It was her smile that he'd noticed first.

Beaming out across the greenhouses in Herbology, like some kind of personal beacon, beckoning him. He couldn't for the life of him think how he hadn't noticed her before – but then Gryffindor didn't have that many classes with Hufflepuff, and one of them was History of Magic, which even he and Lily couldn't stay awake for. He knew her name, of course, and had a vague sort of idea about who she was…

He knew that she was a friendly girl, nice enough to avoid being on James's hit-list, quiet enough for Sirius not to bother romancing her, clever enough to stay out of trouble in class – but not so good a student that people paid attention.

She had a small group of friends, mostly Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, and of all of them seemed to be the most unobtrusive. He'd never really thought about her before – she wasn't stunningly pretty, so few of the boys spoke about her… Staring at her across the Fanged Geraniums that they were supposed to be re-potting, he had realised that she had her own kind of beauty.

It was as if she had the sunshine saved up in her skin.

0o0o0o0

The tedious meeting concluded, Remus made his way to the main staircase, but found his way blocked by her. She was leaning against the doorframe in what he was sure was alluring fashion, her hair a violent pink and a coquettish smile on her face.

"We're headin' to the pub for one – want to join us?" she asked him, cocking her head to one side.

Remus smiled. She always reminded him of a bird when she did that – all bright plumage and friendly song.

"Not tonight, thank you, Nymphadora."

He knew why she let him call her that – usually even the first syllable was enough for people in the surrounding area to get a good hexing. Only Mad-Eye Moody and Charlie Weasley ever got away with it – one, because she had a very healthy respect for her mentor, and the other because she'd lost a bet to him in school. And him.

He didn't want to lead her on, really he didn't, but she had insisted.

"Sure I can't tempt you?"

"I'm sure – but I appreciate the effort," he added, kindly. She really was a good friend…

Tonks looked mildly put out, but hid her disappointment and turned to ask Kingsley Shacklebolt the same question.

He slipped out of the room behind her, and had made it nearly all the way up the stairs before she tripped over the awful troll's foot umbrella stand in the hallway, and set Mrs Black's portrait screaming.

He closed the door to his room gratefully, muttering a quick muffling spell to keep the worst of the cursing out.

He sighed, leaning against the door and looking around his room.

It had been kind of Sirius to offer him a place here: he had been thrown out of so many places, it had been novel to have someone actually wanting him to stay – even if it was partly to keep Sirius company.

Twelve years in Azkaban had taken their toll on his old friend, and he was glad to do anything he could for him, particularly when Harry and his friends were away at school. Sirius got very lonely during school terms, and the fact that he was more or less confined to the house didn't really help.

Remus ran his hair through his greying brown hair as the smell of cherries faded away. His room smelled like him – which meant that to him it smelled like nothing, really… just old books and parchment. It was always stronger when he came in, like it was welcoming him home.

Today there was a hint of cotton, too.

He closed his eyes and breathed it in.

Cotton, and roses, and honey, and just a hint of soil…

"Are you here?" he whispered.

0o0o0o0

Sirius had watched Remus practically make a run for it up the stairs. He didn't blame him, really…

Tonks was a lovely girl (of course she was, she was related to him!), but it was clear that she held a sizable torch for his old friend, and Remus plainly didn't want to know.

He would have to sit her down and have a talk with her at some point – though he wished that Remus would man-up and do it before it was really necessary.

But he knew he wouldn't.

Sirius sighed.

"Are you all right?" Molly asked.

"Just a bit stir-crazy," he said, turning back to the kitchen.

Molly Weasley, everyone's surrogate mother, had stayed behind to 'tidy things up' – which more or less meant that she intended to cook a meal for him and Remus. She always thought that they looked thin. Not that Sirius minded, he was no great shakes in the kitchen department, and years of abject poverty had meant that Remus mostly subsisted on toast these days.

She gave him a sympathetic look, and handed him a mug of tea.

