Sunday, October 23, 1977

The hushed silence of the library lulled Peter into a trance as he strolled along the rows of books, scanning the titles for the ones he needed. He was so intent on his task that he didn't notice anyone approaching until he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Seven standing there with a shy smile on her face.

"Hi," she said, tugging on the end of her braid. "Sorry, I hope I'm not bothering you. I was just wondering if you know where I could find Remus? I haven't seen him in the common room much for a few days now, and I was going to ask him about borrowing a book."

Her words sounded casual, too casual, and Peter thought she might have rehearsed this spiel to make it sound natural and off-hand. However, he could tell from the slight blush on her cheeks and her nervous habit of playing with her braid that she cared more about his response than she was letting on.

"He's sort of half dead at the moment," Peter said. "Or maybe one third dead? I dunno, Sirius has this precise system of measurement for Remus's level of deadness, but that's more information than you actually need or care about."

Her eyes widened in concern. "Is he all right?"

"Oh, yeah, he's fine, just extremely hungover," Peter said. "He had horrible luck at Firecracker last night and hasn't quite recovered yet. He sent me here to get a book, so you know he's struggling if he passes up a trip to the library."

"Poor Remus," she said. "Does he need anything? I can go to the kitchens to get him some food - James told me how to get in there. Or what about chocolate? I think I have some, actually, hang on." She began rummaging in her bag, but stopped when she spotted the knowing smile on Peter's face. Sighing, she straightened again and met his gaze.

"You know, don't you?" she asked, a resigned expression on her face.

"About you and Remus?" Peter said, chuckling. "Yeah, I, er, sort of figured it out. He doesn't know that I know. Or, at least, if he does, he hasn't said anything to me about it."

Seven nodded, mulling this over. "Are you going to tell anyone? Not that I mind if anyone knows, but he wants to keep it quiet, and I'm afraid if people find out he'll, I dunno…"

"Panic and break it off like he did last time?" Peter suggested, grinning. "That's not out of the realm of possibility. Don't worry, I'm not going to say anything. I figure if he wants people to know he'll say something."

"Thanks," she said, flashing him a grateful smile. "I was worried when I hadn't seen him much lately that he might be getting a bit panicky and trying to avoid me."

"Nah," Peter said, shaking his head. "It's not you. It's just… Remus being Remus. Do you know what I mean?"

She smiled. "I do, actually."

A flicker of something in her expression caught Peter's eye, and he couldn't say why, but he felt certain she did know what he meant, exactly what he meant. He frowned, trying to puzzle out what had given him this impression, but he couldn't pinpoint it.

"He does seem to have a lot to get on with, doesn't he?" she continued. "Sometimes when he's having one of those days, I just want to give him a hug." She blushed and shook her head. "Sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you this."

That's it, Peter thought. It was in the way her eyes filled with concern for him, as if she truly understood why he did indeed need a hug more than the average person. She bloody knows.

"You, er, notice things, don't you?" he said, proceeding cautiously as if feeling his way in the dark. "Things most people don't."

"I suppose that's true," she said with a slight incline of her head. Their eyes met, and he could sense they were feeling each other out, waiting to see what the other would reveal.

"And you really understand Remus, don't you?" he continued, drawing out his words to make his meaning clear. "You understand him in a way that almost nobody else does."

Her eyes stayed locked on his, searching his face for confirmation, and then after a moment she nodded.

"How long…" he began, but the words caught his through, because even though he was certain she knew, it felt wrong to talk about.

She seemed to understand his hesitance, because she reached for the end of her braid and glanced down at the floor as she said, "I wasn't really sure until about a month ago." She hesitated, and a hint of guilt clouded her face. "I checked the date the last time he was in the hospital wing. But I've suspected it since last year. I thought maybe that was why he got all panicked and broke things off."

"That long? And you still-"

"Of course," she said, again anticipating his question. "Why would that make any difference? If anything it just made me like him even more, because he goes through all that and doesn't complain, he just works extra hard to make up for the days he misses, you know?"

Her eyes were bright with indignation, and Peter wished he could retract his question. It had slipped out before he had time to think it through, because he had spent so much time with Remus that his fear of how other people would perceive his condition had become contagious. Of course it shouldn't make any difference, but Peter felt a new sense of respect for Seven regardless, because she not only shared his view but was offended that he would expect anything less. He felt an overwhelming urge to hug her, but as he was not in the habit of embracing people without liquid courage, he settled for a light touch on her shoulder.

