AN: Thanks so much to kate07, bechilldarling, and catbugmeow for your reviews! Thanks also to the 15 of you who have favorited and the 23 of you who have already followed this story. It's so motivating to get these. Reviews are life. Also, if you have any suggestions for quotes to start out the chapters feel free to let me know.

Chapter 5

I love you neither with my heart, nor with my mind.
My heart might stop, my mind can forget.
I love you with my soul, because my soul never stops or forgets.

- Rumi

Remus turned this way and that in front of his bathroom mirror, trying to make sure he'd successfully shaved all of his facial hair. Though the shave made him look less shabby, it made the scars on his cheeks more visible. Running a finger across his most recent ones, Remus sighed at his reflection. Brushing his graying hair out of his face, he felt old and insecure. He pushed moodily at the dark circles beneath his eyes. Though they were fading a bit now that the full moon had passed, his sleep the previous night had been poor and had done little to hurry their departure from his face.

Turning away from the mirror to dress, Remus' confidence was not emboldened upon rifling through his wardrobe. Everything seemed too old, worn, and threadbare. He finally settled on a casual pair of slacks and a faded button down. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows to hide the fraying cuffs and ran his fingers across the slightly wrinkled fabric. Glancing up at the clock he saw that it was nearly ten thirty. Sliding on his shoes, he thought that he might as well go early and wait for her instead of lounging about the house and bemoaning his ragged appearance.

If he didn't leave soon, he felt that he might chicken out and not go at all, but that wouldn't be fair to Rose. Though he had immediately regretted accepting her invitation to catch up upon agreeing to the outing, he had agreed to it and needed to keep his word. Just seeing her for a few minutes had twisted the knife that had been stuck in his heart since the first week of June. Her tear-stained face and profession of love had haunted him all this time. How much would spending time with her, talking to her, listening to the sound of her laughter, seeing the dimples appearing on her cheeks increase the pain he'd been dealing with since he'd left her? And what would he do if she told him she loved him again? He didn't think his heart could take it. But, as he'd experienced during the school year, Rose's presence was almost drug-like in its addictiveness to him.

'Just one quick meal. One meal, and I'll go,' he thought to himself before turning on the spot and disapparating.

Walking through the Leaky Cauldron, Remus was frustrated to find that the change in scenery only served to increase his anxiety rather than quell it. Part of him was terrified that Rose was going to turn up in her best dress robes and take him to an expensive local where he would feel and look incredibly out of place. With both of their pictures so recently in the Prophet, he was sure they would attract attention. He couldn't help feeling that this was a disaster waiting to happen.

All thoughts of anxiety and regret were driven from his mind when he rounded the corner of the alley and saw Rose leaning against a lamppost, nervously twisting a strand of red hair around her finger. Far from wearing her best dress robes, she was wearing a pair of faded jean shorts that showed off her long legs and a black Weird Sister's band tee that fell casually off one shoulder. His eyes lingered on the expanse of skin revealed there, lost for a moment in memories of planting kisses on the curve of her neck and remembering the taste of her skin. Sunlight streamed down onto the red hair she'd tied back into a high pony and each curl seemed made of liquid fire. Glancing up when he approached, she smiled brilliantly at him—a smile that made his heart accelerate traitorously in his ribcage and drew a similar grin from his own lips when moments before he had felt as though he'd never smile again.

"Good morning Remus," Rose greeted, her fingers scrunching and unscrunching the hem of her t-shirt nervously. He was frustrated to find that he still loved the way his name sounded coming from her lips. His mind unhelpfully supplied memories of other times when his name escaped her lips far breathier and needier.

"Hello Rose," he responded, smiling despite himself at her warm expression while simultaneously berating himself for where his mind had gone. "I thought you might be a little more haggard this morning given Sam's recent firewhiskey purchase."

"The miracles of pepper-up potion," she explained with a shrug, and her eyes ran over him, taking in his appearance. Remus immediately felt self-conscious, running a hand through his hair. He felt like apologizing for his attire but was stopped by the light blush that rose to her cheeks.

"You look nice," she said, glancing at one of the shop windows to avoid meeting his eyes. It was the same look she used to get on her face when he'd catch her staring at him while she was supposed to be marking papers. Heat pooled in his stomach at the unexpected realization that for some incomprehensible reason, she sincerely found him attractive. It was a fact that would never cease to amaze him.

