cheeks flushed red, and it had nothing to do with the cold. "Er. Well. It did sound like you were leading up to that, didn't it? I mean, not that I really thought it, before, or anything. It's just that, you know, you never have had a proper girlfriend. Not even Meredith Booker, who had the biggest crush on you, and with a name like that, how could you really go wrong? Not that I, um, keep track of these things. It's just that…that people notice. Er, I notice."

Remus decided to laugh. Or, really, there was nothing to decide. The chuckling just came, a little hysterically.

"It's not funny!"

He took a moment to get control over himself, and found that he felt a little better, having lost a little bit of his tension. After all, this was Lily. There was a reason James loved her, a reason that she fit into their little group so well. Whatever the outcome, the entire world wouldn't end. He started walking again, feeling just a bit lighter.

"It is funny," he said. "It did sound like that's what I was trying to say, didn't it?"

"Well, what else would you stumble over like that?" she demanded.

The got rid of the remnants of a smile still lingering on his face, and he didn't answer. Not quite yet.

"We're going to the Shrieking Shack," he told her because she had just opened her mouthto ask.

"What's there?"

"It's an old house, meant to be haunted."

"Yes, I do know what the Shrieking Shack is. Why are we going there?"

Remus shrugged. "It just seemed appropriate. I'm not taking you out there to seduce you or something."

"Always the gentleman."

He couldn't help but smile for just a moment. When he continued, though, he felt quite sober. "You know, they say that Shack's been quiet recently."

"I heard that. Wendy Middleton, she's a Ravenclaw the year below us, said the ghosts didn't even give a show for Halloween."

He thanked her silently for obliging his thread of conversation; he could work up to his point his way.

"There aren't any ghosts."

"No?"

"No." The Shack came into view then, black and jagged against the pale gray sky, filthing amonst the untouched snow. "It was never haunted."

"How do you know?"

"Because the sounds the villagers heard…I…they were made by me." He kept his eyes fixed on the Shack while she considered this.

"Made by you? But—"

"Because that's where I went every full moon," he said before he could stop himself. He started walking again, eyes fixed on the boarded windows, the crooked chimney, trying not to pay too much attention to the fact that she didn't follow. He imagined that he could feel her wide-eyed stare on his back as realization dawned. He didn't slow when her footsteps rushed to catch up, but he stopped when she laid a hand on his shoulder again.

"Remus, look at me."

"You don't sound too horrified." A squirrel crawled out of a hole in the roof.

"Stop being a git and turn around."

"I'm not being a git. I'm being a coward."

"What's there to be a coward about anymore? You've got the hard part over with, haven't you? I haven't run away screaming."

"No, but if I turn around, you'll say the word, call me what I am, and it's all about the inflection, really. You won't know quite how to say it. Even if you tell yourself it doesn't matter, it does matter. And I rather liked someone not knowing. The others, Jim and Sirius and Pete, I'm glad they know. I couldn't hide it from them and stay sane. It eats at you. And they've accepted it, but they know. There are things they don't talk about in front of me, like Pete's new job, which I'm more qualified for, which I would have liked to have had. I can't grudge him the job, but he never says more than that it's all right. And you. You're more just a good friend when I'm about, aren't you? Jim keeps his hands to himself just a bit more, doesn't he? Pretends it's not you who put that idiotic grin on his face. Because, let's face it, a crush and a name like Booker aren't going to offset my monthly habit of turning into a man-eating monster every month, are they?

"And you won't be pestering me to find a real job anymore, will you? You'll know why I haven't, why I can't. You'll sit an extra inch further from Jim and pretend that being the most popular witch and wizard in Hogwarts didn't make finding a spouse a fair bit easier."

"Now that's not fair—"

"No, it's not fair. It's not going to be fair, ever. But they try to pretend it might be, and it was just nice that someone didn't, that someone said exactly what she thought about how thin I looked, about needing to get up off my arse and find a proper job. It's pathetic, really, but I did like pretending to be a normal bloke, like all of my problems would just disappear if I took your sage advice, that I didn't have any problems a little determination couldn't fix. But it won't be like that anymore, so I don't even have the Gryffindor courage to turn around, or the brains to shut up before all of my thoughts on everything fall out."

