Reflecting Light, Part 2

by katiebug5

Mairead O'Keefe made it through her final year at Hogwarts and is now a fully-qualified witch. But when the unthinkable happens, and an evil that has haunted Mairead all her life rises again, she will find herself thrust back into a war she believed had already been won - and back into the life of the man she has never been able to forget.

18. White Lies

Author's Note: Thank you to GraceMonroe, franknjoe, and Mercymadness for your reviews! I know a lot of you are hoping for a less emotional chapter, and I just have to say... sorry. On the bright side, this is another long chapter!

I hope you like it, anyway!

---

Chapter Eighteen: White Lies

In the days that followed the mission to Malfoy Manor, things largely returned to normal.

Or, as normal as things could be for a member of a clandestine organization operating in secrets and espionage to try to stop the second rise of the most evil wizard in the history of mankind and trying not to get caught by the government while doing so.

Sirius told Mairead that Dumbledore had come by the evening of the mission after she had left for the night. Bill had given the headmaster a report of everything that had happened, and Dumbledore had asked the other members of the mission to respect Mairead's privacy and not discuss what had happened to her with anyone else. At the official Order meeting that weekend, Dumbledore announced that, while there had been a couple of hiccoughs in the implementation, the mission had been successful. A rotation was set up so that the receiver could be monitored at all times.

Dumbledore spoke to Mairead in private following the meeting. He apologized for not stepping in and doing more to support her when she had initially told Bill that she did not want to go on the mission. Mairead blushed and stammered and wound up apologizing several times herself before Dumbledore raised a hand and asked her to stop. He then advised that she take a few days off to clear her head.

Though Mairead had at first resented the implication that she was cracking up and needed a vacation, she had to admit that she was secretly grateful for the time off. She had not been getting any sleep in the leadup to the mission, and though she was still plagued by the occasional nightmare, she was at least sleeping most of the way through the night. Additionally, she had been focusing so much of her attention on Order business that she had fallen far behind on planning her next house-sitting arrangements. September was already proving to be a slow month, as most families were back from their summer holidays and, with school starting, not many people with children wanted to take a getaway. Mairead moved to her next house anxiously, with nothing lined up after it and no signs as to when things might pick up again.

As stressed as this prospect made Mairead, it was nothing compared to the distress she experienced when she opened The Daily Prophet one Monday morning while on the reference desk at the Diagon Alley library and read that Fudge had created a new position at Hogwarts. A High Inquisitor had been instituted at the school, and Dolores Umbridge had stepped into the role. It was immediately clear that this was an unprecedented trespass on the Ministry's part into the affairs of the wizarding school.

But this new level of interference at Hogwarts was not what had Mairead clamping a hand over her mouth, jumping to her feet, and telling her supervisor that she had an emergency and had to leave.

It was the fact that, in the course of denigrating Dumbledore's management of the school, the journalist had decided to go over some of Dumbledore's past decisions that the Prophet deemed questionable.

Among them, "the hiring of werewolf Remus Lupin."

While word had obviously gotten out about Remus's condition two years prior, when Snape had divulged the information to a group of Slytherins, who had then spread word around all of Hogwarts, Mairead knew that there was a significant difference between word getting around at Hogwarts about someone being different and word getting splashed on the front page of The Daily Prophet.

He's never going to find work again, she agonized.

She rapidly flipped through a variety of half-baked ideas, each more ridiculous than the last, for how to fix this. Could she get the Prophet to print a retraction? No, of course not; not when it was true. Could she write a letter to the editor in his defense? As if something like that would get published. Could she run around Wizarding London, buying up every copy of the Prophet she could find and then burning them, so that fewer people would see?

With a sigh, she gave in. All she could do now was be with him.

She stepped out onto Diagon Alley, envisioned the stoop of number twelve in her mind's eye, and headed off to do just that.

---

Sirius watched his friend from his vantage point by the fireplace. Remus was standing by an open window, on the ledge of which owl after owl was shuffling around, trying to be the first to deliver their letters. After he released each owl from their burden, Remus tossed the letters to Sirius, who chucked them, unopened, into the roaring fire.

Remus was putting on a good face, smiling in a what-are-you-going-to-do? sort of way, but Sirius knew this must be eating him up inside.

Sirius felt a strange sense of guilt that he had not been there for Remus for most of his adult life. On the one hand, it wasn't as though it had exactly been within his control. Being imprisoned in Azkaban did tend to have a dampening effect on one's interpersonal relationships. But on the other, Sirius had perhaps been more shocked than he should have been to learn how rough of a go Remus had had for the past fourteen years.

When they had graduated from Hogwarts, they had immediately joined the Order of the Phoenix. Their commitment to Dumbledore and his organization had largely been their focus. What was more, they had all struggled to find employment those first few years. Suspicion and distrust had run high in the wizarding community, with most employers leery and unwilling to take on newcomers with no references. That Remus had more trouble than the rest of them was a fact that had largely escaped Sirius's notice. It wasn't until Sirius had reconnected with Remus for the second time at the end of June, laying low for several days at his semi-derelict cottage in Yorkshire while they awaited further instructions from Dumbledore, that he had learned just how difficult the intervening years had been for Remus.

Learning of Remus's abject poverty had been a bitter enough potion to swallow. But seeing how intensely lonely he had been had been like taking a knife in the gut. Though in his more self-aware moments Sirius could acknowledge - albeit under extreme protestation - that he had a tendency to wallow, he had to admit that he had been so wrapped up in his own extreme misfortunes that he had largely assumed, quite bitterly, that Remus was off living a life of comfort and ease compared with his own lot. He knew there was no way that he could have known what Remus was going through, but he still felt guilty that he had been too wrapped up in his own self-pity to have spared any sympathy for the Marauder who was left behind to pick up the pieces.

Knowing how isolated and cast away Remus had been for so many years was a large part of the reason why Sirius had been so thrilled to welcome Mairead into their special little pack once he had recognized the love, esteem, and devotion she felt for Remus. Realizing that his friend had fallen in love with Mairead (loathe as the stubborn werewolf was to admit to it) had only cemented Sirius's determination to see the two of them together. Over the past few months Sirius had come to see in Mairead exactly the qualities he, James, and Lily had always felt Remus needed in a mate.

Thus, when Mairead hurried into the drawing room where he and Remus were working to manage the deluge of owls, a windswept and distressed air about her, Sirius felt, not surprise, but satisfaction that his confidence in her had been well-placed.

Sirius nodded to her when he spotted her in the doorway.

"Hey, Gryffindor," he said grimly.

"Hey," she responded in a small voice, though her eyes were only for Remus, anxiously scanning him, watching for signs of distress.

But whatever Remus was feeling, it was well-concealed behind his expertly constructed walls. He smiled warmly at Mairead and greeted her pleasantly, if a little more quietly than usual.

"Here, I wouldn't touch this one if I were you," Remus advised Sirius as he held an envelope by its edges and carried it over to the fireplace himself. "It smells like they filled it with Bubotuber Pus."

He dropped it into the fire. Sirius watched it crackle for a few seconds before it started to emit a thick, yellowish smoke with an acrid odor. Sirius felt his eyes stinging and they immediately began to water. Remus must have been experiencing the same unpleasant effect, because they both began coughing at the same time, waving their hands in front of their faces to try to dissipate the smoke.

Remus turned back to the window, then let out a small sigh. Sirius followed his gaze and saw that the next owl was clutching a scarlet envelope in its beak.

Turning to Mairead, Remus said lightly, "You may not want to spend your morning here, Mairead. This isn't likely to be the last Howler."

Don't fall for the casual act, Gryffindor, Sirius thought to himself.

Setting her jaw resolutely, Mairead pushed herself off the doorway she had been leaning against and marched into the room. Sirius felt one corner of his mouth twitch upwards in pride.

"Funny thing about mail delivery owls," she said coolly, pausing briefly to retrieve a quill and ink bottle on her way over to the window. "They have to deliver what they're given."

The two men watched curiously as Mairead accepted the Howler from the owl but placed a hand gently on the owl's back, asking him to wait for a response. She dipped the quill into the ink, then in large, capital letters wrote something on the envelope. Sirius stepped closer to get a better look. Overtop the address line, which said, "To the Werewolf Remus Lupin," she had written:

RETURN TO SENDER.

Mairead pulled out her wand, tapped the envelope, and handed it back to the owl, who accepted the envelope in his beak and took off out the window.

Sirius could have kissed her.

Remus was staring at her in astonishment. Mairead twitched an eyebrow.

"First Howler, huh?" she said dryly.

Remus shook his head, mouth open in bemusement, then slowly said, "No, I just didn't know you could do that."

"Neither did I," added Sirius, filled with mischievous glee. "Where did you learn you could do that?"

Mairead shrugged. "Howlers were a pretty regular thing for me for a few years at Hogwarts," she said.

"Why?" asked Sirius, frowning.

