A/N: I forgot to mention in the last chapter that the two poems I used belong to the masterful Emily Dickinson and E. E. Cummings. I just borrowed them :) As I did with the Frost poem that's in this chapter. Anyways, here we go... And in case you were curious, I was inspired greatly while writing this chapter by Corinne Bailey Rae's song Till It Happens To You, which fits the somber mood pretty well in my opinion.

Two more chapters after this! And as always, thanks for reading. Also: the book, characters and a few of the scenes from the chapter belong to J. K. Rowling.

Sirius dodged Buckbeak's snapping bill and tried to subdue him, using one hand to keep the hippogriff's beak shut and using the other to stroke his feathered cheek. "Remus," he said through gritted teeth as Buckbeak flailed wildly in pain, "A little help, perhaps?"

"Coming, coming," said Remus distractedly, who was busy unwrapping a gauze-like band aid. Finally he got it to unwrapped all the way and hurried over to Buckbeak. But before he began wrapping the stuff around the hippogriff he paused, looking towards the door. "Do you hear that?" he asked. Sirius scowled and shook his head, nearly getting whacked in the face by Buckbeak's flailing wing. "No! And I'd appreciate it if you'd get the damn thing on this stupid bird – " Buckbeak gave him a nasty look at this, so Sirius hastily amended, "I mean, this wonderful creature, so we can be done with it already before he takes one of us out."

Remus gave one last fleeting look towards the stairs – he could have sworn he had heard someone shouting out Sirius's name – but then he shrugged. It was an old house, and perhaps Mrs. Black had woken up again. He knelt beside Buckbeak and tenderly wrapped the hippogriff's leg with the material, making a solid brace. Remus waved his wand and it secured, and then he charmed the leg with another spell, one that would help to heal it. Buckbeak settled down finally and Sirius let go of his beak, panting.

"Thank you," he said, with a sigh. "You may be handsome, but you're bloody unhelpful in hippogriff care."

Remus just shrugged, grinning at him. Sirius leaned forward, putting a hand out to caress Remus's cheek, and then they heard the door slam. They both jumped, and this time Sirius was the one who looked out down the stairs.

"Now that I heard," he said, ruefully. "I wonder who dares interrupt us."

Both men got up and went downstairs where Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley had arrived, and were milling about the front room. The group looked up when Sirius and Remus entered the room, and greeted them with stiff smiles. Or at least Moody did. Kingsley had a warm smile for the two men, and Tonks was smiling from ear to ear – at Remus, Sirius noticed suddenly, feeling stirrings of amusement and jealousy.

"Wotcher, Remus!" she said, and then upon noticing her cousin, smiled a little less brightly at him. "Sirius," she added.

Yes, thought Sirius, fighting off a smirk, Tonks was certainly smitten with Remus. He was surprised that he hadn't noticed before, but usually he only had eyes for Remus, so it made sense. He decided later to casually mention to Tonks that Remus was unavailable, or perhaps he'd bring it up to Remus instead.

While Sirius had been musing, he had missed out on the conversation that had started. Moody was asking gruffly about the possibility of some kind of dinner before the scheduled Order meeting, and Tonks was telling him off for being so impolite.

Remus held his hands up, "Really, Nymphadora, it's fine. I was planning on making dinner soon anyways."

"There. See, there's nothing wrong with gently reminding someone that it's time for a meal," growled Moody, "especially when one is an honored guest."

"Oh, so now you're an honored guest?" teased Tonks, rolling her eyes at her mentor.

Before anyone else could speak, there was a soft pop and an ethereal doe stood in front of them. The insubstantial patronus lowered her gentle head, and they all froze as Snape's voice floated out of the creature. "Where's Black?"

Sirius swallowed his distaste and stepped forward, forcing himself to speak civilly. Something serious must have happened if Snape was contacting them in this risky manner – something that had to do with Harry, most likely.

"I'm here," he said, a little hoarsely. "What's going on?"

"The Dark Lord has managed to convince Potter that you are in danger, Black. And he has gone after you to the Department of Mysteries." Snape spoke briskly and neutrally, but he couldn't quite manage to keep all of the scorn out of his voice. It was odd listening to such a beautiful create deliver such horrible words, Sirius noticed idly. He tried to focus, realizing that the thing that they had been trying to avoid happening – Voldemort getting the prophecy – all year had happened.

