Sunday, February 5, 1978

Muffled voices reached Remus's ears as he floated in and out of consciousness. Dull, throbbing pain squeezed his head, and nausea twisted his stomach. He rolled over, trying to block out the noise, but it was no use. The voices rose and fell, punctuated by the occasional laugh. Prongs, you loud fucker, he thought resentfully, heaving a sigh and opening his eyes. He scanned his surroundings, fighting back the queasiness as his foggy brain made sense of disparate pieces of information. Seven lay beside him, the blanket pulled up so that only her eyes and the top of her head were visible. The hangings around his bed were wide open, letting in far too much sunlight. James and Lily sat on James's bed talking to Sirius, who looked about as happy to be alive as Remus felt.

"–don't see what's so embarrassing," James was saying, putting a comforting arm around Lily. "At least you didn't fall off the sofa."

"No, you're right," she snapped. "Hugging our Charms professor while drunk at the pub is a perfectly normal thing to do."

"You're just a friendly drunk," James said. "I think it's adorable."

"Hey, Remus is alive," Mary said, emerging from the bathroom and crawling back into bed with Sirius. Her skin was pale, and there were dark smudges of mascara under her eyes.

He lifted his hand to give a feeble wave and noticed something smeared across his arm. The bare skin of his arm… Horrified, he sat bolt upright. He had fallen asleep without even getting under the covers, and in his drunken stupor he had apparently removed both his shirt and his trousers. In the bright morning sunlight his scars stood out against his pale skin, each one an unavoidable reminder of his shame and pain. Heart pounding, he tugged at the blankets, but he couldn't manage to budge them without getting out of bed.

"You good?" Sirius asked, frowning as Remus heaved himself off the bed and steadied himself against the bed post.

"Where the fuck are my clothes?" Remus growled, sliding into bed and pulling the covers up to hide his exposed skin.

"You're wearing pants," Sirius said, unconcerned. "I'd be more concerned about why you're covered in frosting, to be honest. But even that's more interesting than concerning."

"I think I'm wearing your clothes," Seven said. She pushed herself upright to lean back against the headboard, revealing Remus's favorite cardigan draping her thin frame. He noticed a tiny spot of frosting on one of the elbow patches. "Or, at least your jumper." She lifted the blankets and peeked underneath, then grinned. "Yeah, I don't have your trousers on, because I, er, don't have any trousers on."

"Proud of you, Seven." James strolled over to stand beside Remus's bed. His voice and his grin and his overwhelming cheerfulness grated on Remus's nerves. "Your trousers were down in the common room. I brought them back up after my run." He pointed at a crumpled pair of trousers lying on top of Remus's trunk.

Remus groaned and pressed his hands to his face. The pounding in his head was getting worse, and he wanted nothing more than to pull the curtains shut and fall asleep while Seven stroked cool fingers across his forehead. Except now he felt a squirm of shame every time he looked at Seven, because he had allowed her to see a side of himself he kept hidden, his scars laid bare for all his friends to see. How could he have let his guard down like that? Anyone could have come down to the common room and seen him parading around like a bloody idiot. He couldn't afford to make mistakes like that, to risk discovery when it would mean such disastrous consequences. His thoughts whirled as a tightness squeezed his chest; he tried to take deep breaths but couldn't banish the image of Seven's face twisting in disgust as she took in the faded network of scars covering his body.

"Moony." He registered James's voice, but it was faint, far-away. "Moony, you're okay." The words pierced the haze of panic, but he couldn't choke out a reply.

"Hey." Cool, gentle fingers cupped his face as Seven's voice whispered in his ear. "You all right?"

With a colossal effort he nodded and took her hand. "Fine. Just, you know, trying not to vomit on you."

He lay back against the pillow and stared at the canopy above his bed until his heartbeat returned to normal. When he took stock of his surroundings again, he was surprised to see that everyone else had left.

"Lily, James, and Peter went to breakfast," she explained, seeing his puzzled expression. "Or, lunch, I suppose. And Sirius and Mary went to the prefects' bathroom." She hesitated, her eyes darting to the door. "Do you want me to go, too? I wasn't sure…"

He sighed and shook his head, grimacing as the motion exacerbated his headache.

