He could feel their eyes on him, all through breakfast. Every time he turned around, everything looked perfectly ordinary: everyone at the Ravenclaw table was eating and chatting as normal. By the time he'd finished his bacon he was downright unnerved.

"James," he said, over the general clamour that was the Gryffindor table at breakfast. "Is everyone behind me staring at the back of my head, or am I imagining it? Because if I am I think I should probably skip Charms and go and have a lie-down."

James, who had been engaged in keeping his breakfast out of range of whatever it was that Sirius was doing with his pumpkin juice, looked past him.

"You might be right," he said. "They're all avoiding my eyes, too."

He subjected Remus to a questioning look.

"What did you do?"

0o0o0o0

"Jenny!"

She'd got as far as the main staircase before it had started, which in Hogwarts was some kind of minor miracle.

She turned to see Frank rushing towards her with the most unsettling expression on his face. It was somewhere between anger and intense worry.

Jenny didn't bother to resist as he took her firmly by the arm and piloted her off along a corridor at a brisk pace.

Silently, he steered her behind a tapestry that she would never have pegged as a secret passageway; she stumbled in the darkness but Frank pulled her onwards, down a series of steps that looked like they had been there since the Castle was built. Strange mask-like faces glared out at her in the gloom. She tried not to look at them: they reminded her too much of her dreams.

Frank dragged her out of the passageway and into the light, so abruptly that it hurt her eyes; she let out a hiss of pain, but still Frank stormed onwards. He came to a halt by a completely nondescript door and pretty much growled the word 'Hopscotch'.

The door slid back and she was pushed into what turned out to be a splendid bathroom, full of gold and brass and stained glass. There was an enormous sunken bath in the centre of the room, which must have been about six feet deep; a mermaid in one of the windows looked down at them with open curiosity as he steered her towards the stone steps by the edge of the pool.

"Sit," he commanded, almost pressing her into the steps.

Jenny did as she was told, wrapping her arms around her knees for security.

"Talk," he said, looming over her.

"I'm not pregnant."

"That's not what Madame Pomfrey thinks," he responded, tersely.

"She's wrong."

Frank knelt in front of her.

"Convince me," he said, more gently.

"I'm not pregnant," she repeated, calmly. If anyone would believe her, it would be Frank. "I know what it looks like, but there is no physical way that I could be."

Frank sat back on his haunches.

"This is the weirdest thing I have ever had to ask anyone," he said, with curious precision. "Particularly you, old thing…" he took a breath. "Have you and Remus ever had sex?"

"No."

"Have you ever had sex with anyone else?"

"No."

There was a long, awful silence where they looked at one another with even, level stares.

Finally, Frank nodded and sat beside her on the steps.

"You're in trouble, Jenny," he said.

0o0o0o0

They had been trying to figure it out all day, but no one from Ravenclaw seemed to want to speak to them. Whatever it was had apparently spread to the Hufflepuffs by lunchtime, and there was some definite snickering coming from the Slytherin table at dinner. Even a few of the younger Gryffindors were staring at him now, and it was getting on his nerves.

"You don't think they could have found out about – well, you know," asked Peter, in a low voice as they made their way out of the Great Hall that evening.

"No," said Remus, firmly; the thought had been crossing his mind all day. "They'd be more afraid or angry." He glared at a passing Ravenclaw. "This is more like I got up on the Gryffindor table last night and juggled, and I don't remember. I feel like I have something stuck in my teeth or something." He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. "I don't like it."

"You haven't slipped half the school a love potion on Moony's behalf, have you Padfoot?" James asked, as Sirius hurried over.

"Nope," he said. "And no luck from the House Elves, either. They know something, but they're not talking – and that's really weird. Something's definitely going on, but no one seems to want to say anything… although, I did run into Frank Longbottom outside the Prefect's bathroom – he said he wanted a word. Seemed quite intent, I'd go and find him, if I were you."

Remus looked at his three best friends for a moment.

"You lot would tell me if I had done something like juggle on top of a table and not remember about it – or someone had randomly transfigured my hair turquoise or something, right?"

"Naturally."

"Of course."

"Why would you even ask such a thing?"

There was a brief pause, during which Remus subjected them all to a dubious stare.

"You know, for some reason, that doesn't fill me with confidence…"

"Oh, come on Moony," said Sirius, wrapping an arm around his friend's shoulders. "It's probably just some stupid rumour going around. Everyone will have forgotten about it by the end of the week."

Remus had been about to push him away when they were interrupted by Professor McGonagall's crisp Scottish tones.

"Mr Lupin, a word please," the witch commanded, her mouth pursed into a thin, frightening line.

"She looks pissed," said James, in an undertone.

"What did you do?" hissed Peter, nonplussed. Usually it was James or Sirius (or both) who would be hauled away at a moment's notice. He'd never seen McGonagall look at Remus that way before.

"Now, Mr Lupin," she insisted, turning and stalking away along the corridor.