Sirius breathed in the tannin fumes.

He had no idea what Molly did to it, but a cup of tea from her was like liquid gold. It calmed you down, warmed you up and made you feel like you could do just about anything.

He sat at the empty table as she bustled around, washing dishes.

"I've got a House Elf for that," he said, conversationally. It never worked.

"That's alright, dear, I don't mind."

Sirius nodded, and let it go.

He suspected that, with all her children either living away or being at school, she needed the company as much as he did – especially with Arthur taking shifts guarding the prophecy.

And Percy.

He'd never actually met the missing Weasley boy, and Harry's description of him hadn't done him any favours, but what he'd done to Arthur and Molly was nearly unforgivable.

If he'd had a mum like Molly he never would have left home…

Still, the boy was young, and foolish, and would probably come around in a few years. Sirius hoped for Molly's sake that it was sooner rather than later.

She was apparently thinking about Percy too, as she sniffed and wiped her eyes on her apron before starting to chop some onions. It never fooled Sirius, the onion trick, and he went to lean on the counter next to her.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he tried again, and Molly gave a quiet laugh.

"You always say that, but I know you, Sirius. I've never seen a cleaner plate than yours."

He chuckled.

"True."

"And poor Remus always looks so thin, and pale."

Sirius nodded, it worried him too.

"To be fair, Molly, he always looks like that," he said. "I've never seen him with a tan."

Well, maybe one summer, a long time ago…

"He seems quieter than ever at the moment," she said, sadly.

"Well he would," said Sirius, quietly, and immediately wished he hadn't.

"Why?" Molly asked.

Of all the wonderful things Molly was, she was ruthless when it came to secrets – at least, secrets that weren't being kept for someone's good.

Realising he was caught, he simply shrugged.

"Sirius," she prodded, putting down her knife.

He stared back at her for a good minute before cracking. With six sons and one daughter, Molly was an expert in collecting information – it was a wonder that the Order wasn't using her as a spy in the Ministry.

He sighed.

"I – I shouldn't say anything," he started. "But suffice it to say that a friend of his – a very close friend, died around now… it's the anniversary in a couple of weeks. It was years ago now, but it hit him hard."

"Oh, the poor man…" said Molly, with feeling. It was hard not to like Remus, and very hard not to feel sorry for him.

"Yeah… Just don't mention it to him, eh?" Sirius said, awkwardly. "It's hard enough for him as it is – and he doesn't even talk to me about it, let alone anyone else."

Molly looked like she would very much like to ask him all about it, but she nodded, and started chopping potatoes.

Sirius left her to it, and headed to the Library.

He had a bottle of Odgen's Finest stashed behind one of the bookcases; he was reasonably sure that Molly knew about it, but she hadn't said anything, for which he was grateful.

He didn't need to drink all the time, not like he had in his youth (going cold turkey in Azkaban and the subsequent twelve years without a drop had cured him of some of his vices, at least), but it was nice to know that there was some on hand if he needed it.

Like now.

He poured himself a small measure, carefully tucking the bottle back behind the stack. It was lower than he remembered, and he suspected that Remus had also felt the need for a drink recently. Sirius wouldn't begrudge him a drop. After more than a decade of hating him, Remus had welcomed him back with open arms almost overnight, sending him inconspicuous packages of food while he tried to get to Majorca, letting him crash in his god-awful flat last year, while Harry competed in the Triwizard Tournament. It was good to have his friend back.

He pulled a box down from the top shelf, blowing the dust off it and carrying it over to the armchair by the fire; he set his glass down on the tiles.

It had been a long time since he'd opened the box. He'd thought about it a few times, but it still hurt a hell of a lot, and he didn't want Remus to see…

Carefully, he lifted the lid and peered inside.

Time had been kinder to the photographs inside than they had been to him.