"No, stay." He sounded pathetic even to his own ears, so he forced a smile and added, "Please. If you'd like to, that is."

"Of course." She rolled toward him and draped her arm over his chest, her fingers resting against his shoulder. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong, or would you rather not talk about it?"

The throbbing in his head made it hard to concentrate on anything else, but he took several deep breaths, fighting off his nausea and the irrational stab of anger that threatened to overtake him.

"You know I don't like anyone to see me, you know…"

"Without clothes on?" She raised her eyebrows. "Yeah, I understand that, but I also think you have nothing to be ashamed of. I like the way you look without clothes on."

"Seven…"

"I do," she insisted. "Your scars make me sad. I wish you didn't have to go through everything that causes them. But at the same time, they show how strong you are, because you endure things that would break most people."

Under the blankets her thumb traced one of his worst scars, a thick, jagged line that crossed one shoulder and extended down to his rib cage. He didn't remember getting it, but he couldn't forget the pain that had ripped through him the next day.

"Now, I'm going to brush my teeth and wee," she continued, kissing the top of his head before she slid out of bed. "And after that I'd very much like to snog you, because you look like you could use some cheering up, as long as you're not going to be sick all over me."

Before he could argue she had slipped away to the bathroom, leaving him alone in his moody silence to stew on her words.

When she returned, he struggled to his feet and wrapped a blanket around himself before stumbling to the bathroom. He shut the door and let the blanket fall as he stood in front of the floor-length mirror. He avoided his reflection at all costs, but today he forced himself to look. The sight disgusted him: the scratches that lined both his arms, faded claw marks on his chest, the puncture marks on each leg. How could anyone see this and feel anything other than revulsion?

Tearing his eyes away from the mirror, he brushed his teeth, then turned on the shower and let the hot water wash over him until his skin was red and steam covered the mirror. When he could stand it no longer he went to his trunk, keeping the towel wrapped tight around his body until he pulled on clean clothes, then slid into bed beside Seven. He pulled the hangings closed around his bed, then sank back against his pillow and heaved a sigh.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, turning to look at her. "I just…"

"It's okay." She leaned in to kiss him, her lips brushing against his with just the barest touch. "Let me take your mind off it though, all right?"

Her hand slid underneath the blankets and along his bare stomach until she stopped just above his waistband.

"Seven," he protested, but his voice was more of a moan than a complaint.

She put her finger to his lips and smiled, a wicked, mischievous smile.

"Shh." She kissed his neck, then trailed kisses up to his jawline. "You know, it's not fair that you put trousers on when I'm still not wearing any." Her fingers were already working on rectifying this inequity, and he didn't protest because, well, she did have a point.

Afterwards she lay beside him, her fingers tangling in his damp hair as he sighed and closed his eyes. The worries that had been shoved aside to make room for more enjoyable thoughts now returned, creeping back into his consciousness as his breathing returned to normal and his heartbeat slowed.

"You're getting that stressy look again," Seven observed, tilting her head to kiss his forehead.

"Stressy's not a word," he replied, because it was easier than giving her an actual response to her observation.

"Do you…" She paused, and her fingers faltered in his hair as her body tensed. "Do you remember what I told you last night?"

The shock of waking up without clothes and the sickening pain in his head had driven those three words from his mind, but now the memory came rushing back with dizzying clarity.

"I remember," he murmured, his heart starting to pound again.

Some of the tension left her body as she smiled and began to stroke his hair again. "Good."

She pressed herself closer and kissed him. The pressure of her lips made it hard to concentrate on the vague sense of dread filtering through him, but as soon as she pulled away it surfaced again.

"I love you," she murmured.

The words lay heavy on his tongue, clamoring to be spoken. It would be so easy to say it back, except nothing was ever easy. He had already dug himself a hole by letting her get too close, and now she was seeing his scars and saying 'I love you' and soothing him back to sleep when he woke up in a panic. She deserved better, and he had to stop being selfish before things got any worse. His thoughts spun faster as the image of James's half-healed scars flashed into his mind, and he imagined the same wounds on Seven's body. He couldn't risk hurting her that way. He did love her, and because he loved her, he had to put a stop to this, because she would be safer and happier with a healthy distance between them.