"Good luck, mate," said Sirius, as Remus followed his head of House, confused, and a little bit terrified.

0o0o0o0

She had retreated to the library for some peace.

Everyone's eyes had been on her all day, and she didn't like it one bit.

His shadow fell across her book and she looked up with a smile, which dematerialised when she saw his expression. His face was like thunder; her heart plummeted. For a moment, he just stood there, strangely menacing in her place of refuge. For the first time Jenny really understood the full breadth of strain that living with a wolf inside him must be – and why he always maintained his patient, even temper. He was practically growling.

Wordlessly, she packed her things in her satchel and followed him out of the library, afraid of the anger that was radiating from his every pore. They didn't speak at all until they reached a deserted corridor on the fifth floor. She knew what he wanted.

"How could you?" he growled, when he was sure that they were alone. "I trusted you – you know things about me that – and then you go and – how could you?" he repeated, inarticulate in his fury.

"I'm not pregnant," she said.

She had hoped that Frank might get a chance to speak to him, to explain her predicament, but it seemed that the teachers had beaten him to it.

He let out a strangled laugh.

"Madame Pomfrey thinks you are – and Professor Sprout, and Professor McGonagall!" he snarled. "Are you saying they're wrong?"

"Yes," she said, as calmly as she could. She could feel a strange panic building in her chest and was having to fight quite hard not to cry – why wouldn't he listen to her? She knew that he'd be angry at first, but he knew her, didn't he? Surely he'd listen to her – trust her?

He stared at her, hurt and disgust mingling in his eyes.

"Please, Remus," she pleaded, a touch of desperation reaching into her voice. "You have to believe me!"

She was suddenly, horribly aware of how all this must look to him.

"Believe you?" he spat. "All this time I've been worrying about you and looking out for you, and you –" he stopped, apparently too angry to speak. "I just don't understand, Jenny, how could you do it?"

"I didn't do anything," she tried, fully aware that she was crying now, but to no avail.

"Who was it?" he demanded, too angry to listen to her. "Was it Frank?"

"No!"

"Were the two of you sneaking about behind mine and Alice's backs?"

"I haven't done anything," she repeated, through gritted teeth. "I never would do anything to you – and nor would Frank!"

Remus stared at her as though he was seeing her properly for the first time.

"And all this time I've been following you around like some love-sick puppy," he spat, and she could see the hot, angry tears in his eyes. "Well that ends right now," he exclaimed, coldly, getting a hold of himself. "You can run back to whoever it was you preferred to me and see if he'll take you."

He turned to leave, but Jenny stopped him, taking hold of his arm.

"Remus, please," she begged, through her tears. "Please just listen –"

"No," he said, with such obvious contempt that she froze. "I won't listen to a dirty little harlot."

He shrugged her hand away and stalked off, leaving her staring after him through bitter tears.

Alone.

0o0o0o0

Beat… beat… beat… beat…

He could hear Sirius pacing in his bedroom again.

They'd had an unusually early Order meeting, following new information gathered from a recent reconnaissance mission. People had been excited and hopeful, which made a refreshing change from the incessant months of tension since Arthur's attack at the Ministry at Christmas. Everyone had found the time to relax a little; even Mad-Eye Moody had put his feet up on the kitchen table and stayed behind with Kingsley and Tonks for one of Molly's famous dinners.

There had been the usual banter rolling around the dingy kitchen, making Grimmauld Place seem oddly bright and welcoming.

Tonks had been trying to engage his interest again, which was mildly embarrassing – particularly since Moody kept winking at him with his one remaining eye when he thought that she wasn't looking, and Kingsley kept shooting him knowing looks.

He had done his best to turn her down gently, but it didn't seem to be having any effect anymore.

He hoped that he wouldn't really have to sit down with her and explain that, actually, the reason that he wasn't interested was that he was still very much in love with the dead girlfriend that periodically visited him at night.

He couldn't imagine that conversation going well, or that information staying secret for long. He'd probably be quietly removed from the Order and sent along to St Mungo's. He wasn't sure that he'd be able to bear their kindly expressions…

Arthur had come in just as Molly was making Kingsley set the table; no-one at the Ministry thought anything of his coming home from work during the day since his attack. He'd announced cheerfully that he'd had time to drop by the camera shop in Diagon Alley on his way and plonked two neat packets of photographs on the table.

It hadn't bothered Remus, since the picture of him and Jenny was wifely on his mantelpiece; Sirius, on the other hand, had visibly stiffened. He hadn't said more than two words to anyone during lunch – except to thank Molly for the excellent food – and had left the kitchen as soon as his plate was clear.

After the initial shock of seeing Jenny he hadn't seen much the old photographs, she had – as usual – eclipsed anything else in his sphere of consciousness. He carefully unwrapped the top bundle – which Arthur had said was for Harry – and happily reminisced about his school days with the other temporary inhabitants of the kitchen. It had been wonderful, bittersweet and emotionally exhausting all at the same time, and after an hour or so he excused himself, tired of watching Tonks hang on his every word.

