delicate

The Great Hall, from the vantage point of the high table, always felt to Remus like a stage where the professors were on display—a sensation he never quite got used to. The high, enchanted ceiling mirrored the twilight sky outside, casting a serene yet solemn glow over the hall. Candlelight flickered from the numerous floating candles, illuminating the faces of students and casting long shadows that danced across the ancient stone walls.

The vastness of the Great Hall, while impressive, always intensified Remus's sense of exposure. As someone who valued privacy—necessitated by his condition—the open scrutiny was an uneasy fit. Here, amidst the clamor of dining students and the steady gaze of colleagues and pupils alike, he often felt like an artifact under examination rather than a participant in the evening. 

He preferred the margins, the quiet corners of the world where he could observe and participate without becoming the focus. Even as a schoolboy, Remus had found comfort on the periphery of his close-knit circle of friends—the Marauders. 

Though deeply bonded with Sirius, James, and Peter, he often positioned himself on the outskirts, content to contribute without drawing undue attention. This inclination wasn't born of shyness but rather a self-preserving discretion, shaped early by the necessity to guard his lycanthropic secret. 

In those days, his reticence had been a shield, one that allowed him to navigate the complex social landscape of Hogwarts while maintaining the necessary boundaries his condition demanded.

Now, more confident and self-aware, Remus still found that old habits lingered, especially in settings like the Great Hall. Despite the years and the experiences that had tempered his reserve, moments like these often brought him back to the nervous young man he once was. The physical space of the Great Hall hadn't changed much from his youth, yet it could still evoke the same sense of vulnerability.

This discomfort was something he managed daily, not without your unknowing help. In this particular instance, Remus found himself more absorbed in your stories about France than he anticipated. The way you described the refined charm of your former surroundings contrasted sharply with the rugged warmth of Hogwarts. This ability of yours to cherish both the pristine and the imperfect made you all the more intriguing to him.

He wondered how you’d reconcile his truth.

You spoke of France’s vibrant markets, the spellbinding views from your apartment, and the academic rigor of Beauxbatons. Filius Flitwick, ever the inquisitive, hung on to every word as he sat on your other side. His delight in learning about different magical cultures was evident in his eager questions and bright eyes.

Remus admired the way you spoke so fondly yet sparingly of your past, never flaunting, always modest—qualities he found increasingly endearing. 

As he listened, his attention inadvertently drifted to Severus, who was casting a particularly cold glare in his direction. The disdain in Snape’s eyes was more pronounced tonight, laced with a venom that suggested more than professional disdain. 

It was a look that bore into him, challenging and intense, making the already uncomfortable feeling of being on display even more acute. 

Remus shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of those watchful, critical eyes, but he consciously redirected his focus back to you and Filius, attempting to mask his discomfort with a smile and a nod as he continued to engage in the conversation.

“…and the gardens, you wouldn’t believe them,” you were saying, your voice weaving through his distracted thoughts. “They’re situated right at the edge of the forest, and at sunset, the light just… oh, it’s magical, truly…”

Still, Remus mulled over Snape's gaze, his thoughts inevitably circling back to the conversation you had with him about the Shrieking Shack. He was puzzled by Snape’s decision to perpetuate the myths of the haunted building, rather than expose Remus’ secret, especially when he had the perfect opportunity to do so. 

Why would Snape, who rarely passed up an opportunity to undermine and expose him, choose discretion in this instance?

It was perplexing, to say the least. He considered that Snape's decision to uphold the haunted story might not just be about protecting the secrets of the past, but perhaps, in some twisted way, about maintaining a certain balance within Hogwarts. 

Snape knew too well the implications of revealing the truth about Remus and the Shack; it could unravel not just Remus' life but also affect the delicate stability of their environment at Hogwarts, especially with the recent turmoil surrounding Sirius. 

The school was already on edge; perhaps even Snape saw the value in avoiding further panic.

But then again, was Snape truly one to prioritize upholding a sense of community? He had witnessed first-hand how Snape favored his Slytherin students, often turning a blind eye to their misdemeanors while being excessively harsh on others. It seemed the only community Snape was invested in nurturing was one that fostered the same biases and harshness he had always exhibited. 