He picked up the first picture, a bittersweet smile on his lips. The boys in the picture – what were they, fourteen? Fifteen? They had had no idea what the world outside the Castle was like…

They were grinning ear-to-ear, and all four of them soaking wet. Sirius remembered the occasion, happily. James had accidentally tripped Frank Longbottom up in the corridor after Charms, and Frank had accidentally pushed him in the Lake, later that afternoon. He'd sportingly agreed to take a picture of them with Remus's battered Muggle camera, claiming that all was forgiven, particularly if it meant that Alice Roberts would fawn over him all afternoon again.

He moved to the next one, where they were all much younger – for some reason he had Peter (that bastard) in a headlock, while Remus looked on from over the top of his book, shaking his head and tutting.

He stopped as his fingers found the next rectangle of shiny paper. This was the one… he knew it had to be here, somewhere…

Late autumn, seventh year… there had been a day of unexpected sunshine and they'd all piled out into the still-warm grounds, wearing scarves and throwing their coats on the ground so their trousers didn't get wet.

He and James had been teasing Remus all day – but he hadn't seemed to mind… he hadn't minded anything, really, when she was around. Sirius sighed. She had been so good for him…

They had wandered off to torment Snape for a while, and when they had come back, she and Remus had been lying in the long grass, staring at the clouds. They were sprawled out in opposite directions, heads next to one another, her dark gold hair fanning out around her head like a halo, and shining brightly in the sun. James had nicked the camera, quick as you like, and had taken a picture before they could stop him – the children in the picture were on the brink of laughter, just about to reach up and grab the camera from James.

Sirius sighed heavily.

It had been good while it lasted.

0o0

Lost in his thoughts, he heard Molly Floo out and stretched. He'd been in the Library for hours, just remembering. He padded up to Remus's room, knocking lightly on the door.

"What?" he asked, sounding muffled.

"Molly made cottage pie – you want some?" Sirius replied, but he already knew the answer. Remus had never been good at coping at this time of year, and his already small appetite shrank to match his mood.

"You go ahead," he said. "I'm not hungry – save me some, though, yeah?"

"Yeah," said Sirius, and left his friend to it.

When they had been in school, James had once remarked that the two of them seemed to be in a competition for who could eat the most… but that had been when meals were free, and when Remus could still meet his own eyes in the mirror…

Times were hard for dreamers.

0o0o0o0

Her smile… like glowing lamplight – or bright as sunshine…

That had been the first thing.

Then it was her laugh – it was quite a normal laugh, as they went, but he knew it was her, even before he turned around.

She was laughing at something Frank had said… they seemed to be quite good friends.

Remus turned back to his dinner before they noticed him looking, and wondered if she even knew who he was.

0o0

There it was again, that laugh – he turned to find her – sat with her friends at the back of the Three Broomsticks. This time it was her hair that he noticed. It was a dusky gold in the Castle – and it had seemed much brighter in the Greenhouses – but in here, in the flickering lamplight, it shone like it was streaked with the colours of summer.

"You're staring again," said Sirius, conversationally, and he tore his eyes away from her.

"I wasn't staring at anyone," Remus said, defensively.

"Oh, come off it," Sirius scoffed. "You haven't taken your eyes of her since Christmas."

Unable to dignify this with a response, Remus scowled at him, going a bit pink.

"Why don't you talk to her?" Sirius asked, leaning across the table. "Don't ignore me, Moony."

"You know why," he muttered, quietly, but Sirius heard it.

"Don't give me that," he scolded, and Remus rolled his eyes at him. "It's a stupid reason and you know it." He peered at him through the murk of the pub. "Honestly mate, you're your own worst enemy."

He had been saved from commenting further by the return of James and Peter, and he talked loudly with them until Sirius was forced to give up and join in.

0o0

"Hi."

Remus looked up from his Transfiguration homework to find her standing right there in front of him – he'd been so engrossed that he hadn't even noticed her come in. He glanced around, the Library was fuller than usual and there weren't many seats left.

