Willy's mirth bled away, leaving him standing there, cold and aching, looking at the colourless shape of the werewolf. He'd sacrificed his very eyes and had left before he could lose more than that.

Every one of the songs Remus had given him began to play in his head and his heart ached. It was unfair, and he was resolute he wouldn't do this.

But he didn't move.

"What do you want, love? Your usual order?" the girl at the counter asked him, but Willy didn't hear.