This begrudging act of restraint from Snape was as baffling as it was unnerving. 

Could there really be a nobler motive behind his actions, or was it merely another layer of complexity in their longstanding rivalry?

Were you that layer? 

Upon consenting to the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, Remus was keenly aware of the complex game they both played, a game that now involved you, unwittingly positioned between them. 

In a twisted sense, it was almost an act of solidarity. Begrudging though it might be, it was a manipulation that was vintage Snape—calculated and precise, ensuring that you were kept safe in ignorance yet brushing dangerously close to the truth.

The fact that Snape had brought you so close to the Shrieking Shack during his transformation period was a point of silent contention for Remus. It was a reckless move, one that could have ended disastrously. 

He was torn between irritation at Snape's recklessness and relief at his decision to keep his secret. Remus’s feelings were of both gratitude and irritation. Snape’s actions had both protected and endangered you, and while he couldn’t fault the man for keeping his secret—even under such strange conditions—he couldn’t help but feel a stir of anger at the unnecessary risk to you.

Sitting there, amidst the clatter of dishes and the murmur of conversations, Remus realized just how tangled he and Snape’s lives had become. The secrets they kept, the faces they wore in public, and the truths that simmered beneath the surface bound them in ways that were both necessary and burdensome.

He was aware of the precariousness of his situation, of how easily things could unravel if Snape chose to act differently. Yet, here they were, maintaining a delicate equilibrium, each for reasons known only to themselves.

As well, Remus had found himself making a conscious effort to amend the abruptness of his recent absence. Although you hadn't voiced any discontent with his explanation for being away, his burgeoning affections for you had ignited a deep sense of guilt for not being entirely honest. 

Somehow, being more intentional about spending time with you seemed like the best way to ease that guilt. 

Spending more time with you was a small atonement, a way to make up for the secrets he kept hidden. It was an odd sort of logic, perhaps, but to Remus, it felt like the right way to balance the scales of honesty and affection he so valued in your growing relationship.

He had taken to waiting for you after classes more frequently, his casual "just heading the same way" excuse becoming a familiar end to both of your days. On one particularly crisp evening, Remus suggested a walk to the long bridge at Hogwarts—the same bridge where you had shared a conversation on the first day of term. 

He felt it fitting to return to this spot, this time to watch the sunset, hoping to recapture the enchantment of that initial encounter. The golden light of the setting sun softened the world around you two, and he hoped it might ease any lingering strain from his recent absence.

Yes, he was aware that you harbored no ill feelings; the explanation he had provided seemed completely acceptable to you in a rare stroke of luck. Yet, in his own mind, it continued to nag at him, stirring a mix of guilt and anxiety. This prompted him to perhaps overcompensate, though he couldn't quite discern if that was the case. 

To Remus, any opportunity to spend time with you felt like a moment to gather sunlight—each minute spent together helping to brighten the shadowed corners of his often solitary world.

And while watching the breeze lift strands of your hair while you both leaned against the wooden railings, he felt as if you added not only brightness, but depth and color to his world.

In the staff lounge, where the air was often thick with the day's gossip and the scent of strong tea, he found a simple joy in witnessing how your laughter seemed to lift the spirits of everyone around, including those colleagues who usually kept to themselves. 

Remus also made sure to be present at the staff table during meals, ensuring he was there to share a conversation or even better, the playful banter that seemed to fill his heart. He’d even begun offering you portions of his dessert when you couldn’t decide what you wanted—small gestures, perhaps, but his way of mending a concern that only he felt deeply.

Each evening, as he lay in his small quarters, Remus replayed these interactions, analyzing them, hoping they were enough. His thoughts often wandered to the complexities of his life, the secrets he kept tucked away like old letters in a drawer. 

He wondered if, when the time came to reveal those hidden parts of himself, the foundation he was building with you would be strong enough to withstand the storms of truth.

But for now, he focused on the gentle ease between you two, on the shared smiles and the unspoken understanding that seemed to grow with each passing day.

The evening wore on, and as the plates were cleared, Remus found himself more attuned to the present moment, to the laughter and light banter at the high table. He glanced over at you, smiling as you graciously answered yet another question about your alma mater from Filius, and felt a wave of affection. 

