Author's Note: I hope you are all still able to read this. It appears as though this website has been having some issues. I've emailed them about it, but have not heard back.
Anyway, his chapter isn't quite as spicy as others (I'm sorry!), but I've still censored it lightly here and posted an uncensored version over on Ao3. Also, I wanted to include a TRIGGER WARNING that this chapter includes discussion of rape and grooming behaviors. Please let me know if I can accommodate your needs! 3
Chapter Twenty-Six: The Beatles Were Wrong
Remus and Mairead were able to pick up where they had left off before the week of Halloween, to Mairead's intense relief. In fact, things were even better than they had been before. It wasn't just that they were once again having sex. It was that, following their emotionally intense night of vulnerability, Remus had started sharing his inner feelings with her more. He was less guarded, more affectionate. Mairead would sometimes doze off while they were cuddling and awaken to find Remus watching her, looking at her in a way no one had ever looked at her before. She could not have put into words the look in his eyes, but it made her feel as though her entire body were made of clouds and fairy dust; it filled her to her very fingertips with feathery hope. Hope that he was starting to trust her. Hope that he might one day love her. Hope that he might soon begin to ease all the rules and restrictions he had put in place for her protection.
Truth be told, Mairead was not a fan of the secrecy surrounding their... whatever it was they had. Things had gotten considerably easier once Sirius had found out, but Remus was adamant that no one else should find out. He had given Mairead extensive instructions on how to avoid being detected when sneaking in and out of his room. He had taught her how to tell if she was being watched. He had taught her how to lose a tail. He had taught her not to walk in the center of stairs or floorboards, because that was where they were most likely to be squeaky. And yet, despite Mairead obediently following all his instructions on avoiding detection, he had decided a few days later that Mairead should no longer sit next to him at the table on nights when the Order met, or for the dinners that followed, and that they should take breakfast at entirely different times the next day. He said that the risk was too high that they would give something away. Which Mairead knew was Remus Politeness Speak for: the risk was too high that she would give something away.
Mairead initially thought that Remus would be content with them simply not sitting together on meeting nights, but he had gradually added on more and more rules and conditions. He no longer accompanied her to the apothecary when she needed supplies. He no longer visited her at work, even at the Muggle library. He started scheduling his shifts at the Ministry for evenings Mairead would be home, just in case anyone spotted that he tended to sign up for nights Mairead would be working late. They no longer went food shopping together, which had been their joint errand all summer long.
Previously this had been the highlight of Mairead's week. Once a week Mrs. Weasley would present them with a list and they would venture out into the streets of London together. Mairead had had a marvelous time introducing Remus to one of her favorite supermarkets, explaining that they regularly put out so many free samples that one could make an entire meal out of it - which they had done every trip following. It had felt so normal, so domestic, that even before things had become romantic between them Mairead couldn't help but pretend that they were a married couple doing the weekly food shop together.
Now, however, Remus or Mairead did the food shop alone, as Remus feared they might run into Tonks or one of the other Order members who lived in London (even though Tonks lived in an entirely different part of the city).
The cumulative effect of all of Remus's rules was that they spent less time with one another than they had before they had gotten together.
If they were together. Which still wasn't clear in Mairead's mind.
These were the thoughts that were weighing heavily on her mind the Saturday following Sirius's birthday party. She had gone over to St. Hedwig's to meet up with Edgar. They wanted to do some early Christmas shopping in Diagon Alley, and to grab a late lunch before she had to head back to Grimmauld Place for the weekly Order meeting. Edgar was eager to update her on his developing relationship with Julian. Mairead did her best to smile and keep her attitude buoyant so that Edgar would not inquire.
He noticed at once. Edgar broke off in the middle of telling her about their romantic minibreak they had coming up (in Paris, of course) and looked keenly over at Mairead. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked.
Mairead blinked at him. "Yeah, why?" she said mildly.
"Because either something's bothering you or ordering that salad has ruined your life."
Mairead cracked a smile. "Can't it be both?" she joked.
Edgar smirked, but did not let the subject rest. "What's up, May?"
Mairead fiddled with her napkin for several seconds. She knew that Remus would want her to make up a lie about something else that was bothering her. She had, after all, promised him that she wouldn't tell anyone of their affair - a promise he had taken to reminding her of almost daily. It would almost certainly be best to steer clear of the subject entirely.
Having made up her mind, Mairead could not understand why, then, the next words out of her mouth were, "Are you in love with each other?"
"Err... we've only been going out for a month," he hedged. "That's a little soon to know if you're in love, don't you think?"
"Yeah, for sure," Mairead agreed absentmindedly, chewing on the end of her straw. "Have you ever been in love, though? Like, were you in love with Jonathan?"
Edgar took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yes, I was in love with him," he said. Mairead looked up at the tightness she heard in his voice.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be dredging all this up!" she blurted, covering her face with her hands. "I'm so fucking inconsiderate. I'm so sorry, Ed."
"No, it's fine. Really. I don't mind talking about Jonathan," said Edgar. Mairead could hear the confusion in his voice. "Can... you tell me what this is about?"
Mairead sighed and lowered her hands to rest her chin in them. "Did - d-d'you think... that, erm... that Jonathan loved you?" she asked hesitantly, glancing up at him to see if this line of questioning was going to be too distressing for her friend.
Edgar scratched his ear. "Yes, he loved me," he said, sounding melancholy, but not heartbroken. "Why?"
"How did you know?" Mairead asked, thirsty for information. Edgar raised his eyebrows and suddenly Mairead regretted having struck up this conversation.
They were interrupted at that moment by the waitress delivering their bill. Mairead avoided Edgar's eyes while she rummaged around in her bag for the money to pay for her lunch. This was definitely not a wise topic to have brought up with someone who knew her as well as Edgar did. She planned to change the subject as soon as the waitress left. Edgar made friendly chit-chat with the waitress while he and Mairead stood and donned their cloaks. Mairead was hopeful that he would have been sufficiently distracted to have forgotten their line of conversation.
As soon as they stepped out into the chilly November air, Edgar glanced sideways at her.
"So: who is he?"
Mairead gulped. "N-nobody," she said, her voice going up in pitch at the lie. "I was just curious, that's all."
Edgar stopped and stared at her stonily. "Bull. Shit."
Mairead felt her heart beginning to beat faster. "I -" she broke off and looked around at the witches and wizards bustling down the cobblestone walkway, as though one of them was going to stop any second now and tell her how to talk her way out of this.
Edgar put a hand on her shoulder. "May," he said, looking at her piercingly. "Since when do you keep stuff from me?"
To her intense displeasure, Mairead felt tears rising in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, turning away and pinching her upper lip hard between her thumb and first finger.
