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.

30. Mistletoe and Folly

Author's Note: Thank you to GraceMonroe for your review! As you mentioned, this site is being super glitchy, and it is not giving me an option to respond, so please know that I did read your review and I so appreciate you!

Before we get started, I just wanted to note that this chapter takes some dialogue directly from Chapter 23 of Order of the Phoenix, which does not belong to me. Trans rights are human rights.

I fear that you will all hate me by the end of this chapter, and so I compensate by making this one of the longest chapters in the story. Read on!

---

Chapter Thirty: Mistletoe and Folly

The holidays were out to get Remus.

He was sure of it. Everywhere he went, wizard and Muggle London alike were decking the halls. Bells were deafening him, carolers were stalking him, advertisements were mocking him, promising that they alone knew, "the secret to winning her heart this season."

The secret was diamonds.

Remus was no stranger to feeling miserable during Christmas. After all, most of his adult life had been painfully unhappy. Why should the holidays be any different?

He recalled bitterly the Christmas of his Seventh Year, the first time in his life the full moon had fallen on Christmas Day.

Remus had thought that the worst possible way to spend Christmas. Until, of course, two years later, when he had spent his nineteenth Christmas at his parents' house, watching his father dote and fuss over his mother, who was in bed dying of a baffling Muggle disease called cancer that neither he nor his father understood. Remus recalled that he had volunteered to cook; how frequently he had slipped off to the kitchen under the pretence of checking on the turkey, but where he was secretly hiding so his parents wouldn't see him cry.

Somehow, that Christmas was even worse than the one the following year, the first without his mother there at all.

And then, of course, there was the next Christmas: the first he had spent completely and, he was convinced, forevermore alone.

No, Remus was bitterly familiar with being lonely at Christmastime. What was less familiar to him was this feeling of being alone while surrounded by other people. Everyone around him seemed to be drunk on the holiday spirit. Even Grimmauld Place - heretofore dank and grungy and perfectly in keeping with Remus's mood - had transformed over the past week.

Sirius had thrown himself into cleaning and decorating like he had been possessed by Father Christmas himself. And even though it certainly was nice to see Sirius happy and energetic again, and while yes, the house undeniably looked and smelled better than it had in what must have been a decade, some part of Remus wished that there was someplace he could retreat to that reflected his bleak, hopeless mood.

It had only taken Sirius hours, not days, to verbally pummel Remus into telling him what was wrong. Mercifully, Sirius had either felt genuinely sympathetic to Remus's anguish (less likely) or so enthused by his unexpectedly having Harry's company for Christmas (more likely) that he had not browbeaten Remus nearly as badly as Remus had braced himself for. Rather, he had encouraged Remus to apologize to Mairead ("and tell her you love her, for Merlin's sake"), try to win her back with affection ("just stick your tongue down her throat"), and rounded things out with a hearty slap on the back and a promise that he, Sirius, would personally see to it that Mairead spent as much time as possible around the house, to give Remus plenty of opportunities to "unfuck things."

If only it were that simple.

Sirius was as good as his word. Remus saw Mairead every single day in the leadup to Christmas. She was there helping Sirius and his guests clean. She was there to help Molly with the cooking and the holiday baking so that she could have more free time to visit Arthur at St. Mungo's. She was there when Sirius unearthed one of his old scarlet and gold school jumpers, pinioned Mairead to his side, and forced it on over her head.

"There!" he declared, grinning at Mairead, who glowered half-heartedly as she tried to push her disheveled hair behind her ears. "A Gryffindor, at last!"

She was there when Mundungus brought in an enormous Christmas tree and Remus thought he might die right there on the spot at the sight of her, smiling and laughing, her breathtaking eyes lit up by the glow of the live fairies dotting its branches.

But how exactly was he supposed to apologize when hurt flashed across Mairead's expression every time she saw him? How was he supposed to win her back with affection when every time he tried to touch her she slipped out of his reach? And how precisely was he supposed to confess his feelings for her when he knew that her recently regained status as one of the best loved members of the Order would be revoked the moment it became known that she had taken back up with her werewolf ex-professor?

By Christmas Eve, Grimmauld Place was so unrecognizable for what it had been that Remus felt certain he would have to go back to his dilapidated cottage in Yorkshire to find a hovel worthy of his depression. Every surface had been scrubbed clean. Molly, Bill, and Tonks had hung shiny baubles from the lamps. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had worked with Sirius to clean and shine the chandeliers and deck them with glittering streamers. Remus's mood was almost - almost - lifted when he walked in one day to find Sirius and Mairead cackling with macabre glee while they topped each of the house-elf heads lining the entrance hall with Father Christmas hats.

"Wait, wait!" Mairead gasped. "What if we gave them beards, too?"

Sirius had roared with laughter until tears fell down his cheeks and his mother's portrait shrieked to life.

Even Fleur had contributed to what she had only a few days ago declared to be, "Ze Eenglish's obsession wiz tacky trinkets and wall 'angings." With many a covert glance at Bill, she strung bunches of mistletoe around the house in carefully chosen locations. Fred and George immediately decided to co-opt Fleur's mistletoe for their own experiments. Unfortunately, there was clearly a great deal of trial and error that went into the Weasley twins' product development process, as quickly became evident during dinner preparations on Christmas Eve.

Fleur had strategically placed herself beneath a bundle of mistletoe and was smiling coquettishly at Bill, but before the eldest Weasley son could saunter over to her, the youngest son - no doubt drawn in more by Fleur's Veela powers than by the actual belief he could score with Fleur Delacour (or so Remus sincerely hoped) - wandered towards her as if in a daze. When Ron was a few feet away from her, his eyes glued hopefully to the mistletoe above Fleur's head, an invisible force appeared to hook him by the collar of his shirt, yank him off his feet, and smack his face into the nearest wall with a sickening thwack.

There was a great deal of commotion then, as Molly, with the skill of a woman who had been doing this for years, hopped between fussing over Ron and yelling at the twins. Mairead stepped in with an offer to see to Ron, who was bleeding freely from his nose and whose eyes were both starting to puff up and blacken.

"Ooh, sorry, little brother," George said, wincing. "Yeah, not the intended effect."

"What were you thinking though, going for Fleur?" Fred scolded him. "Were you trying to see who'd drop-kick you first, her or Bill?"

Mairead, who had at first seemed tickled by the effects of the mistletoe, clicked her tongue in disappointment.

"I thought it was, like, a piece of social commentary," she remarked discontentedly to Hermione, who was having trouble stifling her giggles at Ron's predicament. "You know - on the number of unsolicited romantic advances women are subjected to this time of year."

Remus busied himself with helping to set the table and silently crossed the thought of trying to corner Mairead under the mistletoe later that night off the list of possible reconciliation tactics.

---

Remus was surprised to find a small pile of presents at the foot of his bed when he awoke the next morning. In a clumsily wrapped package, he found a small pile of Galleons and a badly needed new needle for his gramophone from Sirius with a note that read,

I hope this is the right part. I had Gryffindor pick it out. If it's wrong, blame her, but if it's right, thank me.

-S

P.S. Shut your damn mouth and accept the money.

Remus smiled through a sigh and considered the money. He thought about negotiating the amount down with Sirius, but then he remembered how sorely the reference set he had gone in on with Sirius to buy for Harry had eaten into his Gringotts account. He tucked the gold into the drawer of his bedside table and decided to give it a think.

He opened up a Sneakoscope from Tonks, a bottle of Ogden's from Bill, a bar of Honeydukes chocolate from Hermione, and a large quantity of mince pies from Molly and Arthur.

Remus's hands stilled when he came to the last package at the bottom of the pile. It felt soft, but still heavy. Mairead's handwriting was on the nametag. How could he not know it when he saw it? How many of her essays had he read? He pushed the other gifts off to the side, took a deep breath, and slipped a finger beneath the paper, tugging it free. Inside, he found a soft, charcoal grey scarf that he suspected would be delightfully warm. When he picked it up, however, something else fell out of the package. Mairead had wrapped the scarf around a book. Remus picked it up, examining it.

It was obviously a Muggle book. The cover image was still, showing a crowd of young women frozen in time as they pushed and clamored for something off-camera. In the upper right-hand of the cover, the title read, The Beatles' Progress, but on the left - Remus's mouth fell open a bit - it read:

Love Me Do!

Remus was unsure how long he sat unmoving on his bed, staring at the title of the book. He told himself sternly not to read too much into the title of the book. Surely Mairead had gotten it for him because she knew that he was a fan of the Muggle band, and not because she was trying to send him a secret message that she was ready to reconcile.

But what if she was?

Remus winced as he felt guilt strike at him. He had, of course, gotten Mairead a Christmas present, but after hours of debate, he had not enchanted it to show up on her bed on Christmas morning, too afraid that she would reject it and return it to him.

He held the book in his hands, flipping it open and shut as he considered his options. Out of vague curiosity more than anything, Remus turned to the copyright page. The book was not new. It had been published some thirty years prior. But when Remus scanned over the text, his eye caught on the words, "First edition."

Mairead must have paid a fortune for this.

His mind made up, Remus stood and quickly dressed. On his way out, he reached back into the top drawer of his bedside table and pulled out the gift he had gotten for Mairead, tucking the small package into his pocket.

He prayed he would have the courage to give it to her.

Remus was going over ideas in his head for how he could present the gift to Mairead when he walked into the kitchen and found himself face-to-face with the girl herself.

"Oh!" she said softly, coming to an abrupt halt and slopping tea over the side of her mug and down her hands. "Er -"

"Happy Christmas, Mairead."