"You're okay, Seven," he said with a shy smile. "I'm glad you're together, because you really do seem to get Remus." His mind flashed back to one example of the many evenings that illustrated the qualities Seven had described.

"Come on, leave that and play a round of Exploding Snap with us," Sirius urged, trying to tug the quill from Remus's grasp.

"I can't. I have to finish this," Remus said as he batted Sirius's hand away and continued to frown down at his parchment.

"No you don't," James said. "I told you, Flitwick said you could have until Monday to turn it in."

Remus sighed and dipped his quill into his ink, then paused with it poised above the parchment. "I know, but if I don't finish this tonight, then I won't be properly prepared for class tomorrow and I'll be behind."

"Then copy mine," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "I've already bloody offered twice."

"And I've already said no thanks," Remus said, heaving a sigh and looking up from his essay. "I don't want to copy yours. I want to finish it on my own. Otherwise I won't understand the concepts and won't be-"

"Properly prepared for class, yeah, I know," Sirius said, his disdainful expression revealing his opinion of the sentiment. "I just thought you might've decided to loosen your rigorous academic standards rather than die from exhaustion, but it's your call."

"Maybe you could just take a break? I already dealt you in," Peter said, pointing to the pile of cards he had set next to Remus's parchment. "That essay isn't going anywhere." He grinned and added, "Well, unless the cards explode and it catches fire, but as long as you move it off the table that shouldn't be a problem."
Remus smiled but shook his head. "No, I'd rather just finish it and get it out of the way." He pushed the cards aside and returned his attention to his parchment.

"But—" Sirius began, but Remus held up a hand and spoke over him.

"I'll never finish if you keep distracting me, so let me work in peace and hand me the chocolate frog you nicked from my bag." He fixed Sirius with a pointed stare until he handed over the chocolate frog with a sheepish grin.

"Does the chocolate help you think?" Sirius asked, watching Remus eat half of the chocolate frog in one bite.

"Sometimes," Remus said through a mouthful of chocolate frog. "Now quit bothering me and enjoy your game. Maybe try and singe Prongs's eyebrows off again if you can manage it. I could use a good laugh."

"I've thought about telling him I know," Seven said, and the sound of her voice jarred Peter back to the present. "But I don't want to upset him."

"No, don't tell him," Peter said, imagining the emotional strain Remus would experience if he found out yet another person knew his secret. "At least not yet. Lily and Mary just found out. That's why he's been a bit off lately, and if you tell him you know, too, that might just be too much to process at once."

"That makes a lot of sense," she said, her eyes widening with comprehension. "That's a lot to process already without me adding to it. All right, I won't say anything yet." She hesitated, toying with the end of her braid, then continued, "I just want him to know how much I like him. I hate to think of him worrying that I would change my mind if I found out."

Peter thought about the smile that brightened Remus's scarred face more often these days, the sound of his laughter that seemed to be a more frequent occurrence, and the slight easing of his tension that was visible in the set of his jaw and the frown lines around his mouth. These changes had come about around the same time Remus and Seven had started sneaking off together, and Peter knew it was no coincidence.

"Just keep doing what you're doing," he assured her. "I've never seen him so bloody happy." He grinned, then his smile faltered as he considered how Remus would take it when she finally revealed what she knew. "If you do tell him eventually, he might do that panicked Remus thing again, but hang in there, all right? Don't let him push you away because he's scared, because you're good for him."

Her face lit up, and she released the end of her braid to meet his gaze.

"Thanks, Peter," she said. "And thanks for letting me talk about all this. I don't know what made me say all this, to be honest. You're just really easy to talk to."

On some level Peter already knew this, and yet hearing Seven speak the sentiment aloud made him feel flattered and validated. He stood there, blushing and unsure how to respond, until she touched his shoulder and smiled.

"Tell Remus I hope he feels better," she said, her tone full of affection. "See you later."

She turned and walked away, leaving Peter alone among the shelves of books. As he resumed his search, he felt a rush of excitement and happiness for Remus, but also a tiny current of sadness and worry that nobody would ever talk about him and smile the way Seven did when she talked about Remus. But of course it was no use thinking this way. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the fear from his mind, then grinned as his eye fell on the exact title he needed. He pulled it from the shelf and headed out of the library, smiling and trying to ignore the faint sense of melancholy that he had not quite managed to shake.

