Remus Lupin was awoken from his restless sleep when he heard the backdoor creak open in he and Marlene's house. It was strange, really, calling it their house. It was the house he had grown up in, the house he had had his first transformation in… The house his parents had died in. And his name had been on the will, so now it was his and Marlene's house. They had moved out of the old flat weeks ago, but half of Marlene's possessions were still unpacked and in taped up cardboard boxes, and Remus couldn't help but be worried by this.
He turned to his side, expecting to see her, but her side of the royal blue bed was empty and made up. He remembered that she hadn't come home after she left for her Auror Submission in the afternoon. This must be her now, coming home a little after four in the morning. Remus pulled the sheets aside (it was too hot for blankets this summer) and walked quietly across the hard wood floor of the master bedroom, hating how the floorboards made a horrible screeching noise if he stepped on the wrong spot. He reached the door and opened it. The hinges wailed.
"Marlene?" he called, stepping out of the bedroom. He heard a crash downstairs, followed by a cry, and he quickened his pace as he reached the stairs, but halted halfway down.
There she was, at the bottom. Marlene, and her badly dyed blonde hair. Marlene, and her ridiculous high heels. Marlene, and her badly concealed hip flask of god-knows-what. Remus grimaced. "Hello."
She smiled drunkenly, leaning against the post. "Hi there. Why are you out of bed?"
"I could ask you the same question."
"The why don't you, you berk?"
Remus rubbed his temples. "Just come upstairs."
Marlene twirled around the post a few times, grinning all the while. "Nope. I think I'm going to sleep on the carpet. Right," she tripped on her heel, falling backwards into a heap, "here!"
Remus thought that maybe he should go and help her up, but didn't feel very inclined to help her do anything at the moment. He stayed on the stairs, and waited for her to get into a sitting position. She smiled at him, and he wanted to make it disappear, by shouting at her, walking up the stairs and leaving her there to do what she wanted, and then locking her out of the room. But he was Remus Lupin.
Remus Lupin would never do that. They both knew that he would get her a glass of water, carry her up the stairs, hold her hair back while she threw up the alcohol late at night, and let her sleep in the next morning. Because Remus believed that he could fix the war-wrecked girl on the floor in front of him, and reconstruct her into the carefree, beautiful girl he had fallen in love with.