"Oh, you know," she shrugged again and reached for the next Howler, which had just arrived. "Usually they said something to the effect of, 'Something, something, fucking Squib, something something, bloody Death Eater, something something, off with your head, something something, rot in hell you lousy cunt.'"

Sirius stared at her in disbelief. "To an eleven-year-old?" he said disgustedly. "Classy."

Mairead held up a Howler in each hand. "Do these people seem like they have an ounce of integrity or discretion?" she challenged him.

"So who taught you that you could send them back?" Remus asked, walking over to fetch a second quill as more Howlers began to arrive.

"Nobody," said Mairead, tapping her wand on the next envelope and handing it back to its delivery owl. "One day I just got fed up, wrote 'Return to Sender,' and the owl took it. I felt kind of bad, though, because Howlers are designed to explode if you don't open them in a certain amount of time. I still worry that something might've happened to that owl..."

Remus looked at her as though she were wonderful beyond belief. "People are sending Howlers to a child and she's worried about their owls," he said, shaking his head with a soft smile.

Mairead's shoulders rose up defensively around her ears. "It's not their fault their owners are pieces of gobshite," she said. "Anyway, that's why I put a temporary Freezing Charm on the Howlers before I send them back."

Remus, who had just been about to hand a Howler off to an owl, paused, pulled out his own wand, and tapped the envelope.

Sirius watched Remus and Mairead send off two more owls with the Howlers they had arrived with, then barked out a laugh as a thought occurred to him.

"God, I wish I could be there to see the looks on their faces when they get these back," he said wistfully.

Mairead grinned, but stopped quickly, and Sirius knew that she must also have noticed the pained look that flitted briefly across Remus's eyes, there and gone so rapidly Sirius was surprised Mairead had noticed it at all. It had taken him years of observing Remus before he had been able to start interpreting the thoughts and emotions that flashed in Remus's eyes like a fish's scales catching the sunlight as it surfaced for a fraction of a second.

Remus smiled slightly at her. "You really don't have to trouble yourself with this, Mairead," he said quietly. "Sirius and I can take care of it. You can go back to doing whatever it is you came here for."

"I came here for you," she said simply, looking up at him with such bald loyalty that Sirius could honestly not understand how Remus didn't see what was right in front of him.

"Oh," said Remus with a casual, dismissive wave of the hand. "That's kind of you, but really unnecessary. I'm fine."

"Oh," Mairead said quietly as Remus gently tugged the Howler out of her hand and scribbled on the top.

Don't fall for it, Mairead, Sirius thought.

Sirius tried to telegraph his thoughts to her silently when she shot him a helpless look, but she did not appear to get the hint.

"Okay," she said, twisting her fingers awkwardly. "I - I guess I'll see you around, then?"

Remus smiled emptily at her. "Yes, absolutely," he said lightly. "Enjoy the rest of your day."

Mairead blinked rapidly as though fighting down tears as she put down her quill and walked out of the drawing room, closing the door softly behind her.

Sirius rounded on Remus as soon as she was gone.

"Why the hell did you do that?" he demanded angrily.

Remus looked at him, the perfect mask of innocent confusion on his face. "Why did I do what?" he asked.

Sirius scowled. "Why did you send her away?" he asked, annoyed that he had to play Remus's stupid little game.

Remus turned back to the window and resumed relieving the waiting owls of their letters and Howlers. "It was as I said: there was no need to take her away from what she was doing."

"She was working today," said Sirius, irritably yanking the letters out of Remus's extended hand and tossing them carelessly over his shoulder into the fire. "She left work to be here. With you."

He saw Remus's lips tighten into a straight line. "She needn't have done that," he said quietly.

"She wanted to," Sirius insisted. "She wanted to be here for you. And you sent her away."

Remus took his time writing carefully atop the scarlet envelope in his hand. "She shouldn't have come here," he said.

Was it just Sirius, or did he sound a touch sulky? He narrowed his eyes.

"Why didn't you want her here?" he asked suspiciously.

Remus tapped the envelope with his wand and handed it back to the owl before answering. "You heard her, Sirius," he said quietly. "She's been getting Howlers and mail like this since she was a child. She has enough to deal with on her own. There's no reason she should have to deal with even more vitriol."

Sirius opened his mouth to offer a counter-argument, but paused and peered at Remus. The other man had not once met his eye when he had spoken.

"Bullshit," Sirius pronounced. "You didn't send her away for her. You sent her away for yourself. Why?"

Remus's back tensed. "I don't know what you're -"

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about," Sirius snapped. "Why?"

Remus went completely still for several moments before his shoulders eventually slumped. "She used to respect me," he mumbled. "She used to look up to me. She's the only person who still holds me in any kind of regard. I just... I didn't want her to see me like this. I didn't want her to know about this side of my life... I wanted to maintain some... miniscule illusion of dignity in her eyes."

Sirius watched him in silence, weighing Remus's words, choosing how to respond. Finally, he decided to go with, "That's fucked."

Remus shot him an incensed look. "Thanks very much, Sirius," he said acerbically.

"I mean it," Sirius said, frowning angrily. "That's what you want? For her to hero worship you? Kneel before you like you're some kind of God? How long do you think that can possibly last?"

Remus closed his eyes, a muscle jumping in his jaw. When he opened his eyes again and spoke, his tone was measured and tightly controlled. "That's not what I want."

"Well, then, what do you want?" Sirius demanded. "Because the woman you told me you wanted was just in here and you sent her away!"

For the briefest of moments, Remus looked at Sirius in such a way that made Sirius think he was about to get his arse handed to him. It was gone in an instant, though, and Remus turned away from him, clutching the edge of the windowsill and taking deep, hard breaths.

"She does respect you, Moony," Sirius said to his friend's back. "She does look up to you. But not for the reasons you think she does. You think she only sees what you let her see, but she's smarter than that. She watches you, Remus. She pays attention to you. She sees you."

"That's precisely what I'm afraid of," Remus said, his voice hoarse.

"You don't have to be," Sirius argued. "How can you not see it? I've known her for less than three months and I see it." He took a step towards Remus, his voice growing louder as he grew more urgent. "I know you're afraid of getting hurt again, but you can trust her! She's not going to abandon you when things get inconvenient. She's not like that. She's not Jo, Remus -"

"That's enough!"

Remus had whipped around and was glaring at Sirius with anger the likes of which had not been directed at Sirius in years. Sirius winced and closed his eyes.

He had taken it too far. He should not have brought Josephine's name into things. He always took things too far. With a sudden aching behind his eyes, Sirius wished fervently that James and Lily could be there with them. James's impulse control had been nearly as bad as Sirius's, but he had known where to draw the line with Remus in a way that Sirius had never been able to finesse. James would have stopped Sirius before he crossed any lines.

And even if James had not been able to stop Sirius from overstepping with their quiet, enigmatic friend, Lily would have been there to put things to rights. Even after ten years of a friendship closer than brotherhood, there had been parts of Remus's personality that had remained a mystery to Sirius and James. But from the moment James had brought Lily into their circle, Lily had understood Remus in a way Sirius and James had never been able to. Perhaps because she had shared much of Remus's compassionate, gentle nature, the two had formed a close friendship instantly. Their love and respect for one another had frankly been a beautiful thing for James and Sirius to behold, and they had watched in awe the way that Lily could get Remus to open up to her, when the kind and caring yet carefully guarded werewolf seemed to let his guard down for nobody.

Sirius sighed and massaged his forehead. Remus had gone back to looking out the window. When he turned back to face Sirius once more, it was as if nothing had happened.

"You know, I think I can handle the rest from here, Padfoot," said Remus softly, not meeting his eye. "Thanks very much for your help."

Sirius stared at him, the sting of rejection roiling in his belly. "So that's it, is it?" he said.

Remus raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Mmm, I think so," he said casually, ignoring Sirius's anger. "I really think the owls are slowing down significantly."

This statement was punctuated by a scrabbling and screeching sound as four owls tried to shove their way through the window at the same time.

Sirius looked stonily at the birds battling for the best spot on the windowsill, then back at Remus. "Look," he said coldly. "If you want someone to revere you and put you on a pedestal, fine. And if you think Mairead's stupid enough to fall for this little act you're pulling, good luck to you. But sooner or later you're going to have to decide whether what you want is a disciple, or a partner. Mairead is trying to be your partner. I think you ought to let her. But if that's not what you want, then... well, I guess you had better get used to handling all these Howlers by yourself."

Sirius turned and started to walk out of the room, but was stopped by Remus, whose temper had finally been tested too much.

"I am used to handling them by myself!" he shouted. "I haven't had a choice!"

Sirius felt icy fury licking at him as he turned and regarded his friend, whose eyes were flashing in anger, his lip curled in a snarl that looked so out of place on his face. Sirius turned and resumed walking out of the room. "Well, you do now," he said coldly over his shoulder. "And you're making the wrong one."