Monday, October 24, 1977

The fire cast a warm glow over everything and the common room was not quite as noisy as usual, but despite the perfect study conditions, Remus was having trouble concentrating. He had been stuck on the same page for the past fifteen minutes, and every few sentences he caught himself glancing up at the portrait hole, hoping to see Seven step through it and catch his eye. His thoughts had been battling for hours, alternating between resolving to avoid her and impatiently counting down the minutes until she returned from Quidditch practice. There was still time to throw his things in his bag and retreat up to the dormitory before she could give him that meaningful look across the common room or return a book with a note pressed between the pages. The responsible, cautious side of him was begging him to do just this, and yet he knew this side would not win out, because the other voice in his head, the reckless, hungry voice, was louder and more insistent. The words blurred on the page and he snapped the book shut in irritation, deciding it was fruitless to continue when he was not absorbing any of the information. Sighing, he stood up, resigning himself to a restless evening spent waiting for sleep while he stared at Sirius's motorbike poster.

"Are you going to bed?" Peter asked, looking up from his own homework.

Remus started to reply, but movement in the corner of his eye distracted him, and he glanced over at the portrait hole just as Seven entered the common room. Her hair was damp from a shower, and she had the look of exhausted satisfaction that signalled a successful practice. Their eyes met across the room and she stopped, darting her eyes in the direction of the portrait hole before returning to look at him with an expectant look on her face. He raised his eyebrows and nodded, and the huge smile that brightened her face eased the hesitance and doubts that were urging him to keep his distance. She turned around and hurried back the way she had come, and he muttered some excuse to his friends before following her out of the common room.

Hardly aware of what he was doing, his feverish brain propelled him forward until he caught up with her halfway down the corridor. Even now, there was a faint yet urgent instinct warning him to proceed with caution, but he shoved these thoughts aside, because he did not want to proceed with caution. As he stood there, smelling the scent of shampoo that wafted from from her hair that hung loose in damp strands rather than being pulled into her usual braid, all he wanted was to follow her into the dark, cozy privacy hidden behind the tapestry and give in to the consuming desire that made coherent thought and rational decisions impossible.

"Hi," she said, reaching for his hand and leading him the rest of the way down the corridor. "I haven't seen you in a bit. I missed you."

He nodded, feeling his heartbeat speed up and wondering if she could tell. "I missed you too."

They drew to a stop in front of the tapestry and he held it aside for her, then stepped in after her. The familiar pile of blankets and pillows drew him in, and he slipped off his shoes and stretched out, waiting for her to join him.
"When I didn't see you for the past few days I thought maybe you didn't want to see me," she admitted as she settled in beside him.

"I'm sorry you thought that." He cupped her face in his hand and traced his thumb along her jaw. "It's not true. I've been dying to see you all day."

He had woken up from a dream about her, and although he couldn't remember all the details, the vague pieces he could recall stayed with him all day, lingering and infecting his thoughts so that he was unable to concentrate on anything.

She smiled and breathed a little sigh of relief. "I didn't bring a book," she said. Her hair had left little damp spots on her shirt that made the fabric cling to her skin, and the strands tumbled into her face, giving her a relaxed, unrestrained look that Remus found irresistible.

"Me neither," he murmured, pushing a piece of hair out of her face and leaning in to kiss her. "I'm not really in the mood to read."

"Oh?" She pressed herself closer to him and rested a hand on his chest, and her touch felt hot against his skin, even through the fabric of his shirt. "What are you in the mood for?"

He didn't respond, because he sensed that this was the sort of question that did not require a verbal answer. Instead, he let the movement of his lips against hers and the pressure of his fingertips against her skin speak for him as he lost himself to the wave of desire that washed over him.

The guilt hit him as they lay amid the tangle of blankets afterwards. As his heartbeat began to return to normal, he looked at Seven curled against him, her hair now a tangled mess fanned out against the pillow, and he felt a stab of regret that he had allowed her to see him lose control like that.

"I guess you really did miss me," she said, smiling at him as she pushed her hair out of her face.

She rested her head against his arm and trailed her hand across his bare chest, and he realized with a start that he had not even taken the time to turn out the lights. His clothes lay in a heap, just out of reach, and he gazed in horror at the scars scattered across his skin. He felt exposed, and he tugged a blanket over them in an attempt to hide the visible evidence of what he was, what he was capable of.