Moody at once took charge, stepping forward in front of the doe. "What are the orders?"

"Dumbledore is going to the Ministry immediately and he wants all those who are able to join him there. Be prepared to fight." The doe glimmered, paling a little, but before it had vanished completely Snape added, a little spitefully, "Black is to stay behind."

Then the doe was gone. Moody quickly pulled something out of his pocket and began to tap it with his wand, while Kingsley looked on solemnly. Sirius turned to Remus, his blood congealing thickly and angrily through his bones. He tried to stay calm. "I'm going," he said, fighting to keep his voice level. "Harry's in trouble."

"No can do, Sirius," answered Moody, who had put the contraption back in his pocket with a final tap. "You've had your orders."

"I'm going," repeated Sirius stubbornly, his voice rising a little. "I've been stuck in this damn house all year and I'm not staying here during the biggest fight that we've had so far – "

"Sirius," pleaded Remus, and Sirius stopped abruptly. Surely Remus would support him, wouldn't he? Remus knew how horrible he felt being constantly stuck in Grimmauld Place, out of the action, doing nothing.

"They're right, Sirius," said Tonks, trying to speak brightly. "Tough luck, though."

Sirius growled, and shook his head. "I'm going!" he insisted, looking again at Remus pleadingly. Sirius was slowly being killed by this house – if he stayed here any longer he would die. This battle would make him feel alive again, he was sure of it. Remus looked at the expression in Sirius's eyes and knew there was no use arguing.

"There's no time," boomed Kingsley, finally speaking. "If Sirius wishes to break orders, there's nothing we can do. We must leave now." He looked at Sirius and winked, then turned to Moody, who let out an annoyed huff.

"Fine," Moody allowed, "But just remember if you get caught and killed it's your bloody fault, not mine."

Satisfied, Sirius agreed. He knew Remus was watching him with anxious eyes, but he smiled at him, mouthing, it's going to be fine.

They apparated quickly, and soon reached the eerily empty Ministry. They took off at a sprint, getting down to the Department as rapidly as they could. It took them a few minutes to figure out which door was the one they needed, but Kingsley and Tonks sorted it out and they all entered the fray, Remus reaching for Sirius's hand and giving it a squeeze before letting go. Sirius smiled at him, a tense, excited smile, brimming with renewed love and vigor at the nearness of battle.

And then they entered the fray, raining down spells at the surprised Death Eaters so that the dark, misty room was suddenly lit up with radiant neon sparks. Life, thought Sirius gleefully. This was what it was like to be alive; he had forgotten how wonderfully danger made one's heart beat. He began dueling with a masked Death Eater, his wand moving through the air so fiercely it was like a blur. His opponent fought back ferociously, and they began a dance, running and dodging and shouting spells at each other until Sirius hit him with a stunning spell, and his opponent was down.

Sirius looked up eagerly, pushing his hair impatiently out of his way, surveying the scene. Remus was fighting his way towards Harry and the others, while Kingsley dueled two men at once. Tonks was running towards Moody, who had fallen to the ground and lay there, limp and bleeding. Sirius felt a flash of concern for Moody, and turned to find the man who had injured him; he saw Dolohov, unmasked, who was attacking Harry and Neville. At once Sirius ran forward and rammed him with his shoulder, forcing him out of the way and cutting off his spell.

Dolohov turned towards Sirius with a malevolent look on his face, raising his wand. Before either men could act, however, there was a cry of "Petrificus Totalus!" and Dolohov was down.

"Nice one!" shouted Sirius, quickly ducking both of their heads down as a Stunning Spell shot past them. "Now I want you to get out of – "

Before he could finish they had to duck again, avoiding a green light that sped past them and hit Tonks, who toppled to the ground off the steps.

Sirius was up at once, running after Bellatrix, who had shot the spell. "Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville, and run!" he shouted back at Harry, hoping his godson would listen and get out; he had some business to take care of with a family member of his. He chased after his cousin, shooting spells at her that she dodged, cackling. She reached the dais in the middle of the room and then spun around, cutting her wand through the air and sending spell after spell at him. He laughed, fiercely, fighting back and dodging, feeling more alive than he had in ages. The room had grown quiet, suddenly; something had changed, but Sirius didn't dare turn around to find out what it was.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" he taunted Bellatrix as he avoided another jet of red light. He noticed vaguely that his voice was echoing loudly around the suddenly quiet room, but before he could notice anything else he had been struck, right in the center of his chest.