"... Happy Christmas."

Mairead wiped her tea-covered hand on her scarlet and gold jumper. It was too long on her, most notably at the sleeves and the waist. A smile tugged at Remus's mouth - it was the jumper Sirius had wrangled her into days before.

"I see you've finally embraced your true colors," he said.

"Oh," Mairead said again with a breathy, uncomfortable laugh. "Sirius talked me into staying overnight and I didn't have a change of clothes, so..."

"Ah."

Mairead nodded and pulled both lips into her mouth, avoiding his eyes. She reached up to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear, and Remus wanted her so badly it felt like it would burst out of his chest like some wild thing.

"I -" his voice came out overly hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I wanted to thank you. For the gifts."

"Oh, erm, absolutely," she said. "I hope you like them."

"I do," said Remus. "Very much."

Mairead smiled a painfully forced smile, then her eyes flitted to the door behind Remus. "Well, I -"

Remus seized on his chance. "I'd love to - that is - I was wondering... how you came to buy that book. If there was any particular..." he shook his head and shrugged, trying to look casual, "story behind it?"

Mairead blinked rapidly. "It's - I just... I heard it was a good book," she stammered, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink.

"I see." Remus tried to keep the disappointment out of his tone.

"I actually -" Mairead paused, as though making up her mind whether to say anymore, then plunged onwards. "Well - originally my idea was to find something for you that had been autographed. But then I found out that, like - well, d'you know how much The Beatles's signatures are worth?"

Remus smiled. "Quite a lot, I imagine," he said.

Mairead's eyes widened into twin green saucers. "Yeah! Like - like, tens of thousands of pounds!" she exclaimed softly. "Seriously - they could've signed, like, a gum wrapper and paid for a, like, a-a house with it, or something."

Remus laughed, and she did, too. She looked up. Their eyes met, and for the first time in days, she didn't look away. The smile faded off her face, but she did not break his gaze. Remus tilted his head.

"Mairead."

She blinked and looked away. "Anyway, I had to bin that idea, obviously, but I still wanted to get you something along those same lines." She was speaking rapidly, studiously avoiding his eyes once again. "I heard that book is one of the best biographies of the band that's out there. The author - er - Mark? Or Michael something-or-other - I guess he followed them around when they were on tour? Right before they made it really big. Like before the British Invasion, I think? Or maybe right after, because I think the author was American. Was his name Matt something? Anyway, I hope you don't mind that -"

"I love it, May."

Mairead swallowed, nibbled on her bottom lip. "'Kay," she whispered.

"I... I got something for you, too," said Remus, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the small but neatly wrapped gift. "I didn't... it wasn't... well, there you are." He stretched out his hand, offering her the present.

Mairead blinked at it in surprise. "Oh," she said softly. Her cheeks flushed a deeper pink. "Sh-should I -?"

Remus shrugged, trying to look casual. "If you'd like."

Mairead turned and walked away, and for one, tense moment, Remus thought she was rejecting his offer. But then she set her mug down on the kitchen table and returned, wiping her hands on the legs of her jeans. "Thank you," she murmured shyly, accepting the gift. She delicately tugged open the paper and pulled the lid off the box that was inside. Her breath caught and she blinked rapidly. "Ohhh..." Just as quickly, her expression turned worried. "Remus, you can't afford this..." she said doubtfully.

"I do have some money, you know," he said casually. It was technically true. With the ten Galleons Sirius had given him for Christmas, that took Remus's personal worth up to... ten Galleons.

She reached in and pulled out the necklace. Remus anxiously watched her expression while she wrapped her fingers carefully around the bronze chain and took in the pendant.

"It's called the Tree of Life," he explained softly. "It's a Welsh symbol of harmony with nature. I figured... with how much you love to make things grow..." He cleared his throat. "At any rate, I thought - the green, it... it reminded me of you."

"Oh, Remus, it's beautiful," she breathed, holding it up so that the tiny, green jewels set into the pendant caught the light from the fireplace. Finally, finally, she looked up at him again. "Thank you."

He smiled softly.

Mairead raised the ends to her neck, then fumbled with the box and wrappings still in her hands. Remus raised his eyebrows hopefully. "Would you like...?"

He saw her cheeks flush, and she took a while to decide, but eventually she asked, "Would you mind?"

"Not at all."

Remus stepped forward. Mairead turned around, making soft sounds of embarrassment as he reached over her shoulders and carefully took hold of the ends of the chain. Pinching the ends between the fingers of one hand, Remus softly brushed Mairead's hair over her shoulder, baring the back of her neck. He could see gooseflesh rising where he had touched her. He clasped the necklace and let it fall against her skin. He wanted more than anything to brush his lips against the back of her neck, to wrap his arms around her and rest his hands on her belly, to pull her against his chest and never let her go.

Swallowing thickly, he said, "Finished," and stepped back.

Mairead's hand rose to touch the pendant. She turned back around and tilted her face up shyly. "Thank you," she said again.

She was ready to forgive him. It was written there, plain as day, across her features. She would take him back if he asked.

"May," he whispered, hesitantly raising one hand to hover next to her face.

Her mouth opened slightly, and she inhaled sharply, a quiet, hopeful sound. Carefully, afraid that any sudden movements would scare her away, Remus let the very tips of his fingers brush against her jaw. Her breath began coming quicker, her eyes widening. Remus could feel his own heart racing, beating hopefully in his throat. He tenderly touched the middle of her top lip with his thumb. Her eyes were brighter now, and her voice shook when she just barely breathed his name. Remus took a step closer. He felt her hands alight on him, one on his stomach, one on his chest. He slipped his hand into her hair. Her eyes fluttered closed and the tiniest moan escaped from between her lips. Remus leaned in, wrapping his other arm around her back and splaying his fingers across her shoulder blades. He paused, his lips millimeters from her own, and took one long moment to breathe in her sweet, intoxicating scent.

The door banged open and Molly hurried into the kitchen, flanked by Fred and George.

Remus jumped. In one bound, he put as much distance between himself and Mairead as he could, leaving Mairead standing there, clutching at the air where his body had been, a look of bewilderment on her face. Awareness settling around him of what he had done, he looked back at her. She looked at him, wide-eyed as confusion melted into recognition. He saw her tilt her head to one side, understood it for what it was. She was pleading with him to return to her side. To stand by her. To take her hand without fear, without shame. His eyes flicked back and forth between Molly and Mairead.

He couldn't do it.

He saw her chin tremble, just once. Then she swallowed, took a deep breath, gave her head a little shake, and walked resolutely out the door.

Remus could hear Sirius's voice in his head, yelling at him to go after her. But he knew it was no good. She had given him two chances, and he had thrown them both away.

Setting his jaw resignedly, he turned to greet the Weasleys, and saw Molly hunched over the stove, crying into her hands. Fred and George were on either side of her, rubbing their hands across her shoulders and talking bracingly to her.

"Just forget about it, Mum -" George was saying. "He's not worth it."

"Yeah, Percy's nothing but a humongous pile of rat droppings," Fred agreed.

Their particular brand of pep talk did not appear to be doing much for Molly, so Remus stepped forward, frowning. "What's happened?" he asked gently.

Molly turned to him at once. "It's P-P-Percy!" she sobbed. "He's returned his Ch-Christmas jumper. Oh - oh, Remus!"

With that, she threw herself into Remus's arms and began crying passionately into his shoulder. Remus's hands automatically came up to rest on Molly's shoulders, looking around bleakly at Fred and George, who both put their own hands up in identical signs of surrender.

"Well, you seem to have a handle on this, Remus," Fred said.

"Best of luck to you, mate," added George.

The two turned on the spot and disappeared with a loud crack, leaving Remus standing in the kitchen, holding the red-haired witch.

Just not the red-haired witch he had hoped to be holding.

---

It took Remus some time to talk Molly down. By the time she pulled herself together, Remus was nearly going mad with the thoughts racing through his brain. When Molly gave him a watery smile and told him that she was going to get started on Christmas lunch, Remus excused himself, claiming that he wanted to shave. He did not stop when he reached the third landing, however, but continued up the stairs until he reached the fifth floor. He hurried along the fifth floor corridor until he reached Mairead's door, then knocked on it.

There was no answer.

"Mairead," he called, knocking again. "Open up, we need to talk."

Nothing.

Remus felt his shoulders tense up at her rejection. He knew she was doing no worse than he had done in the kitchen, but he hated it when Mairead gave him the silent treatment. It ate at him like few other things did, and he ground his teeth together with frustration as he strode angrily back towards the stairs.

He intended to go back to his bedroom until he got his black mood under control. On the third floor landing, however, he saw Mairead at the end of the corridor, making her way towards the stairs.

"Where were you?" he asked more pathetically than he had intended to.

Mairead blinked at him. His tone of voice was clearly not lost on her. "My lab," she said slowly, watching him closely. "Just checking on the Wolfsbane Potion. It should be ready for tonight."

Remus quickly calculated the dates in his head. Today was one week from the full moon. It made sense now why he had been so quick to anger outside Mairead's bedroom, why his longing for her felt so much less bearable all of a sudden. The wolf was always closer to the surface in the week leading up to the full. He would have to be careful to control his temper.

"Thank you," he said, willing his voice to be mild. She nodded and offered him a tight smile, then started for the stairs. She walked close to one wall, putting space between them as she passed.

He easily caught her by the wrist.

"Mairead," he said. "We need to talk."

