sixteen

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The mirror in front of Remus was only small, as he applied a handmade healing ointment to the fresh scars spanning his face. He had managed to sellotape back what little was left of the reflective glass, though it was proving difficult to see.

He had sat in this exact room, applying this exact ointment to the burn on Wren's wrist only mere months before the end of the previous year.

Now, he had no idea where she was.

The last time he had seen her they were standing under the moonlight, and Remus felt strangely giddy after seeing his closest friend after countless lonely years. The next thing he knew, he was waking up in the middle of the forest, naked and in searing pain. Sirius had told him that Wren had run when Remus had transformed, and that she hadn't been back since.

Remus' head shot up at the sound of his office door swinging open, the lean frame of Harry Potter peeking his head through the gap. Once confirming his professor was actually present and not off somewhere doing something else, Harry pushed the door closed behind him. Remus quickly hid the medicated ointment in his trouser pocket.

"Harry!" He greeted, "How may I help you?"

The soft vibrato of classical music washed over the boy, the pin of a record player carefully scratching at a vinyl. With a gentle flick of Remus' wand, the doors of a small cupboard he had open on his desk swung shut.

The boy looked as though he wanted to say something, but instead got distracted by the bags and boxes that were stacked around Remus' office.

"Are you going somewhere, professor?" He asked through his naivety.

"Someone let slip the nature of my condition," He gave the boy a tight lipped smile, "And there's nothing left here for me anymore." The latter part of that sentence he whispered, just loud enough for himself to hear.

Remus could see the way that Harry's eyes widened when he noticed the fresh scars across his face, the edges of them peeling and raw.

"I've looked worse," Remus smiled, in a feeble attempt to comfort him, "Believe me."

"Have you been sacked?" Harry looked furious, as if he were ready to go and hex Snape into oblivion.

"No, no." The professor reassured as he began folding a piece of parchment, "I resigned, actually."

"But, why!" Harry sputtered. If he hadn't been fired, then why was he leaving?

Remus scoffed, "Parents won't be happy when they find out that someone like me is teaching their children, Harry."

Harry watched as Remus magically arranged his books and classic brown loafers in a large trunk, the clasps shutting with a click, before Harry said his goodbyes.

Remus took one last and solemn glance at his office. The chair that Wren had sat on when she had burnt herself, the sofa she had straddled him on countless times and the desk that he had fucked her on once or twice. Remus noticed he was missing a book or two, but couldn't bring himself to look for them.

In a way, he was happy to be leaving. Hogwarts as a whole brought back so many painful memories - of James and Lily, Sirius and now even of Wren. He wasn't sure when - if - he would see her again, and that fact felt like a dagger in his heart.

Remus left his office and classroom without even looking back, fearing that leaving would hurt too much and he would only end up delaying the inevitable. He stumbled across Snape in the hallway, their eyes connecting briefly as they exchanged one last glance.

The weather outside was miserable - dreary, grey skies pelting cold drops of rain at the soggy ground. It didn't bother Remus, however, as he let the rain soak him through to the bone. He felt a slight shiver run along the length of his spine as he dragged his trunk behind him in the mud.

He apparated, his body contorting into a mix of black and brown, materialising moments later in a small, box-like apartment. Remus dropped his bags and trunk to the ground, not even taking a moment to breath before he apparated yet again.

This time he appeared outside Leicester Square station - down an alleyway only a mere minutes walk away. Remus pulled his hood up and was immediately engulfed by the familiar scent of vanilla from where Wren had worn his cloak; The aroma felt like comforting arms wrapped tightly around his torso.

He followed the path he assumed Wren had taken the night they first met, walking sluggishly along the cobblestone of the historic London back alleys. The pub's sign stuck out further than the others, the brick walls painted a burgundy red. Puddles lined the edge of the curb from where it had been raining, Remus not bothering to avoid them and instead letting the brown leather of his shoes soak through.

He pushed open the large, oak door of the pub, half expecting to see Wren sitting on the stall where they had first sat. His heart sunk in his chest when she wasn't. With a sigh, he sat himself down on his usual bar stool, signalling to the bartender with a small wave of his hand.

"The usual?" The middle aged man behind the bar asked, a towel slung over his right shoulder.

Remus shook his head, "I'll have a rum and coke."

"Ah," The bartender nodded knowingly, "She managed to twist your arm, then?"

Remus didn't reply, simply furrowed his brows.

"The girl you were with last time." The man explained.

Wren.

Remus scoffed and shrugged his shoulders, "Just.. fancied a change."

The bartender filled the glass to the brim with coke, pushing it across the glazed wooden countertop to Remus.

"She came in the other day." He didn't seem to notice the pounding in Remus' chest, "Left you this."

The bartender handed Remus a leather-bound book, titled 'The Healing Power of the Sun."

He scoffed again - Was this some kind of sick joke? Remus opened the first page, his eyes flickering to the bottom where a note was scribbled in black ink,

Remus,

A wise man once told me, "you are so much more than your blood."

P.S. I'm sorry that things turned out this way.

Yours always,

Wren.

Remus couldn't help the way his finger brushed across the ink etched page, his index finger gently pressing down on where Wren had written her name. Less than a year ago, the pair were nothing but strangers and yet somehow she had grown to mean everything to him in such little time. Now it felt as though they were strangers again, nothing but a fond memory to look back on from time to time.

That was like most things in Remus' life, he had come to find. Everything was temporary; Anything he came to grow fond of was fleeting at best. It was just a shame that Wren was one of those fleeting memories. All the others he could deal with, but the thought of never seeing Wren again hurt him in a way that he had never before been hurt.

Remus sighed, closing the book before it drove him insane. He tossed the glass back and downed his drink whole, a slight wince gracing his features at the bitter taste. How Wren could drink this, he would never know.

The swish of a long, black cloak caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, paired with black and white striped trousers. His eyes tracked up the man who was standing by the pub door, leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face. When Remus caught his eye he nodded, before walking through the open door and into the warm, night time air.

Remus scraped the legs of his bar stool against the floor as he stood, slamming a £50 note onto the bar and not even bothering to wait for his change.

Sirius' return had proven to him that things once lost can be returned. And he would have to be dead before he let Wren go.

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