It was moments like these that reminded him why the risks he took were worth it—why the façade, the secrecy, and the occasional loneliness were a small price to pay for the richness of your proximity. 

After dinner, your shared journey back to the faculty tower mirrored that first evening before term began. On that initial night, his nervousness had been palpable, heightened by his slightly tardy entrance to the Great Hall which had inadvertently drawn more attention than he would have liked. 

He vividly recalled your radiance that evening, your quick wit after he had commented on the attention you were receiving from Hogwarts' finest troublemakers, his heart caught between disappointment and relief when you had closed the door to your chambers.

Now, as you both retraced those steps, you animatedly shared stories about your favorite cafes and coffee shops in Paris. The way you described the ambiance of reading by cafes along the river, feeling like the main character in a romance novel each day, had once prompted him to tease you as a 'tortured poet,' a term that had sparked laughter between you. 

He was captivated, appreciating not just the stories themselves but the passionate way you told them. Your hands moved expressively, painting pictures in the air, and your laughter rang out, clear and genuine, filling the evening air with warmth. 

The lightness in your voice, the enthusiasm that brightened your eyes as you recounted these memories, added layers of depth to the image he held of you. 

Despite the banter and the shared laughter, the walk to the faculty tower seemed all too brief.  Each step taken was a moment he wished to prolong, enchanted by the vibrancy you brought into the dimming twilight.

Standing before your door, he noticed a hesitation in your expression. You seemed to be on the verge of saying something, your mouth opening then closing in a moment of indecision. While he wasn't seeking an invitation to enter—his intentions were not driven by a desire for a mere physical connection—he found himself not wanting to part from your company, the evening’s end arriving all too soon.

As you hesitated, a gentle smile eventually found its way to your face, accompanied by a slight shake of your head, as if laughing at your own momentary loss for words. The sweetness of your expression, one of quiet fondness, was one he knew would linger in his mind long after the night ended.

"Goodnight," he said, his voice soft yet carrying a warmth that mirrored the sentiment of the evening.

"Goodnight, Remus," you replied, your voice just as gentle, your eyes locking with his one last time before you turned to enter your chambers. You bit your lip into a smile, a silent echo of the joy and hesitation of the evening, and then disappeared behind your door. The familiar click of the latch felt like a soft punctuation to the chapter of the evening.

He stood there for a moment, a contented sigh escaping him as he turned to make his way back to his own quarters. The echo of that door shutting, though it marked the end of their time together, did nothing to dampen the warmth that filled him. 

In the quiet solitude of the night, with only the distant calls of nocturnal creatures as company, Remus allowed himself a hopeful thought: perhaps, in time, his affections would be fully understood and reciprocated, not just in acts of kindness, but in the shared acceptance of each other's pasts and futures.

Your time with Remus had grown from casual encounters to what you considered near-constant companionship. Each day brought a new opportunity to chat, share a meal, or even steal a few moments together between classes. These encounters, so frequent and filled with laughter, were easily the highlights of your days at Hogwarts.

His presence became a constant in your daily routine, each interaction seemingly more meaningful than the last, fostering a closeness that felt almost too good to be true.

Since the beginning of the school year, your connection with Remus developed rapidly, catching you off guard with its intensity. This swift deepening of your relationship was exhilarating but also unnerving. You found yourself drawn to him in a way that felt profound and, perhaps, premature. This rapid progression made you question the reality of the situation. 

Was it normal to feel so connected to someone so quickly? 

It was uncharted territory, and while part of you reveled in the warmth of his companionship, another part was scared of the depth of your own feelings.

You felt it also stirred a whirlpool of insecurities within you that you hadn’t felt in a while. As your crush on Remus reached its peak, so too did a nagging sense of doubt. You couldn't help but wonder, with a twinge of anxiety, whether his kindness and attentiveness were just part of his nature, extended to everyone around him. 

These fears were compounded by the way Remus seamlessly blended kindness with professionalism, his demeanor always perfect, always considerate. It was difficult to discern if his actions towards you were special, or simply a reflection of his inherently caring nature. This uncertainty fed into your insecurities, making you hyper-aware of every exchange, every glance. 

