delicate

It had been a full day since you last saw Remus, and the anticipation of seeing him again had been a pleasant flutter in your stomach. Today marked the first Hogsmeade trip you were chaperoning—a duty that, under different circumstances, might have felt like just another responsibility. 

With the folder clutched in your hand, you headed towards the meeting area. This was the folder that was handed to both you and Remus, filled with protocols and student lists, which became an unexpected source of closeness between you two.

You had spent hours together, going over it, planning, and preparing in the quiet of his office or yours, and occasionally veering off into personal conversations. 

Your mind began replaying the memory of your first unofficial outing to Hogsmeade with him, the laughter shared over butterbeers, the intimate walk back to the castle under the moonlit sky, and the warmth of his arm as you held onto it, a bit more boldly than you had intended.

The recollection sent a wave of excitement through you, mingling with a schoolgirl giddiness at the thought of recreating that magical evening.

As you approached, the sight of a swarm of students filled your view, their whispered chatter and laughter a backdrop to your quickening steps, eager to meet up with Remus among the crowd. But as you scanned the sea of young faces, your heart sank. 

Instead of the familiar, comforting presence of Remus, your eyes landed on a figure standing apart, his black robes distinct against the morning light, his posture unmistakable. Severus Snape stood there, his expression as dour as ever, a stark contrast to the hesitant excitement around him.

The disappointment was sharp, a cold dash of reality against the warm anticipation you had harbored just moments before. The realization that Remus was not there, replaced by Snape for reasons unknown, immediately turned the day ahead into something entirely different from what you had imagined.

As Snape turned towards you, his voice carried a hint of impatience, "Do try to keep up, Professor. We are just about to leave." He then turned his attention back to the task of collecting permission slips from the students, his demeanor as stern as ever. 

You approached slowly, careful to mask your confusion and disappointment from the students. Quietly, trying to keep the conversation from curious ears, you asked, "Where is Professor Lupin?"

Without missing a beat, Snape's response came loudly enough for those nearby to hear, "Professor Lupin finds himself incapable of chaperoning at the present moment." His tone was dismissive, as if the matter was of no significant concern, and he promptly turned away, signaling to Mr. Filch to start leading the students out.

Caught off guard by Snape's very public announcement, you scanned the crowd, meeting Hermione Granger's gaze. Her expression mirrored your own disappointment, a shared sentiment at Snape's presence. It was a small consolation to know you weren't alone in your feelings, yet you maintained a professional demeanor, beginning the walk with a determination to ensure the trip went smoothly for the students.

Thankfully, a group of your favorite fifth years, a lively bunch of girls who were always brimming with curiosity, immediately began walking with you, eagerly engaging in conversation. These students often sought stories of Beauxbatons, enchanted by its reputation for elegance and a certain refined femininity. 

You indulged them with tales of the academy's perfect, pristine ambiance, but you also made a point to express your appreciation for Hogwarts' celebration of individuality and the unique spirit each student brought to the castle. 

Just as you were painting a picture of Beauxbatons' grandeur contrasted with Hogwarts' diverse charm, Snape brushed past you with his characteristic briskness. Overhearing a fragment of your conversation, he couldn't resist making a snide remark. 

"Do try to remember, we're not here to fill their heads with tales of fairy-tale castles and enchanting balls," he said, his voice dripping with disdain as he glanced back at you and the girls. After delivering his comment, he hastened his pace to catch up with Filch and a few Slytherin boys in the front.

The girls rolled their eyes in unison at Snape's departure, clearly unimpressed by his interruption. Then, one particularly opinionated Ravenclaw girl sighed, "I wish Professor Lupin were here. He would've made it fun."

"I know," you agreed, feeling a twinge of sadness at Remus's absence but recognizing the importance of keeping spirits high. "But you're still going to have a great time today. I'm sure Professor Lupin will be back for the next trip." Your voice carried a reassuring tone, hoping to lift their spirits.

Changing the subject to a lighter note, you confessed, "You know, I've never actually been to Hogsmeade before." Their reactions were a mix of shock and excitement. 

"Whaaat? Oh my gosh, you're going to love it!" they exclaimed, quickly diving into their own stories and favorite spots in the village. Their vivid descriptions and recommendations painted a picture of Hogsmeade as a place of wonder and community, and you couldn’t help but think about your trip with Remus a few weeks ago. 

