From the other room, Remus can hear her laughing.

He hates how she laughs when she's around James. It's too high and breathy and fake and no one else seems to notice; for a while he thought that she couldn't even see the change in herself, but one day James made a joke and she looked at Remus while chuckling.

The laugh didn't reach her eyes and she knew it. It just didn't matter.

No. Scratch that. It's not that it didn't matter—it didn't change anything, that's what it was.

James calls out, "See you tomorrow, Moony!"

"Yup." It comes out as, at best, an apathetic sort of grunt, but Remus knows that any lack of enthusiasm will be attributed to the fact that all of his friends are out on missions for the Order while he's stuck at headquarters.

A faint pop echoes between the rooms and Remus lets out a loud sigh as he closes his eyes. Maybe he'll be able to catch a few fitful hours of sleep while everyone's gone.

It'd be more impressive to say that he somehow sensed Lily's presence, knew that she'd hung around by intuition alone, but really he just smells her perfume when she comes into the room. It's some strong stuff that James bought for her, and Remus hates it. She only wears it when she's got plans to see James, but that's more and more, these days.

Remus misses that flowery, light perfume that she used to wear. He remembers it clearly even now… perhaps helped along because the scent still clings to his sheets, just a little bit.

One of the many reasons he won't let anyone into his room.

"Hi," Lily says. Apprehensively, like she expects him to promptly send her away.

He cracks open his eyes and looks at her. She's hovering in the doorway, watching him, and it seems like she's ready to leave him alone at the first sign of trouble. But Remus sits up straighter on the sofa and he even manages to smile weakly. "Hi. I thought you left."

"James suggested that I keep you company."

Remus raises his eyebrows. "Did he?"

Lily hesitates. "Or he said that he thought you might get bored. I suppose I might have suggested that I keep you company."

Now that he can believe. "In that case, by all means, join me."

Within moments, she is sitting comfortably beside him. By force of habit, she falls practically into his lap, and then has to scoot a reasonable distance away.

"So I was just going to watch the telly…"

"Wait, do you think maybe we could have a chat first?"

Honestly, there's nothing he would like less than to sit and have a chat with her right now, but she's the one who bought and set up the television just for him, so he has no real right to decline her request. "Alright, what about?"

"I don't know, it's just… last week, when James and I… well, since then, you and I haven't really… had a good chance to talk about it."

If she's going to insist on discussing it, Remus is not going to let her dance around the subject. "Your engagement, you mean."

Engagement. Saying the word aloud makes him feel sick to his stomach.

"Yes."

"What's there to talk about?"

Lily blinks at him. "You've been all weird since then. James and Sirius think it's just because you feel lonely."

"But you think you know better," he says. His voice is tinged with resentment.

"Am I wrong?"

No response. Remus hardly wants to admit that she's right but he can't bear to deny it, either. Because yeah, maybe he is upset. But as he figures it, he's got every right to be.

Just two months ago, she was shouting at him from across the room—this same room—that he was being daft, ending things as some sort of bizarre self-punishment, ending things because he didn't bloody think that he deserved her.

She insisted, then, that he did deserve happiness, no matter what he thought. And she wanted him to be happy with her.

Quite a change in tune since then. So of course he's upset.

"You can't do this," she says, pulling Remus back to the present. "You can't have it both ways. I'd pick you over James in a heartbeat, but you've made it clear that's out of the question. I'm not going to spend the rest of my life alone just because you don't want me."

She thinks he doesn't want her. The very idea of that puts an ache in his chest. He's not sure if there will ever be a day when he doesn't want Lily Evans. He just knows what she refuses to admit: that he's an unreliable werewolf with no means of income to support himself, let alone a family.

"I don't expect that," he mutters. "It just feels so rushed."

"I know." Her voice is quiet, her gaze downcast.

Remus racks his brain for something to say, anything that will reassure her that with time, he'll become accustomed to the idea of her and James getting married, having children, growing old together.

Nothing comes to mind; he knows she won't believe him.