"Hello," he said, looking back up at her. He couldn't remember the last time they had even spoken…

"Mind if I sit here?" she asked, and he realised that her voice was lovely, too.

"Oh – sure –" he cleared a pile of books out of her way and watched her sit down opposite from him, warily.

"Thanks," she said and grinned. "I don't know what's got into everyone, it's usually much quieter at this time of night."

Remus nodded, that was why he generally chose to study at this hour.

"I heard Slughorn set the fifth years a really nasty essay on the Draught of Living Death," he offered.

"Ah, well that would explain it," she said, pulling her parchment and quill out of her bag. "He's not normally that vindictive…"

"Perhaps he ran out of crystallised pineapple," Remus guessed, and she laughed.

His heart leapt at the thought that she was laughing at something he'd said.

"Wouldn't be surprised," she giggled, and he stared at her eyes. They crinkled up when she laughed, somehow making her even prettier. Her eyes were an odd, greenish blue colour that seemed to shift with the light.

How had he never looked at her eyes before?

They were extraordinary.

Abruptly, he realised that he was staring at her, and looked back at his homework, all ability to concentrate entirely shattered.

Forcing himself to read the passage about dangerous Transfiguration accidents again, and copied it out on the parchment in front of him, carefully.

He risked a glance up at her…

She was frowning slightly, and absently chewing the end of her quill.

He looked around quickly, to see if they were being observed; satisfied that no one would notice, he returned his gaze to her.

Her fingernails were still stained with soil – Herbology was her favourite subject, he knew – and her hair was tucked back into a loose plait. She must have just come from the Greenhouses… he knew that Professor Sprout was having trouble with some of her Screechsnaps, which had caught some kind of wasting disease. She must have volunteered to help.

A tendril of hair loosed itself from her plait and fell across her eyes; she tucked it behind her ear without a thought.

Remus found himself wondering what it would be like to touch her hair. It would be soft, he decided, and very probably silky.

The tendril escaped again, and she put it back with a small huff; he longed to tuck it back for her.

It was unfortunate that at this point, she looked up and caught him watching her.

He blushed so hard that he was sure that she could feel the heat from his face; he glared at the page in front of him, silently cursing it, himself, and anyone nearby.

"Remus?"

He forced himself to look up at her: with a jolt he saw that she was quite pink too, and smiling slightly.

"Have you done the bit on accidentally replacing body parts with vegetables?" he stared at her in incomprehension. "Only I can just find one reference to people turning their ears into something, and that's ridiculous – I mean, it happens roughly once a month around here… I just wondered if you'd spotted any…"

He shook his head very slightly and cleared his throat.

"You could try this," he managed, passing her a slim and rather obscure textbook called Mysterious Magical Maladies; Peter had bought it him for Christmas as a joke. "It's got some horrific illustrations…"

"Urgh," she said, opening it to a random page. "It certainly does – thanks."

"No problem," he said, and turned back to his own essay, wondering how the hell he'd managed to get away with blatantly staring at her.

They worked quietly for another half an hour before he started packing his things up.

"Finished?" she asked, looking up.

"I was mostly done, anyway," he said.

"Well you do have a bit of a reputation for being a clever-clogs," she said, closing Mysterious Magical Maladies and holding it out for him.

Unable to decide whether being a clever-clogs was a good thing or not, he waved it away.

"You can borrow it," he said.

"Really?" she asked. "Thanks – I'll give it back in class."

He smiled back at her – he couldn't help it.

"I'll see you…" he said, awkwardly, and hurried off to Prefect Duty, not daring to look back.

She watched him go, thoughtfully.

0o0

"Oy, Casanova!" Frank called, as they hurried between classrooms.

Sirius turned around and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, oh insistent one?"

"Not you," said Frank, catching them up. "Remus."

As one, the Marauders stared at him as if he'd grown an extra head.

"Remus?" James repeated, incredulously.