His last fleeting thought was of Remus, and his mind desperately sought out Remus's, needing to hold him and tell him how much he loved him, trying to grasp onto the man who tethered him to this life. But before he could find him, he slipped away, his body falling gracefully backward and sinking down through the veil that was hanging from the arch on the dais. Sirius didn't feel his body hit the ground, because he had already gone, left the world with only quiet breath of regret, his body flowing up into the stars and away, leaving only a legacy and a promise behind.

Remus froze, his breath catching in his throat, and he heard Bellatrix's scream of triumph as if from far away. Why had Sirius fallen? Was Sirius...gone? His brain couldn't comprehend what it had just seen, and it rebelled, fighting reality, insisting that no, Sirius wasn't gone, no, no, no, it wasn't possible for him to be dead...gone...

Gone... he was gone. Was it possible? It wasn't. It couldn't be. He wouldn't leave me again, thought Remus desperately. Not after such a short reunion – two years, that was all, barely two years they had had together, surely the universe couldn't be so unkind. Remus felt like his entire self died that instant with Sirius, as though his heart had literally been ripped out of his chest. This was different, not like before. This time was no confusion or doubt or hope that there was a mistake and Sirius was innocent, this time he was just...gone. He was dead, and would not be coming back. Remus felt unsteady, and nearly fell to his feet. He felt different, empty, incomplete, bereft. He felt no anger, no rush of desire for revenge against Bellatrix, he just felt utterly full of despair. The stars, the bright, lovely stars had gone out and all that was left was the unfriendly, cold moon. He felt old, aged, like his youth had crumbled away now that the love that had kept him strong and alive and young was gone. Oh, Sirius...dead...

"SIRIUS!" Harry's call startled Remus, and he took a great breath of air, forcing oxygen into his shuddering lungs. "SIRIUS!"

Remus lurched towards Harry, no longer aware of what he was doing or saying. He grabbed onto Harry before Harry could run to the veil, forcing him to stop. Remus held on tightly to Harry, needing something real and alive to keep him standing up.

"There's nothing you can do, Harry – " he heard himself saying, as if from far away. Someone else was talking for him, he thought through a blue haze of misery, someone else who was methodical and was making sense. Harry fought him, though, trying to get away, arguing.

"Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!"

"It's too late, Harry – "

"We can still reach him – "

"There's nothing you can do, Harry...nothing...He's gone."

Harry refused to accept this, fighting against Remus and saying the words that Remus's own mind was screaming, that Sirius hadn't gone, couldn't be gone, had promised to stay –

"He hasn't gone!" Harry yelled. "SIRIUS! SIRIUS!"

"He can't come back," said the methodical-Remus. But even the Remus who was talking's voice broke as he continued, choking on the last word. "He can't come back, because he's d – "

"HE – IS – NOT – DEAD!" roared Harry. "SIRIUS!"

Inside Remus was screaming louder than Harry, and he risked a look towards the dais to see if it was true, to wait for Sirius to come back.

But he didn't, because he was gone. And he wasn't coming back. Remus nearly broke down, but he couldn't, not now, not here while they were in danger. He had to be strong for Harry.

And so Remus forced away his emotions until later, packed them up neatly into a little ragged box, and began to drag Harry away from the dais. Harry was subdued now, as though the truth had sunk in. Neville began speaking quietly with Harry, but Remus couldn't hear what they were saying; the words didn't make sense, and he couldn't comprehend them, he was too busy staring at the dais...

Then he noticed that Neville's legs were jinxed, and he shook his head, drawing a ragged breath. He willed himself to be strong.

"Here," he said, quietly, all the sound he was able to make, as though his speech had drained away with Sirius. As though his entire self had died with Sirius. "Finite." Neville's feet stilled, and there was a pause. Then Remus forced himself to keep talking, trying to keep the box closed. "Let's – let's find the others. Where are they all, Neville?"

"Dey're all back dere. A brain addacked Ron bud I dink he's all rightd – and Herbione's unconscious, bud we could feel a bulse – " Neville was speaking through a broken nose, and his words were abruptly cut off by a loud bang from behind the dais, when Kingsley hit the ground, hit by a spell shot by Bellatrix.