"So do you," he answered, and her warm hazel eyes flickered to his. He cleared his throat and glanced around the alley. "Breakfast, then?"

"Yes, um, it's a short walk if you don't mind," Rose said hurriedly, and Remus began to follow along beside her as she walked. The pair kept a careful distance from each other, and he had to work hard to keep from staring at her. Remus could count on both hands the number of times he'd seen her out of her school uniform and walking around with her outside of the Hogwarts grounds felt almost unnatural.

To his surprise, she led him out of Diagon Alley and into muggle London. The pair walked in awkward silence, and there were a few times where he thought she was about to say something, but no words came out. For his part, Remus was at a loss as to what to say to her. The one thing that kept jumping to his mind was the urge to apologize for hurting her, but it seemed inappropriate to bring up now. If he was going to apologize for anything it made much more sense to apologize for allowing their relationship to progress as far as it had—he'd been her Professor for Merlin's sake. He'd been wallowing in guilt over the whole thing for the past month, and maybe that guilt was what was keeping him from asking for her forgiveness. Did he even deserve to be forgiven?

The café they arrived at was tucked in an out of the way side street and was comfortable and cute. A young man with a lip piercing took them to a booth and laid out menus for them. Remus couldn't help glaring at him for the way he was eyeing Rose so blatantly. Didn't he have any self-respect? Didn't he see the ring on her finger? His stomach gave an unpleasant jolt when he realized that the ring was conspicuously absent from her hand today. He wasn't quite sure how to feel about that development—it both excited and unnerved him.

"Can I bring you something to drink," the man asked, flicking dark hair out of his eyes and leaning casually with one hand on the edge of the table. Remus clenched his hands into fists irritably. Even if she didn't have a ring they were there together, he didn't need to be so obvious about his interest. Lupin realized with embarrassment that the server probably thought he was an older relative—perhaps even her father. He sank lower in the booth and stared at the menu, his lips pressing together tightly.

"I'll have a coffee, what about you Remus," Rose asked. Their eyes met over the top of the menu and she smiled at him again. He felt something in his chest tighten at being the recipient of her full attention and he felt some tension leave his shoulders and jaw.

"Make that two," he told the server, enjoying the disgruntled look the boy was giving Rose at her audacity to not even look at him for the entire interaction. Remus couldn't help an adolescent smugness that spread through his chest.

Remus went back to reading over the menu, and his eyes were drawn to their brunch special—chocolate chip pancakes. He swallowed thickly, trying to decide whether it was a coincidence or whether she'd remembered when he'd told her they were his favorite breakfast food. Setting down the menu he silently watched her while her eyes continued to skim her own. They flickered up to meet his and the moment reminded him strongly of the many stolen glances they'd exchanged over the tops of essays at Hogwarts. This time, however, she let her eyes linger on his own rather than immediately flick away in embarrassment. When she finally let them drop back to the menu, he swallowed hard, realizing his mouth had gone quite dry.

"Have you gotten your N.E.W.T.s results back yet," he asked suddenly just as the server set down their coffees. The man looked at him oddly before heading off to another table.

"Oh, yes, all outstandings," Rose grinned proudly, and he smiled back at her.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

The pair lapsed back into silence, and Remus focused on his coffee, looking around for the sugar bowl only to find that Rose was already sliding it over to him. Their fingers brushed when he took it from her, and her fingers were uncharacteristically warm from holding her own cup of coffee. When he glanced up at her, he found she was staring down at her own coffee in silence. He carefully spooned sugar into the bitter drink, topping it off with a splash of milk. Rose was already sipping her black coffee by the time he was done, and he wondered at her ability to drink the hot beverage without scalding herself.

"What can I get the two of you two eat," their server asked upon his return. Remus ordered the chocolate chip pancakes while Rose ordered a spicy omelet. The grin on her face when he placed his order confirmed that she'd certainly remembered that they were his favorite. The thought of her coming here with Sam and thinking of him filled him with such a strong sensation of remorse that he couldn't help the words that began to spill out of his lips.