He could feel the tension in the muscles and tendons under his fingers. He could see it in the set of her shoulders. "I -" she said, her voice coming out a little shrill. "I have to meet Moody downstairs. We're going to enlarge my car to use when we go to St. Mungo's."

"He hasn't arrived yet," Remus answered.

"Err - he might think we're meeting outside," said Mairead.

"He doesn't think that," Remus said evenly. "He tries never to rendezvous with people outside. It's too exposed."

Mairead made a desperate, breathy little sound. Remus tugged on her wrist, leading her across the corridor and into his bedroom.

Once they were both inside, he shut the door and turned to face Mairead. Her eyes were darting around his room, avoiding his gaze. Remus stepped close to her, breathing deeply, running his thumb over the wrist he still held onto, curling his fingers into the palm of her hand. He immediately felt better, having her so close. The nearer he was to her the better he felt. But perhaps it had been a mistake to pull her into his room. It was distracting, the way Mairead seemed to be making a concerted effort not to look at his bed.

"Mairead, we need to talk," he repeated.

"I -" Mairead gasped. She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving as she pressed her back against the door. Her eyes finally darted over to the unmade bed. Remus frowned, worried that she was afraid. But when he took his next breath, he did not smell fear on her.

She was turned on.

His eyes widened. He let out a pained breath as the scent of her arousal went straight to his groin. Her eyes, wide and panicky, met his, and he knew that she knew he could smell it on her.

It took a herculean effort on Remus's part not to take her right there up against the door. Instead, he took a deep, calming breath - through his mouth - and said, "Mairead, we need to work this out."

"There's nothing to work out," she said at once. "I'm not going back to sneaking around, to lying to everyone."

"It isn't lying," Remus said reasonably. "It's just... not telling them. It isn't like it's any of their business, anyway."

"I agree it isn't any of their business, so why are you letting their opinions have such sway over you?" Mairead demanded.

Remus chose to focus on the first half of her sentence. "We're in agreement, May: it isn't anyone's business but our own. Just yours and mine." He punctuated his sentence by raising a hand to stroke her face. Mairead inhaled sharply through her nose and let it out through her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut. "Why do we have to bring anyone else into it by announcing what we're doing?"

Mairead's eyes snapped open. "There's a pretty big difference between not announcing what we're doing and what you're talking about, Remus," she said, her voice seething with quiet anger. "There's like, an entire Quidditch field between those two concepts."

Remus sighed. "Mairead, I need you to trust me on this," he said. "I have more experience in these matters than you do. This is how it's got to be."

Mairead's lips came together in an uncompromising line and she slipped sideways out of Remus's hands, putting distance between them. "No."

"For - why do you have to be so stubborn about this?" Remus demanded. He could feel his temper rising and had to fight it back down.

"Because this is really important to me, Remus!" cried Mairead, wringing her hands. "Honesty is important to me. I know you and Sirius like to pretend I'm just like you and all your friends, but I am not a Gryffindor; I'm a Hufflepuff. The truth means something to me. I don't feel comfortable lying."

Remus folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. "You do realize that you are a member of an underground, clandestine organization, do you not?" he asked, aware of the cold note in his voice but unable to do anything about it as he grew more frustrated with Mairead. "You are aware that if a Ministry official questions you about your role in the Order, you will be expected to lie, are you not? You do know that if Dumbledore asks you to, you will be sent into the field, where you will be expected to sneak around, hide, tell bald-faced lies, and otherwise deceive people, don't you? How do you expect to succeed in the Order whilst remaining impeccably guileless?"

Mairead's eyes flashed furiously at him. "Oh, so what are you trying to do, give me practice?" she snarled.

"I'm trying to make you see the hypocrisy of your own choices, Mairead!" Remus cried. "You're not an angel - you're sleeping with a werewolf, for God's sake!"

Mairead spun on her heel and hid her face in her hands. She was completely silent, and Remus waited, marinating in his own guilt for blowing up at her. Was she crying?

When she lowered her hands and turned back around to face him, however, her eyes were dry, but they burned fiercely when she bit out, "Why do you even care?"

Remus tilted his head to one side. "What was that?"

"Why do you care, Remus?" she repeated. "Why are you trying so hard to talk me round?"

Remus took a step towards her. "Because I want to be with you, Mairead," he said, his voice soft and gentle. "I want us to be together and this is the only way I can make that happen."

Mairead did not soften. "Why?" she said, her voice brittle. "So we can go back to having sex?"

"... I told you a long time ago this wasn't just sex for me," said Remus tensely.

Mairead cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah? Well, that sentiment was bookended by two instances of you admonishing me that sex was all this would ever be, so you'll have to forgive me if I'm having trouble keeping up with which version of this I'm supposed to subscribe to."

Remus sighed. He massaged his forehead with one hand. He had hoped Mairead wouldn't pick up on the fact that he'd painted himself into a corner with his own liberal use of deception and half-truths, but he could see now that that had been a foolish thing to hope. She was too intelligent not to have noticed. "Mairead -"

Remus was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, followed by the screeching sound of Sirius's mother hollering in the entrance hall.

"That'll be Moody," said Mairead, avoiding Remus's eyes. "I have to go."

She started for the door, but Remus beat her there. Desperate now, he reached for her, whispering, "Mairead, please! Please!"

Mairead hiccoughed, and Remus froze. He had made her cry, after all. She pressed her fingertips to her lips for a few moments until she regained control of herself, then looked at him, dark green eyes shimmering with tears and sorrow.

"Remus, I... I don't know how you feel about me; you're much too guarded for me to be able to... But I think you know how I feel about you. Even if you don't want to hear me say it, you know. And if you know that, then - then you know that I want to be with you. I do. I want to be with you more than I have ever wanted almost anything. But even more than that, I want you to have the things you need. And if you're telling me that what you need is for no one to know about us, then I understand. If that's something you genuinely need, then I have to respect that."

Remus's eyes widened in disbelief. Was she finally agreeing...? But Mairead was continuing, her voice quivering as she did, and his heart sank at her next words.

"And I also need to accept that - as much as I... feel what I do for you... I can't give you what you need. What I need is in direct contrast to what you need. And that's nobody's fault, it's just... you're you; I'm me, and... this is never going to work between us."

It felt like Remus's world was narrowing in on him. The room was becoming smaller; the air was being sucked out of it. She was saying what he had spent months trying to convince first Sirius and then Mairead of - that they were not meant to be together. But now that he was hearing the words rather than speaking them, they were intolerable to him.

"Mairead," he said, his voice tight with barely suppressed panic.

Mairead shook her head. "I need to go," she said, turning away and reaching for the door handle.

"No - Mairead!" said Remus, pushing himself between her and the door, reaching for her once again, scrabbling for her hands, her hair, any part of her he could touch. "What is it you need? Tell me what you need, and I'll - just - what do you need?"

"I need this to be over."

Mairead's breath hitched. She clamped a hand to her mouth, but Remus heard a tiny sob escape her.

Remus's hands fell away from her. He stepped away from the door and pulled it open. She immediately stepped through and out into the hall, one hand still over her mouth. Remus watched her hurry down the corridor. She paused at the top of the stairs and buried her face in her hands. He saw her shoulders heave. Even from halfway down the corridor, his sensitive ears picked up the sound of her quiet, heartbroken sob. She allowed herself just one. Then, she pulled herself straight, wiped her hands across her face, smoothed her hair back, and started down the stairs.

Remus listened, his head leaning against the door. Over the sound of the shouting and wailing of the portraits, he heard her sweet voice.

"Happy Christmas!"

---

Remus stayed in his room as long as he could plausibly get away with doing. Eventually the smells of Christmas lunch told him it was time to go downstairs. At the bottom of the staircase leading to the basement kitchen, he paused, closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths.

Then, he opened his eyes, fixed a mild, cheerful smile in place, and walked into the kitchen to greet everyone.

Mairead was sitting between Mad-Eye and Sirius, not speaking - as was customary for her at large gatherings - but smiling her sweet, shy smile and listening to Sirius egg Mad-Eye on in telling what sounded like a harrowing tale of chasing down some criminal or other.

"You did NOT have a rooftop chase, Mad-Eye!" Sirius exclaimed, his mouth open in gleeful disbelief.

"Well, I was chasing him, and he went up on the roof," growled Moody.

Sirius exchanged an incredulous look with Harry and Ron, who were also listening eagerly, and took a swig of Butterbeer. "Moony, get over here!" he boomed when he spotted Remus in the doorway. "You've got to hear this." Sirius stood up and offered Remus his chair. Remus tried to wave Sirius off with a casual, friendly wave, but Sirius seemed to think he was doing Remus a great favor and dropped him a wink instead.

Not wanting to draw attention to the interaction, Remus sat down beside Mairead.

Mairead, who needed this to be over.

She needed it to be over between them.

They had never defined what "this" was - Remus had stubbornly, fearfully never let her - but she needed it to be over.

He had caused her so much pain that she couldn't bear it any longer, and she needed it to be over.

Remus slowly released a long breath, calming his thoughts lest they show on his face. That done, he reached for one of the bottles of Butterbeer in the middle of the table and sat back, an easy, relaxed smile on his face, and looked past Mairead's red curls over at Moody, who was still telling his story.

"So the perp stumbles, and that's when I see my chance. I leap at him and manage to grab hold of his belt." Moody paused here and grinned crookedly. "But I guess he'd lost a little weight recently, 'cause I pull his trousers clean down to his ankles."

Ron, Harry, Fred, and George roared with laughter at this. Remus allowed himself a chuckle and a lightning fast glance at Mairead. Her mouth had fallen open in surprise and she was fighting back a guilty smile.