"Did you hear me?" she asked, a slight quaver in her voice.

He sighed, feeling the bliss of a few minutes ago slipping away. "Yeah."

Silence hung between them. He sensed her eyes on him, waiting, expectant, but he couldn't bring himself to speak.

"But you don't feel the same way," she said, her words barely audible.

"I do. I just…" His voice trailed off, because he didn't have the energy to express the jumbled emotions that had led them here. Maybe it was easier if he didn't try to explain – if he left her to form her own conclusions.

"You think last night was a mistake."

There was no accusation in her voice, only grim resignation. She stood up and reached for her clothes, and as she bent to wriggle into her trousers, Remus saw tears filling her eyes. The sight broke his heart, and he found himself scrambling out of bed and grabbing her hand.

"It's not that I don't feel the same way," he insisted, his voice pleading and urgent. She had to understand. He couldn't let her walk out of here crying without at least trying to explain, no matter what he had resolved before. It was too painful to see the hurt etched across her face.

"Then what is it?" Her brown eyes locked onto his, and the tears finally spilled out, rolling down her cheeks and leaving shiny wet tracks in their wake. "Why can't you say it back?"

He picked at a cuticle as he fumbled for the right words. "It's… complicated."

"It's always bloody complicated," she snapped, and for the first time he detected a hint of anger in her face. "It's complicated because you make it complicated."

"That's not true. I can't help… what I am." He worried at the cuticle until a tiny bead of blood appeared. The sight gave him a cruel sense of satisfaction.

"That has nothing to do with anything," she said, shaking her head. "I don't care, and I keep telling you I don't care. I just want to help you – haven't I proven that by reading to you and visiting you in the hospital wing and sleeping in your bed?"

"I never asked you for any of that," he protested.

"I know you didn't. I wanted to do it, because I love you, and that's what you do when you love someone. But loving someone also means telling them what's going on with you, and you just keep shutting me out. I've tried to be patient, I really have, but it hurts when you won't let me in."

"I never wanted to hurt you." His body felt weary, and he suddenly didn't even have the energy to stay on his feet. He sank down onto the bed and put his head in his hands, wishing he could sleep for the next week so he wouldn't have to think about this shitshow of a conversation. "You deserve better than that. You deserve to be happy."

"See, you keep saying that, but I'd be happy if you'd just tell me what you're thinking once in a bloody while. You don't need to keep everything to yourself. You can trust me, Remus. And by the way, you deserve to be happy, too."

He looked at her, his wide eyes piercing hers, and shook his head. "But I don't."

"Yes you do!" She crossed her arms and glared at him, the hot rush of anger emanating from her in waves. "I'm so bloody tired of trying to convince you that you're a good person. I don't know how else to say it. It's exhausting, honestly, constantly reassuring you and arguing with you when you say what a monster you are."

"Then why do you bother?" he demanded, his voice rising. "Just fucking admit that you agree with me and save yourself the trouble."

She heaved an irritated sigh. "That's not what I'm saying. I'm just tired of being a substitute for your self-esteem."

A bitter laugh burst through his lips. "How much self-esteem would you have if you were me? If you'd been a burden to your parents and your friends for most of your bloody life?"

"But you're not." She sat down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged her off. "I've never seen you that way, and your friends don't either."

She continued speaking, but he barely heard, letting the words wash over him. She didn't understand, and how could she? Nobody else understood how it felt when you couldn't trust yourself, when you lost control every month and there was nothing you could do about it, when you lived in constant fear that your shameful secret would be discovered…

"See, you're not even listening to me!" Seven stood up and glared at him, her eyes filling with tears once again. "It's pointless to try and reason with you when you're determined to feel sorry for yourself."

"I'm not feeling sorry for myself," he snapped, although he had a nagging suspicion that he might in fact be doing just that.

"I'll be in the library," she said, heading for the door. "Come and find me later if you decide you want to actually give it a go opening up rather than just giving me that 'it's complicated' rubbish. I love you, Remus, but I'm not going to sit here and repeat myself. It's a waste of bloody time."