At once Harry was up and had ripped himself free from Remus's slackened grip. "Harry – no!" shouted Remus, but it was too late.

"SHE KILLED SIRIUS! SHE KILLED HIM – I'LL KILL HER!" Harry yelled, and he was gone, up and running after Bellatrix.

Remus knew he should stop him, but he had no energy left, so he sat with Neville and waited. At one point he tried to heal Neville's nose until he was reminded of earlier, when he had been healing Buckbeak with Sirius, and he had to stop, overcome.

Eventually Dumbledore arrived, with Fudge and the other members of the Order, and someone helped Remus up and helped him get home – was it Tonks? He wasn't sure, as his world had started the blur together. He thought he heard the same someone speaking to him, but he had ceased to be able to understand the horrid world. Finally he felt himself being led to a couch, and he sank down into it, holding his hands to his eyes, feeling empty, devoid of everything.

He looked up at the fire, watching it with hypnotized eyes, trying to distract himself. He tottered forward, falling to his knees in front of the fire, contemplating throwing himself forward into the inferno. Something stopped him though, the wisp of a memory, words that curled around his mind.

"Moony, you have to promise me not to give up again if something should happen to me."

"How can I keep living?" he asked, his voice ragged. "How can I do anything without you, Sirius?"

"You have to find another reason to live...You've got to be happy even if I'm gone." He had said. How could Remus be happy ever again? He'd rather die. He dragged his eyes back to the fire. But his promise bound him in place, and he knew he'd never be able to kill himself. Not when it was the last thing he could do, to honor Sirius's memory. And Harry needed him; Harry, and the Order, and...oh, Sirius...why had he had to go, when they had had the rest of their lives stretching forward together...

"I will always wait for you," he had said.

"Sirius," groaned Remus, and he sank to the floor, sobbing, curling in on himself and giving himself into the utter demolishing of his world. He stayed that way until Tonks came back into the room with a cup of tea, and he stayed that way while Tonks pulled her hands around him and cried with him.

Time passed, regardless of Remus's pain. The periods of time when Remus had nothing to do were the worst, though. He had barely survived the first few weeks after Sirius's death when he had nothing to do but stay in Grimmauld Place – where else could he go? He had no money, nowhere to stay, no one to stay with. After a few weeks he had begged Dumbledore to give him missions again, to let him go live with the werewolves to try and get them on the Order's side, and Dumbledore had reluctantly given in, after giving Remus a worried look.

He spent most of his time in London from then on, trying to escape. Occasionally he would have to emerge into the real world, to have dinner at the burrow or to attend an Order meeting or to see Tonks, who had apparently taken in upon herself to take care of him. But for the most part he could forget, and he was grateful for this.

Because he found that if he could escape from his thoughts, then he didn't have to face the fact that he had already, after only a few short months, started to forget Sirius. It had started with the little things, when Remus realized he couldn't recall quite what the musky scent of Sirius was. Then after a few weeks, he realized it took longer than it should have to recall Sirius's exact eye color, and after that it was the way Sirius smiled privately, his secret smile just for Remus, which Remus couldn't quite see again in his mind.

Remus was terrified that he would forget Sirius, and it seemed unfair that he should be able to forget Sirius when the pain of his death refused to go away, hitting him fresh each day that he woke up.

Many nights found Remus sitting alone on his twin bed, palms pressed deeply into his eyes sockets, trying to remember. Pictures didn't help, they just seemed like pale imitations of the real Sirius. It seemed impossible to live anymore, and Remus felt like he was just going through the motions, like this was a mere semblance of life, like he was just counting down the hours until he died. Was it even possible to go on? How in God's name would he ever be happy again – or even just feel something, anything, other than the thick feeling of misery that pressed against his shoulders every day?

Once, on one of his hated free days, at Tonks's insistence they went to a bar. Tonks thought that Remus was broken down because he had lost his best friend; she had no idea that they had been lovers, and Remus couldn't bring himself to talk about it with her. They had gone drinking, but neither of them had had a good time. Tonks seemed unhappy for some mysterious reason that Remus didn't understand, but he just assumed that it was because of his cousin's death.

Even with alcohol laced in his blood, Remus had felt miserable. Drunk, or close to it, he had looked around at all of the other men at the bar, remembering what Sirius had said – that he should try to find someone else, someone who made him happy.

