Game Changer ♠ Remus Lupin

Twenty-one: The Past Will Pass

I didn't see Remus for months afterwards.

The first two weeks after that birthday were the toughest. I couldn't concentrate at work, making silly little mistakes, but no matter how hard I tried to get him out of my head, he always resurfaced. I'd come back home from shopping with items I didn't need merely because they reminded me of him; for example, a handcrafted blanket that reminded me of the one he used the most at school, that smelt like him, and beneath which we often laid together.

Later, things became better; it wasn't perfect, but it was easier. Fleur no longer reprimanded me for letting my thoughts stray mid-conversation, nor did I have to fix my past mistakes.

But I kept going back to that afternoon.

Somewhere between the second helping of cake and the first beer offered to me, the adult part of the group moved into the living room. The Weasleys sat on the only sofa, so Bill and Fleur shared a chair, which they didn't seem to be dissatisfied with at all. Two armchairs next to each other were left for Remus and me.

"How's work going at the bank?" Mrs Weasley asked, and until she went on, I thought she was asking Bill. "Are you keeping up?"

"It's alright, they're not giving me anything difficult so far," I replied before taking a sip straight from the bottle. "Besides, it's part-time, so I don't have much work."

"Ethel is really good," Fleur cut in. "She got the hang of it faster than I did."

"I'm not too surprised." The woman smiled at me as if it was a praise to me and not an insult to the French girl.

I let out a fake laugh. "I didn't have to work through the language barrier like Fleur did and trust me, it was difficult enough without it!"

"How did the two of you meet, actually?" Bill asked, stroking Fleur's long hair.

It reminded me of how I used to comb Remus' hair when he was tired or stressed. He often closed his eyes and tilted his head back, allowing himself a moment of blissful respite. I adored watching him then, unperturbed, accepting my soft touch and yielding to my deft fingers.

"Completely by accident," Fleur began, looking over at me. "Ethel was the next person to rent my flat after me."

As the girl continued to talk about our beginnings together, my gaze strayed to the chair next to me where Remus was seated cross-legged with his nearly empty beer cup resting on his knee. His other hand was propped on the armrest, and I could tell he was doing it so he could, when necessary, shift to a less bothersome position without bringing attention to himself.

"Are you okay?" I asked softly, gaining his attention. He finally looked at me. "I mean, the full moon was only yesterday, are you feeling well enough?"

His posture seemed to have gotten even more stiff. He opened his mouth but quickly stopped himself, changing his mind about what he was going to say. He tilted his head to the side and asked, "Are you still keeping track of lunar phases after all this time?"

I shrugged, darting a quick check at the couch to ensure our conversation wasn't heard. "It's become a habit of mine."

His index finger began to slide up and down the rim of the mug. "I think you might be the only one who pays attention to this."

"That's unfortunate," I muttered, staring at his moving hand. "But are you?"

"What?" His finger stopped. I looked up at his face, his eyebrows barely lifted, his gaze fixed on mine. Suddenly, direct eye contact started to feel too intimate.

"Are you feeling fine?" I repeated.

I could barely see his jaw clenching through his stubble. Our gazes were drawn apart as he focused on the mug he was holding, then brought it to his lips to take the final sip. He considered his response. It couldn't mean anything good.