Despite the lively conversation with some of your favorite students and the distraction it offered, a part of you couldn't shake off a feeling of...hurt? 

It was confusing, really. 

Officially, your relationship with Remus was purely professional, yet the shared moments had hinted at the potential for something more. The hope of exploring that possibility had been quietly growing in your heart. 

However, his sudden disappearance, without any word to you, stung more than you wanted to admit. You had thought there was a glimmer of something deeper between you two, but now... Honestly, you didn't want to dwell on it too much. It was easier to focus on the present and the responsibilities at hand.

Once everyone arrived at Hogsmeade, you and Snape took charge, giving the students their directives and speaking with the prefects about maintaining headcounts throughout the visit. Watching the students disperse into the various shops and gathering spots around the village brought a smile to your face. 

You were genuinely happy to see them enjoying themselves, especially considering the tension and fear that had permeated Hogwarts following the Sirius Black incident. 

As you continued to monitor the students, ensuring they enjoyed their visit to Hogsmeade without straying too far or getting into mischief, Snape approached you. His approach was quiet, almost reluctant, as if he were wrestling with the decision to engage in conversation.

"Professor," Snape began, his tone slightly softer than his usual sharpness, perhaps acknowledging the shared responsibility of overseeing the students' safety. "I've observed most of the students in the vicinity of Zonko's and Honeydukes. All seems in order."

You nodded, appreciating the update despite the surprise of Snape initiating a cordial interaction. "Thank you, Severus. It's good to hear they're keeping to the plan," you replied.

Following your exchange, an awkward silence settled between you and Snape, the bustling energy of Hogsmeade a stark contrast to the very sudden lull in conversation as you two stood there. 

Seeking to bridge the gap, you ventured, "Do you come here often, Severus?" 

His eyebrow arched, a silent, sardonic acknowledgment of your attempt at small talk. Despite the initial awkwardness, you both began walking together, the pace slow as if both of you were cautiously navigating this unusual moment of cooperation.

"Occasionally, for supplies," Snape finally said, his voice carrying a hint of reluctance to divulge more. "Potage's Cauldron Shop, for instance. They stock a particular quality of cauldron that meets my standards for potions."

Nodding at Snape's response, you found yourself at a loss for how to continue the conversation. His reluctance to engage further was palpable, and the truth was, you two really had nothing in common. Since your arrival at Hogwarts, Snape had been less than friendly, his demeanor often bordering on outright hostility towards you. 

As far as you knew, he was oil, and you were water. 

But with three more hours to go before you could return to the castle, you decided it might be worth the effort to try to bridge the gap, however slightly. What did you have to lose? 

"I've visited a few places here with Professor Lupin," you ventured cautiously, conscious of Snape's well-known animosity towards Remus. You were intensely curious about the roots of his dislike for him but knew better than to dive into such a topic directly. "The Three Broomsticks, for one. It has quite a cozy atmosphere, doesn't it?"

Snape merely gave a noncommittal hum, his expression unchanging as you passed the warmly lit windows of the famed inn.

Attempting to keep the dialogue going, you pointed out another shop. "And Honeydukes! The students seem to love it. I have to admit, the variety of sweets is impressive. Have you tried their chocolate frogs? Remus mentioned they're quite popular."

The mention of Remus again might have been too much, but Snape simply responded with a curt, "The appeal is lost on me." 

It was clear the conversation was strained, forced even, as you both navigated the streets of Hogsmeade, passing by the various shops and trying to find neutral ground in discussing them. Every attempt at conversation felt like pulling teeth, but you persisted, hoping to at least pass the time in a mildly bearable manner. 

Enduring the awkward back-and-forth, you wished for the ease and warmth of your interactions with Remus, where laughter and shared curiosity had filled the air so effortlessly. 

Yet, here you were, making small talk about cauldron qualities and candy shops with Severus Snape, of all people.

After a few more attempts at strained conversation about the various shops and landmarks of Hogsmeade, you eventually gave up, resigning yourself to the silence that settled heavily between you and Snape. 