"Now, here's what you've got to remember about the roofs in that part of Hogsmeade," Moody went on. "They're pretty steep. We'd been running at a pretty good clip and I'd thrown myself at this guy with a lot of force. All of which is to say, my momentum pushed us off the roof ridge and right over the edge of the roof."

"Were you all right?" gasped Hermione, her mouth an 'o' of surprise.

"Yeah. Well, kind of," Moody amended. "See, we'd gotten a major snowstorm the night before, and we landed in a foot, foot and a half of snow, easy. But the thing is, we fell into the front yard of a private residence. Now, this was pretty late at night and our chase hadn't been exactly silent. So I'm laying there on my back, still holding onto the guy's trousers and the wind completely knocked out of me, when I start to see lights come on in all the houses, up and down the street. People start rushing out of their houses, everybody in their pyjamas and nightdresses and things. So I bind the guy's hands, stand up, and I'm getting ready to do a little crowd control when I notice that the street's just swarming with kids. And that's when I remember: it's Christmas Eve."

Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw Mairead's hand come up to press against her lips as Moody went on.

"It's Christmas Eve and we've just been making one hell of a racket on everybody's roofs, and next thing I know this little, tiny, blonde kid, maybe three years old, runs up to me and says, 'Are you Father Christmas?'"

Nearly everyone started shouting with laughter at this.

"And the perp sees his opening and goes, 'No, kid, I'm Father Christmas. I was up there trying to deliver Christmas presents and this bloke's trying to arrest me! You've got to help me!'"

There was an explosion of laughter. Ron was pounding his fist on the table, his face bright red as he wheezed silently. George, who had just taken a large sip of Butterbeer, laughed so hard it spurted out his nose, and his twin roared, "Bloke's got his pants 'round his ankles and he's making his play for Father Sodding Christmas?"

Mairead looked down at her place setting, her hair falling in front of her face in the way that always made Remus want to comb his fingers through it and pull her into his arms. He heard her sweet, soft laughter and suddenly the thought of falling off a roof himself sounded pretty inviting.

After lunch, everyone piled into Mairead's car, which, though it had been magically enlarged to fit them all, still smelled tormentingly like its owner. The roads were all but empty, making the drive to St. Mungo's mercifully short, and Remus gratefully gulped down lungfuls of cold, clear, brown sugar-free air when he got out of the car. Mairead made a feeble attempt at staying behind - no doubt to avoid being in Remus's company for any longer than she had to - arguing that they should all go ahead while she found a place to park, but Molly wouldn't hear anything of it.

"Nonsense!" she insisted. "Arthur wants to see you, Mairead! We'll all wait for you while you find a spot."

"Mum, it's freezing out," Fred pleaded, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"Yeah, Mairead can catch us up," Ron agreed.

"But she doesn't know where to go!" tutted Molly.

"I'll wait outside for her," Bill offered. "The rest of you can go inside, and once Mairead gets back we'll catch up."

"Oh," Molly clicked her tongue affectionately. "Thank you, Bill, dear," she said, kissing her son's cheek before leading the way towards the window display of dummies dressed in out-of-date fashions.

Remus couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief that he had not been elected to stay behind with Mairead. He imagined that she was probably feeling an equal measure of relief. The thought soured unpleasantly in his stomach as he brought up the rear of the visiting party.

He was relieved to see that Arthur was looking quite well. He had managed to put away most of a turkey dinner and was sitting up in bed. He wrung Remus's hand enthusiastically with both of his own and thanked him profusely for helping to save his life.

"But where is Mairead?" Arthur asked, craning his neck over the sea of gingers surrounding his bed.

"She's parking the car and then she'll be along with Bill," Molly said, opening up her bag and beginning to pull out Arthur's Christmas gifts.

Remus kept a warm smile firmly in place while Arthur opened his presents. Before long, however, he noticed a sickly pale man a few beds over. The man didn't have any visitors, and was watching the family scene at Arthur's bed with a gloomy look on his face. Putting his hands into his pockets, Remus wandered over to the other man's bed.

"Happy Christmas," he greeted the man.

"If you say so," said the man, shifting unhappily in his bed.

Remus smiled. "You'll have to excuse my friends," he said when the volume began to rise over at Arthur's bed. Something about an experimental treatment Arthur had tried at the suggestion of a Trainee Healer named Augustus Pye. "They're a very... passionate bunch."

Remus's words were punctuated by Molly bellowing, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THAT'S THE GENERAL IDEA?"

The man glanced past Remus at Arthur's bed. "Gingers," he said dismissively. "They're always losing their heads about something or other."

Remus laughed, his mind straying inevitably to Mairead. "Is the food here not any good?" he asked, noticing that the man's tray was untouched.

"Haven't had much of an appetite since I got here," the man said. And indeed, he did look queasy at the thought of whatever ailment had landed him here.

Remus frowned sympathetically. "And how long ago was that?" he asked.

"Three weeks," he answered, looking away towards the door. "Good night there's more of them?"

Remus looked over and saw Mairead enter the room with Bill. She briefly looked at him and quickly looked away. Turning back to the man, in a casual tone Remus commented, "That's quite the hospital stay. Any idea when you'll be discharged?"

The man laughed humorlessly. "Before next week," he said, a dark look coming into his eyes. "Unless they want a hospital full of bite victims."

Remus's mouth tightened, his suspicions confirmed. The man sighed and restlessly turned his head from side to side.

"This fucking - it's not fair!" he said, his voice cracking slightly. "My girlfriend dumped me," he confessed, looking over at Remus, his eyes blazing with torment. "She stood right there where you're standing and she looked me right in the goddamn eyes and she dumped me. And the best part is - I only got bitten because I was saving her nephew! He'd wandered out into the woods and we heard a wolf howling. Everyone was too scared to go out, but I went out... and I found him."

He turned his head away from Remus and swiped the back of his hand over his eyes.

"I saved her nephew's fucking life, after she was too much of a coward to go out looking for him, and she comes in here and tells me that I'm the monster?! It isn't right. It isn't fucking right."

The man fell silent. Remus regarded him solemnly for a few moments. A few years ago he never would have even considered saying anything more to the man. But now... well, it wasn't as though it was exactly a secret what he was anymore.

"I was going to propose to her," the man said, his voice throbbing with pain. "New Year's Eve was our anniversary. I have the ring and everything. I was gonna ask her to marry me. And instead I'll be spending our sodding anniversary turning into the monster she thinks I am." He turned to Remus, his eyes red and wet. "They tell me it's going to hurt like nothing before," he whispered, his mouth trembling. "They... they said all of my bones will break." He broke off and looked around the room, eyes wild with fear. Remus sighed, his mind made up.

"Yes, it'll hurt," said Remus softly. "I can't do anything to prepare you for that. It's going to hurt. Try to relax the night before. It's worse if your muscles are all tense. I find that having a shot of something strong about half an hour before the moon rises relaxes me."

The man blinked at him in confusion. "Wha-?"

"Make sure wherever you're going to transform is well planned out. I'm sure the Healers will have gone over all the wards and protective charms with you, but what they may not have mentioned is that you'll want to be near a source of potable water. The transformation is extremely dehydrating. You'll be thirsty before you transform and after you change back."

"Who are you?" the man asked suspiciously. "Did they send you -"

"Essence of Dittany is good to have on hand afterwards," Remus cut him off. "Use it on any scratches or bites you sustain. Murtlap Essence is good for sore muscles."

The man glanced over at Arthur's bed. "You're his friend," he said slowly. "That guy - Arthur - he said he had a friend who was a werewolf. That's you, isn't it?"

"It's normal to feel nauseated after your first few transformations," Remus said, ignoring the man. "Just make sure you stay hydrated. When you're able, sip broth. Chicken broth if your stomach won't tolerate anything else, but bone broth is really the best to get your strength back. Once you've gone through a few months of it, your body will start to adjust and you won't feel quite so queasy anymore. After a while you'll be ravenously hungry after you transform back, but don't forget to take care of yourself beforehand, too. It's not enough to eat well right after the transformation. Making sure you're taking in enough calories in the few days leading up to the transformation can be the difference between a quick recovery and a slow one."

He looked over at the untouched tray next to the man's bed. "You should eat," he said. "Red meat is better - more iron - but the turkey will do to be getting on with for now, as there's a lot of protein, and there are those who swear by eating turkey the night of the transformation. They say the tryptophan relaxes them. Personally I haven't experienced much success with that myself, but you'll find what works best for you."

He looked back at the man, who was now gaping, open-mouthed, at him. "T-the Healers," he stammered, "they didn't tell me any of this."

Remus shrugged. "I doubt they conduct much field research," he said with a twisted smile. He turned, picked up the tray, and set it down in the new werewolf's lap. "Eat," he repeated. "You'll want your strength."

Remus started to walk away, but the man stammered, "I-I'm a vegetarian."

Remus cocked an eyebrow. "Not anymore." He turned and started to walk back over to Arthur's bedside. "Oh," he said, thinking of one last thing and turning back to the man. "And don't out other werewolves. My friend's good intentions aside - we don't take kindly to being publicly outed."

The man nodded. "Thank you," he said, "Mister...?"

Remus hesitated, sighed heavily, then said, "Lupin."

"Mr. Lupin," the man said. "I'm Kurt. Kurt Lowell. Thank you."

Remus nodded. "I'm sorry about your girlfriend," he said softly. "But it's better this way. Best she left you before you got engaged."