---

Mairead slowly slid into a depression as September wore on. She made several visits to Grimmauld Place to look after the rooftop garden, but Remus was seldom around. She heard from Sirius that Remus was trying to get in with a pack of werewolves he had learned of, using his outing in The Daily Prophet as a cover story for why he wanted to make contact. When Mairead did see Remus, he was pleasant but distant, holding her at arms' length as he had regularly done by turns throughout the summer.

Thinking back on it, it was almost impossible to believe that they had shared two passionate kisses. After their long conversation in the drawing room, Mairead had convinced herself that she was fine with just being friends with Remus. She told herself that it was enough to know that he returned at least her attraction, if not her love. She told herself that part of being a grownup was recognizing when a relationship would do more harm than good, and exercising prudence and remaining levelheaded. She certainly understood his concern that his association with her would only serve to bring his reputation down even further, and she told herself that she entirely supported his choice, and that in this way she was being just as mature and wise as he was.

She told herself this, but she knew it was all lies.

In reality, her heart was broken. Perhaps not broken the way it would have been had he outright rejected her, but as the days went on and Remus remained guarded and aloof, Mairead found herself wishing that she could just go back to pining for him without his knowledge. At least then they could still be friends the way they had been, and not stuck in this stiff, formal, facsimile of friendship that Remus was upholding. At least then she would still have been able to dream.

As it was, Mairead soon tired of the absurd bubble of hope that simply would not stop filling in her chest whenever she visited headquarters and saw that Remus was there. In her frustration and exasperation, she found herself avoiding Remus all on her own. She no longer smiled pathetically at him when he walked into a room, no longer made puppy dog eyes at him, no longer made pitiful attempts at conversation that would only be courteously rebuffed. The downside to all this was that, what with Remus's indifference and her own avoidance, she scarcely saw him at all. The upside was that she no longer felt the pangs of embarrassment and loss, no longer felt the longing so strong as to be unbearable, no longer felt like crying every time she saw him.

But then again, Mairead wasn't feeling much of anything recently.

By midweek, Mairead was starting to suspect that Remus was not the only cause for her sorrow. She had lost interest in more than just catching Remus's eye. She had also lost interest in her jobs, in her potions lab, in her studies for a Healer program, in her self defense classes, and in her garden. She felt tired all the time, too exhausted to do anything but the bare minimum, but when she went to bed, she had trouble falling asleep, tossing and turning for hours before eventually losing consciousness. She couldn't even bring herself to hustle to find housing, despite the fact that, once the weekend was over, she would have nowhere else to go. She spent much of her time staring into space, her mind a blank, fuzzy field of nothingness.

Her favorite times - if she could go so far as to say that she experienced favorites in the landscape of numbness that enshrouded her - were her shifts monitoring the receivers. So far nothing of note had come up during any of her turns listening, so she could stare at the fireplace with eyes unfocused, listening to the soft, whooshing sounds that came through the speakers when nothing was happening. It felt like the inside of her head, which was comforting, somehow. It felt familiar.

This hazy, white noise enveloped her until it was all there was room for in her brain. It was so all-encompassing that, when Remus sat down right next to her at the Order meeting that weekend, she felt nothing at all.

"Hello, May," he said quietly.

Normally the sound of his soft voice sent goosebumps racing along her skin. As it was, she gave him a brief, detached smile and went back to studying the grain of the wooden table.

"I haven't seen you around much lately," Remus went on. "How have you been?"

"Fine, and you?" she asked disinterestedly.

Remus paused for slightly too long before replying. "I'm well, thanks."

Mairead ran a finger over a swirl in the grain, where a branch must have been in the tree that was cut down to create the table. She was vaguely aware of the way her senses tingled, telling her that Remus was studying her, trying to read her mind.

It'll be a pretty short story, she thought sardonically.

"Is everything all right?" asked Remus. She could hear the concern in his voice, but she couldn't bring herself to care about it.

Before she could be troubled to answer though, a bright voice said, "Wotcher, Remus!" and Remus's attention was drawn over to his other side, where Tonks had just plopped down.

Mairead heard the two strike up a friendly conversation. She heard Remus laugh, and it occurred to her that she ordinarily felt jealous when Tonks made Remus smile and laugh. Now, she felt a nihilistic satisfaction at the proof that she would be alone forever. Remus would eventually catch onto the fact that Tonks fancied him. She would probably make him very happy. Good for them.

"Hey, Gryffindor."

Mairead looked around and saw Sirius resting his hand on the chair on her other side.

"Oh, sorry," she said. "Did you want to sit here?" She started to rise but Sirius snorted.

"No," he said, settling down into the chair beside her. "I was just saying 'hi.' Perhaps you've heard of it; it's the customary greeting amongst English-speaking humans."

Mairead let out a laugh that sounded forced even to her. "Oh, okay."

Sirius narrowed his eyes and looked at her closely. "You okay?"

Mairead rolled her eyes. "Why does everybody keep asking me that?" she said.

Sirius cocked an eyebrow, looking unimpressed with her petulance. "Have you considered the possibility that people care about you?" he asked sarcastically.

"No," she said shortly, staring stubbornly at the tabletop.

Beside her, she heard Sirius scoff. "Fine. Have it your way, then."

Guilt set in, the first emotion to reach her in days. Thanks, Catholicism, she thought wryly.

She scrubbed her hands over her face. "I'm sorry, Sirius," she muttered, the sound coming out muffled from behind her hands.

There was a long silence, and for a few moments worry prickled at her that Sirius was angry with her. But then he quietly said, "You know you just have to say the word if you need anything, right?"

Just like that, the wave of horrible emotions that had been blissfully held off behind a dam of indifference crashed over her. She screwed her eyes up, face still hidden in her hands, immediately wishing she could go back to feeling nothing.

"I'm actually not feeling that great," she said, relieved that her voice came out steady and normal. "Can you make my excuses to Dumbledore if he asks?"

"Sure," said Sirius. He put a hand on her back and Mairead thought she would collapse under the weight of his basic show of friendliness. "At the risk of having my head bitten off, I'll repeat: are you okay?"

"I'm fine; it's just my period."

Ah, the miracle excuse for any and all erratic behaviors and emotions in the eyes of men. Sirius's hand lifted off her back instantly and he mumbled, "Right. Okay. Er, feel better."

"Thanks."

Mairead stood up, ignoring the sound of Remus calling her name questioningly, and made her escape as quickly and as inconspicuously as possible.

She Apparated from the stoop of Grimmauld Place to the foyer of the house this would be her last night staying in. She was feeling far too many emotions to be able to sort them all out. In the span of an instant, she had gone from feeling absolutely nothing to being slammed with a week's worth of emotions all at once. She didn't know what was at the root of her emotional instability, but she lacked the energy and the motivation to investigate.

Instead, she stepped out of her shoes, walked into the guest bedroom she was sleeping in, dropped down onto the bed fully clothed, and went to sleep.

---

Keep count for me?

Mairead awoke with a sharp gasp. Her eyes snapped open and she sat straight up in bed. Looking around, disoriented in the dark, her eyes alighted on the light-up clock on the bedside table. When her eyes focused, she saw that it was just before six in the morning.

On September fifteenth.

All at once, everything made sense. Her deepening depression, her complete lack of interest in every single component of her life, the malaise that lay over her, muffling her senses and numbing her to every feeling, good or bad. She couldn't believe she hadn't figured it out.

Today was Cedric's birthday.

Mairead didn't make the decision to move; she just moved. Still dressed from the day before, she went out into the foyer to slip her shoes on, and then turned on the spot, disappearing into thin air.

She reappeared in a churchyard. Her feet automatically carried her where she needed to go, which was just as well as she likely would not have been able to find her way there using her brain. Still, when her feet stilled in front of a gravestone, Mairead thought that she must have gotten lost. Cedric's grave was fresh. It couldn't be this one. Squinting her eyes, however, brought the engraving into focus and showed her that this was, in fact, Cedric's grave.

Something about the fact that grass had already grown over Cedric's grave filled Mairead with rage. How dare life move on in such a brazen, calloused fashion? Wasn't there anyone, anything out there that cared that Cedric was gone forever? How dare this grass expect her to just pick up and move on?

For one wild moment, Mairead seriously considered conjuring up some salt and sprinkling it on the grass to ensure that nothing would ever grow atop Cedric's grave again.

Instead of doing that, however, Mairead merely collapsed onto the ground. She screwed up her face against the maelstrom howling inside of her. She wanted to dissolve and seep into the grass. She wanted to blow away on the wind. She wanted to dig through the six feet of soil separating her from Cedric, wrench open his coffin, and climb in beside him.

She felt the first tear slide unhurriedly down her face and took deep breaths, pushing herself into a kneeling position as she tried to regain some control. Wiping the tear away with the back of her hand, Mairead used the other hand to flip herself over onto her backside. She pulled herself backwards until her back was pressed up against Cedric's headstone. She looked up into the sky just as the first ray of sunlight pierced the sky.