"You keep too many thoughts tied up," she answered tartly. "Tartly" was an absurdly nice thing just then. "You know, you didn't have to go through all of this just to tell me you're a vampire."

Before he knew he'd moved, he'd spun around to stare at her, trying to demand how she could be so dense, and hadn't she been Head Girl?

She smiled, and he cursed for falling for such a simple trick. "You and Jim deserve each other."

Her smiled faded into a thoughtful frown. "Was it a full moon on the twenty-third?"

"Yes."

"And so James was there to help you, not out drinking all night?"

He tried not to betray his discomfort with this turn in the conversation. "Yes."

"But he looked like hell when she showed up to my parent's house, and Mum swore she smelled whiskey on him."

"Pepper-up, I'd wager."

"But why?"

"Perhaps you should discuss that part with him."

"I'm not on speaking terms with James Potter until you explain to me why he showed up to my parent's Christmas Eve party wearing a cloak, as though that wouldn't be suspicious, stinking of something, whiskey or pepper-up or whatever. Or until I know why he fell asleep at the dinner table, in the middle of the Vicar's favorite anecdote, or why he couldn't even go to pick up the Christmas present for my parents that I had already picked out for him. Surely the Hogwarts Head Boy could manage that much? And my parents' Christmas Eve party may not be the grand event that the Potters put on, but that does not give him the excuse to swagger into their home as though his very presence, the very fact that he condescended to come, could make up for his atrocious behavior."

Remus waited a moment to make sure she was finished. "I can't explain all of it. Part of it is his fault. I don't know about the presents, but he and Sirius went out drinking after the Potters' party on the twenty-second, so he was already shattered when the moon rose."

"But why would that matter? James isn't a werewolf." She sounded a little less certain than he liked. But then, she never had seen him on the full moon, had she?

"No, but he stays with me when I transform. They all do."

"Stay with you? What do you mean? How? Surely having humans around would only make it worse—"

"They're not human when they're there."

She blinked at him twice. "Not human? Meaning…? Unregistered Animagi or something?"

"Unregistered Animagi precisely."

"And…having them there keeps you calmer?"

"Yes. Since fifth year."

"What does he…?"

"A stag."

"A stag. My fiancee didn't mention to me that he can turn into a stag at will."

"I asked him not to. He would have to have explained why. It really is my fault. I just hoped the omission wouldn't create any problems. I—"

"Prongs!" she said, staring over his shoulder.

He turned, but there was no one there.

"He's a stag, so Prongs," Lily said as Remus turned back to look at her.

"Oh, that, right."

"And Moony, of course."

"Yes."

"Padfoot, then. Lots of things have padded feet. Not a cat, I'd think. Not a smart thing to be around a wolf. Oh, I don't mean to sound offensive."

"No." He gave his best strained smile. "You're right. I'd probably chase a cat."

"A dog, then?"

"A big, black one, like the Grim."

"Sixth year, when half the Slytherin Quidditch team was sure they'd seen the Grim and couldn't concentrate during the game—"

"Yes, that was him."

"And Wormtail. What has—oh, a rat!"

"Yes, very useful form to have."

"I must say, this has been a very enlightening conversation."

"Jim isn't a complete arse. He's got his moments."

"I suppose he has. Maybe I was a little rash."

Remus sighed in relief. So James wouldn't have cause to kill him later, that was good. He tensed up again when she pulled him into a hug and kissed his cheek.

"You're a good friend to him, Remus. Thank you. And I won't tell a soul."

"Thank you."

"Now, I think I'll invite dear Jim to dinner. Do you think venison will do?"

"I think it'll get your point across nicely."

They started walking back toward Hogsmeade.

"Remus?"

"Hm?"

"When are you going to get off of your lazy arse and find a real job?"

He grabbed a wad of snow from the top of a fallen tree and lobbed it at her grinning face. She ducked and threw her own snowball. His hands were numb and he was out of breath when they said goodbye, but he felt lighter, and the day looked just a little brighter.