She was crying in earnest now, and the loss of her usual composure sent a stab of guilt through Remus. Just what I need, he thought as the door clicked shut behind her. Something else to feel bloody guilty about.

"I dunno how you manage to brood properly with so much sunlight in here."

Remus pushed himself into a seated position on his bed, then peered through the gap in his curtains to scowl at Sirius.

"Sod off, Padfoot," he muttered, retreating back into the privacy of his curtains.

"I can't get in the right mindset to hate the world unless it's dark in here, Sirius continued, pulling aside Remus's curtains and sitting beside him on the bed. "And it helps if you have a flask. Drunk brooding is better than sober brooding."

"It's not even noon," Remus said, rolling his eyes. "And I don't remember inviting you to sit on my bed, but go ahead, just make yourself at home."

"At least smoke a cigarette." Sirius held out a pack of Marlboros, but Remus knocked his hand aside. "Alright, suit yourself."

Remus sighed and rubbed his temples. "What do you want?"

Sirius shrugged. "Just wondering what you did to Seven. She came into the common room bawling her eyes out, and that girl never bloody cries, not even when she broke her nose and four ribs during that Quidditch match."

"It was only three ribs," Remus said, taking a savage pleasure in being difficult.

"Bloody hell, you're in a fucking mood. Move over, will you?" He elbowed Remus and stretched out beside him, then grabbed a half-eaten chocolate bar from the bedside table and took a bite. "Did you tell her she's bad in bed? Rookie mistake, Moony. Girls don't like it when you say things like that."

"No, I didn't bloody tell her she's bad in bed." Remus laughed in spite of himself, then snatched the chocolate bar from Sirius's hand and broke off a piece. "She's not bad in bed. She's – well, I have no complaints."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Is it you that's bad in bed, then? Is she upset because she's so unsatisfied but doesn't know how to tell you? I can give you some pointers, if you like."

"Padfoot, shut up, for fuck's sake." Sirius reached for the chocolate bar, but Remus held it out of reach and crammed the rest of it into his mouth. "It's nothing to do with that." He lay back against his pillow and scowled, longing to fall asleep and forget this entire day, but he knew Sirius would only pester him until he gave in. "She told me she loves me."

"And you don't feel the same way?" Sirius asked, frowning.

"No, I do feel the same way."

"Then what's the fucking problem?"

Remus sighed. "That is the problem. I like her too much, and I'm just being selfish by being around her all the time." He picked at his cuticle as he gathered his nerve to speak the next words aloud. "I think I have to break up with her."

Sirius stared at him for a moment, brows knitted and mouth slightly open. "Just so we're clear, you love her and that's why you need to break up with her?"

"That's an extremely oversimplified version, but yes."

There was another beat of silence, and then Sirius snorted with laughter and shook his head. "Moony, no offense, but you're the dumbest smart person I've ever met."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Remus demanded.

"It means you got the highest score on your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. anyone's gotten in the last twenty years, but you decide to break up with your girlfriend because you love her."

"I'm not breaking up with her just because I love her," he said, making an impatient hand gesture. "It's because I don't want to hurt her."

"Well, I'm no expert on feelings, but I'd say your plan might have backfired a bit, seeing as she ran out of the common room crying," Sirius said, glancing sideways at Remus and shooting him a pointed look.

"It'll be better for her in the long run," Remus insisted. "It's too much, being with me. I'm too much trouble—"

"Because you make it that way," Sirius said, laughing. "You create these problems, impose these limits, keep a distance because you're afraid of what will happen if you don't."

"You're one to talk," Remus said. "You've been seeing Mary for, what, a year and a half, and you've said I love you twice?"

"Three times," Sirius said, grinning. "I, er, said it last night, actually."

Remus laughed. "Did she hold a knife to your throat?"

"No, but she did have her hands down my trousers."

"Of course she did." His smile faded as he remembered the hurt on Seven's face when her words were met with only weighty silence. "I just can't risk anything happening to her. It's too dangerous — I'm dangerous—"

"You're not dangerous," Sirius said, making a dismissive hand gesture. "You wear cardigans with elbow patches, for fuck's sake."