Keep count for me?

Mairead could hear Cedric's voice as clearly as if he were sitting right beside her.

"Always," she whispered. "Eighteen wishes. Go."

But of course, Cedric did not answer. Though it was absolutely absurd and she knew it, Mairead felt a sinking feeling of disappointment, as though some small part of her subconscious had secretly thought that Death would make an exception, just this once.

Mairead gave in. She felt her face crumple and stopped fighting the tears pushing against the insides of her eyes like a battering ram. She rested the back of her head against the cold marble. As she watched the sun come up, she started whispering, filling both roles in the absence of her friend.

"One.

"I wish Cedric were still alive.

"Two.

"I wish Cedric were still alive.

"Three.

"I wish Cedric were still alive.

"Four..."

---

The sound of a twig snapping woke Mairead. She hadn't intended to fall asleep, and she thought at first that she must have only been out for a few moments. But the sun was far higher in the sky than it had been when she had finished counting off eighteen identical wishes for no one but the spirits to hear. She pushed herself onto her hands and knees and looked around to see what had awoken her. When she saw the woman standing a few paces off, hovering uncertainly, hands closed around a small bundle in her grasp, Mairead froze, half-risen, and her mouth fell open in surprise and shame.

"Mrs. Diggory," she said, her voice cracking. "I'm so sorry. I - I didn't mean to - I'll just -"

Mrs. Diggory shook her head as Mairead scrambled to her feet. "No, really dear," she said. Her voice was kind and her face looked understanding, not angry. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

Mairead took several stumbling steps back away from Cedric's grave. "No, I'm the one who's disturbing," she said, looking at the ground. "I'll go. I'm sorry." She made to walk past Mrs. Diggory towards the exit, shoulders hunched and arms tightly hugging herself, but she stopped when she heard the woman speak again.

"Thank you," Mrs. Diggory said softly. Mairead frowned up at the pretty, older witch in confusion. Her face softened when she saw that Cedric had inherited his grey eyes from his mother. Mrs. Diggory offered her a sad smile. "You're here to wish Cedric a happy birthday, aren't you?"

Mairead opened her mouth but found that she could not speak. Mrs. Diggory's smile turned slightly sheepish.

"I am, too," she admitted, looking down at the bundle in her hands. "I know it's silly, but..." She opened her hands and showed Mairead what she held. "Amos and I always gave Cedric Sickles on his birthday. As many Sickles as his age."

Mrs. Diggory stepped forward and carefully deposited the pile of eighteen sickles on the ground at the foot of Cedric's headstone. Mairead felt conflicted. She knew that Cedric had been highly self-conscious about how much his parents had doted on him, particularly on his birthday and holidays. Yet here, standing in front of her, was living proof that the entire world had not simply picked up and gone back to normal the moment Cedric was in the ground.

And so, ignoring the tug of Hufflepuff guilt at the lie, she said, "Cedric always loved the gifts you gave him."

Mrs. Diggory gave her a watery smile. "Cedric always loved you," she replied.

Mairead fingers compulsively went to her mouth, pressing on her lips. If Cedric's mother was not crying, there was simply no way that she was allowed to cry.

"You know," Mrs. Diggory went on, with the air of confessing something. "I always hoped that your friendship might have turned into something more."

Mairead's eyebrows shot up, which Mrs. Diggory did not miss.

"I know," she said wearily. "Amos is a wonderful man - he really is - but he can be so... rigid... in how he views the world. He was so proud of Cedric. He had always wanted a son. Do you know - we struggled to have a child for many years?"

Mairead blinked and shook her head. "No, I didn't know that."

Mrs. Diggory nodded. "There were so many almosts," she said sadly. "Four miscarriages. And then finally, just when we had given up hope, my beautiful boy came along. And he was everything I had ever hoped for. Everything and more. And Amos..." here she sighed, looking wistfully at Cedric's grave. "Amos wanted to give Cedric every advantage in life. We knew when we had him that he would be our only child. Our one, perfect miracle. Amos wanted Cedric to have everything he could ever desire. I just don't think he ever understood that the things Cedric desired were very different from the things that Amos did." Mrs. Diggory looked back at Mairead now, and Mairead felt her face slacken at the look of remorse on the woman's face. "I beg of you: try to understand. Amos's crime towards Cedric was not a lack of love, just a lack of imagination."

It took Mairead a few moments to understand, but then it dawned on her: Mrs. Diggory was haunted by the fear that Cedric had resented herself and her husband for railroading him down a path his mother knew perfectly well he was not suited for, and had no interest in. And without the ability to apologize to her son, she was doing the next best thing: seeking absolution from the person who had known him best.

What a strange, backwards way of finally receiving acknowledgement of her place in Cedric's life.

Mairead knew, knew without having to hear it, that Cedric's mother was also apologizing for the way she, Mairead, had been treated, not only during Cedric's life but in the days following his death.

She also knew that she could very easily withhold forgiveness. It wouldn't be entirely beyond the realm of reason. For perhaps five seconds, rage, resentment, and bitterness blazed within her as she remembered the way she had been disinvited from Christmas in the most insulting manner possible; the way she had always been shunted to the peripheries of Cedric's group of friends, despite Cedric's best efforts to center her; the way she had lost out on her chance to take the Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T. so that she could plan Cedric's funeral in its entirety - a process that had been deeply scarring and distressing - only to be asked not to shame Cedric's memory with her attendance; the way she had been told in no uncertain terms at every possible opportunity that she would never, could never, be good enough to be associated with Cedric.

And perhaps five seconds after these thoughts invaded her brain, Mairead tossed them aside.

"He knew all of that," she said softly. "Cedric was very intelligent and sensitive. He knew you just wanted him to be happy. He knew how much you loved him - how much you both loved him. And he loved you just as much in return."

Mrs. Diggory's breath left her in a delicate huff. Reaching into her cloak pocket, she retrieved a handkerchief and pressed it daintily beneath her nose, sniffling quietly. "Thank you, dear," she said, voice quavering only a little.

Mairead knew that Mrs. Diggory wanted to be alone with Cedric, and she also knew that there was no possible way for the woman to ask her to leave after Mairead had just absolved her of her guilt. Mairead decided to do her one last favor.

"I, er, I have to go to work now," she said, which wasn't entirely untrue. She was due at work at some point later that day.

Mrs. Diggory nodded. "Don't be a stranger," she said. "You're family now. Please stop by anytime."

Mairead made herself smile at Mrs. Diggory. "I will," she said, completing the circle of white lies that Mrs. Diggory had started. She knew as well as Mrs. Diggory did that she would never visit the Diggorys. And Mrs. Diggory knew as well as Mairead did that Mr. Diggory would never admit her to their home. "'Bye."

She turned and walked away towards the exit. When she reached the wrought iron gates, she permitted herself one look back over her shoulder. Mrs. Diggory was neatly stacking the silver Sickles. When she finished, she sat back on her heels and lovingly stroked the side of Cedric's headstone, the same way Mairead had seen her stroke the side of Cedric's face the last time she had ever seen him.

Mairead almost thought that she could hear her softly saying, "My sweet darling."

---

Mairead sat on the roof of Grimmauld Place, arms wrapped around her knees, watching the sun go down. She had come up here to tend to the garden, particularly the monkshood she would need to harvest in the next day or two in order to use it in the next batch of Wolfsbane Potion. She had planned just to sit for a moment or two, but had become transfixed watching the orange, red, and violet streaks fill the sky and illuminate the bottoms of the clouds. There would be rain soon, she thought.

She leaned her head back against the stonework and let her gaze be soft. She thought about how she had done the reverse of this earlier that day: how she had watched the sun slowly rise, how she had used the wishes Cedric could not, how she had wasted them wishing for something she knew could never be.

She sighed. "Okay, Cedric," she whispered into the ether. "We're going to try something new. You're not here to claim your wishes anymore, so from now on, we're going to have a new tradition." She swallowed thickly and tilted her head back to look at the sky overhead. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Eighteen things I loved most about you.

"One: how kind you were. I know you stayed with me that first time on the Hogwarts Express just to be kind, and I can't tell you how often I think about that. How lucky I feel that you stayed with me.

"Two: your sense of humor. I bet a lot of people thought you didn't have one, because you were always too nice to say anything unflattering about anybody. You only let the people who were close to you see it. And I loved that I got to see it, and everything that meant.

"Three: your laugh. I know I just said your sense of humor, but that's different from your actual laugh. I always laughed when you laughed. I couldn't help myself.

"Four: your smile-"

Mairead broke off and had to press a fist against her mouth for a long moment. She took a deep, slow breath, then sniffled. "I really miss your smile," she croaked. "I miss your smile and your big, giant, crushing hugs and your stupid feet and how your little toes had, like, this extra knuckle on them - just jutting out the side - and how they were always itchy and how you'd scratch them on my calves. I know I always yelled at you and told you to cut it out but now I would just do anything for you to scratch your fucking feet on my calves one more time."