"Yep – you've got a secret admirer," said Frank cheerfully. "Been grilling me about you all morning… you seem to have made quite an impression."

"That's our Moony," said Sirius, proudly. "Knew he had it in him!"

"Shut up, Sirius," he hissed.

"Well, who is it?" Peter asked, interested.

"I'm not telling," Frank grinned.

"Oh, come on Frank, that's just mean!" James whined. "You can't leave us hanging like that! Think of poor Moony!" He ruffled Remus's hair to make his point. "He looks so forlorn, now."

Frank looked at him.

"I'd say that he looks more bewildered than anything else," he observed, fairly, then shrugged. "Sorry boys – I was sworn to secrecy!"

He flashed them another grin before hurrying off, out of hexing range.

"She's hot, though, right?" Sirius yelled, making quite a lot of people stare at him.

Somewhere in the distance, Frank nodded, making Remus descend from the hot pink that Frank's announcement had brought out to a deep crimson.

"Moony!" Sirius grinned, rounding on him. "Who is she? You have to know!"

"I haven't a clue!" he retorted, truthfully enough. Who would ask Frank about him?

"Really?" James said, incredulous. "This is worse than we thought – Padfoot, it's time we thought up a battle-plan for getting Moony a love-life…"

He had been very grateful to sit down in Potions with Peter, as far away from them as he could get.

"You really don't know?" Peter asked as they shredded caterpillars.

"No idea," said Remus.

"You're lucky," the other boy huffed. "At least someone likes you…"

0o0

He'd been looking around nervously all week, trying to figure out who could have been asking about him, and hoping fervently that it had nothing whatsoever to do with his Furry Little Problem.

He was only half listening to Professor Sprout as she instructed them to pick partners from a different house – James and Sirius groaned loudly behind him. He jumped a little when his textbook landed on the table and she sat down next to him.

"Want to be partners?" she asked, and he nodded, surprised.

He shot confused glances at her throughout Sprout's explanation of Shrivelfig maintenance. She couldn't have been the one talking to Frank, could she? They were certainly friends, but…

"Pass the secateurs?" she asked, and he did so, trying to concentrate on the plant in front of him.

"That is a really ugly plant," he observed, staring at it. Its stems and leaves were a dusky purple and looked a lot like they had been made of wax and left in a warm room for too long. The flowers were an unpleasant yellowy green, turning to brown as they matured and the fruit developed.

"It is rather," she laughed. "But it's not all bad…" She held up a flower for him and he obediently smelled it.

"Vanilla?" he said, surprised.

"Hardly anyone notices," she said, smiling. "It looks so ugly that people assume it'll smell bad too – hardly anyone gets near enough to realise they're wrong."

He chuckled.

"Except you."

"Well, I am a little odd," she allowed.

"In a good way," Remus said, and her cheeks went pink. She was still blushing slightly when they cleared away their pots, and he realised that he really liked it when she blushed.

"See you next week?" she asked over her shoulder, as she walked across the grounds with her friends.

0o0

By the end of May, Herbology was definitely Remus's favourite subject. He could be in all manner of moods and she would walk in, drop her bag next to his and make him grin like an idiot for the better part of two hours. He was even volunteering to help Professor Sprout, developing a tan under the Greenhouse glass, probably for the first time in his life.

She really understood plants, he'd discovered, and they seemed to understand her. He had seen her subdue a Venomous Tentacula that had been trying to eat Peter with a few soothing words – and even the mundane plants in the Greenhouses seemed healthier around her, as if they were somehow showing off.

She had that effect on him, too.

Since their first partnered session he had been reading up on the subject, and had even managed to surprise her with some little know facts about Leaping Toadstools.

Their friendship had not gone unnoticed by the Marauders, who teased Remus mercilessly about it every chance they got, but he didn't care, as long as Tuesday afternoons could be spent in the Greenhouses with her.

