He couldn't help but watch her retreating back as she slipped out of the room. Her embarrassment filled the air, thick as treacle, its bittersweet taste lingering even after she had clicked the door shut. He stared at his weather worn shoes, conscious that all eyes in the Hospital Wing had turned on him.
He had never hated himself more in his entire life. And Remus Lupin wasn't a stranger to self-loathing.
He hated that he had shouted at her. He hated how he had humiliated her in front of their friends. He hated how he wanted to run after her, to say it was all a mistake, and proceed to live a selfishly wonderful life with her. He hated how much he needed her; hated how he couldn't admit it to her. He hated the defeated look on her face as she stumbled out of the room, the beginnings of tears teasing her dull grey eyes. He hated that he had to make them both miserable. But it was the only way.
He could feel Molly's eyes burning into the back of his head, her disappointment burrowing into his mind. He faced her directly, as if to challenge her to speak out, to shout at him in true Molly Weasley fashion; if anyone deserved it, he did. Instead, she gave him a wary look before turning away, taking one last glance at her mutilated son whilst squeezing Arthur's shoulder, motioning for them to leave. Arthur followed her out of the room, his red-tipped ears contrasting with his pale complexion.
The toll of a faraway bell clanged in the distance, until the room settled into a painful silence once more. Remus turned his attention to Bill. Bill, who had been so young; so whole. A bright young man, who had plenty of opportunities to choose from. That life had been stripped away from him: his scars and the prejudices of the wizarding world automatically shunning him for life. Only a monster could do this; an inhuman monster, the same monster Remus could feel inside himself. The monster that was steadily creeping closer to the surface as the agonies of war and poverty wore on on his restraint. He couldn't do this for much longer.
It was Fleur who spoke first.
"Well, vat are you waiting for?" she asked with an arched eyebrow. "Go and find 'er"
Remus barely looked at her, his misty gaze fixed on the clinical tiles of the hospital floor.
"It's not that simple, Fleur," he said quietly. He sighed, running his weathered hands over his face. He was so tired; so old. He stalked across the room, his hand just reaching for the doorknob when a defiant voice called from behind.
"Zey told me you were clever, Remus Lupine."
There was a small pause.
"Well then, they told you wrong."