"I am, though," he insisted. "Look what I did to Prongs. You all tried to play it off like it wasn't bad, but I saw last night when he took his shirt off. It still looks bad–"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Well, that's because Wormtail didn't heal it properly. Come on, Moony, that wasn't your fault. That was because I was a shit and got detention, although it was because I stuck up for you, I might add, but anyway, it's because I wasn't there, and possibly because Prongs was daydreaming about shagging Evans and wasn't paying attention."

"Still, I could've seriously hurt him. I could've killed him, Padfoot." It hurt him to speak the words aloud, and he dug at his cuticle, wondering what Seven would think if she knew the violence he was capable of.

"But you didn't. And anyway, you wouldn't. You recognize us as your friends, even when you're in angry-Moony mode. Yeah, you snapped at him out of anger, but you wouldn't do any real damage. I know you wouldn't." He wrinkled his nose in disgust and jerked Remus's hand away. "Ugh, don't do that. It's disgusting."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Well, I think it's disgusting when you parade around naked, but you don't hear me complaining."

"Yes you do. Every fucking time." He stood up and went to Remus's trunk, then returned a moment later with another chocolate bar. "I look great naked, by the way, and I refuse to hear anything to the contrary."

Remus didn't respond as he reached over and broke off a piece of the chocolate bar. The day had dragged on forever, and it wasn't even noon yet.

"I've about reached my encouraging pep talk quota, because I'm not James fucking Potter, but just think ahout what I said, all right? I'm probably the least qualified to give relationship advice out of anyone, so if I think you're being an idiot, you know you ought to reevaluate your choices."

A slow, reluctant smile spread over Remus's face. "I dunno, I'd say you're more qualified than you think. You're in a serious, committed relationship–"

"Oh, shut up. Don't make it sound so respectable," Sirius said, grinning. "She wanked me off in an alley last night, and earlier today she shagged me silly in the prefects' bathroom while Moaning Myrtle watched."

"Ugh. Bloody hell, Padfoot."

Sirius shrugged, unabashed. "I didn't hate it, to be honest."

"You're a freak, you know that?" Remus shook his head in amazement. "Thanks for trying to talk me around, though. I dunno what I'm going to do, but I'll take what you said into consideration." He nudged Sirius and added, "I can't believe I'm taking relationship advice from Sirius Black."

"Sod off." He broke off another piece of chocolate and handed the rest to Remus. "You want to come down to the common room? We can do the Charms homework and tease Evans about hugging Flitwick."

Remus shook his head. "Nah, I'm going to stay up here for a while. I don't have the nerve to face Seven if she's down there." He frowned and sniffed the air. "You smell a bit like Peter's mum."

Sirius laughed. "We tried a new type of bubble bath and I don't think it was advisable. By the way, it's a bit weird that you know what Peter's mum smells like."

"Yeah, well, you know all sorts of weird things." Remus frowned at him, noticing for the first time that the red cowboy hat was perched on his head. "How did you get the hat back? I thought Lily gave it to Flitwick."

"Dumbledore came over and handed it to me at breakfast. He said Flitwick gave it to him, but he thinks it looks better on me. Isn't that the best thing you've ever heard?" Sirius stood up and stretched his long arms over his head. "Anyway, come down if you get bored. You know what, I won't even ask you about your sex life for the rest of the day."

"You're a bloody liar," Remus said, grinning, but then his smile faded to be replaced by a sullen frown. "I might come down later, I just…" His voice trailed off and he shook his head. "I just need to be alone to brood a bit, I think."

Sirius nodded and rummaged in Remus's trunk, returning with a book and tossing it onto the bed. A smile spread across Remus's face as he recognized the familiar worn cover of The Hobbit.

"Happy brooding," Sirius said, waving as he strode out of the room.

Remus lay there for a moment after Sirius left, mulling over his advice and wondering what Seven was doing. When the thought of her tear-stained face became too much, he opened The Hobbit. He breathed in the familiar old book smell and felt some of the tension melting from his limbs. Smiling to himself, he settled in to read, glad for a momentary reprieve from his thoughts.