"Rose, I'm so sorry for the way I treated you this year. I should have never allowed things to go as far as they did. I was irresponsible and unprofessional. I was your professor and you trusted me, and I took advantage of your feelings. I know I hurt you, but it was better that things ended the way they did. If we'd kept going, I would have made you miserable," he babbled, unable to stop himself. Rose was observing him silently over the brim of her coffee cup looking as though this sudden tirade was quite expected. Taking a sip of her drink, she carefully set the cup back in its saucer. Only the tight press of her lips betrayed that she was not quite as calm as she appeared.

"Did you get that out of your system," she asked dryly, managing to keep most of the irritation out of her voice. Remus felt immediately defensive about having his apology dismissed so easily. He'd expected tears or outright anger. Somehow this resigned tolerance—as if she were doing him a favor by humoring him—was worse than either.

"Rose, I'm perfectly serious—"

"Yes, I'm well aware of your need to make everything about you by now," she said, and this time the bitterness was perfectly evident in her voice. Remus gaped at her. Rose was not one of the more selfless people he'd met in his life, and he found it a bit rich that she was accusing him of being self-absorbed.

"I'm not making this about me," he objected furiously while she took another sip of coffee.

"Look," she said harshly, setting her cup back onto the table hard enough to make large waves ripple dangerously across the surface of the beverage. "I'm sorry that you have this self-sacrificial complex that makes you think that everything that happened between us was somehow your fault. I don't feel embarrassed about what happened, I don't regret a single kiss or moment together. And I'm sorry you're hoping to relieve some feelings of guilt by asking my forgiveness. I'm not going to belittle myself by offering it. I wanted to be with you—I still want to be with you—and you wouldn't even let us try before you decided things couldn't possibly work."

Remus was kept from saying more by the arrival of their food. The server awkwardly set the dishes in front of them, obviously picking up on the shift in mood at their table. He watched Rose viciously stab her omelet and decided that now wasn't the moment to continue pressing the point. He could see the two small patches of red that appeared on the tops of her cheekbones when she was angry. So instead of speaking he doused his pancakes in syrup and cut them into manageable pieces—perhaps a bit more aggressively than he needed. The fact that they were absolutely delicious when he took a bite was somehow irritating.

"I didn't want you to get hurt," he said quietly between bites of food. It was the wrong thing to say. Rose sneered at him.

"Well, good thing that didn't happen," she said sarcastically and went back to ignoring him. Remus felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

The pair spent the rest of their meal in silence. Rose was fuming and Remus' mind was whirling, thinking over her accusations. He thought her assertion that he had a 'self-sacrificial complex' unfair. Rose had long made clear her disapproval of his tendency to wallow in guilt and self-deprecation, but she had never seen how he was treated by other wizards outside of Hogwarts. She didn't know the pain of being an outcast—of being reviled by those who didn't even know you. No, for most of her life she'd been respected and given everything she'd ever wanted. Who was she to so easily dismiss the pain and guilt he'd been feeling over the past month as nothing more than self-centered grandstanding? And yes he had hurt her, and he felt terrible about it but wasn't a broken heart better than a life of poverty and derision?

By the time their meal was over, they still hadn't spoken, but Rose had begun to look more tired and less angry.

"I live just around the corner," Rose said when they emerged from the restaurant. "Will you… walk me home?"

Remus looked at her in surprise at the request and saw the way she was staring at the ground and chewing on her lower lip. It was the face she made when she was feeling guilty about something but too proud to apologize. It was the same look she'd made when she'd returned to his office after a week of avoiding him upon finding out he was a werewolf. With a sigh, he nodded, and to his surprise Rose wrapped her arm around his, leaning her head against his shoulder while they walked. He knew he should step away. He knew he should probably leave now. But the warm feeling that spread through his body at her familiar touch was something he couldn't so easily defend against. He had forgotten just how safe and loved he felt in her arms. The knife in his heart twisted deeper.

Fortunately for him—or so he told himself—the walk was a short one. She paused when they arrived outside of an expensive looking apartment building. Remus' stomach squirmed at the sight and he wondered if Stefan Dolohov was waiting for her and if he would notice that she was not wearing his ring on her finger. The guilt he was still harboring dampened the jealous anger he felt at the thought of the man who by now must have become just as intimately familiar with Rose's body as he had been. Remus shook his head slightly to clear it of those unhelpful thoughts. He had been the one to push her back into Dolohov's arms after all. What right did he have to be jealous?