He had sought refuge in the Library – usually an island of solace in the general chaos of Grimmauld Place – hoping that she wouldn't follow him. She had looked mildly put out when he'd left the kitchen and he was grateful when he heard the remaining Order members leave as he settled down to read. He knew that she was a lovely young woman, and really, any man would be mad not to be pleased at her attentions, but he couldn't help it. Nothing in the world would stop him from loving Jenny.

He sighed, shifting about in one of Sirius's ancient leather armchairs. He imagined that Tonks would take some convincing; it was always foolish to underestimate a Hufflepuff.

He had learned that the hard way.

Beat… beat… beat… beat…

He frowned, following Sirius's restless footsteps across the ceiling; he sighed. Sirius had always been prone to gloomy moods, even before darkness had taken over his world. It was a part of who he was, and Remus had long since come to accept this. He could only imagine what his old friend had experienced in Azkaban, and sometimes he wished that he could erase it all from his mind – give him a clean slate.

For all Remus's general pessimism – a symptom, probably, of his condition – it had always irritated him when Sirius had got into one of his infamous funks. Yes: the world completely sucked, but it didn't mean you got to indulge in sulking about it. You had to get on with things the best way you could, and try not to dwell too much on the dark things in life…

It had been a Hufflepuff that had taught him that, too.

Beat… beat… beat… beat…

Remus sighed, and put down his book. There was no point in trying to read with Sirius stalking about upstairs, like some off tempo clockwork man.

He leaned back in the chair and rested his head against the cool leather, trying to relax. As his eyes closed – as always – he thought of her. It was a foolish and constantly fleeting hope that he had lived with for nearly twenty years: the exquisite and impossible hope that if he opened his eyes again she would be there, sat or stood or lying beside him, bright and happy.

And alive.

He hadn't seen Jenny for days now, which wasn't unusual in exam season (he had a strong suspicion that she stalked the corridors of the Castle at this time of the year and scared students into studying), but he still missed her terribly. It made it harder to sleep than ever, and he'd spent the past few days struggling to rid himself of a persistent headache.

Beat… beat… beat… beat…

Sirius really wasn't helping.

He sighed again and got up; there was no way he'd shake his headache with him pacing about the house in one of his moods.

He trotted to the front door, ignoring Kreacher's vicious grumbling as he passed the door to the unused parlour and wandered out onto the streets of London, his hands in his pockets.

People stared at him as he walked.

He was used to that now; after a particularly bad full moon when he was a younger man had left his face scarred almost everyone that came across him did a double take. It really didn't bother him any more – and it wasn't as if they could help it. Recognition of obvious differences was an integral part of human nature. What he hated was how people responded to what they saw.

Some people would meet his eyes, deliberately trying to show him that they didn't care; others would look away, trying to erase his imperfection from their stunted world view. There were very people who took him at face value (ha!), and they were mostly children. It was one of the reasons he liked teaching so much. Kids tended to be quite blunt, asking what had happened and accepting any explanation he could give. Then they would move on, unworried, interested in the next strange thing that came their way.

The warm weather was still refusing to break, and the streets were swarming with men in inadvisable shorts and women in brightly coloured dresses. He enjoyed the colours, so different than Grimmauld Place, and wandered towards Covent Garden, the one place in the city where he could be certain that there were odder people than him wandering around. It was good, even for a little while, to blend into the background, and despite his scars, Remus had become an expert at it.

He stopped outside a tiny chapel to let a group of excited Japanese tourists amble past, intent on the market stalls and street entertainers. Music was pouring out of the open door of the church, and he stuck his head through the door, interested.

A choir rehearsal was in full swing inside; he smiled. Jenny would have loved it. He hesitated by the door, tempted to continue his lonely wandering, but something kept him there.

Spurred on by the knowledge that Jenny would have stayed to listen he took a few more steps inside, glancing questioningly at the vicar, who was sat at a small table off to one side. He seemed to be enjoying the music, too, tapping his pen along to it as he did the mysterious paperwork of the clergy.

He noticed Remus and gave him a friendly nod, unspoken permission to stay, and returned to his work, distracted by the sound.

Remus wandered to one of the pews and sat down in a pool of vivid coloured light, pouring in from the stained glass windows. It was cooler inside the church and he revelled in the fresher air as the choir continued to make their glorious music. It smelled like all churches did: a pervasive combination of clean stone, paper, talcum powder and shoe polish, as though it was a strange, quiet, hive-minded creature made up of the people who worshiped there.

He could almost feel her there beside him; her arm would be laid on his, her eyes closed as she revelled in the simple joy of sound.

Tiny flecks of dust in the air sparkled and twirled in front of him in the rainbow of light, as though they were dancing to the joyful sound.

Remus closed his eyes and breathed in the cool, still air.

Just for a few moments, he felt the ache in his chest that had been his constant companion for nineteen years ease a little. He allowed himself to relax for the first time in a long time: guiltless as he had not been in many long years, he thought of her.