You watch him go into the Muggle chapel, his tatty trenchcoat just a step above his professor's robes. It's raining in London, and the water is supposed to slide off him, except the coat's so old is just seeping into the fabric slowly. You watch from across the street as he opens the doors, and pauses on the threshold. Only someone that knows him as well as you do would recognise it for what it is.
You follow him in; not because he needs you to, or particularly even wants you. You follow him because you're curious, and you've never been into this chapel, and you don't think he has either, because his steps are cautious, testing the waters. Rain slips off his coat and makes puddles on the stone floor.
"Ginevra," he says calmly when you go to stand beside him. "What are you doing here?"
"Curiousity killed the cat," you tell him. You told yourself, sternly, that you'd try not to lie to him too often. For one thing, he'd know when you were, and another, he'd wait for it to happen again.
He turns to face you, hands in his pockets. "And what do you want to know?"
It's a muggle chapel, and you don't belong, even if by now even Harry's foster family wouldn't recognise you for a witch. belief fuels the physical world, belief fuels magic, as far as you're concerned - it has nothing to do with your soul, which is itself just another physicality. You've seen them sucked out, souls, there is nothing metaphorical about it.
"What are you doing here?" you say.
He's standing in front of a table with a bunch of little candles on them, and for a second you think he's actually reaching for a match. "I came to pray," he tells you, and his voice cracks.
"For what?" you ask.
His finger touches one of the wicks, unlit, soft. "To forget," he tells you matter-of-factly. He turns back to you. "I come to pray for forgetfulness."
you half-shrug, waiting. Remus finally rolls his eyes, and steps away from the table. He doesn't light the candle. Someone who didn't know him as well as you might think he was scared, was scared to put his belief out there in the world, burning bright. You follow him out, curiousity satisfied. you know him better; Remus knows there's just no point.