"Well, this is me. We're at the top," Rose said, gesturing towards the building. She looked hesitant and slightly nauseous as she slid her arm out of his. Her self-righteous anger from earlier seemed to have been tempered by the obvious desire for him to stay. And Remus could see the melancholy adoration in her hazel eyes when she looked at him, and he felt suddenly as though he couldn't breathe.

"This was nice, we should do it again," she said desperately. Remus couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips at this statement. The outing had been disastrous and they both knew it. She gave him a shrug and a smirk in return, fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt once more. "Well, it could have been worse."

"How," he asked curiously with a small smile.

"The food could have been bad," she answered simply. Remus chuckled again.

"That's true," he acquiesced.

Rose took a deep breath as though working herself up for something. She looked up at him from beneath long eyelashes, her fidgeting stilling for a moment, and Remus suddenly knew what she was going to ask. Panic swept over him.

"Do you want to—"

"I should go," he said before she could complete her invitation to come upstairs. He was sure that if he did, the two would quickly become involved in activities he would later regret.

"Oh," she said simply, trying to hide her disappointment.

"Rose… I can't…." he said, not sure how to explain all of the conflicting emotions going on in his mind. She shrugged as though his refusal hadn't bothered her but didn't quite meet his eyes with her own when she turned away.

"Thanks for breakfast," she said as she hurried into the apartment, and Remus ran his fingers through his hair in frustration before turning on his heel and looking for an empty alley where he could apparate. The whole morning had been a complete disaster just as he'd known it would be. He should never have agreed to the outing to begin with but at least it was over. Now he could return to his empty house and go back to trying to forget about her. He let the bitterness crowd out the other feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him—especially the ones of longing and desire at the thought of how they might have had a much more pleasurable ending to their outing if he'd only followed her upstairs.

Rose slammed the door of her room closed and fell back on her bed in frustration. Clothes were still strewn across the floor from when she'd anxiously torn through most of her wardrobe that morning while deciding what to wear for their outing. She wished she could go back to the excitement she'd felt that morning at the idea of seeing him again. Now all she felt was irritation—both at Remus and at herself.

'Why did I say that to him,' she thought, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. With a groan she rolled over and buried her face in a pillow. She knew why she'd said it. Remus' tendency to mire himself in feelings of guilt and responsibility for things outside of his control was possibly the thing she disliked the most about him. It was that same characteristic that had informed his decision to refuse to let them try to be together. It was as if he was intent on sabotaging any chance he had for happiness. What angered her the most was that he had decided for her how she was going to feel had their relationship become a public scandal. She'd ultimately had no say in the matter. And the idea that he'd broken things off for her own good was patronizing enough, but then for him to start acting like she'd had no say in the entire relationship when she'd been actively pursuing him—Rose hadn't been able to contain her anger any longer.

She didn't think that what she'd said was wrong, though part of Rose recognized that Remus was just attempting to keep her safe. But why couldn't he see that she hadn't wanted safety; she'd wanted him. Why was it so hard for him to believe that he made her feel happy and loved and that—to her own surprise—those feelings had become more important to her than something as trivial as other people's approval? Was she really as untrustworthy and selfish as his fears implied? Would she really have run once she got a taste of what a relationship with a werewolf was like? Now it was unlikely either of them would ever find out. She was married for one. And for another, she'd spent most of their attempt at catching up making him angry with her when she could have been trying to win him back. Rose turned her head to the side and stared at the Love-Glass in which not a single grain of sand stirred. A feeling of deep loneliness swept over her, and Rose closed her eyes, hoping sleep would overtake her.

Before she could fall asleep, she heard the door to the apartment open. Slowly dragging herself out of bed, she poked her head out of the door and saw Stefan walking through the kitchen with his overnight bag—he looked tired but content. He glanced up when she approached and smiled.

"How was your weekend," he asked and to her complete embarrassment she started to cry. Rose quickly hid her face in her hands, willing the tears to stop. She heard the bag he was holding drop to the ground, and suddenly his arms were around her, and he was gently stroking her hair. Rose buried her face in the crook of his neck and let the tears fall.