February, 1996
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Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. I wish that I could afford to give Nymphadora roses and diamonds, but my precarious finances barely stretch to affording dinner at a family-run Italian restaurant. La Cucina is so small, the owners only accept reservations on holidays, but the food is good and the ambiance pleasant. The hostess knows our names, because we dine there regularly.
We dined there last Valentine's Day, as a matter of fact. I don't need to flip back to the entry to remember how I felt that night. The memory remains vivid, pressed into mind like a rose between the pages of a book.
Nymphadora wore red, a short dress that made me want to run my hands over the velvety material and then stroke the skin beneath it. Being a gentleman, I didn't ogle her. I did admire her legs as we followed the hostess, however.
We sat at a small corner table, holding hands and making small talk while we waited for our food to arrive. I felt like a schoolboy, enchanted by her laughter and smiles and the brush of her knee against mine beneath the tabletop.
Unlike the boy I had been seventh year, however, I did not fear that my girlfriend would discover that I was a werewolf and reject me. Neither did I feel stomach-churning apprehension over the possibility that she would want me to kiss her in public. The mere thought that Dorcas might lean toward me and part her lips expectantly had ensured that I leaned back in my chair at all times to ward off such an occurrence. My hands, when not holding cutlery or a glass, were kept in my lap to make sure she would not reach for them and discover how clammy they were.
When Nymphadora leaned toward me, I didn't glance around self-consciously the way I once would have. Instead, I experienced a rush of anticipation as I raised a hand to cup her cheek, kissing her with a soft thoroughness. The server delivering our dinners sighed. I smiled, but inside I grinned over the tiny noise of protest my love made when I drew back.
Strangely, thoughts of Valentine's Day cause me to wonder how the Head of Aurors will spend his evening tomorrow night. Will he leave the office early to perpetuate the illusion that he has a partner? As he eats his solitary dinner, will Scrimgeour wish 'Lola' was there beside him?
Somehow, I know he will, and while I can empathise with a lonely man, my sympathy extends no further. Lola is only an illusion, projected by a talented Metamorphmagus. Rufus Scrimgeour desires a fantasy. I love Nymphadora for who she really is.
Her true appearance and personality are more vibrant and alluring than any false persona, and more vulnerable. The shadows that darkened her eyes revealed that my love continued to be upset by Scrimgeour's Legilimency.
If I thought she would give up her side job, I would have asked her to. I knew she wouldn't. Nymphadora's determination to save money for Wolfsbane Potion and our future fuelled her resolve, so instead of arguing, I encouraged her to ask Snape for Occlumency lessons.
A glance at my watch shows that Nymphadora should be on her way home. If she walks through the door with a smile that reaches her eyes, I will be doubly indebted to Snape.
If she smiles, whether he likes it or not, at the first opportunity I will thank him.
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A/N: Remus doesn't think he has much to give on Valentine's Day, but readers know better. :D. The readers I got to know a little better through their reviews were...♥ 40/16 ♥ adrienne06052 ♥ alix33 ♥ bored2pieces2 ♥ Calenmarwen ♥ ElspethBates ♥ Embellished ♥ FNP ♥ Freja Lercke-Falkenborg ♥ GraceRichie ♥ ishandtwofourths ♥ ladyofthebookworms ♥ LolaCherryColaGirl ♥ MollyCoddles ♥ Moontime ♥ Nethiel Nessime ♥ Operamuse ♥ RahNee ♥ rairaichan ♥ remus r us ♥ siriuslycoco ♥ Sivaroobini Lupin-Black ♥ Slipknot-3113 ♥ Sophia Loren ♥ sunny9847 ♥ and ♥ UnderworldBabe ♥
♥Added note: This 'entry' corresponds with chapter 28 of Moonlight and Shadow.