This thought gnawed at you especially when you saw him interacting with older female students; his ease and warmth with them sparked a jealous itch you despised but couldn't quite ignore.

A hint of an anxious attachment began to color your thoughts, creating a backdrop of doubt against which all his actions were measured. You cherished his proximity and feared its loss simultaneously, creating a push-pull dynamic in your own mind where you oscillated between hope and hesitation.

Yet, every time these doubts began to overwhelm you, Remus had a way of appearing right when you needed him. Whether it was catching up in the corridors, sharing a pot of tea in the staff lounge, or exchanging stories in the Great Hall during meals, he was there.  

His nearness was both a balm and a torment, feeding your hopes one moment and your insecurities the next—a mixture of exhilaration and trepidation. You cherished every interaction, yet a part of you couldn't shake the fear that what you were building was nothing more than a beautiful facade, destined to crumble under the weight of unreciprocated feelings. 

You wrestled with these thoughts while walking to the courtyard where the students gathered for the Hogsmeade trip. The memory of approaching this same spot only to find Severus instead of Remus still lingered in your mind, adding a layer of apprehension to your steps. Today, however, the scene before you was different.

Remus was already there, his tall frame clad in a black cloak that made him stand out even in the bustling, growing crowd of students. His back was to you, but you could see him nodding and engaging with a group of girls who gazed up at him with admiring eyes, hanging on his every word. You paused for a moment, taking in the sight, the familiar twinge of insecurity nagging at you.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed those feelings aside and began mingling with some of your favorite students, laughing and chatting as you tried to distract yourself from the unease. 

It wasn't long before Remus heard your voice; he turned around, and his face lit up with a warm, genuine smile that was directed unmistakably at you. 

Walking up to him, any lingering tension melted away under the weight of his familiar, reassuring presence. The way he looked at you, with such openness and affection, reassured you that, at least for now, everything was as it should be. 

Together, you moved to the front of the gathered students, ready to set the tone for the day's excursion. You glanced at the eager faces before you, a mischievous grin playing on your lips. 

"Remember, everyone," you started, "the goal today is to enjoy yourselves, but let's not make the front page of the Daily Prophet, shall we?"

Remus chuckled, stepping in smoothly with his own playful addition, "And if you do, make sure to shout out your two favorite Professors here." His comment drew a round of laughter and light-hearted groans from the students, setting a cheerful atmosphere as they prepared to depart.

Mr. Filch, ever the imposing figure despite his hunched posture and staggering gait, led the procession of students towards Hogsmeade. You always marveled at how he managed to navigate the path with his usual blend of grumble and gruffness, somehow keeping the boisterous students in line.

As the group began their trek, Remus gestured subtly, indicating for you to take the lead. With a smile, you stepped forward while Remus fell in step beside you. 

Together, you trailed at the back of the group, allowing yourselves a moment of quiet as you walked the familiar path to Hogsmeade, enjoying the simplicity of the journey and each other's company.

As you and Remus strolled through the streets of Hogsmeade, your pace slowed every now and then to admire the quaint details you hadn’t fully appreciated before—the charming planters in shop windows and the strings of lights that crisscrossed the alleyways between shops. 

Remus watched you with an amused expression, his voice carrying a light-hearted tease. "I must say, I’m impressed Severus managed an entire evening with you, considering his notable lack of patience for stopping by every single baby pink plant in Hogsmeade."

You rolled your eyes at his jest, a smile tugging at your lips despite your mock annoyance. "Oh, please," you replied, playfully nudging him with your shoulder as you continued walking. "Severus did just fine, thank you very much. Maybe he's more patient than you think."

Remus chuckled, raising an eyebrow in feigned skepticism. "Or perhaps he's just better at hiding his impatience.”

You flashed him a playful grin, "You could learn a thing or two from him then, couldn't you?"

He conceded with a laugh, nodding in mock defeat. "Perhaps I could do that."

Your smile widened as you looked up at him, the festive lights of Hogsmeade twinkling in your eyes. "Either way, I'm glad it's you here with me today."