"What's going on?" Edgar asked in a gentle but worried voice.
Mairead buried her face in her hands once again. "I'm... I'm not supposed to talk about it," she said from behind her hands.
"What? What do you mean?"
Mairead massaged her forehead with her fingertips. "He... he doesn't want anyone to know that we're... erm..." Dating? No. Boyfriend and girlfriend? Definitely not. Fucking? Ugh. "Seeing each other," she finally went with.
"What?!" exclaimed Edgar indignantly. "Why? May, I swear if this is because of your disability or because you're an O'Keefe -"
"No, that's not it," Mairead cut in hastily. "Or, at least... I think that might be a factor, but -"
"Dump him."
"No!" gasped Mairead, horrorstruck at the thought. "You don't understand - it's complicated."
Edgar frowned and put a hand on his hip. "Who is this git?" he demanded. "I want a name."
Mairead's hands slid down her face until they were only clutching her mouth. "I can't tell you," she admitted, her words muffled by her fingers.
Edgar looked at her as though she were out of her mind. "Why the hell not?" he pressed.
"Because I can't!" she snapped. Immediately feeling horrible, she covered her eyes with one hand. "Shit, I'm sorry, Edgar," she moaned. "He told me that no one can know. I - I can't tell you who it is."
She almost missed hearing Edgar's small intake of breath. "Mairead," he said gravely, taking a step closer to her and lowering his voice. "Is he married?"
"No!" said Mairead, feeling more and more like an animal backed into a corner. "No, he's not married, it's just... you know what - I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought this up. I'm sorry. You were telling me about Julian and I sidetracked us and - God, I'm so selfish! I'm sorry, Edgar. I'm so sorry. Please go on."
"No, I think we need to talk about this," Edgar insisted.
"No - no. It's fine. We don't - I want to hear about your trip to Paris. Are you going to see Ansel?"
Edgar looked at her like she was breaking off a small piece of his heart. "May," he said imploringly.
"Please." Mairead's voice broke on the word and she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. "Please can we talk about something else?" she begged, a small hiccough making her voice hitch.
Edgar looked at her, eyes full of sympathy and confusion, then stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. Mairead squeezed her eyes shut tight as she returned the hug, frantically trying to grab hold of the fraying ends of her self-control. She heard Edgar sigh.
"If I promise not to ask you who he is, will you tell me what's going on?" he asked.
Mairead hesitated. She desperately needed someone to talk to. She felt all alone in this. But she had promised Remus up and down that she wouldn't tell anyone. Then again, if she didn't name names...
Edgar tried again.
"If I promise not to ask you who he is and I take you to Fortescue's and buy you a hot chocolate with those salted caramel marshmallows you're obsessed with?"
Mairead laughed thickly. "Okay," she murmured against his shoulder.
Ten minutes later the two friends were seated on a park bench, having foregone a table at Fortescue's at Mairead's insistence and opted to shiver outside instead (Remus having told Mairead that having private conversations in a quiet restaurant made it easier to be overheard). Mairead pulled the lid off her cup, gingerly picked up one of the pillowy marshmallows, and slowly lowered it into her mouth. She closed her eyes and savored the experience. The salted caramel contrasted beautifully with the rich, dark chocolate of the drink, and the heat of the steamed milk in the cup melted the bottom of the marshmallow, causing it to be gooey on one side but still hold its form on the other. It was divine.
Edgar watched her with an indulgent little smile on his face, then said, "Ready to talk?"
Mairead took her time letting the marshmallow dissolve in her mouth, then nodded.
"So... we've known each other for a while, and I've liked him for ages. I..." she glanced hesitantly at Edgar before plunging onwards, "I've been in love with him for a long time. But I didn't think he was interested and then we lost touch. But we reconnected this summer, and... Edgar, it was like no time had passed. He was just... he's wonderful. He's perfect. We, erm, we wound up spending a lot of time together this summer, but I didn't find out until really recently that he was... maybe, interested in me? But he didn't think it was a good idea to be together so we tried just being friends. But then we kind of... kept snogging? Like, by accident?"
Edgar smirked. "Oh, yeah, I hate it when that happens," he drawled. "Oops! I tripped and my face fell on your face."
Mairead snickered. "Yeah... so, that went on for a bit, but then, erm, so about five weeks ago, we, erm... we... we kind of..."
"Had sex?"
Mairead felt her face grow warm. She bowed her head in confirmation. "And we've kind of been... meeting up... like, about every night? Ish?
Edgar raised his eyebrows. "How are you walking straight, 'meeting up' every night?" he asked.
Mairead could actually see that the end of her nose was bright red by this point. "He's very gentle," she said under her breath.
"So why all the cloak and dagger?" asked Edgar.
Mairead chewed on her lip for a while before shaking her head. "I can't tell you that without giving away who it is," she said. "And I promised I wouldn't tell anyone. But... but that's the thing that's been bugging me. We've been sleeping together for over a month now, and I've been in love with him for years, and all I want to do is be with him every second of every day, but... but I have no fucking clue how he feels about me." She looked up at Edgar, eyes wide and desolate. "He's absolutely intent on no one finding out about us, and at first I thought I was okay with that, but the more time goes on, it's just... it's really starting to mess with my head."
"Well, yeah," said Edgar as if it should be obvious. "How exactly are you supposed to plan out a future together in which you are together in complete secrecy?"
"Exactly!" Mairead exclaimed, gesticulating emphatically with her hands. "He's constantly telling me how wonderful I am and how he doesn't understand why I would want to be with him and how lucky he feels that I like him, but at the same time I can't possibly gauge how serious he is because he apparently doesn't ever want anyone to know ever! And... I just... I wish I knew how he felt about me! I mean, obviously there's some physical attraction going on," she added hastily at Edgar's single arched brow. "But he's never told me if he loves me, and he's just so goddamn guarded all the time that I can't tell what's really in his head." She dropped her head into her hands, feeling pathetic. "So, yeah. That's why I wanted to know how you knew that Jonathan was in love with you. Because, I mean... if he is in love with me, then the rest will just eventually work itself out, right?"
"Wrong."
Mairead sat straight upright at this, staring at Edgar in shock.
Edgar was silent for a long while, then finally said, "Now, I'm not trying to offend you or anything - I know you're really obsessed with The Beatles -"
"I'm not obsessed with The Beatles," Mairead broke in.
"You are absolutely obsessed with them," Edgar argued, temporarily sidetracked.
"I am not!"
Edgar pulled a skeptical face. "You own, like, five of their albums!"
This was skirting far too close to home for Mairead, so she said, "What does this have to do with literally anything?"
"My point is: The Beatles were wrong," said Edgar.