They studied together on Thursdays too, now, when the Library was quiet, and the boys had decided to leave them to it – he suspected that Sirius had had something to do with that, after they'd had a long and embarrassing chat about how, clearly, there were different ways to win a girl's heart. Sirius preferred the quick way, and hadn't been overly surprised when Remus had gone for the slow way.

He was just a bit surprised that it was actually working.

Remus had been working up his nerve to ask her out for weeks now – almost managing it at the end of each study session, but just managing to fall short each time.

It galled him a little, and part of him was worried that if he didn't do something soon, someone else would ask her out and she'd say yes (of course) and he'd lose his chance.

He had been thinking about it all afternoon. It was a Friday, so they were in Defence Against the Dark Arts, learning to tell the difference between Wraiths and Wights; he knew this subject inside out, so his mind was wandering – as it so often did – to her.

Since he'd first noticed her he'd discovered that there were a myriad of things that he'd never realised, like how soft and pink her lips were, or the way she developed tiny dimples when she smiled, or the way she chewed her hair if a quill was unavailable.

Today it was the curve of her neck.

As the days had turned warmer, more and more people were unbuttoning the top button of their shirts during the day, meaning that he got tantalising glimpses of smooth skin under the bottle-green glass of the Greenhouse. At the weekend, he made sure to sit facing the Hufflepuff table, where she'd be eating with her friends, wearing thinner things than her uniform, with lower neck-lines that made his pulse speed up; once, she'd had on a top that had left her neck and shoulders bare and he hadn't been able to stand up for quite some time.

He knew this was becoming a dangerous obsession, and sometimes he worried about that, but mostly he just concentrated on the shape of her soft skin, and the way it would feel, or taste, or smell.

Oh, and her smell. It was subtle, largely because unlike her peers she didn't wear perfume, and when he had finally noticed it around him it had been inescapable. He couldn't get enough of it.

It was a quiet smell – it went with her personality – a delicate mixture of cotton, and roses, and honey, and (since she spent so much time in the Greenhouses) soil.

It crept up on him as he walked towards the Common Room, lost in his thoughts. James, Sirius and Peter had gone on ahead, having tired of trying to talk to him when he was 'Mooning' over her, as they put it, so when he nearly walked into her he was completely on his own.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" he said, managing to avoid a collision at the last second.

"No worries," she smiled, as her friends giggled at him. "You look like you're in a world of your own."

He gulped and nodded.

Why did they have to move around in packs?

He watched her shrug and walk away, the girls twittering around him.

They were nearly at the end of the corridor when he plucked up the courage to call out to her.

"Jenny!" he called, and she turned back, waving to her friends that she'd catch up.

It had taken every shred of his Gryffindor courage to walk over to her, and his heart was in his throat as he finally stood in front of her, hoping that she wouldn't notice how nervous he was.

He cleared his throat.

"?" he said, all in a rush.

Jenny frowned, and mouthed some of the words to make sure that she'd heard him correctly. Her eyes widened.

"Did you just ask if I'd go to Hogsmeade with you tomorrow?" she asked, turning a little red.

"Er – possibly," Remus admitted, glad that he wouldn't have to say it out loud again. "It's ok if you don't want to though –" he added, hurriedly.

"Ok," she said, a smile playing about her lips.

Remus stared at her.

"Really?"

"Yes," she laughed. "Unless this is going to be some kind of prank where Sirius somehow manages to throw me into the Lake…"

"No – at least I bloody hope not," he said.

"Great – so, I'll see you tomorrow, then…"

"Great! By the fountain in the Clocktower Courtyard?" he suggested.

"It's a date," she said, almost shyly.

"Great," he said again, cursing his vocabulary for abandoning him in his hour of need.

Jenny blushed again, and hurried off; the sound of muffled giggles from just around the corner suggested that her friends hadn't gone very far, but he didn't care.

He walked back to the Gryffindor Tower feeling about eight feet tall and looking very much like the cat that had got the cream.