Nearly six months ago at this point, Remus had dumped Bridget. They had dated for somewhere near nine months, had exchanged the Three Words, and had slept together. Remus then proceeded to freak the fuck out and run, run away as fast as he could. - The rest of Sixth Year had played out as most others had; with parties happening all over the school, not attended by him. In fact, he withdrew more than a bit to read (and write). He hadn't seen Bridget in three months. He'd said perhaps two or three words to her, although he tried to remain cordial.
Mostly he felt terrible - not only for the way he'd acted, but also because she had only been nice (most of the time). She'd also accepted that he was what he was, with little to no fuss about it. And she still thought of him as a good person afterward. But, Remus was a teenage boy and he had deep, deep fears of commitment, probably stemming from a very large sense of doubt and inability to understand why anyone would ever want to put themselves through whatever necessary to be with him. If there was any lesson the boy had learned and re-learned over time, it was that people were scared of difference and that they would like you, until they learned of your difference (the exception to the rule, as of yet, being the Marauders). And, although Bridget hadn't flung Remus out the door by the seat of his trousers, that didn't mean she wouldn't. Not to mention, she was far too -- serious. He was nowhere near ready to be thinking about life after school - especially because it was such a nebulous and vague idea for him. Who wanted to date someone who was perpetually unemployed? - Honestly, he'd be a terrible, terrible partner. He knew this. And so he was saving himself & Bridget the later pain by breaking up with her when he did, before things could get more serious.
Or that's what he told himself.
Now, three months later, he was feeling -- nostalgic and lonely. Sirius was with James all summer. Peter was away with his mother. And Remus was at home (his family did not - and could not - travel). So, he'd decided he'd get himself out of the house. He sent Bridget an owl, requesting they meet in Diagon Alley for a cuppa. She'd responded in the affirmative, and that was why Remus was fussing with his hair in the mirror above the fireplace in the tea shop as he waited. It was a hot and dry summer. He wore nothing more than a simple brown shirt and some old jeans with patches the color of pumpkins on the knees.
He was attempting to calm himself and attempting to steel up the nerve to ask the question that lay on his mind.