Mairead cocked an eyebrow, feeling snarky. "He's not really a Nowhere Man? It wasn't Norwegian Wood, it was just regular pine?"
Edgar rolled his eyes and elbowed her, but then grew more solemn. "Love is not all you need."
His words hung in the air for several long moments. He went on. "Love is great. Absolutely essential to a romantic relationship. But it's not all you need. You also need trust, and communication, and mutual respect."
Mairead's breath started to shorten. She was starting to suspect where this was going, and she didn't like it at all.
"Now, I'm making some assumptions here," Edgar continued. "I haven't actually been there when the two of you have been together, and since you abjectly refuse to tell me who this is, I can't give you any direct evidence to support this. But here's the thing: anyone who's spent five minutes with you and isn't totally off their nut absolutely adores you. So I would be willing to bet my pathetic little salary from St. Hedwig's that he loves you. Probably a lot. But May..." Here he hesitated, then took her hand in both of his. "I hate to say this, I really do... but it doesn't sound like he respects you. And it sure as hell doesn't sound like he trusts you. And... based on the fact that you have all of these questions? He's not communicating with you."
Mairead sat in silence. Her head felt like it was full of stuffing. Her lips were tingling and there was a ringing in her ears. Her vision was going blurry and when she blinked, her eyes were wet. She swallowed, and it hurt.
Edgar watched her regretfully, then said, "I think you need to talk to him. I think you need to find out where this is going."
Mairead whimpered before she could stop herself. "But... but I don't want to be a nag," she said, her voice ringing as pitiful and childish in her ears. "I don't want to be a pest. I don't want him to think I'm a child."
Edgar gave her a look. "It's not nagging to ask for a seat at the table in your own relationship, Mairead," he said.
Mairead mulled this over for a long while, and Edgar sat by her the whole time. She wanted to think that Edgar didn't know what he was talking about, that he couldn't make an assessment like that without understanding the specifics of what was going on between her and Remus. But at the same time, she was uncomfortably conscious of the fact that she did not want to look directly at any of what he had said, that even brushing up alongside Edgar's assessment sent shock waves of anxiety and grief through her. She didn't know she was crying until a tear fell onto the lid of her cup of hot chocolate.
"Hey," said Edgar softly. "Don't let this drag you down. You're too amazing to let any man get you down."
Mairead nodded, but she knew it was not convincing.
Edgar smiled sadly. "A wise woman once told me that I don't need a man to complete my life, that I'm perfect the way that I am." Mairead felt like curling up in the backseat of her car and bawling her eyes out, but she forced herself to smile when Edgar added, "You know what else is perfect the way that it is? That hot chocolate you're letting get cold."
"Yeah, for sure," she said, her voice coming out hoarse. She pulled the lid off her cup to snag another marshmallow.
"Oh, no, they've all melted," lamented Edgar, peeking into her cup.
"Oh... yeah, that's too bad," Mairead said. She looked contemplatively down into her cup. That was the thing about Fortescue's hot chocolate: it was not meant to last a long time. It was a pleasure meant to be devoured greedily and all at once. If customers allowed themselves to be immersed wholeheartedly in the moment, they would be rewarded by sweetness and warmth and an explosion of intense enjoyment. But if they tried to stretch it out, make it last, the marshmallows would melt and the hot chocolate would become overly sweet and the chocolate solids would all fall to the bottom of the cup.
Some delights were not meant to last forever.
Mairead was subdued as they disposed of their cups and walked back to St. Hedwig's, but she didn't want to let the thoughts whipping around in her head ruin her time with Edgar, so she wrapped both hands around one of his arms and pulled him in for a side hug and asked him to finish telling her about his plans for Paris with Julian as they walked along.
"Hey," said Mairead when they reached the foot of the steps up into St. Hedwig's, changing the subject. "Have you heard from Sophie?"
"Nope. Probably busy with her new job and houseboy."
Mairead forced a laugh. "Yeah, probably." She couldn't help but let her thoughts stray to the difference between the progression of Sophie's relationship and her own. Despite her most fervent wishes, she could not imagine Remus ever asking her to move in with him.
"Are you okay?" Edgar asked, brows furrowed with concern.
Mairead pulled both lips into her mouth and bit down hard for a moment. Then, she blinked rapidly, twitched her nose, and said briskly, "Yeah. I'm grand."
Remus sat on his bed, eyes uselessly scanning the same passage in his book over and over, and told himself that he was not waiting for her knock.
Remus had barely seen Mairead over the past two days. She had worked late on Thursday and all day on Friday, but during the evening when she would have been home, Remus was at the Ministry, guarding the Department of Mysteries. She had already left for the day when he returned, and she had gotten back just in time for the Order meeting. Remus thought she had seemed pale and subdued, but he supposed that could have been the subject matter.
Sturgis Podmore had not been seen since his shift at the Ministry on Thursday evening. Remus reported that there was no sign of him at the Ministry, and Mad-Eye confirmed that Sturgis had not come by to return Moody's invisibility cloak, either. Fortunately Mad-Eye had a spare he had lent to Remus for Friday night, although it was old and there was a small rip in it that Remus had to be careful to keep pinched together.
Not that old and worn cloaks were new to Remus.
Arthur and Tonks agreed that they would go back to the Ministry after the meeting let out, to try to learn what had become of Sturgis. Mad-Eye would take tonight's shift at the Department of Mysteries, as much to guard the Hall of Prophecies as to search for clues as to what may have happened.
Remus frowned to himself. Mairead got along fine with Sturgis, he thought. In fact, she had frequently taken to sitting beside him at Order meetings and meals after Remus had told her they needed to be more discreet about where they sat. Remus had been subtly keeping an eye on her without appearing to, and she always seemed to be her normal, sweet self, with her usual penchant for getting nervous and babbling awkwardly, a trait he had always found to be absolutely adorable. But while she was always cordial with Sturgis, she did not have the rapport with him that she had with Sirius, for example, or with Bill and Charlie, before she had gotten scared away from a friendship with them.
No, Sturgis's unexcused absence did not quite explain why Mairead seemed reticent. Remus resolved that he would talk to her when she came to his room. His thoughts strayed to the way she had looked when she had arrived at the meeting, windblown and damp from a sudden, cold rain that had started to fall. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose had been flushed a lovely pink, and the droplets of rain on her made it look as though she had diamonds sparkling in her copper hair.
Remus felt a stirring as his blood began to warm. He would ask her what was on her mind after.
Remus let his book fall to his lap and tilted his head back to rest against the headboard of his bed, willing her to get here soon, straining for the sound of her knock. His breath slowly deepened as his thoughts strayed to how badly he longed to hold Mairead in his arms.
