DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the content referenced/quoted. Warning for swearing.
...
The Decision
The Christmas of 1977 arrives and Remus remains the only Marauder giving Em the silent treatment.
By this point, half the shops in Hogsmeade have closed, their dark and empty windows looming over the street. Danders is the last remaining bookshop in the village - but even he decides to start closing his other branches after a particularly bad bout of Fiendfyre destroys part of Diagon Alley.
Privately, Em thinks he is running when he still has the chance.
Her mum decides to return to her publishing job in Glasgow a month before Danders reveals his plans to close his other branches. Em is the only employee left by then, so when he asks for her help with sorting out the remaining stock the week before Cass returns from Hogwarts, Em jumps at the chance.
"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Isobel asks again.
Em shakes her head firmly, her gaze averted from her mother's probing one.
"There's still so much to clear and it's Danders' last day before the holidays," she says simply.
The clouds are darkening outside threatening fresh snow. Her mother is going to end up soaked.
"If you're sure," Isobel hovers at the doorway. Her eyes dart towards the clock before moving back to her youngest daughter.
Em only smiles at her mum. She has no desire to be anywhere near Hogwarts today.
"I am," she says. "I'll catch up with you and Cass once I've cleared the last of these boxes."
Her mother hesitates and then nods, "Ok, but maybe, maybe we could go out for a meal. To celebrate, I mean. Maybe The Three Broomsticks?"
Em nods and smiles brightly, even though she knows that her mother's offer will not come to pass.
"Sounds great, mum."
Isobel sighs and then reaches over quickly to press a firm kiss on her daughter's forehead. She turns to the door with trembling hands, "I won't be too long."
"I know," Em says. "I love you."
"Love you too."
Then, she opens the door and steps out onto deserted Hogsmeade street. She walks briskly away, head low as she disappears around the corner.
Em sighs, deflating over the counter. She knows the exact route her mother will take to Hogwarts, she can see it clearly in her head. And a part of her, a very small part, longs to go with her.
But the thought of coming face to face with-
She shakes off the thought. If she focuses on it too long she can almost see the three boys lingering in the school halls and laughing as the school slowly empties around them.
Almost as if she had seen it in a dream.
She shakes her head, dislodging the thoughts and turns to the nearest cardboard box.
It's as she's reaching down for the box that something catches her eye. Just beyond the front window, amongst the thin blanket of snow that has already fallen on the streets of Hogsmeade, a tall, narrow figure paces back and forth outside the shop.
Em pauses, staring at the figure. She slowly rises, gaze glued to the window, as the man - at least she thinks it's a man - completes another circle of eight outside the shop.
She moves closer to the foggy window, and wipes away the condensation to see - Remus. It's Remus pacing back and forth in the middle of the streets, gesticulating wildly as he talks to himself. The sudden sight of him brings her to a brief halt. He is much taller than she remembers, and she can see new scars peeking out from underneath his shirt collar. Her heart breaks at the sight of them.
Em watches him go back and forth a few times curiously, but can't find any clue as to what he is doing.
She starts to move towards the door, and without thinking, pulls it open and steps outside.
It's bitterly cold and she shivers as she hovers at the entrance to the shop in her silly Christmas jumper and jeans.
"Remus."
Her words stop the boy abruptly in his path and he turns wide amber eyes towards her, his mouth dropping open silently.
"What are you doing?" She asks.
"I, uh, I came, I mean I'm here because…fuck…" he stumbles over his words, his mittened hands picking awkwardly at his jumper sleeves.
He is wearing the scarf she knitted him all those Christmases ago, she realises abruptly as he continues to stutter over a response to her question. His face is flushed from the cold, body hunched inside his woolly jumper. He must have been standing out here for a while, she thinks.
"...uh that is to say, I mean," he stops. Then he looks her straight in the eye, "I'm here to say I'm sorry."
"I figured," she says slowly, "I meant what are you doing pacing about in the snow?"
Remus blinks at her.
"Oh, I was…" he mumbles, "I was practising."
"You were practising?" Em shivers as a particularly cold breeze blows right through her, and hugs her hands under her armpits.
Remus' eyes follow her movement, "Yes, I was, uh, practising my apology."
Silence falls between them. Em watches as Remus shifts awkwardly in the snow, and tries not to think about how long it might take before frostbite takes hold of her already numb fingers.
"Well?" She prompts him. "It's taken you two years, so it better be a good one."
"I, ok, I mean," Remus halts. "Wait a minute, have you been waiting for an apology for two years?"
"Well, it's not like I could force one out of you. You made it pretty clear you didn't want to talk to me."
"Hang on, you stopped writing to me too," he says.
"Because you stopped replying!" She snaps, "What was I supposed to do, continue trying to talk to a brick wall? Even James apologised before you and he didn't even really do anything wrong!"
Remus' eyes widen, "You've been talking to James?"
"What, surprised I still have friends?" Her eyes narrow as she advances on Remus.
"No, that's not what I me-"
"Surprised that they're still talking to me when you dropped me like it was yesterday's news?"