As you walked side by side through the bustling streets, filled with the laughter and chatter of students enjoying their freedom, the silence in your own little bubble was almost deafening. You couldn't help but wonder how you were going to endure the next two and a half hours in this awkward silence.

You found yourself observing the storefronts you passed, trying to distract yourself from the uncomfortable quiet. Your gaze wandered from the colorful displays in the windows to the students milling about, anything, really.

Just when you thought the silence couldn't become any more unbearable, Snape surprisingly broke it. "Dervish and Banges," he said, nodding towards the shop known for selling and repairing magical instruments and equipment. "They're quite proficient at repairing enchanted objects. I've had to recommend it more times than I care to admit for students who've managed to damage their possessions beyond what school resources can repair."

His comment felt like an olive branch, an unexpected attempt to engage in something resembling normal conversation. Surprised and relieved by his effort, you seized the opportunity. "I've heard about them. Must be quite a skill, repairing magical objects. I suppose it requires a lot of patience and knowledge about different enchantments."

You were really reaching to keep this conversation going, to say the least. 

"Indeed," he replied. "Patience is a virtue that is... selectively distributed, particularly among our students."

You met his wit with a light chuckle, responding, "Well, I'd say it's rather selectively distributed among the faculty as well, wouldn't you agree?" You gave him an accusing, yet playful look, hoping your boldness didn’t come off as too harsh. 

For a fleeting moment, you thought you saw the ghost of a smirk on Snape's face, a rare break in his usual stern facade. It was a small victory, but it felt like a significant one, showing that perhaps he, too, wanted to find a way to make this joint chaperoning duty as bearable as you did. Encouraged by this slight thaw in his demeanor, you found yourself engaging more openly in conversation.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere between you and Snape gradually shifted. What began as forced conversation about the specifics of Hogsmeade slowly evolved into a more relaxed exchange, peppered with snippets from Snape's own time as a student at Hogwarts. 

While his tales didn't possess the same adventurous flair as those of Remus, you found yourself intrigued by the glimpses into his past, a side of him you were sure was rarely seen by anyone.

You shared stories of France in return, touching on the cultural differences and the approach to potion-making taught there. To your surprise, Snape expressed genuine interest, particularly in the nuances of the potions curriculum at Beauxbatons. 

This exchange of educational experiences led to discussions on various potion ingredients and techniques, and you were relieved to have found some common ground.

Through this unexpected connection, you realized you were, in fact, enjoying his company. Snape, for all his initial coldness and complexity, was proving to be an engaging conversationalist, at least on topics where his own passions lay. 

The relationship between you two, while still nascent and somewhat guarded on his part, was undeniably taking shape. 

This newfound rapport was a revelation. Snape, as it turned out, could be quite insightful and even, on rare occasions, mildly humorous in his dry, sarcastic way. Your initial apprehension about spending the evening in awkward silence had given way to a genuine appreciation for the unexpected complexity of his character.

The day had provided an opportunity to see Snape in a different light, one that allowed you to consider the potential for a professional, if not friendly, relationship moving forward. 

As your conversation about the unique aspects of French potions—specifically the use of certain rare herbs found in the Pyrenees, which are said to enhance the potency of healing draughts—wound down, you found yourselves at the outskirts of Hogsmeade. 

There in the distance, set against the backdrop of the night, stood an old, dilapidated shack that seemed utterly out of place amid the quaint charm of the village. Its windows were boarded up, and the entire structure appeared as if a strong gust of wind might collapse it entirely.

Curiosity piqued, you turned to Snape, gesturing towards the forlorn building. "What is that?" you asked, a hint of intrigue in your voice.

Snape paused, a fleeting hesitation crossing his features before he replied, "That is the Shrieking Shack." His voice carried a certain reserve, a marked contrast to the more open exchange you'd shared moments before.

Intrigued by the stark difference of the shack from the rest of Hogsmeade's cozy and inviting atmosphere, you pressed on. "It looks so... desolate, compared to everything else. Why?"

He seemed to weigh his words carefully before answering, "It's allegedly the most haunted place in Britain. Rumor has it that the screams of its ghosts can be heard in Hogsmeade.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise at his description. The idea seemed almost too cliche, too perfectly designed to entice the curiosity of anyone who heard it. "Really? The most haunted?" you echoed, a mix of skepticism and fascination in your voice. "Do you believe in those stories?" you asked, watching him closely for his reaction.