The library was packed with students as Mary headed for the door with several books tucked under her arm. As she passed the Muggle Studies section she heard a sniff, and when she wandered into the aisle to investigate she spotted Seven, seated on the floor and crying into a copy of A Separate Peace.

"You okay?" Mary asked.

Seven nodded and wiped tears away with the back of her hand. "I'm fine. Just, well…" She shrugged and flashed Mary a wry, watery smile. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, looks like it. Come on, let's get out of here." She held out a hand, and after a moment's hesitation, Seven took it and got to her feet.

"Where are we going?"

Mary shrugged. "Somewhere that isn't the bloody library."

As they emerged into the corridor outside of the library, Mary spotted Lily hurrying in their direction.

"I got impatient and Padfoot kept throwing Bertie Botts at me, so I came down to help you," she began, and her eyes widened when she saw Seven. "Oh."

"I found what we need already," Mary said, nodding at the books tucked under her arm. "But never mind that – the homework can wait. I found this one crying into a book, so we're going to do a bit of venting."

"Oh, okay. I'll join you, then."

Mary set off, with Lily and Seven following after her.

"Where are we going, exactly?" Lily asked as Mary paused in front of a staircase, then shook her head and headed in the opposite direction.

"Somewhere that isn't the bloody library, apparently," Seven said with the ghost of a smile.

"Sorry, I was trying to decide," Mary explained. "It's too cold for the Astronomy Tower, I think, so this will have to do."

She drew to a stop in front of a staircase, then pulled her wand from her pocket and said "Accio Dungbombs." She nodded with satisfaction as a bag came soaring through the air and landed in her outstretched hand. "Black won't mind if we borrow some of these. Anyway, he owes me a favor."

"Am I supposed to throw these at Remus?" Seven asked, casting a dubious glance at the bag of Dungbombs. "I don't think that will help."

Mary laughed. "No, although that might knock some sense into him."

She took a Dungbomb from the bag and leaned over the banister, then held out her hand and sent the Dungbomb plummeting to burst on the landing two floors below. When Lily and Seven stared at her, horrorstruck, she laughed and offered them the bag.

"Don't look at me like that. It's quite cathartic. Black actually gave me the idea. I did it a couple of times when we weren't together and I was having a bad day. It's better off the Astronomy Tower, but this is almost as good, and nobody ever comes this way so we won't get in trouble. Come on, give it a go."

Seven hesitated, twisting the end of her braid, then reached into the bag and pulled out a Dungbomb. Her arm made a graceful, curving motion as she lobbed the Dungbomb into the air. All three of them watched its descent, emitting soft cheers as it splattered on the ground with a loud squelch.

"That was sort of cathartic," she admitted.

"Alright, let me try." Lily took a Dungbomb and threw it as hard as she could, then punched the air in triumph when it hit a suit of armor. "Did you see that?"

"Nice one," Seven said, grinning. "James would be proud."

They spent the next few minutes using up Sirius's stash of Dungbombs. When the bag was empty and the floor below was covered with splotchy brown smears, Seven nodded in satisfaction and sat down on the cold stone floor.

"Thanks for that," she said as Mary and Lily sat down beside her. "I do feel a bit better."

"It's satisfying, isn't it?" Mary said, leaning against the banister. "We should do this every time one of the boys is a shit."

"James isn't a shit," Lily protested.

Mary gave a dismissive shrug. "Everyone's a shit sometimes. Even Remus, who is usually very unshitlike."

"He would tell you that's not a word," Seven said, grinning.

"He definitely would," Lily said. "There's nothing he hates more than made up words, except maybe when I fold pages to mark my place."

Seven glanced sideways at her and frowned. "Well, to be fair, page folders really ought to serve time in Azkaban for treating books that way. No offense." A teasing smile spread across her face, but then it faded as she sighed and leaned her head back against the banister. "We said I love you."

"Oh?" Mary stopped trying to clean the residual dung from her hands and looked at Seven. "When?"

"Last night. Sometime after we got back from Hogsmeade but before Sirius fell off the couch." She smiled again, but it was a sad smile, full of uncertainty and regret and something Mary couldn't pinpoint.

