Chapter Sixty-Three
Pronouns
I hope you know, I hope you know
That this has nothing to do with you
It's personal, myself and I
We've got some straightenin' out to do
(Big Girls Don't Cry - Fergie)June 7th, 1977Mia let out an angry scream as the door slammed shut behind Remus's back. How
could he be so upset? What had she done wrong? Concealed a scar and refused to tell him
its origin? It was not the first, and certainly not the most lethal-looking scar she bore, and
yet, he had been perfectly content to let her keep her secrets while she was shagging him
in the Shrieking Shack. Tears stung her eyes as her stomach rolled, and she suddenly
realised that she had not eaten dinner. Had she eaten lunch? Mia frowned as she tried to
remember, but couldn't place the last time she actually sat down to a meal. No, she certainly
knew that she ate breakfast because she remembered Remus asking if she wanted coffee
instead of tea while he fixed her...
Shit.
She sighed and slid down to the ground, leaning her back against the cold stone
wall. She had been ignoring her friends, family, and boyfriend for a month, and Remus was
still making sure that she at least got fed once a day. And how had she repaid him? Accused
him of using her for sex, implying that his temper was because of the moon and not because
of her actions and words, and then keeping even more secrets and lying to him.
"Are you quite done?" a familiar voice called out from the shadows.
Mia's tired eyes looked up. She watched as a bushy-haired brunette stepped forward,
wearing a familiar set of black and crimson robes over a pleated grey skirt. Her red and
gold tie was done up perfectly, while Mia's matching one hung loosely around her neck.
"Distress of this nature doesn't look well on you. Or me. Or is it us? I'm not entirely
sure which pronoun would be appropriate in this situation," Hermione mused.