But all he could see was people who looked like Sirius – that man had the same hair, and over there, someone smiled in the seductive way that Sirius had used to – or people who looked nothing like him; and besides, what was the point? He was a werewolf, no one would want him. And he didn't want anyone else, he wanted Sirius.

He had excused himself to the bathroom, leaving Tonks, and had locked himself in the cramped restroom. Remus had braced both his hands on the sink and had looked in the mirror, looking at the man who stared back at him. A pale, gaunt man with grey in his blonde hair peered out at him, and Remus dropped his head, feeling woozy and letting his misery wash over him, longing desperately for Sirius.

Eventually Tonks had rescued him, and life had kept going, endlessly and repetitively, dragging Remus along.

Another month past, and then a few more, and then Remus stopped counting. He felt himself closing off, growing more distant and colder. The only times he left his work were when Tonks, or occasionally Molly, forced him out, but otherwise he did his work methodically and then let himself drown in his misery.

It was different than before, when Sirius had first been gone. Then Remus had been crushed, too, but there was always the hope that there was a mistake, that something was missing, and Sirius would come back to him.

Now Remus knew Sirius wasn't coming back. True, Sirius's name was cleared this time and he had died fighting against Voldemort, and that was a little comfort to Remus. But he thought he'd rather have Sirius back and fighting for Voldemort than have him be gone. What goodness was there in a world that had stolen Sirius from him twice, anyways?

This time, too, Remus found he could still read, and occasionally he would hide away in someone else's life for a few hours by reading. But still, like last time, poetry seemed beyond him; it was something he didn't have a taste for anymore. Without a particular someone to read it to he couldn't quite swallow it down.

At one point, after time ceased to matter, Remus felt he had to do something different or he would die. He had gone weeks without doing anything except interacting with werewolves, and had despite himself even started avoiding invitations by Tonks, but he knew that if he did not get up and force himself to do something – anything – he would go mad.

So he made himself staunch his bleeding heart and he apparated to Godric's Hollow, suddenly desiring the company of his old friends. As soon as he appeared in the little town he looked around and realized with a start that it was very nearly spring out. It was still cold out, just barely getting warmer, but there were little flowers poking out of the ground, persevering despite the chill. Remus smiled a little, and then felt like he was betraying Sirius.

He hurried along, enjoying the sunshine for the first time he could remember in a while, and eventually he reached the graveyard's kissing gate. He pushed past it, his heart faltering for a moment, and then kept going to the familiar spot.

Remus had, of course, been to Lily and James's graves before. At first at their funeral, and then occasionally after he had visited his friends, once or twice with Sirius, too, later on. It always brought Remus a sort of peace to visit them, although it also brought heavy layers of sadness, too. He hesitated when he reached the quiet row of graves where James and Lily were, wondering if this was a good idea, but he had come too far to return. So he walked forward until he found the white marble tombs marked with Lily and James Potter's names and death-dates.

He took in the sight of the tombs somberly, peace and sadness fighting inside of him. The scale of emotions he was feeling made him reel; he hadn't felt anything but emptiness and misery for the past half a year, and it was odd to feel sad for someone else's death besides Sirius's.

"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death," he murmured, reading the tomb, and then started, for his own voice had surprised him.

Remus let out a long, tired sigh, and he quietly conjured lilacs. He gently placed them down on the grave, wishing suddenly that Sirius had a grave, that there had been some way to retrieve his body.

"James," he whispered, "Lily, what am I going to do? I can't go on this way. I miss him too much."

The wind blew by gently, brushing against his cheek like a prayer. As though the wind carried it to his mind, a Robert Frost poem suddenly blossomed and he found himself reciting it to himself.

"Where had I heard this wind before
Change like this to a deepening roar?
What would it take my standing there for,
Holding open a restive door,
Looking down hill to a frothy shore?
Summer was past and the day was past.
Somber clouds in the west were massed.
Out in the porch's sagging floor,
Leaves got up in a coil and hissed,
Blindly struck at my knee and missed.
Something sinister in the tone
Told me my secret must be known:
Word I was in my house alone
Somehow must have gotten abroad,
Word I was in my life alone,
Word I had no one left but God."