"No, Em, I-"
"You don't get to call me that!"
Em stands an inch away from a startled Remus. Tears are streaming down her face, chest heaving with anger, her fists clenched and shaking. Remus' face is torn, and she knows that he is upset. She knows that he has come to apologise, something she has waited a long time for- but anger has wound its way around her throat, shaping words like sharp knives.
She steps back, turning away from him.
"You don't get to call me Em."
She wracks a hand through her hair, tries to catch her breath before she says something she'll regret.
"I know, Remus," she says. "I know that you're a werewolf. I know that's why you stopped talking to me. I know that's why you have that little voice in your head that tells you you're not worthy of friends, or loved ones."
Remus' fists tighten. He averts his gaze as she looks up.
"I never told you I knew because I was worried this would happen," she says. "So I tried to be subtle about it, tell you in other ways. There was a reason I looked into the Shrieking Shack, Remus."
His head shoots up to look at her, his eyes wide.
"After what happened with Snape, I thought I'd give you some space, some time to clear your head," she says, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I thought you would come back eventually."
Em wipes at her cheeks furiously, scrubbing her skin red raw. Remus takes a step forward, then another, until he's close enough to grasp her hands and gently pull them away from her face. She stares up at him, eyes swollen, face tearstained, and the scent of oranges - sweet but sharp but salty - fills his lungs.
He gently folds her into his arms, tucking her under his chin as her tears become sobs.
"I'm sorry," he says. She sobs into his chest, his jumper catching her tears, "I didn't - I'm sorry."
Em tightens her grasp around him.
"I'm going to fight for you, Remus Lupin," she says. "No matter how many times you run or hide from me, I'll find you and drag you back by the scruff of your neck, you hear?"
"Em," he sighs. "You've got to know how dangerous I am, I-"
"No," she shakes her head. "I don't believe that."
"Em," he says sternly.
"Do you have any werewolf urges right now?"
"I mean, my senses are definitely better than yours-"
"But you don't want to, like, eat me though, right?"
He lurches away from her, so he can see her puffy, red eyes staring back at him, "No, of course not!"
Em's face slips into a smug grin, "Then you're not dangerous."
"Em-"
"Remus, I love you."
He freezes, his eyes going wide as his whole body shudders to a stop. Em stares up at him determinedly, his gaze warm but stern.
Snow starts to fall.
"I know you're not ready to hear that," she says quietly. "One day you will be, but right now, you're not. But I'm going to tell you this just this once, so that you know that I, Em Withers, insignificant muggle that I am, love you, Remus Lupin."
Fat flakes come to rest on Remus' hat and face, the white icy catching on his long lashes.
"You don't need to say it back," she says. "For now, I just think you need to know that you're loved. You're an idiot, but you're loved, and nothing will change that."
Em buries her face into the cold wet of his jumper, her arms coming around his narrow middle to grasp him tightly.
Remus' heart is pounding in his chest. He considers, briefly, pulling her from him; he could do it, he is certainly strong enough. His hands uncertainly hover over her arms. He can feel her soft breath against his jumper and the citrus scent that has been haunting him fills his senses.
He tried to ignore her constant stream of letters, the odd parcels that sometimes appeared at the Gryffindor table or at his parent's wobbly breakfast table filled with lopsided scarves, worn conkers, and newspaper articles. But while he had the courage to return her gifts, he hadn't been able to part with her letters. They slowed after a time, and eventually stopped - leaving him only with the words she'd previously sent him.
And then there was 'Emma'.
That had been the first night he thought about writing back. But by then, he wasn't sure how to bridge the rift between them. So he had done nothing.
Remus inhales, filling his lungs full of that citrus scent. Fresh oranges, sweet but sharp, it makes him think of Autumn when the leaves grow warm and fall from the trees or the lazy sunset that paints the sky in pink and red hues.
He places his hands on her arms softly and sighs.
She loosens her grip and he looks down at her. The snow is falling thick and fast now, and were he not a werewolf, it would be difficult to pick out the subtle changes in her face through the curtain of snowflakes. Her face is different, sharper, but her large eyes still look up at him the same way. Em is older, but she's still his Em.
He has missed her.
He gathers his arms around her carefully and pulls her close. The green thing in her chest sprouts and something new begins to grow.
"I'm sorry," he says again, because there is nothing else for him to say just now. They both know this.
"I know," she whispers back.
He closes his eyes, allowing her scent to wash over him.
Her voice pipes up eventually, "Why did you change your mind?"
Remus mutters into her hair, his words lost amongst the snowflakes that have settled there and the riotous curls.
Em peels back from him to peer up, "What did you say?"
"Lily said yes to James."
Em blinks at him and then a big snort breaks free. His face flushes as she laughs with unbridled joy.
"James achieves the impossible, so you decided to do the same?"
"No," he mutters, "I just realised how much I wanted to tell you."
Em shakes her head at him, "Boys, you're all idiots."
His grin turns wolfish as she continues to laugh, their happiness rising above them like a cloud.
And snow continues to fall.