It was a long time before she was able to speak again.

"Shit, I lost track - how many was that? Oh, well..."

Mairead continued in this fashion, frequently stopping when talking became too difficult, until she had listed far more than eighteen of the things she had best loved about the boy she had lost. When she had finished, the sun was gone, only a faint, blue halo of light indicating where it had disappeared beneath the horizon.

---

Remus came upon Mairead crying on the rooftop. He had seen her go up an hour earlier, and had spent that time mustering up the courage to go after her. He had been growing steadily more concerned about her as the week went on. He knew that Sirius had been right, much as it stung. He knew that he had broken his word not to shut Mairead out, and he knew that he owed her an apology. But he had been startled to see her, in turn, begin to shut him out.

He had already been in more disagreements with Mairead than he cared to acknowledge. He thought he knew what to expect from her when she was angry with him. But this was not the Mairead whose anger he recognized. This was not the girl who refused to look at him, and who glared daggers at him when she had no other choice than to meet his eyes. This was not the Mairead whose rage was all passion and fire. This was not the Mairead whose very silence seemed to shout at him.

This was a Mairead who smiled at him, but whose smiles were empty. This was a girl who didn't so much look at him as look right through him, green eyes unfocused and unseeing. This was a Mairead who seemed to feel nothing for him whatsoever.

He didn't know who this Mairead was at all, and that made his skin crawl.

He knew he was getting a taste of his own potion, and he did not like it in the slightest. Rationally, he knew it was no worse than he deserved. Emotionally, he couldn't stand it. It grated at his skin and rubbed at his nerves and made it impossible for him to relax, not knowing what she was thinking, how she was feeling.

Remus found the doorway leading out onto the rooftop open, and as soon as he stepped through it he could hear Mairead's weak cries. Turning his head towards the sound, he found her up against the wall of the house, face buried in her knees. Her hair was spilling down over her shoulders, which were shaking.

"May," he said, stepping forward.

She sat bolt upright, looking around in alarm. She relaxed when she saw him, but only slightly.

"How long have you been standing there?" she asked hoarsely.

Remus shook his head. "Just now," he said. He made his way towards her, pulling out a handkerchief when she started swiping at her face with her open palms.

She glanced briefly at the proffered handkerchief. "I'm fine, thanks," she said, sniffling loudly.

Remus raised an eyebrow pointedly and did not withdraw the handkerchief.

She made an impatient gesture with her hands. "I've already got, like, six thousand of your handkerchiefs lying around," she said irritably.

Remus's mouth twitched. "Well, this can be six thousand and one."

Mairead was not amused. "No. Thank you," she said insistently.

Remus's shoulders sank. He put the handkerchief back in his pocket. "I know I haven't been a good friend lately," he said apologetically.

"You're fine."

"...Do you want to tell me what's on your mind?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

Remus sighed. "Would you like me to go?" he asked quietly.

She opened her mouth to retort, but stopped herself before she said whatever sharp thing was on the tip of her tongue. A long silence followed. Remus watched Mairead carefully. She was clearly at war with herself. Something told him that she desperately wanted him to stay, that she didn't want to be alone, but that she couldn't bring herself to ask.

Finally, in a tightly controlled voice, Mairead said, "Do whatever you'd like."

"I'd like to stay."

She shrugged. "Please yourself."

Remus lowered himself to the ground and leaned back against the wall next to her. He watched her unhappily as she used the sleeves of her cardigan to dry her eyes. Looking at her, Remus could tell that she had been crying for a while. He yearned to ask her what was wrong, but she had already declined to talk about it. He did not know what to do, and so he told himself to be satisfied just with the knowledge that she had allowed him to stay.

He wasn't, but it would have to do to be getting on with.

The two sat, side-by-side, in silence until the last vestiges of daylight faded from the sky. Remus's eyes were keener than a normal human's, and so he could still steal glances at Mairead from time to time. She was completely lost in thought, staring out at where the horizon had been, looking deeply troubled and desolate.

He wasn't getting anywhere like this. Half a dozen times he struck down the impulse to ask her to tell him what was wrong. His instincts when it came to Mairead were not perfect, but he knew how her mind worked well enough to suspect that he was going to have to give before he got anything. And if he was wrong, he could hardly imagine being worse off than he was now.

"I'm sorry about Monday," he said. Mairead started, like she had forgotten he was there. "I... I didn't want you to have to deal with any of that," he went on. "It's unpleasant, as I know you already know... and I just figured that you'd dealt with enough angry members of wizarding society. There was no need for you to have to handle more."

Mairead turned her head and looked at him piercingly. Her eyes were narrowed, picking him out in the twilight. Remus could see her well enough to discern her disappointment.

"You're lying," she said musingly.

Remus blinked at her in surprise. "I wasn't lying," he said, surprised at how defensive he felt.

Mairead frowned at him. "I don't know what you're lying about," she said. "But you're lying."

Remus was struck by the sudden, strong impulse to put as much distance between himself and Mairead as he could. He floundered for something to say, some way to refute her accusation. "Mairead," he tried, "I - I wasn't lying. I was trying to protect you."

"No, you weren't!" she said hotly. She used her hands to turn herself to face him, but scooted a few inches away from him. "You didn't want me there. Not for me - for you."

Remus went still. He did not like where this was going. Did not like that she could tell when he was lying - no one could tell when he was lying except for Sirius, who had known him for decades. His friend's words from earlier that week echoed in his head. She watches you. She pays attention to you. She sees you. The thought made him uneasy in the extreme. He was the way he was for a reason. He had walls for a reason. And here she was - pounding at them with her fists, demanding entry.

As if she had read his mind, she continued. "Look - if you don't want to let me in, fine. I can't make you. I can't do anything about that. And if you don't want to be friends, fine! You don't owe me that and you certainly don't need to worry that you have to protect my feelings out of some misplaced sense of professional duty or something. You're not being paid to be around me anymore. You're not being paid to be nice to me anymore. But I hardly see your point in coming all the way up here to apologize only to deliver some fake-arse apology about your fake-arse motivations in sending me away on Monday. At least have enough respect for me not to bullshit me."

With that, she shrugged away from the wall and stood up. Tossing her hair out of her face impatiently, Mairead stalked past Remus towards the attic doors. Self-preservation told Remus to let her go.

His hand reached out and his fingers closed around her wrist as she passed him. He could feel her pulse beating in her wrist. Mairead paused. Without looking at her, Remus gently tugged her arm over towards his face. Closing his eyes, he sighed and leaned his forehead against their hands.

"Please don't go," he said bleakly. "I'm sorry. Please don't go."

Mairead shuffled her feet and turned to face him. "What do you want from me?" she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "I - I don't know what it is you want from me. I can't figure it out."

Remus swallowed painfully past the shame tightening his throat. Opening his eyes, he looked up at her pathetically.

His voice was barely above a whisper as he said, "I just want to be near you."

Mairead's eyelids fluttered as she heard the words she had spoken to him in the drawing room.

He sighed. "I want to be near you, too, Mairead," he said. "I just - I haven't quite worked out how to do that yet."

Mairead's face softened. Against the palm of his hand, Remus could feel her pulse gradually slowing.

"Can - would you be willing to be patient with me while I figure this out?" he asked.

She nodded. Remus sighed with relief and briefly rested his forehead against her hand again before releasing her.

Slowly, Mairead turned and resumed her seat beside him. Remus breathed more easily. After a few minutes of silence, though, he noticed that the air was still heavy with Mairead's unhappiness.

He waited as long as he could stand, then, he quietly pleaded, "Will you please tell me what's bothering you?"

He waited in silence while Mairead made up her mind.

"If we're going to be friends then I have to be able to tell you things without you unilaterally deciding that I need to be protected from the horrors of the world," she said.

Remus let out a small, self-conscious laugh. "I understand."

Remus could hear Mairead's breathing become shaky. She brought her hands up and rubbed her own arms, as though trying to self-soothe. Her voice shook dangerously when she spoke.

"Today was Cedric's birthday."

"Oh, sweetheart." Remus reached over and pulled her into his arms.

She did not resist.

---

Things became considerably less strained between Mairead and Remus over the next week. Mairead was well aware that Remus had never actually explained why he had shut her out, but she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt that he might not entirely understand why, either. And now that he was talking to her again and behaving relatively normally towards her, Mairead was not willing to rock the carpet.

That was not to say that things had gone completely back to the way they had been before. Though Remus was back to treating her with the warm familiarity Mairead loved so much, there was a tension that hadn't been there before. Mairead noticed on more than one occasion Remus stopping short, just when she had been sure he was about to tease her. He also seemed to vacillate between days when he would keep his distance physically and days when he would stand close to her, brush her hair behind her ears for her, and find what Mairead shrewdly suspected were small excuses to touch her, like placing a hand on her back as he brushed past her, even though there had been plenty of space for him to pass by.