Snape gave you a look that bordered on disdain for the question itself, then slowly shook his head. "I find that fear often has a way of creating monsters out of shadows," he said, his tone indicating that this was as much of an insight into his thoughts on the matter as you were going to get.

This piqued your interest even further. However, his reluctance to delve deeper into its history, coupled with the somber expression that momentarily clouded his face, signaled that this was a topic best left unexplored.

The Shrieking Shack stood forlornly under the bright, almost full moon, its silhouette casting long, eerie shadows across the ground. The moonlight seemed to highlight every crevice and crack of the dilapidated structure, lending it a ghostly appearance that could easily fuel the haunted rumors swirling around it. 

Its windows, boarded and lifeless, stared back like hollow eyes, and the wind whistling through the gaps in the woodwork mimicked the faint whispers of the past.

You couldn't help but stare, drawn to the stark contrast it presented against the otherwise charming landscape of Hogsmeade. It was as if the shack existed in its own bubble of desolation, untouched by time and ignored by the rest of the world.

Feeling Snape's gaze on you, you turned away from the haunting image of the shack, meeting his eyes briefly. There was a wordless understanding between you, a mutual agreement to leave the mysteries of the Shrieking Shack unprobed, at least for now.

He nodded towards the heart of Hogsmeade, a silent suggestion to return to the task at hand. "We should head back," he said, his voice cutting through the silence that had fallen between you. "It's time to start rounding up the students."

"Okay," you agreed, turning your back on the Shrieking Shack and the multitude of questions it raised. As you walked back towards the bustling center of Hogsmeade with Snape, the shack receded into the background, its secrets remaining just that—secrets. 

The eerie feeling it inspired lingered for a moment longer before being swept away by the immediate concerns of ensuring the students' return to Hogwarts.

Remus Lupin eased himself into an armchair in the staff lounge, feeling every bit as fragile as he looked after the full moon. The first morning back was always the hardest, his body aching and his mind weary. Yet, the warm welcome he received from Minerva McGonagall as he entered for his much-needed coffee provided a small comfort. 

Her open arms and sympathetic smile spoke volumes, reminding him of the understanding and acceptance he found within these walls since his youth. 

Minerva was already deep in conversation about the Sirius Black situation, her tone a mix of frustration and concern. "It's disconcerting, to say the least, that we have failed to catch him," she was saying, stirring her tea with more force than necessary. "The whole castle turned upside down, and not a single trace. It makes one wonder..."

Remus listened, sipping his coffee slowly. The warmth of the drink was a welcome contrast to the chill he still felt deep in his bones. 

Her eyes, sharp yet caring, met his as she paused in her discourse. "How are you holding up, Remus?" she asked quietly, a clear shift from her earlier animated speech.

"I'm managing, thank you," he replied, managing a tired smile. The truth was, each transformation left him feeling more drained than the last, but Minerva's understanding and the routine normalcy of school life helped him to keep pushing forward.

He was grateful that Minerva, despite being well-known for her love of school gossip and news, never pressed him about the details of his transformations. Not when he was a student, and not now. 

It was an unspoken agreement, perhaps, but one that gave him a small oasis of privacy in a life that felt increasingly exposed. Maybe it was paranoia, anyway. 

He appreciated that she spoke to him about other things, like Sirius, or school policies, anything but the painful night he'd just endured. It allowed him to feel normal, even if just for a moment. 

"Indeed," Minerva continued, seemingly reading his need to shift away from personal matters. "And with the dementors around, everyone is on edge. It's a troubling time for all of us."

Remus nodded, welcoming the change in topic. "It's the uncertainty that's the worst," he admitted. "It weighs heavily on everyone."

"Yes, it does," Minerva agreed, her voice softening. "But we must carry on, for the sake of the students. Vigilance, Remus. That's what we need."

"Vigilance," Remus echoed, feeling the weight of the word. It was more than just a call to keep watch; it was a reminder of the ongoing battle they faced, not just against external threats like Sirius Black but also against the darker forces that lurked within their own walls and, in his case, within himself.