Remus seemed momentarily rooted to the spot, his expression a mix of surprise and something tender you couldn’t quite place. His mouth had closed, but his eyes remained wide, almost as if he was seeing you in a new light. The slight delay in his response, endearing in its rarity, made you chuckle softly to yourself. 

Shaking your head, you continued walking with a gentle, “Come on,” his footsteps soon falling into pace beside you again. The thought that such a simple expression of appreciation could disarm him so thoroughly warmed you, adding an unexpected sweetness to the stroll through Hogsmeade.

As you shivered against the encroaching chill, Remus glanced through the window of the Three Broomsticks, his eyes scanning the crowded bar filled with students. Without saying a word, he took your hand, leading you around to a back alley. His familiarity with the place hinted at many previous visits. Up a narrow side staircase you went, the muffled sounds of youthful laughter echoing from the walls.

Emerging into the quieter ambiance of the second level, you found yourselves among a more mature crowd, the air filled with the low murmur of adult conversation. Relieved, you both took a seat at a secluded table, overlooking the lively scene below.

"You know, I think half of Hogwarts is down there," you joked, gesturing towards the noisy throng of students.

Remus chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he leaned back in his chair. "And that’s precisely why we’re up here," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of relief mingled with his usual dry wit. The quieter space felt like a sanctuary, a welcome reprieve from the bustling energy below.

As you settled into the cozy upper level of the Three Broomsticks, the conversation initially centered around work—your recent classes, the upcoming exams, and the ever-present challenge of keeping students engaged. Remus listened intently, nodding and adding his own insights into the quirks of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.

The waiter brought over two mugs of butterbeer, and to your surprise, Remus had ordered them hot this time. You eyed the steaming mug warily. 

"Can hot alcohol even be good?" you questioned, skepticism coloring your tone.

"Just try it," Remus urged, a playful note in his voice, his eyes crinkling in amusement as he watched your hesitant approach to the mug.

You took a tentative sip, feeling his gaze on you. As the warm, sweet liquid cascaded down your throat, smoothing away the chill of the evening, your initial skepticism melted into a pleased surprise. You couldn't help but smile, the warmth of the drink spreading through you.

Remus's reaction was immediate; he gave you a brief squeeze of his eyes—a quick, comforting gesture he seemed to reserve just for you. Or at least, you hoped. It was such a simple thing, yet it struck a chord deep within you. Every time he did it, it felt like a whisper of affection.

The sweet taste of the butterbeer was delightful, but it was those moments, those small, intimate exchanges of understanding and care, that truly warmed you more than anything else could.

As you both sipped on your warm butterbeers, mindful to limit yourselves to just one each given your chaperoning duties, your attention was momentarily captured by the whimsical Halloween decorations adorning the Three Broomsticks. 

The floating jack-o'-lanterns around the room shifted expressions comically, and you couldn't help but giggle at their antics.

Turning to Remus, you asked, curious about his own experiences, "What kind of Halloween traditions does Hogwarts have? It must be quite the spectacle here."

Remus smiled, his eyes lighting up with fond memories of past celebrations. "Oh, Hogwarts goes all out for Halloween. The Great Hall is transformed with enormous floating pumpkins, much larger than these," he gestured around the room, 

"and the ceiling is enchanted to mimic a dark, starry night complete with occasional thunder and swarms of bats. It’s quite the sight, and the ghosts particularly enjoy this day—they join the feast, occasionally giving a good-natured scare to the students. I remember nearly jumping out of my skin when Nearly Headless Nick popped out of a piece of pie I was about to eat, when I was a boy."

You laughed at his anecdote, imagining the scene. "That sounds both terrifying and amazing."

Remus chuckled. "It’s definitely a highlight. I’m looking forward to watching it from the high table this year, rather than having Nick frighten the life out of me mid-bite."

You nodded appreciatively before he turned the question back to you. "And what about Beauxbatons? I imagine it must be quite elegant."

You leaned in, excited to share, "Beauxbatons had its own charm, definitely very refined. We didn't focus much on the spooky aspect but rather on elegance and decor. The dining hall would be illuminated with hundreds of crystal orbs that cast soft, shifting lights across the tables. Our feasts were less about candy and scares. It was magical in a very different way—more mesmerizing than terrifying. But, we did dress up."

