It was a testament to how shaken all the boys were by the discovery at Hogsmeade that, ten days later, James hadn't created some sort of extravagant Valentine's Day present for Lily Evans. Instead, he read in the Gryffindor Common Room, his feet propped up on a little ottoman in front of him, eyes quickly darting from one side of the page to the other. Lily was there, too, writing an essay across from her friend Olivia. At first glance, Lily might have seemed immersed in her work; but Remus, waiting for his four o'clock student to arrive, saw that she kept sneaking peeks at James. Perhaps she was waiting for Peeves to appear. Last year James had somehow coaxed (or bribed) Peeves into singing a bawdy love song to her during breakfast in the Great Hall. She had flushed nearly as red as her hair and dashed, food untouched, from the hall, as the entire school erupted in laughter. This was not James's brightest Casanova moment, Remus had remarked to the snickering James.

Sirius had made himself rather scarce during the last weeks. Remus suspected he still wasn't talking to his brother Regulus. He wasn't certain where he'd been hiding himself, but he didn't want to press him.

At two minutes until four, his pupil arrived – a skinny, third year Hufflepuff boy named Madhav Sastri. He quickly sat down at the table next to Remus and opened his Arithmancy book, Numerology and Grammatica. Since they would only be discussing the magical properties of numbers and working on Madhav's homework assignment, Remus figured it was safe enough to work in the Common Room. When doing practical magic lessons, however, he had to meet other students in Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration classroom after hours. Remus would only tutor one student per day, so that he would have time for his own studies.

Madhav was a good student, but he tended to be too hasty in his homework. Remus's method of teaching him was to ask him lots of questions about why he thought an answer was so. It seemed to help slow Madhav's thought process down enough so that he could reach the best conclusion himself, without much more prompting from Remus. Remus figured soon he'd be able to release this student and perhaps take on a new one.

Today, however, Madhav was agitated. Remus didn't like to pry, but he could see that the boy's emotional state was interfering with his ability to concentrate. Remus heard himself going through the same paces he'd been through early on, telling Madhav to take a step back and analyze his conclusion a second time. Usually this approach worked well with the boy, but today it only seemed to needle him.

"All right," Remus finally conceded. "Why don't we take a break?"

Madhav sulked, his arms folded across his chest.

"Pumpkin juice?" Remus offered from a pitcher.

Madhav shrugged, keeping his gaze stubbornly on the table between them. Remus poured two glasses and slid one toward his student. Madhav's large, dark eyes regarded it for a moment, then he took the glass and sipped thoughtfully.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"Sure," Remus smiled. "You let me know when you're ready to go on."

The two sat in silence, drinking their juice, for about a minute. Finally Madhav said quietly, "Why are girls so strange?"

Remus resisted the impulse to grin. Instead, he responded seriously, "I think they wonder the same about boys, don't you?"

"No, girls are definitely stranger."

"Okay."

"I mean, I know this girl likes me. So I gave her a Valentine's card this morning. And now she won't talk to me."

"Hmm, that is difficult," Remus agreed.

"So, what do you do? I mean, girls must like you, Remus. What do you do?"

Remus involuntarily shot a glance toward Lily and he saw that, for some reason, she was watching him. Their eyes met briefly, but she quickly looked back down at her work. Remus's heart fluttered, and he tried to ignore it.

"Erm, actually, believe it or not, I'm not hugely popular with the girls."

Madhav looked askance at Remus. He was still at an age when he thought all older boys had somehow figured it all out.

"Why don't you just try asking her on a date?" Remus offered. "Ask her to Hogsmeade. The worst that can happen is she says no."

"No, the worst that can happen is she does a Bat Bogey hex on me."

"Touché," Remus acknowledged.

Madhav finished his juice and scooted his chair up to the table again. He managed to focus a little better now that he'd griped a little, and the rest of the lesson went rather well. He packed up his books, thanked Remus, and slipped out of the portrait hole.

Remus heard a tapping on one of the windows. A small brown owl had landed on the sill and was pecking to be let in. James, being closest, put his book down and retrieved the message, and the owl took off for the owlery for some food and rest.

"Remus! You got a Valentine!" James shouted so that the whole room could hear. He held the ribboned scroll high in the air.

A Valentine? He carefully avoided looking at Lily again and crossed the room. James couldn't resist holding the letter out of Remus's reach until Remus was forced to use a summoning charm. The letter flew out of James's hands and into Remus's.

"It's probably from my grandmother," he muttered to James as he sat on the sofa next to him.

"Like Sirius says, older women are underrated, my friend," James deadpanned.

"You sicken me," Remus replied good-naturedly.

As he suspected, the letter was indeed from his Muggle grandmother, Margaret Quinn Lupin. His grandfather Jonathan had met the writer while on a mapmaking trip to Buenos Aires; Margaret was visiting Argentina from England while doing research for a book she was writing. They had fallen madly in love and married there within weeks, much to the chagrin of Margaret's family.

During Remus's boyhood, Margaret had introduced him to all her favorite books. She had also introduced him personally to several famous writers they had invited for dinner at their little lakeside cottage in Wales. She had impeccable taste, and everyone agreed that she really knew how to throw a party.

For some reason Grandmother Margaret felt compelled to send him a Valentine's letter each year with a poem she thought he might appreciate. Today was no different. Remus couldn't deny that he was glad for her sentimental letters; at least someone had sent him a Valentine. And although she was a Muggle, he felt that often she understood him better than his parents did. He felt warmth spread through him as he read her broad, flourished handwriting:

My dearest, favorite, and only grandson,

Here is a little poem I found by Christina Rosetti, written in 1893. Boy, she hits the nail on the head, doesn't she? Well, here you are. Take a lesson from old Christina. Don't be tortured. I know it's hard when you're nearly seventeen, but give it a shot. Try not to be lonely again this year: ask someone out. It won't kill you, you know. Happy V. Day, Remus.

Your loving grandmother,

Margaret Miranda Quinn Lupin

The half moon shows a face of plaintive sweetness

Ready and poised to wax or wane;

A fire of pale desire in incompleteness,

Tending to pleasure or to pain:—

Lo, while we gaze she rolleth on in fleetness

To perfect loss or perfect gain.

Half bitterness we know, we know half sweetness;

This world is all on wax, on wane:

When shall completeness round time's incompleteness,

Fulfilling joy, fulfilling pain?—

Lo, while we ask, life rolleth on in fleetness

To finished loss or finished gain.

Remus sighed. And she wondered where he had inherited his penchant for melancholy.