A/N: I apologize for the strangeness of this chapter, but it was something I had stuck in my head and it needed to be written and posted. Thus begins the second chapter of Not Quite Love: a Remus/Ginny anthology.

Remus J. Lupin was always much too calm for my liking. It amazed (and, to some degree, horrified) me that he could sit perfectly still and silent for over an hour, even in a time of chaos. Fred and George used to say that if a clan of Death Eaters showed up on Lupin's front step, he'd smile and invite them in for tea and biscuits. I didn't doubt it. The man had never shown a bit of raw emotion in all of the years I knew him, and even though I joked about it I found myself cross with him.

I'm the kind of person who believes in living life to the fullest, as Mum would say. Any opportunity to feel something that goes unnoticed is very much a sin in my eyes, and although I was sure that my ex-professor didn't really give a damn, I decided that it was my mission to make him. Which is why I started throwing things at the bloke.

It was a simple goal I had in mind: cause him to explode. Either with rage or joy or terror, I really didn't care. I suppose I just wanted a manifestation of feeling, something to let me know that he was actually in there behind his authority and morbid sense of humor.

The first time I did it we were staying at 12 Grimmauld Place, and he had shut himself up in a study for what he called "a bit of reading". The door was locked, which made sense when one considers that Mundungus Fletcher had returned for the summer holiday, and upon discovering this I was very unnerved. I wasn't allowed to use magic outside of school, and most of the rooms had no windows...

Then I remembered something very important that Fred and George had taught me. It was something Muggle children did called Doorbell Ditching, where you'd knock on the door (or ring the bell) and then run. It wasn't very amusing on most occasions, unless it was late at night or the Ditcher had left a bag of flaming something-or-other for the Ditchee to discover, but as I considered and reconsidered I decided it would serve my purpose.

I armed myself with an egg, knocked, and hid behind a corner across the hall. Lupin answered.

The egg didn't phase him. He glanced around, raised an eyebrow, and went back to his reading with the door firmly shut. Well, I was determined. I kept chucking eggs and peeled bananas and cups of jelly -- later moving onto mixtures of custard and shampoo, potions with interesting side effects and -- once, when I was feeling particularly bitter about things -- a clock. I kept throwing things until I was well into being sixteen, when I finally decided that enough was enough.

It was the middle of winter holiday when I went to talk to him and he was, as I had predicted, reading again. Brushing up on some rather old spells for the ongoing war against Voldemort. He looked up when I entered, sighed at the distraction, and set his book on a nearby table.

"Ginny," he said, sounding indifferent. "Come in, have a seat. What can I help you with?"

I had planned everything I was going to say, but as I sat down and stared at him the words escaped me. He kept giving me the most irritating look, mildly curious and that was all.

"Remus," I said, trying to keep my voice level. "I'm afraid you're impossible."

"Yes... Yes, I am." he replied.

I wasn't expecting that. I wasn't expecting anything, really, but he admitted it and part of me was overjoyed. But he just kept, well, looking at me, which was disconcerting. It was making me very angry that through several things being hurled at his head, an intrusion on his privacy and an accusation of emotional detachment he could sit there, calm as you please, and stare at me.

I never have been a person to keep my anger a secret.

"What is it going to take to get a reaction?" I remember half-shouting. "Do you want me to throw a bloody cow at you?"

I said a lot of other things that I don't recall now, but what I do remember is the fact that we both stood up and had a very long argument. I was irrational and heated, he was collected and reasonable.I shouted at him for near fifteen minutes before he reached out, placed a hand on my shoulder and said:

"Ginny, just because I don't show things doesn't mean I don't feel them."

I asked him what that was supposed to mean. He said it wasn't important. But this idea of him feeling things and hiding it began to intrigue me -- I pressed the matter further with all sorts of obnoxious questions. The kind that were usually expected from small, hyperactive children.

He gave me an exasperated look. "I can't tell you."

"Then show me, you great bloody liar."

By this time, I could hear the majority of the household headed up the stairs to see what in the world could be going on. My opponent was beginning to look thoroughly disheveled and I was silently basking in the start of my victory.

"I can't," he muttered, looking slightly uncomfortable. "I can't. Just leave it at that, would you?"

I didn't understand why he couldn't show me what he was feeling. Surely it couldn't be anything wrong, because he was Remus Lupin and he was decent as he was distant. It couldn't be disturbing...

"Just do it," I intoned.

He did it. He looked so hesitant and horrified, more emotion than I had ever seen on his face suddenly making itself known... But he did it. He leaned in and whispered a kiss to my lips, barely allowing them to touch but conveying enough feeling to knock me off of my feet.

He pulled back just in time for the remainder of the Order to pull open the door, and for Ron to ask what the hell were we shouting for.