He let out a breath and then took another one in, feeling very sad. He noticed that his cheeks were wet, and tears were trembling down his face; tears not only for Sirius, but for James and Lily – and for the betrayal of Peter. He was the last marauder, the only one left alive. Still, it had been a while since he had last recited poetry, and he had almost forgotten about that one. It was a sad poem, a very melancholy, powerful one, and Remus could remember being younger and not being able to fathom how Frost had felt when he wrote it. I can imagine it now, he thought wryly.

Bereft. It was a powerful word. Robbed, deprived, abandoned; it was the perfect title for the poem. But was Remus bereft? He absentmindedly put a hand to his forehead. Sirius had been stolen from him, but perhaps... perhaps he hadn't been abandoned. He still had Harry, after all. And Dumbledore, and the members of the Order. And Tonks. Tonks, who had been taking such good care of him. When was the last time he had cared about someone else's feelings? Or said thank you?

Remus admonished himself. He had been forgetting to live again, the very thing he had promised Sirius he wouldn't do. Perhaps he couldn't be happy, but he could at least try a little harder, couldn't he? Remus squinted up at the sun, feeling like it was a little easier to breathe. The pain in his chest lessened a little. And while it didn't go away, it seemed a little more possible to live again.

I'm sorry, Sirius, he thought tiredly, realizing that he had been doing a very poor job of keeping his promise. He would try harder, he would. Starting now. With a last look at the graves of his friends, he turned on the spot and apparated.

He apparated back to the flat that he was staying in, a cheap, dirty place which was nonetheless ideal for his undercover work, and was surprised to see that someone else was there, ringing the bell.

"Nymphadora," he said, surprised. She turned around and smiled brightly at him, but he could tell that she looked tired. And her hair wasn't a bright color like it usually was; instead, it was a mousy brown.

"Remus! How are you?"

"I'm... okay, I think. Or I'm getting there." She looked a little bit surprised at this, and Remus realized he probably deserved that. "Would you like to come in?" he asked, and she eagerly accepted.

He led the way into his sparse apartment, putting on a cup of tea while she sat down. They chatted idly, and Remus found he could actually concentrate on the conversation without thinking about Sirius the entire time. The pain of Sirius was still there, lurking in the corner of his mind, weighing on his happiness, but it was possible to forget, a little, and enjoy the company of a friend. He was just smiling at something she had said when she stopped chattering and studied him closely.

"I can see you really are feeling a bit better," she said, finally. "I haven't seen you smile like that in ages, Remus."

Remus sipped his tea, giving her a rueful look, "Yes, well. I apologize for being such a terrible friend, especially when you've been such a good one. The death of Sir... Sirius, was very hard on me." Remus nearly stumbled on Sirius's name, but he managed to say it. His heart banged painfully against his ribs, but still, he could say his name – it was progress.

She waved this away, her hair lightening slightly to a blonder color. "Everyone grieves at their own pace," she said kindly. "And he was your best mate. It makes sense. I'm glad that you're happier, now, though."

There was a bit of a pause, and then Remus wondered how she had been dealing with it – after all, Sirius was her cousin. He'd never thought to ask. "Are you alright?"

Tonks nodded. "Oh, yeah. I miss him, of course. But I'm sure he's happy, wherever he is."

Remus nodded, allowing this. She did look tired, though, and very strained. And unlike before Sirius's death, her hair and facial expressions hadn't been changing throughout the conversation. Something had to be wrong, Remus was sure of it. He put his tea down, and leaned a little closer to her. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Because, if you don't mind me saying so, you look a little ill."

She bit her lip and put down her cup too. "Well," she said, sounding a little timid. "That's because I've been in love with you for a long time now, and you never... I didn't think you felt the same way, since you've never really said anything."

He had to work to control his expression from showing the shock that he felt. That was the last thing he had been expecting, and he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to her. He was gay, and besides that, he was in love with Sirius. He didn't want to lose her friendship, though, or her company; at this point, she might be one of the only friends he had left. What on earth could he say to her?

Oh, Sirius, he thought sadly. You wanted me to be happy, but how could this possibly be what you meant?

He looked at Tonks, unsure of what to say as she blushed. "I hadn't... I didn't realize," he said dully. She smiled tentatively at him, and he felt panic rise in his chest.

She must have realized that – she must have learned how to read him very well, after all these months – because she stood up, looking at her watch. "I've got to go," she said abruptly. "But... maybe we could do this again soon?"

"Er, absolutely," he found himself promising, and then she was gone.