"Has he changed his mind?" Lily asked.

Seven bit her lip and fiddled with the end of her braid. "Not exactly. He said he still feels the same, he just…" She shook her head and sighed again. "He thinks he's doing what's best for me by pushing me away, even though that makes no sense at all."

"It's Remus Lupin logic," Lily said with a shrug. "I think it only makes sense if you wear a jumper 24/7."

"I shouldn't have gotten so angry. I just…" She looked over at them, her eyes wide and pleading. "He doesn't tell me anything. And I know there are things I don't need to know, but I think talking to me would help. All I want to do is help. Why does he think he has to deal with everything on his own?"

Mary laughed and wiped her hands on her trousers. "Well, speaking as someone who tries to deal with everything on my own, I reckon he doesn't want to burden you. And I dunno what exactly he's keeping from you, but he most likely doesn't want it to change the way you think about him."

Seven got to her feet and began to pace around, her face twisted into a scowl. "But it won't! I wish he'd give me more credit."

"It's not personal," Lily said, standing up and putting a hand on Seven's arm. "It's nothing to do with you. It's just how Remus is. He expects everyone to reject him and is constantly surprised when we don't."

Seven stopped pacing and gripped the banister, looking down at the filthy floor below. "I know, and it breaks my heart. I guess I just thought I could start to change that, build up his self-esteem a bit, but now I'm starting to wonder if I'm just making things worse."

"You're not," Mary said, picturing the happiness that lit Remus's face whenever he talked about Seven. "You make him really happy."

"When he's in the mood to let himself be happy," Lily added with a wry smile. "He's just had a rough week. Full moon was really hard on him." She hesitated, exchanging a glance with Mary before adding, "You saw what happened to James…"

Seven nodded, her eyes huge in her pale face. "I know the guilt is eating away at him, and I want to tell him it's not his fault, but I can't because he won't bloody talk to me about it." She resumed her pacing, her footsteps echoing in the hushed stairwell. "Dating him is so frustrating sometimes, because he acts like this and I just want to shake some sense into him, but I also want to give him a hug."

The sound of Mary's laughter startled Seven, and she stood still for a moment before she burst into laughter, too.

"That's sort of what it's like to be friends with him, too," Mary said, grinning. "Don't give up, though. Black and I are probably the two most dysfunctional people on the planet, so if we can figure it out, so can you."

"Give him a bit. He'll come around," Lily said, flashing her a reassuring smile. "And if he doesn't, I'll give him a piece of my mind. It's nice having you around. You balance out some of the idiocy."

A weary smile spread across Seven's face. "Yeah, alright. Thanks." She tugged the end of her braid, then released it and laughed as she examined her hands. "I need a damn shower. I'm pretty sure I have bits of dungbomb in my hair."

"You should go to the prefect's bathroom," Mary suggested. "The password is 'nonsense.' I don't recommend the orange tap, however. And if Myrtle tries to tell you what Black and I were up to in there earlier, tell her to mind her own fucking business."

"Noted," Seven said as Lily wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I think I'll head there now. Thanks again for this." She hesitated, twisting the end of her braid again, then added, "And if you see Remus, would you mind not mentioning that I was crying in the library? It feels a bit pathetic."

"It's not pathetic," Lily said. "But we won't say a word."

After they parted ways with Seven, Mary and Lily headed back to the common room. They giggled when Filch passed them on a staircase, whistling and looking uncharacteristically cheerful.

"His day's about to be ruined," Lily muttered with a rueful smile.

"I don't feel bad," Mary said, shrugging. "He's always accusing me of smoking in the corridors."

"You are always smoking in the corridors," Lily pointed out.

Mary made a dismissive gesture, and they walked in silence for a minute. In the distance, they caught snatches of Filch's voice raised in anger.

"They'll be okay, won't they?" Mary asked, pausing to look at Lily outside the portrait hole.

"They'll be fine." Lily looked so confident, so sure, that for a moment her casual grin reminded Mary of James. "They've got to be."

She gave the password and stepped through the portrait hole, leaving Mary to follow and hope Lily was right.