"Are you cold?" She snuggled closer to him and draped her leg over his, and he couldn't reconcile her casual, relaxed tone with the paralyzing guilt that made his breath catch in his throat. How was she still here with her arms around him, running her hand up and down his chest like everything was fine, when he had shown her a glimpse of that side of himself that he was most desperate to repress and conceal?

"I should get back," he said, fighting to keep his tone neutral. He held the blanket against him to shield him from her view, then slid out of her embrace so he could reach for his clothes.

"Are you all right?" she asked, her face etched with concern. She reached out and touched his arm, and he finished pulling on his shirt before meeting her gaze. A small red mark bloomed against the smooth skin of her neck, and he felt a sickening rush of shame when he realized he had been the one to mar her flawless skin.

"Merlin, I'm sorry," he said as he wriggled into his pants and began to pull on his trousers. His hands shook and he had to try several times before he managed to fasten his belt.

"Why are you sorry?" She gazed up at him, the confusion on her face only making her look more beautiful, and his shame deepened as he noticed several red crescents that stood out on her shoulder. "Come and lay down for a few more minutes. Don't rush off like this."

"I should get back," he repeated. "I shouldn't have…" His fingers gently traced the fingernail marks on her shoulder and the mark on her neck, and he looked down at the floor, unable to look her in the eye.

"Don't be silly." She pulled his hand away and examined the faint marks on her shoulder, then probed the spot on her neck with her fingers. "If it's that noticeable, I'm sure there's a spell to hide it."

He stood up and took a step towards the door, then noticed a long thin scratch that ran halfway down her back. I did that to her, he thought, staring at his hands in disgust.

"I hurt you," he choked out.

"No you didn't," she said, standing up and throwing a blanket over her shoulders before reaching for his hands. "You didn't do anything wrong. I've seen Sirius and Mary after some of their more enthusiastic shagging sessions. Compared to that, this is nothing."

She tried to kiss him, but he pulled away, a pained expression on his face.

"But I never wanted you to see this side of myself," he insisted. "I wasn't thinking. I just…"

"I like this side of you," she said. "I like all the sides of you. I've never seen you let your guard down like that. It was, well…" A flush spread across her cheeks. "I liked it."

He barely heard her words over the pounding of his heart and the creeping panic that made him want to run away. The coziness of the little room now felt claustrophobic and stifling, and he wriggled out of her grasp and took another step towards the door.

"I'm sorry," he said again, before turning and retreating into the corridor and back to the common room. He didn't glance back until he had given the password and stepped through the portrait hole, afraid to find Seven following behind him. If she begged him to stop, to come back to the reading spot to talk, would he be able to resist? He didn't want to risk it.

"Moony!" James lounged in his usual chair while Lily stood behind him, massaging his shoulders. "What's wrong?"

Remus shook his head. "Nothing. Just tired. I'm going to go up to bed."

Before any of them could comment, he headed for the staircase and bounded up the stairs and into the dormitory. As he lay in bed, the exhaustion that had been kept at bay by his more pressing need washed over him. Before he slipped into a fitful sleep, he ran through the events of the past hour in his mind, wishing desperately that he had listened to that cautious, hesitant voice in his head.

Wednesday, October 26, 1977

Remus stared down at the book in his lap as he fought to stay awake. His eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and the lure of the blissful oblivion of sleep was irresistible. Just finish this chapter, he told himself. Just finish this chapter and you can go to bed. The few remaining pages felt like an insurmountable obstacle, yet he focused his attention on the page in front of him and read the same sentence for the third time.

"Are you all right?"

The unexpected question startled him, and he looked up to see Seven peering down at him with a concerned expression creasing her features. He rubbed his eyes and nodded, attempting a grin, although he suspected it looked more like a grimace.

"I'm fine. Everything's fine. I'm just trying to finish this chapter."

He sighed and gestured down at the textbook, wondering if he should apologize for leaving in a hurry on Monday night. The words formed on his lips, but then he lost his nerve and fiddled with the edge of his sleeve instead. He did not have the mental energy to figure out the correct way to handle this situation, so instead he tried to return his focus to the book.

"You look exhausted," she observed.

He almost snapped at her, because honestly, why did people think it was helpful to tell him he looked tired? Did they think making the observation would somehow give him a burst of energy? But of course she was only concerned about him rather than intentionally trying to needle him, so he took a deep breath and nodded.

