(Author's Note/Disclaimer: Written for the a challenge community on Livejournal that has a somewhat spoilery name--if you're curious, see the Author's Note for Lifeline, my other fic so far. None of the characters appearing in this story belong to me.)
People stare at them.
She has vibrantly pink hair and soft, young features. The world has been harder on him. His hair has gone grey a little too early, and new lines persistently find their way onto his face with each passing day, it seems. He moves stiffly along, as it was full moon only a few days ago. She fairly bounces, lightly fluttering from topic to topic as he listens carefully and nods occasionally.
Her clothes are classy, if unconventional and unusually bright for such a dark time. His are old and battered, beginning to fall apart at the seams.
He is holding her hand.
Heads turn. He knows. What's a girl like her doing with a...thing like him? He admits to himself that he is at a loss for an answer. She seems not to notice either the looks or his musing, and disentangles her fingers from his, breaking contact for just long enough to slide that arm around his waist. He hesitates, startled by the gesture. Why her? I don't deserve this...
"Remus..." Her voice shatters his reverie. "Remus. You're supposed to put yours around mine."
"What?"
Exasperated, she grabs him by the arm and places it around her waist. He is too surprised to remove his arm, not that he could, anyway: she holds it in place with her unoccupied right hand, as her left arm resumes its initial position.
He knows, knows with every bone in his body that right now he should be feeling young. He's in love, after all. But all he can manage is a brief lightening of his spirits before the instincts that society taught him squash it down again.
Remus Lupin is back to feeling old.