"Are you married, Lupin?" Kurt asked.

"No."

"Do... do you think it's possible for us? To find someone who will love us, like this?"

Remus smiled bitterly. "Trust me, Kurt. You don't want relationship advice from me." He burned with the longing to turn around and find Mairead, to set his eyes on her, just so he could see where she was. Instead of giving in to the urge, he forced a warmer smile onto his face and said, "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll get some tea now. Good luck to you, Kurt."

He walked around Kurt's bed and made for the door, but duty to the Order and loyalty to Dumbledore brought him to a halt one final time. "One last thing," he murmured, looking furtively around the room and lowering his voice so that only Kurt - whom he knew would already be able to hear sounds others could not - could hear him. "If you ever encounter a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback, get out. Stay as far away from him as you possibly can."

Kurt frowned. "Who is Fenrir Greyback?" he asked.

Remus hesitated, then said, "Is your ex's nephew young?"

Kurt blinked. "What?"

"The nephew," Remus repeated. "Is he a kid? A child?"

"The - yeah," stammered Kurt. "He's - I think he's four or five."

Remus's mouth formed a thin line. "If that's the case," he said grimly, "then I would be willing to bet that Fenrir Greyback is the werewolf who bit you."

He straightened, and without another word, headed once more for the door. He stood aside when a Healer walked into the room. The man was young and quite handsome. Even the lime green robes he wore could not overly detract from his appearance, with his neatly combed full head of jet black hair, baby blue eyes, and his friendly, open smile full of straight, white teeth.

On an impulse, Remus reached out a hand to stop the Healer. "Excuse me," he said. "I was wondering if you or someone else might be able to arrange for my friend over there to have a steak delivered for his next meal, please. The rarer the better."

The Healer, whose name tag read, Augustus Pye, Trainee Healer, regarded him with surprise. "Do you mean Mr. Lowell?" he asked. "That's - forgive me, but that's rather remarkable! We haven't been able to tempt Mr. Lowell into eating much of anything."

Remus offered him a smile. "Perhaps you just haven't been tempting him with the right foods," he said.

Pye offered him a large, beaming smile that crinkled his eyes. "Thank you!" he exclaimed. "I'll be sure to -" Abruptly, Pye broke off, his gaze caught on something over Remus's shoulder. "Mairead?" he called. "MAIREAD O'KEEFE?!"

Remus heard a quiet shriek and whirled around to find Mairead with both hands clapped over her mouth.

"GUS?!" she squealed from between them.

Pye laughed and charged past Remus, who watched in bewilderment as Mairead also broke into a run and threw herself into the arms of the Trainee Healer. They embraced in the middle of the floor, laughing and exclaiming with delight.

"My, God! I can't believe it's you!"

"I can't believe you're working this unit!"

"Yeah, this is my third week!"

"I thought your focus was in Spell Damage?"

"My supervisor thought I should do a rotation here."

Pye pulled back from Mairead and looked her over, his eyes shining. "God, you look great," he enthused. Remus ground his teeth together. "But don't tell me you've gone over to the Dark Side?"

Mairead's dark green eyes widened, and Remus could see her body tense up. "What do you mean?" she asked in a tight voice.

Pye grinned and leaned in. "Well, you're wearing Ronald McDonald's colors."

Mairead's expression cleared and she let out a surprised little giggle. "I forgot you call them that!" she said quietly.

Remus frowned. What were they talking about?

Pye looked past her at the Weasleys, who were watching the scene curiously, and his own eyes widened. "Girl, are you engaged to William A. Weasley?"

"What?!" Mairead exclaimed incredulously. "No! What gave you that idea?"

Pye's perfectly manicured (others might say "overly manicured," not Remus, of course, but others) eyebrows rose. "Charlie, then?"

Mairead frowned. "No..."

Pye pulled a disgusted face and lowered his voice even further, until Remus imagined only Mairead, Kurt, and he, Remus, could hear. "Please tell me you're not with Prissy Weasley."

Remus clenched his fists and fought against the possessive thoughtshis increasingly wolfish brain was howling.

Mairead looked as repulsed as Remus felt. "Okay, first of all: his family is right there," she hissed sternly. "And second of all: ewww, no! What is with this line of questioning? Why do you think I'm engaged to one of the Weasleys?"

Pye cocked his head to one side. "Because you're here," he said simply.

Mairead looked baffled and annoyed and utterly entrancing and Remus was about ten seconds away from ripping Pye's perfect blue eyes out of his perfect face. "What do you mean, because I'm here?" Mairead demanded. "I am a friend of the family! Can't a woman have family friends without romantic entanglements being involved? Or is this some ridiculous, outmoded, outdated rule of St. Mungo's? That a woman can't visit a male patient without a male escort, like a father or a brother or a fiancé? What is going on with this moronic, dystopic, patriarchal -"

Pye was holding both hands up in front of himself in a sign of surrender. Mairead ran out of steam and broke off.

"I was asking," said Pye slowly, with the air of someone treading very carefully, "because I was told that Arthur Weasley's family was here to see him. Nobody said anything about family friends being here, too, and since you're visiting Arthur Weasley, I assumed you were family."

Mairead's shoulders sank as her anger visibly deflated. "Oh," she said, looking awkward and embarrassed. "I see. Er, no. No, I'm just a fr-"

"A friend of the family," Pye supplied.

Mairead nodded abashedly and scratched the tip of her eyebrow.

Pye's face broke out into another broad grin that - purely objectively - made him look like he was auditioning for a pants advertisement or something equally inane. "It's good to see the years have mellowed you, May," he said, chuckling.

Remus was seized by the sudden impulse to grab Kurt Lowell's bedpan and toss its contents into Augustus Pye's face. May? That was Remus's name for Mairead. What the fuck was Augustus Pye (what a stupid name, by the way) doing calling her by Remus's nickname for her?

But no, the nasty little voice in his head reminded him. May was her friends' nickname for her. They used it long before you ever came along, and they'll use it long after you're out of her life and she's forgotten all about you.

Remus watched, seething with silent jealousy, as Pye put his hand on Mairead's back and walked with her over to Arthur's bed. He hated everything about this. He hated the way Mairead gazed up at Pye, unadulterated awe and admiration in her eyes while she listened to him talk about Arthur's status. He hated the way Pye frequently reached over and touched Mairead, either by nudging her with his elbow or brushing a hand over her arm or her back. He hated the easy way Mairead smiled and joked with him. She seemed completely at ease with him. There was no stammering, no blushing, no equivocating. She was comfortable with Pye. She clearly liked him a great deal, and he obviously returned the sentiment.

So it should have come as no surprise when Pye, having finished answering all of Molly's dozens of questions, turned to Mairead and asked her out, right in front of Remus.

"So wait," Pye said, reaching out and putting a hand on Mairead's shoulder. "Are you living in London now? Your letters have come from all over the place."

"I - yeah," said Mairead, shuffling her feet awkwardly. "I moved around a bit after Hogwarts, but I'm m- I'm in London now."

A slow smile spread across Pye's infuriatingly perfect face. "So, let me get this straight," he said, folding his hands behind his back and leaning in towards Mairead. "You're living in London, you obviously have at least some free time on your hands if you're able to make visits to injured family friends -" here he winked at Mairead and Remus accidentally bit the inside of his own cheek so hard he could taste blood in his mouth, "and, if I'm not mistaken, there are exactly zero Weasley boys who would hunt me down and skin me alive if I were to ask you to have dinner with me sometime."

Skinning him alive. Interesting thought.

Mairead opened her mouth to reply, then seemed to change course. "Okay, first of all -"

Remus looked up hopefully at the annoyed note in her voice. Surely she was about to rebuff this obvious and maladroit attempt at flirtation. But before she could, Pye interrupted her.

"You've already had your first of all, May. I believe this would be your... third of all, are we up to now?"

What an insufferable prick, Remus thought. What an arrogant, blowhard, Machiavellian, reprobate. Surely she saw through his greased up, self-aggrandizing smooth talking.

But then Mairead giggled. She giggled. And while she pulled a stern face, Remus could tell that it was just for show.

"Fine, third of all," she said, making a face at him. "Third of all, I am allowed to have dinner with whomever I like, whenever I like, and no man -"

"Great, pick you up Friday at seven."

Remus stared at Mairead, holding his breath, praying.

Say no. Say no, May. Please, say -

"Seven sounds good," said Mairead. "But I'll pick you up."

Remus dropped his head into his hands.

Pye laughed and said, "Oh, very well."

"Where will we go?," Mairead asked. "McDonald's?"

Pye snorted. Like a pig. "Have you ever actually been to a McDonald's, Mairead?" Mairead must have shaken her head, because he went on, "In that case, you won't understand what a truly atrocious time we would have if we had dinner at a McDonald's," he said. "Tell you what: let's make this easy. Come over to my place. We'll have dinner there, maybe a little dance party, and you can meet my cat."

Remus's head shot up. This can't really be happening, he thought. There's no way Mairead won't see through this. She'll turn him down. Maybe she'll slap that smug smile off his smarmy -

"Sounds great!"

Fuck. Everything.

---

Sirius disinterestedly watched Kreacher amble out of the kitchen and into the boiler room. The menace of a house elf had made himself extremely scarce over the past week, but now he was back, lurking around, grumbling hateful commentary under his breath and then blinking innocently whenever Sirius fixed him with a hard look.