He told himself it would be altogether better if she did not come, if she awoke to the foolishness of what they were doing and decided to get out while she still could. He told himself this, and yet as the minutes ticked by and she did not come, longing and dread began to mingle in his blood.
He sighed heavily. Something about Mairead entranced him like nothing and no one else ever had. Being with Mairead was heaven; there was no other word for it. The way she looked at him, dark green eyes wide with desire, yes, but also trust and devotion and, always, surprise, as though she couldn't believe this was happening.
He could relate.
Her skin was perfection. Smooth and soft and dotted with freckles that made him want to devour her so that he could carry her around with him always. His eyes drifted closed as he called to mind what it felt like to undress her, to bare her before his gaze, his eyes drawn irresistibly to the red curls between her thighs, curls that would already be damp. The dusty rose color her cheeks still turned, even after he had seen her dozens of times; still modest, still shy of him as he ran his hands over her skin, caressing and adoring and stroking her until she was writhing beneath him, arching and crying out his name.
And then, after he had brought her over the edge once or twice, sinking into her... Remus sighed. Being inside Mairead was transporting. To feel her arms wrap around him, holding onto him, clinging to him. Trying to hold back, trying to be gentle with her. She was so tight. Every time with her felt like taking her virginity.
A substantial part of Remus wished he could have been her first, the only man to have known her this way. The wolf in him was greedy and jealous, and wanted to possess Mairead absolutely. But another part of him felt relief that he was not her first lover. He already felt a heavy enough burden of guilt as it was. If he had to grapple with taking the virginity of his former student, his sweet, defenseless student who had trusted him, looked to him for guidance, relied upon him to keep her safe and out of harm's way, if he had taken even further advantage of her vulnerability than he already had... if he had had to choose between protecting the one last shred of her innocence he hadn't already destroyed, and the unparalleled ecstasy of making love to Mairead, he was not sure whether he would have been able to make the right choice.
But at least he had the savage, selfish pleasure of knowing that he was the only man who had ever brought her to completion. Mairead had - extremely reluctantly and bashfully - admitted that she and her first boyfriend had not gone very far with one another physically, and that she had not gotten any enjoyment out of her time with Roger. Remus knew that this accounted for a large part of the surprise he saw when he touched her. Upon learning (unsurprisingly) just how self-serving and inconsiderate Roger had been, Remus had resolved to make his time with Mairead as pleasurable for her as he possibly could. He told himself that he was making up for the harm others had caused her. He acknowledged that a part of him felt that, if he could be the best lover Mairead had ever had, then perhaps he wasn't being entirely selfish in carrying on with her.
Remus had become addicted to the sight of Mairead coming for him. The sounds she would make, broken and desperate and so much louder than she normally was; sounds he knew no one else had ever torn out of her; sounds that should be illegal. The way her perfect mouth would fall open and her perfect head would fall back, baring her perfect throat in a graceful arch that made Remus's mouth water. The way, just for a few moments, all of Mairead's self-consciousness and self-effacement and modesty would fall away, and she would surrender herself into his hands. Remus was in awe of the trust she showed him in those moments.
Best of all, though, were not the moments of thrusting and moaning, of pressure and release. No, the moments that Remus craved most, that robbed him of his breath and made his heart clench with an emotion that was almost painful, were the moments afterwards. When they lay together, tangled in bedsheets and limbs, hearts pounding. Their sweat would mingle together and dry, and as it evaporated Mairead would begin to shiver, as much from the aftershocks of her orgasm as from the sudden chill. And when she began to tremble Remus would gather her into his arms, holding her close, so, so close to him. She would nestle her face into his chest or the crook of his neck, and she would sigh and Remus could feel every muscle in her body relaxing and melting into him. Eventually she would look up, her eyes seeking Remus's, and he was never sure in those moments whether the emotions he saw in her eyes were going to condemn him to hell or whether maybe, just maybe, they were going to be his salvation.
Peace. Fulfillment. Happiness. Absolute trust.
And something else. Something that both made Remus thrum with hope and want to run as far away from her as he could. He would look away when he saw it, too afraid of what it meant. He was perfectly well aware of what he was seeing; he just couldn't bring himself to admit to himself that he did. Because if he admitted he knew what it was, he had to take responsibility for it. If he admitted he knew what it was, then disaster was not far behind.
If he admitted he knew what it was, he had to end this.
And he desperately, deeply, profoundly did not want this to end.
Remus let out a small, frustrated sound. Where was she?
He checked his watch. They had agreed on half past ten. It was nearly eleven. Remus ground his teeth together thoughtfully. Had he done something to offend her? He thought back to their most recent interactions. There had been the Order meeting, and then dinner. Remus had sat beside her for neither, but that was not unusual. He had explained to her that they needed to be discreet, and Mairead had agreed to follow his guidance. He cast his mind back to the meal and tried to think if he had said something that may have hurt her feelings. He had laughed at something she had said, but she had intended it to be funny, had looked happy at his laughter. Had she eaten something that had disagreed with her? He mentally sorted through any recollections he had of foods she did not like, but could not think of anything she had eaten at dinner that night that she would not have enjoyed.
He frowned. Did she have a lesson at the Combat Arts Academy? No, she would have said something.
Remus set the book aside and stood up. He made it halfway to the door before he paused. He could make up an excuse to go to the kitchen, but what if he missed her knock while he was gone? He had instructed her never to wait around outside his bedroom door, especially not on meeting nights. She was to knock once and only once, and if he did not answer she was to go to her room and spend the night there. She had agreed to this rule as well.
Remus checked his watch again. It was now eleven. Had he somehow missed her knock? He folded his arms and drummed his fingers restlessly on his opposing forearm. He decided to take the risk and venture out into the house looking for her. He strode over to the door, pulled it open, and came face-to-face with Mairead, her fist poised in the air to knock, her pretty mouth an 'o' of surprise.
He cast a furtive look around the corridor outside, then hurried her into his room, closing and locking it behind her.
Remus silenced the room, then turned to face Mairead. He started to ask where she had been, but noticed that she was twisting her fingers with guilt.
"I'm sorry!" she moaned, the picture of anxiety, dancing uncertainly on the spot. "Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen and she offered me a nightcap but I said 'no' but then she just kept talking and I couldn't get away without seeming suspicious and I didn't want to be impolite and - although I guess I was impolite to you by keeping you waiting... but, but I figured that - well, I didn't know what to do and I thought you would prefer me to play it safe, and anyway eventually I said I was going to bed but then she said she'd come up too and her bedroom's on the fourth floor so if I stopped here on the third she'd wonder where I was going so I had to go up to my bedroom and so I stayed there for a bit but then when I came out and started down the stairs I saw that she was in the corridor talking to Bill but then she saw me and so I had to pretend I had to go to the loo so then I went there and I waited for, like, five minutes and then I came back out and she'd finally gone and that's when I came here."