These instances were not helped by the fact that Mairead was staying at Grimmauld Place again. After a spate of unseasonably cold and damp nights - which Mairead had spent sitting in her driver's seat, running her car's insufficient heating system as much as she could afford and then shutting it off and sleeping until the cold woke her up again - Mairead's pride had given in and she had asked Sirius if her room was still available. Sirius had been all too happy to oblige, and Mairead was flattered to notice that her company seemed to provide a small boost in Sirius's spirits. But Remus was also living at Grimmauld Place, and the first time he had run into Mairead in her pyjamas, his mouth had fallen open a bit as his eyes compulsively flickered over her body before he regained control of himself, turned around, and left without a word.

Though Mairead missed the effortless ease of their relationship, she could not exactly blame Remus for being a bit all over the place. For her part, she frequently found herself daydreaming about their two incredible kisses. She often lost track of what she was doing as her eyes went out of focus, remembering the way his hands had felt on her skin (unbelievable), the texture of his hair (unfairly soft; any woman would be mad with jealousy over how perfect his hair was), and the feeling of his lips on hers (Good Lord the man knew how to kiss). She got a jolt of pleasure and excitement every time she thought of the way he had ground his hips into hers, and when she remembered the soft, helpless way he had moaned, her face flushed and she became uncomfortably aware of her own arousal.

Fortunately for Mairead, she had already found the ultimate cure for daydreaming. The time had come again to make the Wolfsbane Potion, and she was determined not to waste as many batches this month as she had the previous month. This was considerably easier now that she was staying at Grimmauld Place. She did not feel the need to spend the night in her potions lab, but rather could simply set an alarm for herself, and when it went off all she had to do was take the stairs to get to her lab.

The first two batches were flops, but Mairead was heartened by the fact that she knew what she had done wrong in both cases. In previous attempts, the potion had simply failed and she had been powerless to say why. On her third try, she got it. She triumphantly delivered a batch of the potion to Professor Snape ahead of that weekend's Order meeting.

Snape had gone over the potion with a fine-tooth comb (which Mairead forcefully reminded herself was a good thing) before resentfully sneering that it wasn't as though it were the most difficult potion in existence.

Mairead suppressed a victorious smile.

She was surprised when Dumbledore brought the potion up in the meeting. He had not inquired as to her previous attempts, and in fact had not made any mention of the potion at all since he had first asked her whether she felt up to the task of brewing it. Nevertheless, she sat up straight in her chair and answered him meekly.

"Yes, sir," she said. "I asked Professor Snape to assess a sample of my latest batch prior to the meeting tonight. He said it was okay."

"Excellent. I am most grateful to you, Mairead," said Dumbledore, inclining his head towards her. Turning to Remus, he added, "Did you find Mairead's potion last month to work acceptably for you, Remus?"

"Yes, headmaster," Remus answered, allowing himself to send a warm smile Mairead's way. "It was flawless."

"Excellent," Dumbledore repeated. "Is there anything else we can provide for you before your mission?"

Mairead's ears perked up. Mission?

Remus shook his head. "Not at this time, but thank you, sir," he said. "I think it would be best if I approached them with as few fixtures of wizarding society as I can."

Mairead was feeling hot in the face now as she looked back and forth between Dumbledore and Remus. What were they talking about?

"Very well," Dumbledore was now saying. "I recall that Kingsley was to be your emergency contact. Kingsley: you and Remus have agreed upon distress, warning, and emergency signals?"

"We have," Kingsley said in his deep, calming voice.

Only Mairead wasn't feeling calm. Remus was going to be in distress? What kind of emergencies were they talking about? She felt as though her head were on fire with alarm as she watched Remus, Dumbledore, and Kingsley discuss this mission that Mairead knew nothing about - how exactly had she not known about this?

That was her first question for Sirius when the meeting broke up and she confronted him.

"What the fuck is the deal with the mission Remus is going on next week?" she demanded as soon as she had made her way over to him.

"He's attempting to make contact with a group of werewolves he received intelligence about," Sirius replied, shooting a look over at Remus, who was standing in a group and talking with Dumbledore, Kingsley, and Moody. "He's been slowly working them for the past couple of weeks. Going to try to make the approach on the full moon next Sunday. Prove to them he's one of them."

Mairead squeaked in protest. "Why didn't I know about this?" she said, her voice rising shrilly. "When exactly was this discussed?"

"At the Order meeting you left last weekend."

Mairead felt as though she had shrunk by several inches. "Oh," she said in a tiny voice.

Sirius gave her a sympathetic look. "Look," he said. "Remus knows what he's doing. He's gonna be all right."

"Well, what if he's not?" she asked, feeling her throat tighten as she spoke. "He's one person up against - how many other werewolves?"

Sirius took a breath and held it in his chest for a moment before responding. "He thinks there are about twelve or thirteen."

"Twelve?!" Mairead cried. "Or thirteen?!"

"That's why he's working with Kingsley," Sirius said, holding up a hand to calm her. "If things go wrong the entire Order will descend on them."

Mairead raised her hand to her mouth and began gnawing at her fingernails. She looked around the room anxiously. Many members of the Order opted to stay at headquarters following meetings. Most stayed for dinner and several stayed the night. The man Mairead was looking for, however, never stuck around for long. Indeed, she saw him making for the door and quickly excused herself from Sirius and darted across the room after him.

"Professor Snape!" she called softly up the stairs.

Snape paused and looked over his shoulder, looking annoyed. "What is it, Miss O'Keefe?" he asked, sounding supremely inconvenienced.

"I just..." Mairead hesitated for one moment, then plunged recklessly on. "You were absolutely sure that the potion was fine, right?"

Snape turned then and eyed Mairead. His already imposing figure was made more so by the fact that he was several steps higher - and therefore several feet taller - than Mairead. "Are you questioning my professional judgment?" he asked coldly.

Mairead swallowed. "No, sir," she said timidly.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Are you then questioning my potionmaking skills?" he sneered. "Perhaps you think you are the superior Potions Master now, having successfully brewed a moderately challenging potion twice out of - how many times was it again?"

Mairead began fiddling with the cuffs of her jumper. "No, sir," she said quickly. "It's just - the stakes are so much higher now, what with the mission that R- that Professor Lupin is going on. I was just worried. I mean - what would happen if I got it wrong while he's out there?"

Snape stared coldly at her, his black eyes like two bottomless pits of judgment and disdain. "Then the world would have one fewer werewolf in it," he said levelly. "Hardly a great tragedy, I should think."

He took a moment to take in Mairead's look of horror and despair - seemed, in fact, to take no small amount of satisfaction from it - then turned with a swish of his cloak and carried on up the stairs.

Mairead reached out a cold, clammy hand for the banister. She felt very peculiar, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what she was feeling.

Then, quite suddenly, it became clear what she was feeling. She clamped a hand over her mouth and dashed off for the nearest bathroom, where she emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

---

There was a flurry of activity around Grimmauld Place in the week before Remus left, as there always was in the days leading up to a mission. Moody frequently stopped by to discuss retreat options with Remus; Sturgis, who was familiar with the part of the country Remus would be travelling to, came by and went over the geography of the area with an emphasis on avoiding Muggles, who lived alarmingly close to the encampment; and Kingsley, who would be Remus's primary contact within the Order, visited nearly every day going over plans and backup plans. Remus was so busy that Mairead seldom got to see him, except when he was moving from one meeting to the next.

This was just as well, because Mairead was so worried about Remus that she wasn't sure she would be able to keep it from showing on her face. She knew from personal experience that there was no quicker way to lose confidence in oneself heading into a mission than to believe that your fellow Order members did not think you were up to the task, and so she did not want to betray any of her misgivings to Remus himself.

The only time Mairead saw Remus up close was during her daily delivery of Wolfsbane Potion to him. He always stopped whatever he was doing, thanked her sincerely, and asked her how her day was going. He seemed genuinely interested in her answers, and she very much wanted to talk to him, but she couldn't bear the thought that distracting him with silly stories of her jobs or Order duties might potentially cause him to miss out on vital planning that could be the difference between whether his mission went well or disastrously wrong, and so she always left shortly after he had finished downing the potion.

Mairead tried to distract herself by throwing herself into work and finding housing, but she simply could not concentrate. The rush of summer programming at both libraries had ended, making the return to business as usual seem like a welcome break. She had had no luck finding a house-sitting position and wasn't overly motivated to try at the moment, as she wanted to be closeby so that she could hear immediately if something had happened to Remus.

The one positive change that had occurred was that she had thrown herself back into her self-defense classes with rigor, and she was seeing signs of progress. She found that, when she was utterly exhausted either from having been beaten into the ground by a classmate or from squinting at a target yards and yards away and being expected to hit the target with a miniscule projectile, there was less room in her brain for anxiety to take hold of her.

When she wasn't working or training, Mairead devoted her spare time to a side-project she had come up with. She had gotten the idea from a Muggle film she had watched about a suave but womanizing British spy who had dozens of special gadgets concealed on his person that he could pull out and use whenever the situation called for them.