With a restless sigh, Sirius put his face on his chin and went back to looking at the chessboard. More accurately, he went back to studying his opponent, whose mind was clearly not on the game. Though he hid it well, Remus had been in a black mood ever since he had returned from the hospital two days before, but Sirius had been unsuccessful at getting the reason out of his friend. It didn't take a Ravenclaw to figure out that Mairead was the cause, but as the girl had slipped off shortly after Christmas dinner and had not been seen since, Sirius had been unable to interrogate her as to what exactly had happened.

Remus scratched his chin with one fingertip, frowning, then directed his rook to move.

Immediately, all of his remaining pieces began to shout at him.

"Are you blind?!"

"That's suicide, that is!"

"Why don't you just resign if you're going to play like this?"

Remus spread his hands in a gesture of surprise and took another look at the board.

"You'd be putting yourself into check, Moony," Sirius supplied, casually scratching his ear.

Remus's eyebrows went up. "So I would," he acknowledged. "Fine, err... knight to c six."

"Have you got Gobstones for brains, man?!"

"Are you trying to kill everyone on this chessboard?!"

Sirius sighed and looked over at Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, who were sitting at the other end of the table, massive textbooks spread across the tabletop and parchment, bottles of ink, and quills scattered around themselves. "Are you sure you can't take a break to play a game, Ron?" he asked. "It's only two days after Christmas. You've got lots of time to get to all that."

Ron shot a hopeful look over at Hermione, who reached out her hand and tapped her quill against a small notebook sitting next to Ron without looking up from the textbook she was reading from. "Check what your homework planner says, Ron," she said. "You've got your Divination homework to finish, and then Charms to start on this evening."

Ron slouched in his seat. "Sorry, Sirius," he said sulkily.

Sirius shrugged. "Harry?" he asked. Surely his godson wouldn't hold with this ridiculous, regimented homework schedule. James was certainly never too busy for a game.

Hermione opened her mouth, but Harry jumped in defensively. "I didn't say anything yet, Hermione!" he cried.

"And I haven't resigned yet, Padfoot," Remus added wryly.

"Well, if you can manage to find a move you can make that won't cause your set to mutiny, then maybe I'll start to believe that," Sirius said acidly.

"Here - knight to f five," said Remus. "Are we all happy with that?"

His pieces conferred amongst themselves for a few moments before the knight shrugged begrudgingly and shifted into place.

"Your move," said Remus.

The kitchen door opened and Mairead walked in carrying a goblet that was steaming heavily. She smiled vaguely at the group of people around the table and went over to the basin. Sirius watched Remus while Mairead fetched an empty glass and began to fill it with water. There was a look of such raw misery on Moony's face that Sirius almost reached over and grasped his shoulder. Remus seldom let his emotions show this plainly. Whatever was going on, it must be bad.

Remus stood up when Mairead walked over to the table, carrying the goblet in one hand and the glass of water in the other. He smiled politely at her and thanked her courteously when she handed him the goblet, all signs of unhappiness vanished without a trace. Mairead's eyes landed on Sirius's for a moment, and he could see the same disbelief in them that he felt. Remus was certainly a skilled actor.

"Okay: how's this sound?" Ron said, straightening up and looking at his parchment. "What subjects am I most likely to fail during my O.W.L.s? Who will win the Quidditch Cup this year? And, who will win the House Cup this year?"

Harry made a face. "I think the cup questions are too similar," he said. "And there's not enough death in there to make her happy."

Ron hummed thoughtfully. "What've you got?"

"Just two so far," Sirius's godson replied. "During which exam am I most likely to receive a fatal injury, and what valuable item am I going to misplace this month?"

"Those are good ones!" praised Ron. "What're you thinking for your third?"

Harry's face darkened. "Well, at first I was thinking of asking whether I was going to die falling off my broom, but that's not exactly relevant anymore, is it?"

Ron's lips thinned sympathetically. "Tell you what," he said, "if I can have that falling off the broom question, you can take one of my cup questions."

"Brilliant!" said Harry, his face splitting into a grin. "Care which one?"

"Take your pick."

Hermione made a disappointed tutting noise. "Honestly, why are you even taking the class if you're just making rubbish up as you go?"

"It's what the old bat wants!" said Ron insistently. "Are you trying to tell me this isn't easier than those calculations you had to do for Arithmancy?"

"What class is this for?" asked Mairead, who had been watching Harry's and Ron's exchange with a perplexed look on her face.

"Divination," answered Harry.

"What's the assignment?" Mairead and Remus barely glanced at one another when she handed him the glass of water.

"We're starting Cartomancy in the new term," Harry said, then added with an eye roll. "We're supposed to come in prepared with three questions to ask the cards."

"Tarot cards?" Mairead clarified.

"I guess," he said. Then, perking up hopefully, he asked, "Why? You don't know anything about it, do you?"

Mairead bit her bottom lip, then delicately said, "Erm, a bit."

Ron and Harry looked at each other, the same thought in both their heads. "How did our questions sound?" said Ron.

Her duty to Remus finished, Mairead walked over to the other end of the table. "Erm, well, Tarot doesn't really work that way. The way your questions are worded, I mean."

"Tarot doesn't work at all," Hermione spoke up, sounding a bit lofty.

"I've had some success with it," Mairead said mildly. "But it isn't really useful for those kinds of questions. Tarot is helpful for gaining insight. You can ask it for advice, you can ask what you're missing about a specific situation, and you can use it to help you make decisions. It can be incredibly specific in what it tells you, or immensely broad. It's about self discovery."

"So what's wrong with our questions?" asked Ron.

"They just... kind of... fortune... teller...y?" Mairead said hesitantly.

Harry and Ron shared another blank look. "Isn't that what Divination is?" said Harry, an uncertain smile playing around his mouth.

"No!" Mairead said earnestly. "Divination is about - well, just break down the word. The act of divination is divining. Break that down further and you're looking at communing with the divine. Sure, some people look at it as communicating with the spirit world, but there are other schools of thought that say that you are getting in touch with your inner wisdom, your higher self, your own intuition."

Silence followed her words. Ron looked slightly awed, Harry and Ginny looked thoughtful, and Hermione looked like she was doing her level best not to laugh in Mairead's face.

For his part, Sirius cocked an eyebrow and said, "Does Mother Mary Sister Almighty know you talk like this, Gryffindor?"

Mairead looked scathingly at him and rolled her eyes, then shrugged carelessly. "Whatever," she said nonchalantly. "Take it with a grain of salt."

"So..." Ron said, frowning at his parchment. "What would be a better question?"

Mairead scratched her chin thoughtfully. "Well, generally yes-or-no questions aren't the best," she said. "Open-ended questions are better."

"Why?" asked Ginny curiously.

Mairead shrugged. "Look at it this way," she said. "Take Ron's question for example - what was it? Will I fall off my broom and die? Say you ask the cards that and the answer comes back to indicate yes. How does that help you?"

"Er, I wouldn't fly on my broom?" suggested Ron.

"Ever again?" Mairead grinned. "Now think of it this way: what if, instead of asking, 'Am I going to fall off my broom and die?' you asked, 'What can I do to maximize safety while flying on my broomstick?' Wouldn't that information be a biteen more helpful to you?" She looked over at Harry. "And what if, instead of asking who was going to win the House Cup this year, you asked what factors are contributing to Gryffindor's current trajectory for the Cup? Or you asked what you can personally do to earn more points for Gryffindor? Or, if you wanted to get really wild, you could ask what the three most important things are that you should be focusing your attention on this year, and it might just be that winning the House Cup isn't, like, of paramount importance right now."

Harry's mouth was hanging slightly open as he considered this. He glanced back at his parchment, picked up his quill, and said, "Wait - how did you word that again?"

"That isn't going to satisfy Trelawney, though," snapped Hermione impatiently, who evidently could not stay quiet on the subject any longer. "She's only interested in gloom and doom and dismay and devastation. She doesn't want people to succeed - she wants to look like a Soothsayer and have everyone falling all over themselves at her feet."

Mairead pursed her lips as she considered this. "Well, that'd be because she's a really shitty teacher," she said, folding her arms. Then, with the ghost of a mischievous grin, she added, "Maybe, then, you should be asking the cards how your professional goals would be affected by your dropping the class."

Harry frowned. "You can't honestly be suggesting that be one of my questions?"

"No," said Mairead. "I'm suggesting that you of all people, Harry, should know by now that the skill of the teacher is not always directly proportionate to the value of the subject matter."

Not even Hermione seemed to have a response to that. Mairead smiled a bit shyly, then said, "Anyway, I should be going. Good luck with your homework."

"You look really nice, Mairead," Hermione said earnestly. "I hope you have a wonderful time."

Mairead smiled, her cheeks flushing. "Thanks, Hermione."

Sirius frowned and looked sharply at Mairead. Come to think of it, she did look really nice. He hadn't noticed it at first, because she hadn't dressed in anything flashy, but the denims she was wearing didn't have any holes or stains on them and the jumper she was wearing was a lovely teal color that both brought out her eyes and complimented her red hair. And speaking of her hair, it was looking distinctly less wild than usual, falling around her shoulders and back neatly. Sirius narrowed his eyes and peered at her. She was definitely wearing makeup.

"Where are you going?" he asked suspiciously.

"Didn't you hear?" Ginny piped up. "Mairead's got a date!"

Sirius gaped at Mairead, who waved a hand dismissively and said, "It isn't a date."

Ron looked up, looking perplexed. "You've got a date?" he asked. "With who?"

Mairead opened her mouth to reply, but Hermione said, "One of your Dad's Healers. Weren't you listening at St. Mungo's?"