She finished by gulping down a lungful of air. Remus couldn't help the smile that tugged at his mouth.
She's so adorable when she's flustered.
"Anyway, I'm really sorry," Mairead concluded.
Remus stepped towards her and took her lovely face in his hands. "You're here now," he said simply.
He ducked his head and brushed his lips against hers. At once, he was beset by her intoxicating scent, and it made him feel a bit heady. He felt her rise up on her toes into the kiss, her lips soft, her fingers grasping at his shirt front. Remus sighed and felt knots and tension in his back and shoulders release. He slid his hands down towards her hips, wanting to pull her as close as possible.
His fingers brushed against something long and rectangular in the pocket of her cardigan and she made a noise against his mouth.
"Oh, I almost forgot!" she said, breaking the kiss and pulling away. Mairead reached into her pocket and withdrew the object. "I got this for you today."
She was holding a large bar of Honeydukes chocolate. He sighed wistfully. It was his favorite flavor.
"How did you know this was my favorite?" he asked her, beaming at her.
"I just guessed," she said modestly, putting her hands into her pockets. "It was the flavor you gave me, so I hoped you liked it, too."
Remus cocked his head to one side. "When did I give you a bar of chocolate?" he asked.
"At Hogwarts," she said, looking up at him. "When you brought me the feast at the library."
Remus smiled at the memory of her delighted face, of the way she had persuaded him to stay with her. "That was a lovely afternoon," he said softly.
Mairead was smiling in a kittenish way, biting her bottom lip and playing with the frayed edge of one of her sleeves. "I guess... in a way..." she said shyly, "...that was kind of like our first date."
Remus's face fell. He felt a sinking in his stomach as he considered the memory through that lens. "You were my student. I wasn't interested in you," he said more sharply than he intended. He tried to soften the blow by adding, "In that way, I mean," but he saw that his words had stung.
"Oh, right, yeah, totally," said Mairead, backtracking hastily. "I didn't - I mean. Yeah. No. I didn't mean it like that, I don't know why I said it. I'm sorry."
She turned and walked away from him, wandering over to look at the book on his bedside table. Even in the dim amber glow of the lamp, Remus could see that her face was bright red.
Guilt over hurting Mairead's feelings competed with the burning shame of the reminder of their former relationship. Even though she was wrong to have interpreted their time together in the library that way, Remus could see that, in some ways, her assessment of the situation was more realistic. He was being naïve and foolish if he thought he could compartmentalize their time together the way he had been doing. As though the girl who had been his student and the woman he undressed every night were two different people. As though she might also be separating the man who had been her teacher - who had had authority over her - from the werewolf who hungered for her.
He had walled off their time as teacher and student in his mind as something completely separate from their actions now, but logically, that was simply not the reality of the situation. Mairead clearly didn't see them as separate. Hadn't she only recently shown that, when, in the height of ecstasy, she had called him 'Professor Lupin'? No, she did not separate the relationship they'd had from the relationship they had now, and, with a jolt that felt like a punch to the stomach every time he thought of it, he knew that no one else would see them as separate either, should their affair be discovered.
And it made sense. In many ways, it made more sense than the truth of the situation - that Remus had only developed feelings for Mairead after she had come back into his life. Should the Order find out, they would draw a straight line from Remus as Mairead's professor to Remus as Mairead's lover.
No, not lover.
Predator.
It would all come together in their minds. It would all make sense. After all, it was well known that werewolves were predators. To them, Remus would be nothing more than a wolf, and Hogwarts, his hunting grounds. They would say he had observed the herd of students and picked out the weakest, the most vulnerable.
As wolves do their prey.
They would say that he manipulated her, manufactured reasons to bring her into close proximity with him - first with the Information Literacy seminar, next by making her his unofficial TA in her classes, and finally, moving in for the kill: convincing Dumbledore and her Head of House that she needed to take private lessons with him.
How long, they would ask themselves, had he waited before private lessons became something more? How long had it taken, they would wonder, for him to trick or coerce or seduce her into walking through the door next to the fireplace in his office, which led to his private quarters?
The arousal he had been feeling only a few minutes earlier sickened and soured in Remus's stomach. He had to get Mairead out of his bedroom. What was he thinking, having sex with her while others were in the house?
A course correction was needed.
He sidled up behind Mairead and laid a hand on her shoulder, stroking her lightly. She flinched at his touch. It took him a moment to work his way up to the surface of his own dark thoughts to remember that she was probably still feeling embarrassed. He winced. She was not going to be happy with him, but it had to be done.
With a regretful sigh, Remus set the bar of chocolate down on the nightstand, took her by the shoulders, and turned her gently to face him.
"May, we need to talk," he began quietly.
Mairead looked stressed and ashamed. "I'm - I'm sorry," she stammered, looking anywhere but at him. "I didn't mean it the way it came out. I didn't think that you - that we - I-I didn't, erm..." She broke off, blushing and looking miserably embarrassed.
"This isn't about that," Remus rushed to reassure her, even though it wasn't quite true. "It's something else."
Mairead blinked a few times. "What is it?" she asked meekly.
Remus's mouth tightened. "I've been thinking," he began. He moved one hand to cup her face, stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. "And I don't think it's a good idea for you to stay here on nights when the Order meets anymore."
He said it as gently as he could, but he immediately saw that she was hurt.
She finally looked right at him. "What?" she whispered in dismay. "Why?"
"The risk is too great," he said. "Look at tonight: you were almost caught twice by Molly."
He heard Mairead's breath coming more quickly. "B-but I wasn't!" she said, her voice growing shrill. "I was really careful! I told you. The landing was empty when I came out - no one was there; no one saw me!"
"I'm sure you were very careful," said Remus. "But look at it this way: you were very careful and you were still almost caught."
"But I followed all of your rules!" she said insistently. "I did everything you told me to do. What did I do wrong?"
Remus shook his head. "You didn't do anything wrong. This is a new rule."
Mairead's mouth twitched the way it did when she was dissatisfied. She opened her mouth to retort, seemed to think better of it, but then worked up her courage and spoke. "I don't want any new rules."
Remus sighed. "Mairead, come on," he said reasonably. "This is something we should have agreed to from the beginning. I can't believe I let it go on this long. It's just not worth the risk."
"It is to me."
One look at Mairead told Remus she was in no mood for his conciliatory tone. Still, he had to get her to see reason. "Don't be foolish," he said sternly. "You know better than to talk like this."