As they continued to talk, Remus felt a sense of solidarity with Minerva. In this room, with her, he wasn't just a werewolf or a professor; he was part of a community that was struggling, fighting, and surviving together. It was this connection that helped him gather his strength, readying himself for whatever the day might bring.

As the door to the staff room creaked open, Remus found himself subtly glancing towards the entrance, a hopeful flicker in his eyes swiftly extinguished as Sybill Trelawney floated in, her usual air of dramatic mystery enveloping her as she made her way to the tea station. 

He let out a quiet sigh, one he hoped was concealed by the clatter of cups, and turned his attention back to Minerva, who was watching him with an expression mingled with concern and curiosity.

His gaze dropped to his mug, tracing the swirls of steam rising gently into the air as Minerva tentatively broached a new topic. 

"The Hogsmeade trip went off without a hitch the other day," she began cautiously, her voice gentle, almost probing. "The students are quite looking forward to the next one."

Remus nodded, his response muted. "That's good to hear," he murmured, his voice almost distant as he avoided her gaze, instead letting his eyes wander over the other colleagues scattered around the room. 

He could feel Minerva's eyes on him, her gaze sharp yet caring, trying to read his mood or perhaps looking for signs of distress. Feeling cornered by the silent interrogation, he shifted uncomfortably in his armchair, catching her gaze fully for the first time since the conversation had begun. 

"Is there something on your mind, Minerva?" he asked, his tone lightly laced with a weary patience, a clear invitation for her to speak her thoughts.

Minerva hesitated, then leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice. "I've noticed our new Magical Theory professor has been asking about you during your absence," she said softly, a careful note of inquiry in her voice.

Remus's gaze dropped once again to his mug as he let out a soft sigh. "I figured as much," he muttered, the weight of the words heavier than he intended. 

Minerva's eyes locked onto his, piercing yet filled with an understanding that always seemed to see right through him. "I suppose my suspicions are correct then... She doesn't know about your condition?" Her voice was low, almost a whisper, as she leaned in closer.

A faint, wry chuckle escaped him, more an exhaled resignation at the situation than real amusement. "Perceptive as always, Minerva," he acknowledged, a slight smile touching his lips despite himself. "I'm sure you and Filius have your theories—ready to collect your winnings from your bets?"

She looked momentarily affronted, her expression turning to one of scandal. "Absolutely not, Remus. You are welcome within these walls in every sense of the word. I would never wager on something so personal."

He gave a nod, appreciating the balance she maintained between concern and respect for his privacy. "No, she doesn't know," he finally admitted, his voice a mix of resignation and relief at having said it out loud. "And I'm not sure how to tell her... or if I even should."

Minerva reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "When the time is right, you'll know. And she'll understand. You're not alone in this, Remus. Never forget that." Her words, firm and reassuring, offered a sliver of hope in the complicated tapestry of his life at Hogwarts.

Remus offered Minerva a reassuring smile, one she mirrored back at him, the mutual understanding and respect palpable between them. As a moment of comfortable silence enveloped them, he allowed his thoughts to drift towards you, contemplating the conversation he'd inevitably need to have about his recent absence.

Sitting there, his mind began to cycle through the list of excuses he had relied on in the past. Each one felt like a small betrayal, yet necessary under the circumstances. He hated the idea of lying to you, but the truth held risks he wasn't sure he—or you—were ready to face. The potential for acceptance was as frightening as it was desperately desired.

His thoughts wandered to your background at Beauxbatons and your life in France, a world he imagined as pristine and perfect, untouched by the shadows that followed him. He pondered the type of men you might have met there, those who fit seamlessly into your seemingly flawless world. The stark contrast between that image and his own reality filled him with a profound sense of unease. 

His own self-image had been marred by insecurity and self-doubt in his teenage years and early adulthood. Over the years, Remus had managed to quell much of this inner turmoil, learning to accept and navigate his life as a werewolf with a quiet dignity. Well, as much as one could, that is. 

However, his growing feelings for you seemed to resurrect these old insecurities, causing them to surge back with a familiar, painful intensity. The progress he thought he had made felt suddenly fragile, as if your presence, with all its associated hopes and fears, could unravel the calm acceptance he had fought so hard to achieve. 

This vulnerability was both unsettling and deeply ironic; the very person who inspired him to feel most alive also evoked the fears he had long thought he'd conquered.