Ron's face contorted in disgust. "Healer Smethwyck?" he said. "He's got to be, like, ninety!"

"No!" Hermione said, looking at her friend scornfully. "Healer Pye." Her voice took on a distinctly wistful tone in her second sentence.

Ron looked over at Harry. "Which one was he?"

"The hot one," Ginny supplied. Hermione giggled and stuffed her fist into her mouth.

Sirius looked over at Remus. The werewolf was staring at the chessboard, unblinking, as though he wanted to smash it to smithereens. Sirius shifted his gaze back to Mairead, feeling hot anger beginning to bubble in his gut. He had assumed all this time that the fallout between Moony and his girl had been Remus's fault. He never would have guessed that Mairead would do something like this.

He was going to have to have a word or two with her.

Ron looked blankly at Ginny. "There was a girl Healer?" he asked, then, to Mairead, "You're into girls?"

Ginny and Hermione shared a look that clearly said that Ron was a lost cause. Before they could say anything scathing, Harry jumped in with, "I think Pye was the one in training. The one who suggested the stitches?"

"Oh, him," Ron said carelessly. "Not too bright a chap, is he?"

Sirius glanced over at Remus, whose mouth twitched and eyes flashed victoriously.

"I'm sure he is very intelligent," Hermione said in a placatory tone. "After all, it can't be easy to become a Healer, can it?"

"Regardless," Ginny said. "That is not why Mairead is going out with him."

"I'm not going out with him," Mairead repeated. "He's a friend. We were friends in school and then we became pen pals when he graduated."

Ginny leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table, as she regarded Mairead. "Mairead," she said sagely, "He asked you to dinner. At his place."

"Don't forget the dancing," Hermione added, her cheeks turning pink and smiling in spite of herself.

Sirius felt his jaw tightening as his anger at Mairead grew.

Mairead threw up her hands. "It is not a date!" she cried. "We're friends! The only reason he invited me to his flat is so I can meet his cat!"

Hermione let out a "tuh!" of skeptical laughter.

"Yeah, whatever," Ginny said, smirking. "Think what you like, but that was not the pussy he was thinking of when he invited you to his flat."

There was a small explosion of chaos at Ginny's outlandish comment. Ron's ears turned bright red and he yelled, "OI!" Hermione clamped both hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock and a guilty giggle bursting out of her. Harry's mouth was agape, and he regarded Ron's kid sister with what looked like newfound respect. Mairead blushed furiously and cried, "Virginia Weasley!"

And Remus quietly excused himself from the table and walked out of the room.

"It's Genevra, actually," Ginny replied, calm as anything.

Sirius shot a fiery glare at Mairead while he got to his feet and started after Remus. Mairead did not see it, though, as she was flailing her arms and shouting, "For the last time, it is not a date!"

"And what makes you so certain of that?" Ginny challenged the older ginger.

"Oh, I dunno," Mairead began, "maybe the fact that he's g-"

But Sirius loudly slammed the door on his way out, not in the least bit interested in what Healer Pye was.

He found Remus in the library, pacing back and forth and looking absolutely tormented.

"Moony," Sirius said gruffly.

Remus paused in his pacing and looked up at Sirius. He made a gesture with his hand. "Let's just say I was unsuccessful at unfucking things," he said with a pained smile that just about broke Sirius's heart.

"I can't believe her," said Sirius, shaking his head with disgust. "I honestly didn't think she would do something like this."

"Don't be upset with her, Padfoot," Remus said in a bone-weary voice. He sighed heavily and dropped into a chair, looking abjectly defeated. "It's better this way."

"Like hell it is," retorted Sirius. He looked around at a sound out in the corridor. "I'm gonna have myself a little chat with Mairead."

Remus sat up, looking alarmed. "No, Sirius," he said. "Don't. Just let her go."

"Fuck that."

"Sirius."

Sirius looked at his friend, then heaved a sigh of disgust. "Who the fuck is this Pye, anyway?" he asked, taking a seat next to Remus.

"You know about as much as I do," said Remus, his face falling back into lines of misery. "Mairead knows him from school. She obviously likes him tremendously that she's stayed in touch with him all these years."

"He sounds like a total wanker to me," Sirius growled, curling the tips of his fingers into the arm rests of his chair.

"I thought so, too, at first, but..." Remus closed his eyes and massaged his eyebrows. "He's young, he's handsome, he's a Healer, so he'll make a good income. He's perfect for her. Exactly what she needs."

Sirius looked at Remus, his mouth twisting at the absurdity of what Remus had just said. "Do you hear yourself?" he asked. "Who cares if he's young? Who cares how much money he makes?"

"Easy for you to say," Remus muttered bitterly.

"Oh, yeah?" Sirius pushed back. "Well, for that matter, Malfoy's son is young and he's got money. Wanna stick her with him?"

Remus looked at him wearily. "This isn't like that," he said.

"How do you know?" Sirius pressed. "How much do you really know about this guy? You don't know where his sympathies lie." He began to pace back and forth to work off some of his agitation as he really got going. "For all we know, she could be walking into a death trap. This bloke could be some massive fanboy of Kenneth O'Keefe, and that's why he's pursuing her. He could have manacles hanging from his ceiling. He could be planning to torture her to death, then skin her and chop her up into tiny pieces and feed her to his goddamn cat for dinn-"

He caught a look at Remus's face, which had drained of all color, and broke off abruptly. "You don't think..." Remus said faintly. "Sirius - she's going over to his flat. She wanted to meet at a restaurant and he told her to meet at his flat, instead."

Sirius waved a hand. "Relax, Remus, I was just exaggerating," he said. "It's probably fine."

"Probably isn't good enough!" Remus rose to his feet. "Sirius, she's completely defenseless."

Remus strode out of the room. Sirius jumped to his feet and followed after his best friend. By the time he caught up to Remus, the other man had rummaged through the broom closet in the entrance hall and pulled out a cloak and the least-shabby broomstick in there.

"Remus, you can't be serious about this," he said, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. "He's a Healer, not a Death Eater."

"And Peter was a clerk," Remus shot back, heading for the door. "I'm not going to intervene, if that's what you're worried about. Not unless the situation gets out of control. I'm just going to make sure she's all right."

"She isn't going to like this, Moony," Sirius called.

"She isn't going to find out, Padfoot," replied Remus.

---

Mairead was being followed.

It had taken her a long while to be certain of it, but there was little doubt anymore. She had first caught sight of something out her back windscreen when she had parked her car. She had been circling the block, trying to find a free space. When she had finally found one, she twisted in her seat, fishing around for Muggle coins to pay for parking, when something had caught her eye out on the street. A fluttering of something in the air, darker than the darkness.

Mairead had frozen, eyes searching the dark, poorly lit street. She had very nearly ignored the prickling sensation on the back of her neck - it had been so difficult to find this spot - but decided to start her car, pull into the street, and circle the block once more, just to see if she could find a parking space in a better-lit area.

She hunched forward over her steering wheel as she directed her car back onto the road, peering out through her side mirror. She saw nothing.

She let out a tight breath and flipped on her signal to take the next left. Just as she was pulling around the corner, she looked back once more, and saw a tall figure kick off from the ground and soar into the air astride a broomstick.

Mairead could feel the beginnings of panic start to lick at her. What should she do? She thought about returning to Grimmauld Place, but there was simply no way she would knowingly lead a Death Eater straight to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. She could go to Gus and ask for help, but how exactly was she supposed to explain that? And how could she know whether he would be equipped to handle something like this? No, she was completely alone in this. She would have to handle matters herself.

Mairead decided to park her car several blocks away from Gus's flat. She had to wait several long, breathless minutes to find a place to park, but it was worth it. She left her car in an area that was extremely crowded, full of packed restaurants and bars whose customers were spilling out onto the pavement, talking boisterously and making a racket. There was no way whoever was following her could continue to track her from the skies. A person was much more difficult to see from the air than an entire car, and it was so brightly lit here that he would not be able to fly close enough to the ground to see her, for risk of being seen by any of the dozens of Muggles surrounding her. He would be forced to land and follow her on foot.

Before she got out of her car, Mairead reached into her backseat and felt around until she found a dark hooded pullover and a hat. She shoved these into her bag and got out. Whoever was following her was highly skilled. She never saw him land, and could see no sign of him as she walked, not even a reflection in a shop window. She saw an opening in a crowd around a bar and took her chance.

Mairead ducked in through the door. She weaved her way through the crowd, clutching her bag to her side, until she found a restroom. There was a long line.

Thinking quickly, she clamped a hand over her mouth and made a guttural groaning noise. "Please," she grunted, starting to run for the stalls. "I'm gonna puke." She made a fairly convincing retching noise, and the women in the queue shrieked and dove out of her way. Mairead shoved herself into a stall and locked it behind her, and immediately tore the clothing out of her bag.

She pulled the pullover on, then added the cap, shoving her hair up underneath it to hide it as best she could.

She got a look at herself in the mirror when she squeezed and shoved her way back out. Not bad for less than a minute's work, she thought.

She made her slow way out through the sweaty, pushing bodies until she found someone who looked like a bouncer off to one side.

"Excuse me," she said, making her voice breathy and a bit hysterical. The man looked over at her. "My ex-boyfriend and his friends are here. Do you have a back exit?"

The man scratched his face and considered her, then snapped his fingers over his head and called over a colleague.

"Tony here'll show yer where ter go," he said.

Tony led Mairead to the back of the club to a door with a sign on it that announced in large, threatening letters that an alarm would sound if the door was opened. He pulled out what Mairead identified as one of the plastic cards that Muggles somehow used to pay for things, slipped it into the doorjamb, and pushed it open. Mairead stepped out into the alley and turned back to thank Tony.