"Remus, when am I going to see you then?" she demanded, breaking away from his hands and taking a step back. "We never see each other anymore!"
Remus fixed Mairead with a look. "Mairead, I think you're overreacting just a t-"
"I didn't see you Thursday night because I was working," she ticked off one of her fingers. "I didn't see you Friday because you were at the Ministry. I didn't see you at all today because you don't want people showing up early for Order meetings and spotting us together - even though that would be totally normal because we fucking live together - I wasn't allowed to sit by you at the meeting, I wasn't allowed to sit by you at dinner, now I'm not allowed to see you tonight, I'm not allowed to even be in the same room with you tomorrow morning -" she broke off and looked around the room, a wild and somewhat frantic look in her eyes now. "How much longer before I'm never allowed to be with you at all? What is the point of being together if we're never actually together?!"
Remus stepped forward to pull Mairead into his arms and comfort her, but she danced out of his reach, folding her arms and hugging herself protectively.
"Mairead, I am doing my best here," said Remus, trying to keep the tone of his voice measured. "I'm trying to protect what we have. How can I do that if you won't work with me?"
Mairead's eyes narrowed. "Working with you implies that I have a say in what happens," she said bitingly.
Frustration flared in Remus. "That is not fair, Mairead!" he said sharply. "I have told you repeatedly that you don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable."
"Well, this secrecy makes me uncomfortable!" she snapped, her voice rising now.
Remus just managed to stop himself from snapping back at her. He stopped, took a breath, then, in a tone of forced calm, said, "What other choice do we have?"
"We could stop keeping this a secret."
Remus stared at her. "What?" he asked, convinced he had misunderstood. "What do you mean by that?"
"We could stop hiding," said Mairead. "I - I don't want to hide anymore. I don't want to sneak around anymore."
Remus was thunderstruck that she could make such a horrible suggestion. "Mairead, you can't tell anyone," he said, slowly advancing on her.
"Why not?" she demanded petulantly.
"You know why not," said Remus. "You know that no one can find out about this, Mairead! You are far too intelligent to be making suggestions like this. What on earth are you thinking?"
Mairead was getting flustered again. She spluttered and fought for words. "I'm thi- I'm trying to - w-what about the f- down the road?"
Had Remus been feeling less frustrated, he probably could have pieced together what she had said into a complete sentence. As it was, he frowned at her and couldn't quite keep the irritated note out of his voice when he said, "I'm sorry, what was that?"
Mairead huffed out a breath. "When will it be enough?" she demanded. "When will you stop adding rules and regulations and exceptions and caveats to this?"
"When it's safe!" replied Remus impatiently.
"And when will it be safe?" Mairead pushed back.
"I don't know!" he said, his own voice beginning to rise.
"I need you to know! I need you to know soon!" she cried.
"I don't have all the answers, Mairead!"
"Then why do you get to make all the decisions?!"
Remus regarded Mairead with cold anger. "You haven't exactly floored me with your responsibility and decision-making skills tonight, Mairead," he said coolly. "Do you really think you're in a position to negotiate with me?"
Mairead blinked and fell back a step, unaccustomed to hearing him speak so critically of her. Remus turned his back to her for a moment, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. He expected her to cry. He expected her to get angry and shout at him, to curse his name, swear at him. He expected her to storm out of his room. He thought he knew what he could expect from Mairead's response to his biting, cutting words. But when she eventually controlled her emotions enough to speak, he was entirely unprepared for the words that came out of her mouth.
"Mrs. Weasley is trying to set me up with someone."
Remus froze. The fire in his stomach turned to ice. He turned and stared at Mairead in ringing silence. She looked like she was trying with everything she had not to cry, but her lips trembled and her voice shook when she spoke again.
"That's what she was talking to Bill about on the landing. She was asking him if he had any single friends who might be interested in dating me. She thinks I'm lonely." She looked up at Remus, eyes glassy and inconsolable. "What am I supposed to do?" she asked, her voice breaking up as she spoke. "Please - tell me what I'm supposed to do, because I don't know."
Remus felt light-headed. There was a ringing in his ears. "I - er - w-" he stuttered. He swallowed past a painful lump in his throat and tried again. "Just... try telling her you're already seeing someone."
Mairead gave him a doubtful look, but the vitriol was gone from her face, replaced by desolation. "You know that won't work," she said, her voice weak and afraid. "She's going to want a name. She's going to want details."
"Make them up," he suggested.
"Remus."
Remus's heart sank even further. She was right. That could never work. He ran his hand through his hair again. He began to pace the length of the room, his mind racing to come up with a solution. After nearly a minute, he stopped in front of Mairead.
"All right, here's what you'll do:" he said. "You'll go out with Bill's friend - just once. Have drinks, have dinner, talk. At the end of the evening, just tell him it was nice to meet him and go your separate ways."
She blinked rapidly. "You - you want me to go on a date?" she asked, her voice barely audible. "You want me to go out with someone else?"
"What other solution is there?" he said.
"You know what the other solution is!" she said, sounding desperate.
"That is not an option!" he said firmly.
"Oh, but going out on a blind date with a potential boyfriend all to obfuscate my real relationship is?" she snapped.
"It wouldn't be a real date!" Remus insisted.
"It would be to him!" she cried. "It would be to Bill and to Mrs. Weasley! That's the thing about all of your rules, Remus: they might not seem real or consequential to you, but I'm the one who has to live with them! I'm the one who has to carry them out. And what exactly am I supposed to do after that? Start going out with some poor bloke who doesn't know that he's just a cover?"
"Of course not," he said impatiently.
"Well, then, what?"
Remus sighed. She was being infuriatingly obtuse. "Look," he said, trying with all his might to remain calm. "You go on one date - that's all: just one date. At the end of it, you smile, you thank him for his time, and you tell Molly and Bill that there was no spark."
Mairead's eyes flashed with anger. She folded her arms obstinately. "And if there is a spark?" she challenged him.
It was as though someone had Banished all the air from Remus's lungs. Reality crashed into him. Mairead was an intelligent, charming, beautiful woman. Bill was certain to have plenty of handsome, charismatic, well-off friends more than capable of sweeping a young woman off her feet. And for the life of him, Remus could not understand why the whole world wasn't in love with Mairead. She was perfectly able to do plenty of sweeping herself. Remus gritted his teeth and bit out the words he felt obligated to say.
"Then you've got to do what's best for yourself."
Mairead looked as though he had hit her with a Stinging Hex. Her breath became short and labored.
"Oh, okay," she said in a tiny voice.
Remus watched her eyes fill with tears and wanted to curl up and die for hurting her. He couldn't help himself. He reached out for her. "Mairead," he said remorsefully.