As he mulled over these thoughts, a dull ache settled in his chest, a pain far deeper than the physical transformations he endured each month. It was the fear of rejection, of not being enough, of his very nature driving a wedge between what could be. 

The moonlit walks, the shared confidences, the laughter—they all came back to haunt him now, each memory a reminder of the distance he felt compelled to maintain but just couldn’t bring himself to, whenever you were around.

The fear wasn't just about rejection but also about exposing you to the harsher realities of his life. 

Would knowing the truth about him alter everything? 

Could the image of the man you seemed to care for endure the revelation of his lycanthropy? 

These questions churned within him, each one echoing louder in the silence of the staff room, as he sat there, lost in a sea of doubt and longing.

Minerva, breaking the contemplative silence, mentioned offhandedly, "Severus ended up taking your place on the trip with her, you know."

Remus's eyebrows shot up, a spark of genuine amusement flickering across his face. "Really?" he exclaimed, unable to hide his surprise. While part of him was still frustrated at missing the opportunity to spend time with you in Hogsmeade, the thought of Snape, with his stern demeanor, accompanying you instead brought an unexpected grin to his face. 

"Well, I do hope one of them made it out of that trip intact, and I sincerely hope it was her," he quipped, the humor in his voice tinged with a hint of concern.

Minerva chuckled, a knowing twinkle in her eye. She gave him a playful wink, clearly aware of the growing affections he harbored for you. 

"Oh, don't worry, Remus. I believe our young professor can handle much more than a walk through Hogsmeade with Severus," she teased, her voice rich with amusement. The lightness of the conversation eased some of the weight from Remus's shoulders.

As Remus continued his conversation with Minerva about the upcoming term's curriculum, you walked into the staff room. 

Clad in a long sweater dress that suited the crisp autumn morning perfectly, you moved with a grace that caught his immediate attention. Despite Minerva's presence, he felt a subtle catch in his breath, quickly masked by a sip of his cooling coffee.

You headed straight for the tea, engaging in light conversation with Sybil, who was enthusiastically describing one of her latest visions. Your genuine smile and the easy way you interacted with her—despite her reputation among the staff for being somewhat eccentric—only added to your charm. 

Remus watched from across the room, appreciating the ease with which you blended sincerity with social grace. There you were, so naturally yourself, blissfully unaware of his gaze, displaying an openness and warmth that made you all the more endearing. 

It was these unguarded moments, caught in the simplicity of your seemingly mundane interactions, that deepened his admiration for you, painting a picture of someone both sweet and profoundly engaging.

You were caught mid-laugh at something Sybil was saying when your gaze found Remus across the room. A spark of happiness seemed to ignite in your eyes as you tried to maintain focus on Sybil, yet your attention was clearly divided, your gaze lingering on him. 

Remus noticed Minerva glance over her shoulder, her curiosity piqued by his fixed smile and diverted attention. Upon catching sight of the cause, she offered Remus an understanding look—a silent nod of happiness for him—before she discreetly left him and joined another group of colleagues.

Remus watched as you excused yourself from Sybil’s side and made your way toward him, your smile broadening with each step. 

“Good morning, Professor," he greeted, his voice tinged with a warmth reserved just for you, whether you realized it or not. 

"Hello, Professor Lupin, long time no see," you replied, your tone light and teasing, dispelling any fears he might have had about your reaction to his sudden absence.

He gestured to the seat Minerva had just vacated. "Please, have a seat," he invited, relieved and grateful as you took the spot across from him. 

Minerva had disappeared into the conversational hum of their colleagues, but in this moment, Remus was aware only of you, returning his smile, your presence filling the space with a gentle ease that he had sorely missed.

Remus was mentally sifting through his usual array of excuses tailored for the aftermath of a full moon, as you asked him about his “days off”. 

However, before he could select one, you continued with genuine concern, "I can only imagine what the last week was like for you, what with the incident in the castle the other night. I'm glad you decided to take some time for yourself after that. The night of the search was tiring in itself."

“Pretty much,” he responded smoothly, hoping his ease masked the sudden shift in his plans.

His heart twinged with guilt at your compassionate assumptions, which inadvertently aligned so perfectly with his own weary appearance post-full moon, and steered him away from fabricated tales. 

