The Question of Friendship

Remus opened his eyes slowly. He could still feel the dregs of firewhiskey floating around his system. He'd never quite gotten the hang of hangovers, never experienced what others described, no matter how much he drank.

He attributed it as probably being a werewolf thing, but he wasn't sure; he'd never had anyone to ask. At his expression of this theory, after one particularly inebriated night, James and Sirius had begged him to bite them. Remus had always assumed - and hoped - that they were joking. Hangover or not, though, he had clearly had a lot to drink the night before.

Remus stretched creaking muscles gingerly, sighing with relief as first his neck and then his back resounded with a series of deliciously percussive clicks and cracks.

He felt the bed move beside him. Without thinking he murmured soothingly, "Go back to sleep, Sirius. I'll get some coffee, that should help you with-" With a sudden pang, Remus remembered why he had been drinking last night; remembered just how long it had been since he'd woken up beside Sirius.

He shifted his weight slightly to peer at the bed's other occupant. Round eyes stared back at him.

"Hello, Professor."

"Lun- Miss Loveg-" Remus wasn't sure what to call her, what protocol demanded when one woke up next to one's naked ex-student. Though a member of the Order when the end came, Remus had never known her well, only ever as a friend of Harry's.

Harry... It was a year exactly since the end of the war, and neither Harry nor the Dark Lord had been seen since. Many people lost family and friends. Remus had lost everyone.

"What happened last night?" Remus ventured to ask at last, having no memory of how he'd gotten to bed - he recognised the room as being one of those for rent at the Three Broomsticks - least of all where Luna fitted into the hazy equation.

"You were drinking," the blonde Ravenclaw stated solemnly, seeming unfazed at the turn of events.

"As clearly were you, to have ended up in my bed," he said exasperatedly. "Look, did I- we didn't - that is to say..." Remus stammered awkwardly.

Being, perhaps, unusually perceptive Luna only blinked a few times before calmly saying, "You propositioned me, yes."

"And then...?" he managed to ask, a sinking feeling settling into his stomach, but like a train wreck, he couldn't look away, had to know.

"You fell asleep." He couldn't tell whether she looked put out by this development, or amused. Remus felt relieved; he glanced around the room to see where he might have put - thrown? - his clothes.

"Miss Lov- Luna," he said firmly, determining that anyone he had drunkenly approached for sex deserved at least first name basis. "Luna, I clearly drank rather a lot last night - I'm surprised that I don't have a hangov-" Remus rambled vaguely, somewhat thankful when Luna interrupted.

"Of course you don't." Luna smiled as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She sat up in the bed, putting her hands on her hips in a way that... Remus looked quickly away. "Werewolves born under the sign of Libra don't get hangovers."

He stopped his thoughts in their tracks, and blinked rapidly. "I'm not a Li- and besides, where on earth did you-"

She interrupted again. "I thought you of all people would know that. But never mind. You were saying?"

What had he been saying? "Oh yes. As I said, I clearly drank far too much last night, and- and I'm sorry for any presumptions I may have made. I shouldn't have- well, you know that last night..." Remus drew off slowly, his mind lost in thought.

"The anniversary, yes, I know," Luna prompted, drawing closer to him on the bed, the blankets sitting loosely around her hips. Remus swallowed hurriedly, his mouth suddenly dry.

"I just..."

Luna reached out and touched him on the shoulder. "I know. It's been a long time." Remus lowered his eyes slowly; he could feel moisture prickling his lashes, and he couldn't, wouldn't allow anyone to see him cry. "I thought you could use a friend."

Remus put his arms around her, embraced her tight to his chest, and wept.