Mairead very shyly presented Remus with the end product on Friday afternoon when he came by her lab to collect his daily dose of Wolfsbane Potion. She waited while he consumed the potion in large gulps, smiling at his noble attempts not to look disgusted with the fruits of her labor. He gave her a pained smile when he handed the goblet back and gratefully accepted the glass of water she offered him as a chaser to the revolting potion.

"Erm, Remus?" she asked in a tiny voice when he had drained the glass.

"Hmm?"

"D-d'you have a minute? I have something for you," she said, already feeling herself blushing.

She bashfully pulled the cloak off the shelf she had stored it on and offered it to him.

"What's this?" Remus asked in disbelief. "You didn't have to get me a cloak."

Mairead pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and began to gnaw nervously on it. "Erm, it's - it's more than just a cloak, actually," she said.

To all outward appearances, it was a simple travelling cloak. But upon closer inspection, there were other components concealed within the cloak that were invisible to all but those who knew its secrets. The cloak itself had been treated with a Blood-Clotting Solution, and could be ripped into bandages that upon application to a wound would immediately stop any bleeding. The cloak was fastened by what looked like three large, simple, wooden toggle buttons with corresponding loops. But each toggle button could be broken open and each contained either a small amount of Essence of Dittany, a mixture of powdered silver and Dittany in the event of any werewolf bites, or Blood-Replenishing Potion. There was also a cleverly concealed sleeve that Remus could keep his wand inside, as he had expressed concern that the werewolves might not be particularly charmed to learn that one of their kind was also a wizard. Finally, the entire cloak had been enchanted with both a Muggle-Repelling Charm and a modification of a Caterwauling Charm, so that if any Muggles, Death Eaters, or Ministry officials came within a mile of Remus while he was wearing the cloak, he would know.

When Mairead explained all of this to Remus, he was absolutely gobsmacked.

"Mairead," he said breathlessly. "I - I - I am astounded by this. You did all of this yourself?"

She nodded, looking down and fiddling with the fraying cuffs of her jumper.

He let out an incredulous laugh. "You're incredible," he said in a hushed tone. "You are absolutely incredible."

She shook her head. "No, I'm really not," she argued. "It wasn't as though -"

She was rudely interrupted by Remus gently pressing his first three fingers to her lips. He was smiling wryly at her.

"Accept the compliment, May."

She let out a breathless giggle, then sobered. "The potions should all be set," she said. "I've practiced and practiced Blood-Replenishing Potion, and it's hardly that difficult. And Essence of Dittany isn't even brewed, it's stewed, so I can't have messed that one up. And they're both shelf-stable, so they won't go bad or anything."

"May."

"It was harder to find a recipe for the right proportions of the Dittany and powdered silver," she went on, biting her thumbnail as she considered this difficulty. "But I cross-referenced a few sources, and I think it should be fine."

"Mairead."

"I've never treated a cloth with a potion before, though, and I tried it out on myself a little bit -" she paused here and showed him a half-healed cut on the back of her hand where she had experimented on herself. Ignoring the way Remus's mouth fell open in dismay, she continued. "-"- and it seemed to work okay. But if for some reason it doesn't work, just remember: you can pack a wound with fresh moss and that should stop any heavy bleeding. It's also got antiseptic properties, so you should be able to avoid any serious infections that way. Okay? Don't forget: if the cloak doesn't work, pack the wound with moss. Just find some moss on a, on a, a tree o-or something. Like a stump? Or a log? And just rip up the moss and really shove it in there, don't be shy, and you should -"

"Mairead."

Mairead broke off, blinking back tears. "Just... just promise me you'll try not to need it, okay?" she said, her voice wavering dangerously.

Remus regarded her seriously. "I promise," he said solemnly.

The day before the full moon - and Remus's departure - finally arrived. Mairead could barely concentrate in the Order meeting that was happening, even though they were discussing important topics. Hagrid had still not returned from the mission he and Madam Maxime had gone on over the summer, despite the fact that the giantess had already returned. Harry had received a second week's worth of detentions from Dolores Umbridge, which drew mixed reactions from around the table. Remus, Sirius, Bill, Charlie, Tonks, and McGonagall all seemed to glow with pride at Harry's daring to challenge the tyrannical witch. But many of the others, Dumbledore included, seemed disconcerted that Harry was drawing so much negative attention to himself.

For Mairead's part, she secretly admired Harry for standing up to Umbridge, but she tamped down her reaction at the sight of the lines of worry on the headmaster's face.

The last topic was the mission Remus would be leaving for in the morning. He would take his last dose of Wolfsbane Potion in the morning, then head out for the location of the den. He was to spend the full moon in the company of the pack, and begin negotiations the following day. Remus was to act as a diplomat: representing Dumbledore's offers to the pack and bringing the pack's demands and interests back to Dumbledore. The hope was that Remus would then begin to shuttle back and forth until an agreement could be made for the pack's allegiance. More packs would follow until the Dark Lord's influence over the werewolf community was nullified entirely.

Mairead thought that the entire Order were off their onions if they thought that anything could nullify the Dark Lord's influence, but she bit her tongue. She stayed silent throughout the meeting, as was her custom. But when Remus told the Order about the cloak she had made for him, then Summoned it to the kitchen and passed it around for their admiration, Mairead found herself uncomfortably the center of attention.

"This is awesome, Mairead!" Tonks enthused, running her hands over the concealed sleeve for Remus's wand. "Wish I had one of these."

"Wouldn't be a terrible idea," said Moody in his gravelly voice, both eyes trained on the cloak. "How long did this take you, Mairead?"

"Erm, about a week, maybe?" she said meekly, hating the attention.

"A week isn't bad," McGonagall said, eyebrows raised.

"A very nice use of Charmswork," Flitwick declared. "I didn't know you could use potions to treat fabrics."

"Of course you can," Snape said impatiently, an extremely sour look on his face. "Miss O'Keefe's handiwork is hardly as innovative as it appears. Seamstresses have been treating garments with potions for thousands of years."

"Still," said Doge, of all people, "It's nice to see someone her age with a respect for the old ways."

Mairead sank as low in her seat as she could possibly manage without sliding underneath the table itself.

"Really nice work, Mairead," she heard Bill say.

She hadn't been able to bring herself to meet his eye since the disaster at Malfoy Manor, and this evening was no exception.

Remus must have noticed her discomfort, because he quickly moved the meeting along to another topic of his upcoming mission.

The meeting wrapped up shortly afterwards. It had been a lengthy meeting, and most members of the Order would be staying for dinner and many, including all of the Weasleys, would be staying the night. Mairead managed to slip out unnoticed before dinner, still too ashamed of the way she had broken down on her last mission to wish to socialize with Bill and Charlie - or Fleur and Tonks, for that matter, who were also both staying for supper, if not the entire night.

Instead, she went to a cinema that she knew sold cheap concessions and spent her evening taking in a late screening of a film.

By the time she returned it was past midnight. Mairead slipped down the stairs and into the kitchen, hoping for a glass of water to wash down the large amounts of junk food and fizzy drink she had consumed.

She had expected the kitchen to be empty, and was surprised to come upon Remus sitting at the table, nursing a cup of tea.

"Oh!" she said softly when he looked up. "Sorry, I didn't think anyone would be awake."

She turned to go, but she heard him laugh quietly behind her.

"You do know I'm not going to turn into a wolf here and now, don't you?" he asked dryly.

His self-deprecating comment stopped her in her tracks. She turned around and regarded him seriously.

"Yes, of course I know that," she said slowly. "And I don't particularly appreciate your dragging me into your self-hatred."

Remus winced. "Of course not," he said quietly, looking down into his mug. "Forgive me."

Mairead shook her head. "Forget it," she said softly, wrapping her arms around herself. It had been quite stuffy in the cinema, and she had pulled off her jumper and tied it around her waist. Here in the cool, damp kitchen, wearing only a baggy vest top, she felt a chill. Or perhaps it was just her fears of what the next day would bring for Remus. "How are you doing?"

He smiled up at her, all quiet charm and false confidence. "I'm doing well, thanks. And yourself?"

She stared at him in condemning silence. He didn't quite crack, but he did at least shift a little bit in his seat.

"I'll leave you to your thoughts," she said after a long silence.

"No - you don't have to go," Remus said, beginning to rise from his seat. "I was just about to go up."

Mairead turned towards the basin, not wanting to unseat him. "No, no," she said quickly. "I was just grabbing a glass of water to take to bed. You don't have to leave."

In their haste to get out of one another's way, they both arrived at the basin at the same time.

"Oh," Mairead said meekly, pressing her back against the counter and sliding along it to get out of the way. "Sorry."

"No - I'm sorry," said Remus, looking equally uncomfortable. "I'll just -"

He leaned around her and gingerly placed his mug in the basin. Mairead could smell his incredible scent from this close.