The emotional toll of Sirius’s supposed presence and the exhaustive search that followed could indeed justify a few days away from work, mirroring his actual physical and mental state during the days leading up to the full moon.

Your understanding and assumption provided a perfect cover that he hadn’t even needed to voice, and it eased the burden of deceit slightly.

Still, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that his sudden disappearance might have seemed abrupt. He chose to weave his truth with the cover story you had unwittingly provided. 

“All the late nights had started to take a toll, and I felt a bit under the weather. I knew I had to rest before it turned into a full-blown illness,” he explained, hoping his half-truth painted a plausible picture.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're feeling better," you said, your voice carrying a warmth that made him momentarily pause, taken aback by the sincerity and care in your tone. “I was… worried, when I hadn’t seen you.” 

He paused, struck by the sincerity and unusual depth of your kindness. “You’re very kind, you know,” he remarked, a soft smile touching his lips as he appreciated the rarity of someone as genuinely caring as you. “Unusually kind.”

You laughed lightly, brushing off his compliment with a playful tone. "You must've met some cruel people in your life then."

"Perhaps," Remus responded with a playful glint in his eye. "But then again, I didn't have to chaperone a student field trip with Severus."

Your eyes rolled in mock exasperation as you chuckled. "Well, you'll be surprised to hear that he and I actually had a pretty decent time together."

"Oh, really?" Remus leaned forward, intrigued, his tone light and teasing. "Do tell."

"We talked about quite a lot," you continued, a hint of pride in your voice. "He even showed me some parts of Hogsmeade, and the students were absolutely fantastic. I think I managed to get through to him a bit."

Remus raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed yet still maintaining his playful demeanor. "Well, I'm glad you two hit it off," he said, his voice tinged with mock seriousness but a smile betraying his amusement.

Your enthusiasm was palpable as you continued, "He even showed me this really eerie place."

Remus's curiosity piqued, and he raised a brow, though a flicker of nervousness passed through him. "Oh?"

"Yeah, you've probably heard of it—the Shrieking Shack." 

At the mention of the shack, a subtle tension gripped Remus, his heart rate picking up slightly as he struggled to maintain a calm demeanor.

Trying to sound casual, he probed further, "You were standing right in front of it?"

You shook your head, a slight chill passing through you as you recalled the scene. "No, we stayed back, but we could see it from a distance. It's quite sinister-looking. Did you know it’s considered the most haunted place in Britain? Severus told me." You spoke casually, blowing on your tea. He looked down at his cold coffee, unsure of what to say. 

A tight smile formed on Remus's face, his response carefully measured to hide his growing unease. "No, I hadn’t realized that." 

Truthfully, his mind raced, grappling with the nearness of your presence to his werewolf form. The fact that you had been so close to him, albeit unknowingly and separated by the walls of the shack while he was transformed, shook him deeply. 

He was struck by the realization that Severus, fully aware that Remus was inside the Shrieking Shack at that moment, had maintained the haunted narrative, preserving Remus's privacy even in his absence. 

This unexpected gesture of discretion from Snape left Remus feeling an odd mix of gratitude and discomfort. 

You continued, a light-hearted note returning to your voice. "Yeah, even Severus seemed creeped out by it, and that says a lot. Anyway, you owe me for missing out on the trip."

Remus was relieved to shift to a lighter topic, his face easing into a smile, grateful for the change in conversation. "Of course, whatever you want," he replied, his tone warm and accommodating.

Amusement sparkled in your eyes as you responded, "That’s the answer I was hoping for." 

He couldn’t help but laugh, his earlier tension momentarily forgotten. "So? What’s it going to be?"

You paused, considering your options with a mischievous glint in your eye, before finally saying, "You have to take the detention I was supposed to oversee later this evening."

His smile widened, charmed by the playful exchange. "Deal," he agreed readily, pleased to make amends for his absence. 

He watched as you extended your hand towards him to formalize the agreement, and for a fleeting moment, the urge to pull you close was almost overwhelming. Instead, he masked his longing with a resigned sigh and an amused smirk, then sat up and shook your hand firmly.

For Remus, overseeing a thousand detentions seemed a small price to pay for the joy of seeing that smile on your face again.