"Happens all the time," he said with a shrug. "Good luck, sweetheart."

Mairead went up the alley at a swift walk. She was careful to walk noiselessly, but she breathed more freely as she navigated her way around dumpsters and somewhat less organized rubbish littering the path, certain she was home free. She was in the middle of congratulating herself on a job well done when she stepped around a dumpster and saw a cloaked figure standing at the head of the alleyway.

She just barely stopped herself from crying out in fear. It was the same man who had been following her. He clutched a broomstick in his left hand and seemed to be watching the crowd passing by the alley. She chanced a quick glance back over her shoulder. The alley was a dead end, and the door she had exited through had no handle on the outside. The only other option for escape that Mairead could see was a fire escape ladder a few yards behind her.

Slowly, she began to walk backwards towards the ladder. The figure seemed intent on watching the crowd, but she was still too afraid to turn her back on him. She glanced backwards over her shoulder every now and then while she inched backwards. She was making progress.

She had almost reached the ladder when her foot collided with an empty fizzy drink can. The sound of it crunching under her foot seemed deafening, and when Mairead stumbled away she accidentally kicked it, sending it scraping and skittering along the pavement.

The figure spun around. Mairead reached for her wand but she fumbled with the extra layer of fabric she had piled on, and it wasn't even in her fingers by the time the man was facing her, wand pointed straight at her heart, his mouth open, ready to incant.

"Remus?!"

Remus stared at her, looking absolutely astonished. She saw his eyes flit over her figure. He dropped the broomstick and cried, "Expelliarmus!" Mairead's wand flew out of her jeans and into his hand.

"What are you playing at?!" Mairead shouted in outrage, but Remus ignored her. He took three steps towards her, both wands now pointed at her.

"What did I give you for Christmas this year?" he asked.

"A-a necklace," said Mairead. "This one." She reached into the collar of her jumper and pulled out the chain, showing it to him.

Remus nodded, satisfied.

"What did I give you?" Mairead shot back.

"A scarf and a biography of The Beatles," Remus answered promptly. He stowed his wand away and flipped hers around, walking over and offering it back to her.

Mairead snatched her wand back, confusion and bewilderment swirling around her. "Have you been following me?" she demanded.

"Where did you get those clothes?" asked Remus, ignoring her question. "Those weren't the clothes you were wearing when you left the house. I almost attacked you because of it."

"I changed in a bathroom," Mairead bit out.

"What are you doing in this drangway?" Remus continued. "Last I saw you, you were going into a club. What were you going in there for, anyway? I thought you were meeting Pye at his flat."

"I was -" Mairead felt cold reality wash over her when it occurred to her why Remus might be following her. "Were you following me to his flat? Were you fucking following me to his flat, Remus?"

Remus's eyes were hard and unapologetic. "How much do you know about this man, Mairead?" he asked. "How often have you seen him over the past few years?"

Mairead's fear, which minutes ago had been so palpable she could taste it, was draining away and being replaced by a fury so intense she was having trouble thinking straight. "You were," she said, her voice low and shaking with anger. "You were following me to his flat."

"I was -"

"I don't want to hear it!" Mairead yelled. "You - you -" she was so angry she could not form a complete sentence. She had to get out of here before she did something rash. "Follow this, you gobshite!"

With that, she turned on the spot and disappeared into thin air.

---

Sirius drummed his fingers restlessly on the arm of his chair. He twisted his wrist over to the side and checked his watch. It was only a quarter past seven. Mairead had left just over half an hour ago. He imagined it would be a while before Remus got back. Just then, however, he heard the locks undoing themselves out in the entrance hall. He heard the closet door open, then close, and a few moments later Remus walked into the room, looking windblown in more ways than one.

"What happened?" Sirius asked. "Couldn't you find her?"

Remus walked over to the chair he had sat in earlier and dropped back into it. "She's never going to speak to me again," he said in a low voice.

"You approached her?" said Sirius in disbelief. "Why?"

Remus shook his head. "She spotted me," he said. "I - I don't know how she did it."

Sirius listened to Remus fill him in on the way he had followed Mairead, her peculiar behavior that had forced Remus to land, then take back to the sky, then land again in order to pursue her on foot. How Remus had lost her in a crowd, how he had retreated to a darkened alleyway to scan the street for her, and how she had reappeared behind him in an entirely new outfit.

Sirius frowned. "Are you sure it was her?" he asked.

"I checked."

Sirius shook his head. "She's smart," he said. "Where the hell did she learn to spot a tail, anyway?"

Remus dropped his face into his hands and groaned loudly. "From me," he moaned. "I taught her."

A laugh escaped Sirius before he could stop himself. Remus opened his fingers and glared at him from between them. "Sorry," said Sirius. "But you have to admit: it is kind of funny."

He stayed with Remus in the library all evening, leaving only to make an appearance at dinner and to make Remus's excuses to Molly. Remus stayed in much the same position all evening, hunched over in his chair, face a mask of misery and shame.

For his part, Sirius felt his anger with Mairead grow the longer he sat there, watching his best friend steep in his own feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing. Even if she had ultimately decided that she wasn't willing to put in the effort to make things work with Remus, she should have known better than to rub his nose in her dalliances with other men. She should have known the effect that dating around - sleeping around, if Ginny was correct - would have on Remus. His disappointment at being wrong about Mairead grew, and every time he looked over at Remus it was like adding a log to the fire of his anger.

By the time Mairead returned at eleven, Sirius's wrath was a bonfire crackling in his lungs. He was on his feet the second he heard the sounds of her letting herself into Grimmauld Place, and he was out the door before Remus could do anything to stop him.

"I wanna have a word with you," he snarled, his teeth bared as he stalked up to Mairead.

"Later," said Mairead, and Sirius was taken aback to see that her own face was white with fury. "Is he in there?"

Without waiting for Sirius to answer, she pushed open the door to the library and stomped in, Sirius on her heels.

"Don't talk to him!" Sirius snapped, instantly defensive of his friend. Mairead whirled on him.

"Do not," she said in a low voice, one finger raised in warning. Turning back to Remus, trembling with rage, she said, "Explain yourself."

Remus looked up at her from his seat, and Sirius came to a sudden halt when he saw that Moony looked just as livid as Mairead. His eyes, normally so placid, were flashing viciously as he regarded Mairead.

Just the fact that Mairead didn't turn tail and run at the sight of Remus's anger won her back some points in Sirius's view.

"Explain myself?" Remus said in a deadly soft tone. "And why should I do that? I'm not the one who skipped off at a moment's notice to go jump into bed with an old school chum. I'm not the one who displayed such an astounding obliviousness to the current state of affairs. I'm not the one who started acting like some insipid, frivolous schoolgirl just because someone good-looking walked into the room and gave me the time of day."

Sirius looked over at Mairead and thought Moony was damn lucky she was a Squib, because she looked ready to hex him off the face of the earth.

"No," she said venomously. "You're just the one who followed his insipid, frivolous - what shall we call me? Your latest conquest? - around like a psychopathic stalker."

Remus rose to his feet. Mairead seemed to be unaware of the fact that he towered over her. "I was protecting you," he growled. "I was making sure you weren't walking into a trap."

"Bullshit!" spat Mairead. "You weren't suspicious of him; you were suspicious of me. I told you a thousand times it wasn't a date, but you didn't believe me, so you were going to follow me to his flat and lurk there and peer through the windows like you did when you spied on lonely, miserable housewives! Well, I've got news for you, Remus Lupin: I am not one of your targets and you have no right to follow me!"

"WAKE UP, MAIREAD!" Remus exploded. "In case you've been too busy going on romantic dates and having dance parties to notice, one member of the Order is already in Azkaban and another is in the hospital! Not everyone is trustworthy! How can you not understand this by now? You don't know anything about Pye! You don't know what company he keeps, you don't know what he does in his spare time, you don't know where his sympathies lie, you -"

"Jesus Christ, Remus!" Mairead shouted. "I didn't meet him at an anarchist reading group; he's a friend from school, for fuck's sake!"

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really, a friend from school?" he said coolly. "Hmm. That's interesting. One of my friends from school murdered Cedric Diggory. Or is your attention span so short that you've already forgotten all about him?"

It was instantly clear that Remus had gone too far. Sirius looked at Mairead, and he was forcibly reminded of the way she had looked when he had stabbed her two years ago. She looked as though Remus had physically hit her with his words. Her mouth and eyes were wide open with shock, but as Sirius watched, surprise gave way to betrayal. Her eyes filled with tears, and she stumbled a step away from Remus.

Sirius shot a look over at Remus, and he could see that Remus was horrified by what he had said. "Mairead," he said in a hushed, ashamed voice.

Mairead began walking backwards towards the door. "Stay away from me, Remus," she said, her voice shaking dangerously. "I don't want anything to do with you."

Sirius reached out a hand for her as she passed him. "He didn't mean it, Mairead," he said softly.

Mairead continued past him as if he hadn't spoken and walked out the door.

---

Author's Note: Don't mind me, I'll just be hiding behind my fingers over here. Does the fact that I made Remus lose his ever-loving mind with jealousy make up for the way the chapter ended? Not even remotely? Okay.

Oh! And in case anyone was wondering, the book Mairead got Remus for Christmas was "Love Me Do: The Beatles' Progress," by Michael Braun.

Song for this chapter: "Illicit Affairs," by Taylor Swift (Mairead)