"I'm a bit tired," he said. "But I'm fine."

She grinned. "Yeah, you said that." She glanced around at the empty seats surrounding him. "Where's everybody else?"

"James is still showering after practice, I expect. Lily went off somewhere but was vague about the details, so I suspect she's meeting him in the Prefect's bathroom. Sirius and Mary are up in the dormitory. And Peter went to get snacks because I didn't go down to dinner, even though I told him I'm not hungry and I'm not going to eat anything so he's just wasting his time." He looked up to meet her gaze and sighed again. "Sorry, that was a lot of information you probably didn't need. I'm just a bit, you know, tired."

"Come on, then," she said, offering him a hand up.

He blinked at her, unsure whether his sleep-deprived brain was missing something obvious, but when nothing revealed itself to him, he asked, "Come where, exactly?"

"We're going to the reading spot," she said. "You look like you could use someone to read to you, and I seem to owe you from last time."

"You don't owe me," he said, trying not to think about how nice it would be to recline against the pillows with a blanket tucked around him while Seven read to him in her sweet, calm voice. "I can just finish up on my own. I'm almost done."

"Rubbish. It'll be much faster if I read to you. Come on, before anyone comes back and starts asking questions."

Her hand remained outstretched in front of him, and after a moment's hesitation Remus took it and allowed her to help him to his feet. Tucking the book under his arm, he followed her out of the common room and down the corridor to the familiar tapestry. As he stepped through after her and settled onto the cushions, he felt a nagging sense that he shouldn't have come back here after what he had done Monday night, but he was too tired to feel an appropriate level of guilt.

"Put your head in my lap if you like," she said, and he did so, feeling himself relax as she traced his face with cool fingers. "What chapter are you on?"

"Ten," he said, sighing with resignation. "I'm about four pages in, although you may as well start from the beginning, because I don't think I absorbed any of it."

"Fine by me," she said, flipping through the book until she reached the correct page. "That gives us more time together."
"Seven," he said, reaching out to touch her hand before she could start reading. "I'm really sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about." She smiled down at him and began to read, but Remus touched her hand again and stopped her.

"Yes I do. Just listen for a second," he said, taking a deep breath. "I shouldn't have ran out on you like that, and I shouldn't have avoided you yesterday. I just…"

A dull ache was forming behind his eyes, and the words he needed hovered just out of reach. He rubbed his temples then tried again.

"I didn't want you to think…"

"It's okay," she said, putting a finger to his lips. "I understand."

He cast her a dubious look. "No offense, but I really don't think you do."

"I think I do," she insisted. "You let me see a side of yourself that you're ashamed of, and you're afraid I'll think differently about you now that I've seen that side of you. But I don't. I like you just as much as ever, and it makes me sad that you feel that way, because you have nothing to be ashamed of."

Her words soothed his weary, troubled mind, and he closed his eyes for a moment, wishing he could believe that he truly didn't have anything to be ashamed of.

"You don't know that," he said, desperate for her to understand, because it felt wrong to let her think so highly of him when she had no idea just how much he did have to be ashamed of. "There are things you don't understand, that you couldn't understand-"

"I understand enough to know you're a good person," she said, putting her finger to his lips again. "And that's all I need to know. No matter what dark, mysterious secrets you have that you think would change my mind, nothing changes the fact that you're a good person."

She bent and kissed his forehead, and he felt himself relaxing into her touch, in spite of the pain in his head that had increased to a steady pounding.

"Besides," she added, smiling down at him. "I find it hard to believe that someone who wears a jumper with bloody elbow patches and whose diet is at least 25% chocolate could have any sort of deep, dark, horrible secret. Just doesn't fit, does it?"

"Seven," he protested, smiling in spite of himself.

"Now be quiet and let me read before you fall asleep," she said.

Her tone was firm and determined, and Remus had so little energy that he gave up and resolved to come back to this topic when he had a bit more brain power.

"Make sure I don't fall asleep," he said, pulling the blanket up to his chin and adjusting the position of his head on her lap. "Poke me or something if I do, all right? I need to hear this chapter."

"I will poke you if you even look like you're thinking about falling asleep," she assured him, although her expression suggested she was not prepared to follow through on this promise.

Remus grinned, deciding he was too tired to worry about it, and settled in to listen to her soft, rhythmic voice reading his Charms book.