Earl grey and chocolate and the wild.

Remus pulled back and met her eyes, and there was simply no way he could not have seen the raw yearning on her face.

"I missed you at dinner," he said softly. Then, with a slightly twisted smile, he added, "You know, it's my blood Molly Weasley comes for when you skip meals."

Mairead's mouth fell open in dismay. "I'm sorry!" she said earnestly, wringing her hands in front of her. "I didn't know that! I just - I didn't... erm... I just..." She looked down and began fiddling with the ends of the sleeves of her jumper, dangling from where they were tied around her hips.

"You don't feel welcome around Bill and Charlie anymore," he guessed, right as always.

Mairead twitched her nose unhappily, then nodded her head in agreement.

"I'm sorry," Remus murmured. "For what it's worth, they both feel terrible for the way they behaved."

Mairead looked up at him and saw him frowning thoughtfully at her. Before she could stop herself, before her brain even knew what her body was doing, Mairead reached her left hand up and delicately swiped her fingertips over the line between his eyebrows.

Remus blinked at her rapidly in surprise, but did not pull away, instead watching her eyes, holding her gaze. Slowly, his facial muscles relaxed and the line disappeared.

Mairead lowered her hand, but Remus caught her forearm in his own, warm hand. Mairead's breath caught as Remus let his fingers slide up and down her forearm, looking pensive. Presently his mouth twitched and his eyes took on a special warmth as they rested on the black ink branded into her forearm.

"The tattoo that started this whole mess," he mumbled contemplatively, stroking his thumb over the words etched into her skin.

Mairead felt a sinking feeling of disappointment. He thinks I'm a mess? she thought fretfully. I really ought to leave.

Just then, however, Remus began slowly raising her arm towards him. Dipping his head, Remus inhaled slowly and deeply, his nose nearly touching her skin as he breathed in her scent. He closed his eyes and just barely touched his lips to the tattoo on her forearm.

He began leaving tiny, feather-light kisses along the inside of her forearm, trailing his lips down to her wrist and back up again. His lips moved achingly slowly, and Mairead's breath began to quicken as he kissed the inside of her elbow, then shifted the angle of her arm and dragged his lips slowly, gently along her upper arm. Mairead felt gooseflesh erupt on her skin. She knew Remus felt it too, because he withdrew ever-so-slightly, opened his eyes, and let out a breathy chuckle.

Mairead began to tremble as Remus's lips reached the cap of her shoulder. He released her arm and placed his hand on her waist, warm and solid and so incredibly tantalizing. She felt his lips begin leaving kisses along her shoulder. Her breath coming in short gasps now, Mairead tilted her head over to one side, inviting him to continue.

Remus's lips paused in their progress. He pulled away again, this time far enough away that he could gauge her reaction to his words.

"You would bare your throat to a werewolf?"

Mairead's thwarted desire caused irritation to flare in her. "I trust you," she said quietly but resolutely. "Even if you don't."

The line between his eyebrows was back; Remus was frowning again. "Why?" he breathed. "Why would you want to be with something like me? Why would you trust something like me? I'm a werewolf; I'm a monster, dark and evil - you just don't understand -"

"No, you don't understand!" Mairead interrupted him emphatically. "Remus, I was raised around monsters."

"That's precisely my point!" Remus broke in. "Why would you want to throw yourself back in wi-"

"It's my turn to talk and your turn to listen," Mairead said firmly.

Remus looked surprised, but closed his mouth obediently.

"I was raised around monsters," Mairead repeated. "I learned evil when most kids were learning their ABC's. I know a monster when I see one." She reached down and grasped one of Remus's hands in both of her own for emphasis as she looked intently into his eyes. "And you are no monster."

Remus stared at her, unmoving, scarcely blinking. His expression was unreadable, but Mairead was not left to wait long.

Closing his fingers around her hand, Remus dipped his head and kissed her.

Their first kiss had been tentative: new and exploratory and testing. Their second kiss had been frantic: a rush of lust and limbs.

This kiss was different still. Underneath all of Remus's self-assurance, his quiet courage, his calm determination, here at last was the truth: Remus was afraid of this mission. Mairead could never be sure from looking at him or talking to him, so guarded was he at all times; but she could feel it in his kiss. By the pressure of his lips, by the way his hand grasped her own, Remus's body betrayed the truth: he felt there was a solid chance that he would not be coming back from this mission.

There was a desperation in the way he kissed Mairead. She passionately kissed Remus back, and soon released his hand to wind her arms around his neck. Remus tilted his head and kissed her deeply as he pressed against her body. It was as though he were trying to get as close to her as possible. He couldn't seem to decide what to do with his hands. One moment they were splayed across her back, the next they were in her hair, another moment they went to her hips, untied the sleeves of the jumper tied around her waist, and let the garment fall to the floor.

It felt as though Remus were pouring all of his frustration, all of his pent up desire and closely guarded emotions into the kiss. He pressed her back against the counter as he tore his mouth from hers and finally allowed himself to kiss her throat, which he had been so reluctant to do moments before.

Mairead threw her head back, giving him full access, and gave over to the astonishing ardor Remus was bringing on. She was so aroused she could actually feel herself dripping, imagined that Remus could probably tell, with his powerful senses. But still, she couldn't bring herself to be embarrassed. Indeed, she wanted him to know. She recalled the bulge she had felt pressing against her the first time they had kissed, when he had been on top of her. She wondered now if he was as aroused as she was.

As if he had heard her question, Remus dragged his lips away from her skin and rested his forehead against hers. His hands had settled on her hips and were gripping her firmly, as though it were Mairead's body he needed to control, and not his own. He was breathing raggedly, and he squeezed his eyes shut as if in pain.

"I want you," he panted. "I want you so badly it hurts. I want you so badly it's hard to breathe."

Mairead took a shuddering breath at his admission. "I'm right here," she whispered. Remus opened his eyes and regarded her with an agonized expression. She held his gaze unwaveringly. "You're the one stopping this from happening, Remus. Not me."

He considered this for a moment, breathing heavily. His next words set off an explosion in Mairead's stomach.

"Will you come upstairs with me?"

It was Mairead's turn to pant. She nodded, unable to speak. Remus watched her warily, as though concerned she did not understand his meaning.

"Will you come to bed with me?" he asked, his voice deeper than usual. "Will you spend the night with me?"

"Yes."

"... Right now?"

"Yes."

Remus nodded, seemingly satisfied that she knew what she was agreeing to, then took her hand and began leading her towards the door.

Excitement and nerves were pulsing in Mairead's belly. Before they had even gotten halfway across the kitchen, though, the doorknob turned and the door opened.

They jumped apart like teenagers caught by Professor McGonagall. Mairead leapt back to the basin and Remus towards the table. Mairead shot a wild, frantic look over at Remus and saw that he had already rearranged his features into an effortless, laid back smile by the time Molly Weasley entered the room in her dressing gown.

"I thought I heard something down here," Mrs. Weasley said, looking back and forth between the two of them. "Is everything all right? Mairead, dear, what are you doing awake at this hour?"

Looking back on it, Mairead felt a warped sense of pride at how easily she smiled brightly at the older witch and casually said, "I was just thirsty, so I came down for a glass of water."

Remus smiled easily. "And then I distracted her," he supplied, shrugging abashedly.

Well, both statements are technically true, thought the only Hufflepuff in the room.

"Well, you'll want to trot off to bed now, Mairead," Mrs. Weasley said in a motherly tone. She bustled over to the basin, retrieved a tumbler from a cupboard, and filled it with water. Looking down at her feet, she said, "Oh, is this yours, dear?"

Mairead followed Mrs. Weasley's gaze to the jumper lying in a heap on the ground. Mairead's stomach took a tumble as she remembered Remus's hands at her waist, untying it.

"Oh," she said breathlessly. "I didn't even notice it had fallen off." She stepped forward and accepted both the jumper and the glass of water from Mrs. Weasley. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," she said, smiling sweetly.

Mrs. Weasley reached out a hand and laid it tenderly on Mairead's cheek. "You're welcome to call me Molly, dear," she said kindly. Then, with a businesslike briskness, she added, "Now, off to bed with you!"

Mairead hesitated. Which bed exactly is that? she wondered. A quick glance over at Remus when Mrs. Weasley wasn't looking, however, made it abundantly clear. With just the merest half-glance towards her, Remus communicated all that needed to be said.

Giving him a tight, disappointed smile, Mairead walked out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into her own bedroom.

---

Author's Note: Does the fact that I gave you another kissing scene at all make up for the Unresolved Sexual Tension? And who do you think Jo is? Also, this story is now officially longer than all of Part 1! Weird, right?

Songs for Chapter 18: "Sitting, Waiting, Wishing," by Jack Johnson (Mairead) and "I Can See You," by Taylor Swift (Remus) - I know that the Taylor Swift song JUST came out, but the second I heard it, I knew I had to use it.