Mairead was looking anywhere but at him. "I - I -" she faltered, voice trembling dangerously. "I'm sorry. This was my fault. I'm sorry," she said faintly. "I'm... I'll go. I'm sorry."
She looked so lost, so broken standing there. "May," Remus whispered. He stepped towards her but she backed away, looking like a trapped animal. She turned as if in a daze and started for the door. Remus reached out and touched her shoulder but she squirmed out of his grasp.
"Mairead, don't go," he pleaded urgently.
"No, I - I'm gonna go," she said vaguely. She tugged at the doorknob twice before remembering that it was locked. It took her trembling fingers several seconds to undo the bolt. "I'll see you..." she trailed off uncertainly, then concluded, "when I see you."
She opened the door a crack, peeked out, then opened it further, careful to lift up on the door to take the pressure off the hinges and prevent them from squeaking. She glanced up and down the corridor before slipping out, closing the door silently behind her.
It killed Remus to see that, even in her advanced state of distress, she followed all of his rules.
Remus could not rest after Mairead left. He tried to pick up his book and read. He tried to sleep. He wasn't sure how long he tossed and turned before giving up and throwing the covers off.
Covers that still smelled like Mairead.
He paced his room like a captive wolf, unable to erase the hurt look in Mairead's eyes from his mind, unable to wrap his mind around what had just happened. What he had just done.
He had just told Mairead she should start seeing other men.
Remus stopped in the middle of the floor and doubled over as though someone had kicked him. He breathed raggedly.
He was losing her. And he was letting it happen.
Remus gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut tight for a few moments before straightening and determinedly pacing his room, like it was going to get him anywhere.
What other choice did he have? Mairead was right: inventing a fake boyfriend would only result in Molly wanting to meet him. And Mairead's proposed alternative was absolutely absurd.
No, this was the best course of action. Mairead would just have to get through one uncomfortable evening and then she could come back and Remus would hold her and comfort her and tell her how proud he was of her.
If she wasn't too angry with him, that was.
Remus shook his head in frustration. Surely if he could endure the agony of watching her go on a date with someone else, she could endure a couple of hours in the company of one of Bill's friends. Bill was a good man. He wouldn't set her up with someone obnoxious. Perhaps this would even be good for her. She could make a friend out of the whole situation.
And if there is a spark?
Remus froze in his tracks. A shadowy figure rode in his mind's eye. A tall, handsome, roguish man with long hair like Bill's and a face very much like Sirius's when he was Mairead's age. Like one of the films Mairead loved so much - that Remus loved watching with her - he saw the whole thing play out. Mairead's shy but intrigued smile upon first meeting. Her pretty blush at a well-placed bit of flattery (for she would accept his compliments). Mairead's bell-like laughter at a humorous comment murmured in her ear, a secret joke shared between lovers. Their first kiss. Their first dance. The nameless man slinging an arm around her shoulder, introducing her to his parents, to his friends. Mairead introducing him to her friends with nothing in the world to be afraid of. Their first night together. The man running his hands over Mairead's pale, freckled skin. Mairead moving with him, crying out his name in that breathy way. Mairead's spine arching, her head thrown back in a graceful, kissable line. And afterwards, Mairead snuggled closely in the embrace of the man, nuzzling into his muscular, flawless chest. Dropping a kiss on his jawline.
Mairead, whispering, "I love you."
Remus's breath was coming in short, rapid gasps. He blinked and realized his eyes were burning.
Hey, look at the bright side, the nasty voice in his head said. Maybe she'll invite you to the wedding.
With an agonized growl, Remus lunged for his bed. He tore off the covers, hurled the vanilla-brown-sugar-scented pillows across the room, where they hit his desk, knocked over his chair, and sent parchment flying. Turning back, he attacked his bedside table, sweeping everything on it to the floor. The lamp shattered and the candle inside went out, plunging Remus into darkness.
He collapsed onto the floor next to his bed, clutched at his face with his hands, and let out another groan of misery.
It's for the best, he told himself. It's for the best, it's for the best, it's for the best, it's for the best...
He was still chanting this in his head when he got to his feet, wrenched his door open, and headed for the fifth floor.
His foot hit a squeaky floorboard he had forgotten about, but he disregarded this as he hurried down the corridor, counting doors until he reached the correct one. Before he could talk himself out of it, he raised his hand and knocked.
There was no answer. No sound from within the room. He knocked again. Silence.
Remus turned his head to one side and pressed an ear to the door. He could hear nothing from within the room. "Mairead!" he hissed.
Nothing. Frowning now, Remus glanced down at the floor to see if any light could be seen spilling out from underneath the door. There was only darkness.
Feeling slightly frantic now with the need to see her, Remus raised his fist and pounded on the door, calling, "Mairead!" a little louder.
Worry was twisting his stomach. There wasn't a sound coming from within the room. Was she not in there? Remus placed a hand on the doorknob when he felt it twist under his hand. The door opened and Mairead's pale face appeared in the doorway.
"Remus?" she whispered, looking alarmed at the agitated expression on his face. "What is it? What's going on?"
"Please let me in," he whispered. He cast a look around, aware, for the first time, of the racket he had made coming here. "I need y- I need to speak with you."
Mairead backed up at once and held the door for him. When Remus stepped over the threshold he noticed a brief buzzing fill his ears and then fade.
Mairead had silenced the room. That was why he hadn't been able to hear her get out of bed or cross the room. But why had she silenced the room when she was alone?
"What's going on?" she asked urgently. She hurried over to the window and lit the lamp sitting on the sill. "What's happened?"
Remus took one look at her and it all made sense. Her eyes were puffy and red and there were splotches of red surrounding her eyes. Remus looked over at her unmade bed and noticed a small mountain of sodden handkerchiefs among the bedclothes.
She silenced the room so no one would hear her crying.
She looked so surprised to see him there, as if she thought he surely wouldn't come for her. As if she thought he could stay away.
As if all his guards, all his self-control meant anything at all when confronted with her.
The thought shattered what remained of Remus's virtually exhausted restraint.
He crossed the room in two long strides, seized her face between his hands, and crushed his mouth against hers.
She made a sound of surprise and grabbed onto his forearms.
Remus tore his lips away from hers and groaned, "I'm sorry." He kissed her again, a drowning man breaching the surface of the water. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry." He wrapped both arms around her and held her as close as he could, one hand in her hair, one around her back. He kissed every part of her that his lips could reach, breathing, "I'm so sorry" between each kiss.
He rained kisses onto her lips, her jaw, her ears, her hair, her forehead, her nose. "Forgive me," he begged. "Forgive me, I've been a fool. I'm such a fool, Mairead. Please forgive me."
"Remus." Mairead's voice sounded weak with relief and she sagged against him. Her arms came up to wrap feebly around his back and Remus felt a rush of relief at her touch. Remus pulled back enough to look at her, and she gazed up at him, eyes swimming with tears. Her lips trembled and her voice shook dangerously as she spoke. "I'm sorry, Remus. I'm sorry. Please just tell me what to do and I'll do it. I swear - please!"
Remus leaned in and captured her mouth in a searing kiss. Mairead whimpered and clutched at his shirt as she returned the kiss, her lips frenzied and searching for reassurance. He was completely overwhelmed by her scent, the taste of her lips, the touch of her skin, the feeling of her delicate body in his arms. Need surged through him. Jealousy and possessiveness howled within him.
"Don't go out with Bill's friend," he muttered against her lips.
Mairead pulled back and blinked up at him in confusion. "What?"
Remus took her face in his hands. "Please don't go out with Bill's friend," he begged. "Please. I don't want you to. I never should have suggested it. Please don't go out with him."
"I wasn't planning to," said Mairead.
Remus's eyes burned into hers, hope fluttering in his throat that perhaps he hadn't ruined everything as thoroughly as he had thought. Mairead's breath hitched and she began to cry as she went on.
"I don't want to be with anybody but you. Ever! I only want you." Her tear-filled eyes searched his desperately. Remus saw the look come into them, and he suddenly knew what she was going to say before she said it. "Remus, I lov-"
Remus stopped her with a kiss. Terror and elation waged war inside his chest as he kissed her, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her as tightly as he dared. He walked her backwards until they crashed into her bed. They tumbled down onto the mattress together. Mairead scrambled backwards until her head was up by the top and Remus followed, kissing her the whole way. His hand swept the pile of damp handkerchiefs over the side of the bed, and as he tugged Mairead's clothes off he naïvely vowed, "I'll never make you cry again."
He wrapped an arm around her back, splaying his fingers across her shoulder blades and loving the feeling of her skin beneath his fingertips. Leaning forward, Remus gently guided Mairead back onto the pillows, his other hand going to her knees and resting there. Mairead made a breathy, high-pitched sound, innocence and nerves displayed plainly on her face, but she understood the wordless request and opened her legs for him nonetheless. Remus slid his hand up her inner thigh and watched her expression raptly, hungry for the look that always flitted through her eyes when he touched her. Like she couldn't believe such pleasure existed.
There it is, he thought in wonder as his fingers found her. Mairead's eyes widened and her mouth fell open, her body jolting at his touch. His eyes drank in the sight of her: biting her bottom lip and blushing, eyes screwed up and nose wrinkling at the effort not to shout, chest heaving as he worked her. Even after so many nights together Mairead was still shy with him, and one of Remus's favorite things was to watch her modesty fall away as she lost herself in their lovemaking. She threw her head back and lost the battle with herself to stay quiet. Remus wanted to watch her the whole time, but couldn't resist the sight of her and leaned in, kissing and tasting her throat, feeling the vibrations of her cries under his lips.
"May," he moaned into her skin.
"Remus!" she breathed, raising one hand to tangle in his hair and grabbing his wrist with the other, a last, feeble attempt at controlling herself before her back bowed and she cried out helplessly.
Remus kissed her frantically, swallowing her cries thirstily. Mairead's body fell still, but her hands both came up to caress his face and stroke his hair, gazing at him so openly, so fearless of her feelings, so fearless of him, that Remus could only marvel at her courage. The jealousy and possessiveness that had been roaring within him earlier were quiet now, as Mairead quieted all of his demons. He knew he was utterly lost for her.
Remus lost track of the sweet nothings he whispered against her lips. He could not recall how many impossible promises he made the gentle tickle of her hair, the soft skin of her belly, the palms of her delicate hands. But when he finally slipped inside her, and one of his hands found hers and raised it up beside her head, their fingers intertwined as their bodies moved together, he couldn't stop himself from feeling the hope that being with her always brought about, that somehow, maybe this could be the one thing in his life that went right. Perhaps Mairead could be the one exception, his one miracle.
With every movement, his mind chanted mine, mine, mine, mine in time with the rocking of their bodies. He hadn't realized he had said anything out loud until he saw Mairead nod.
"Yes, yours," she whispered.
Later, Remus lay on his back, his arms wrapped around Mairead, memorizing the way the bumps of her spine felt under his fingertips. Normally Mairead lay boneless in his arms after making love, but right now she was shifting and fidgeting. She nibbled on the edge of a fingernail before her fingers began worrying the threads of the comforter, her bottom lip pulled into her mouth. Remus glanced down and saw that her brows were contracted in an anxious frown.
"What is it?" he asked softly.
Mairead's dark green eyes were full of apprehension when they met his. "What am I going to do?" she asked, her voice small and frightened. "About Mrs. Weasley and Bill? I still don't know what to do."
Remus winced, remembering their argument, how frenzied Mairead had been. Perhaps she had a point. He had only wanted to protect her, to shield her from the worst of the consequences to the choices they were making, but he could see now how all of the steps he had taken had only added to Mairead's already existent anxiety, and he knew that, however inadvertently, he had placed far more than her fair share of the burden of secrecy on her shoulders. He had to walk it back, make things right. He owed it to her. He sighed contemplatively.
"Why don't we put our heads together tomorrow and come up with a solution?" he suggested. "Maybe after we have breakfast together."
Mairead's head lifted off his chest. "Together?" she said in a tiny voice, and the note of hope in it made Remus's heart squeeze guiltily. He turned his face and pressed a long kiss into her hairline.
"Together."
Mairead sighed and Remus felt her muscles melt into relaxation. She nestled her face into the crook of his neck and dropped a soft, sweet kiss onto his jaw. Before long, her breath evened out and she dropped off to sleep.
Remus waited a long time, completely motionless lest he wake her. After perhaps fifteen minutes, he purposefully twitched the shoulder she was resting on. She did not stir.
"May?" he whispered.
Nothing.
Satisfied, Remus tightened his arms around her and craned his neck to whisper in her ear.
"I love you."
Mairead did not move, and Remus found himself surprised at his disappointment that she did not magically awaken at his words.
Shaking his head and smiling ruefully at his own foolish impracticality, Remus closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, cocooned in the warm, soothing feeling that, despite everything working against them, this moment was absolutely perfect, and nothing could destroy it.
Nothing, that is, except the loud pounding on the door that awoke them moments later.
Author's Note: Oh, dear. That can't be good, can it? But did you enjoy Edgar delivering a dose of sense to Mairead? And how do you think Mairead did at standing up for herself? I hope you all have a great week!
Song for this chapter: "Honey," by Magic Man (Remus)