Remus's eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. "You dressed up? Sounds like quite the event." His tone conveyed both amusement and curiosity, and it was clearly a stark contrast to the more somber Halloween festivities of Hogwarts.

You nodded enthusiastically, the memory bringing a smile to your face. "Oh, it was a major event! Everyone tried to outdo each other with their costumes. The staff usually enchanted their outfits to dazzle the students—it was quite a spectacle."

"And what did you dress up as?" Remus asked, leaning forward slightly, clearly intrigued by this glimpse into your past.

You laughed, recalling the fond memory. "Every year was different, but last year, my colleague Ben and I dressed up as Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf. It was quite funny." As the laughter bubbled from you, you noticed a slight change in Remus's expression. His smile seemed to falter just a bit, puzzlement flickering across his features.

The laughter slowly died down as you caught the subtle shift in his demeanor. Confused by his reaction, you hesitated, wondering if perhaps the mention of a duo costume with a male colleague had struck a nerve? You read his face for a few more moments, not sure what you were seeing. 

Trying to steer the conversation away from any potential awkwardness, you quickly added, "Ben's a great friend, back in France. It was all in good fun."

His expression softened as you clarified, a gentle understanding replacing the momentary flicker of discomfort. 

Shifting the conversation forward, he replied with a reassuring smile, "It sounds quite memorable for everyone."

Catching the change in mood, you decided to steer the conversation towards upcoming plans. "I've been thinking about going back to France for the winter break, just to visit," you shared, a hint of nostalgia in your voice. "What about you, Remus? Any plans for the holidays?"

His gaze momentarily drifted, as if considering the possibilities—or lack thereof—before returning to meet yours. "I haven't made any concrete plans yet. The holidays here at Hogwarts tend to be quiet, but there's a certain charm to that peace," he explained, his tone tinged with a wistfulness that suggested a deeper solitude.

“Really?" you asked, a touch of surprise and concern coloring your tone as you pondered his solitude during what was meant to be a festive time. "You're not going to see family or anything?" 

You carefully avoided mentioning friends, aware of the painful history that haunted him regarding his childhood companions.

He shook his head, a trace of sadness flickering across his features. "No, regretfully," he replied quietly. "My mother passed away a number of years ago, and my father and I..." His voice trailed off, and he offered you a shrug that seemed to carry the weight of unresolved emotions.

Your heart sank for him, seeing the loneliness that he so often masked with a smile. It was moments like these that you felt an even deeper connection to Remus, drawn to the resilience he displayed despite the shadows of his past.

You ached to jump across the table and embrace him, your mind flashing back to the hug you shared the night Sirius was spotted in the castle. But in this moment, the most you could muster was to reach across the table and gently grasp his hand, offering a reassuring smile. 

He looked down at your hands intertwined, managing a small, hesitant smile—a gesture that mingled gratitude with a touch of surprise. You could see the tension slightly ease from his shoulders. You hoped he wouldn't interpret this as pity, but rather the genuine care it was intended to convey. 

In response, Remus placed his other hand atop yours. The moment lingered, filled with an understanding that words could not capture. Sitting back, he allowed the warmth of touch to settle around him.

You added another layer to your playful hand stacking, resting your free hand on top of his, leading to a burst of amused chuckles from Remus. He then shifted the game, playfully arranging his bottom hand on top of yours, continuing until both of you were smiling freely again. 

He finally grasped both of your hands, giving them a gentle squeeze, and then, somewhat reluctantly, let go.

"Well, if you find yourself free over the holidays and in need of a change of scenery, you should come to France," you suggested, a little nervous about how forward the invitation might seem.

Remus looked at you, his expression initially puzzled, which made you worry that you might have overstepped. But the warmth that soon replaced his confusion reassured you. "Thank you for the offer," he said thoughtfully, "I appreciate it, truly. But I wouldn’t want to impose."

"It’s not an imposition at all, really," you insisted, eager to make him feel welcomed. "Think about it."

After a brief pause, you mimicked his reassuring eye-squeeze gesture back at him, causing his eyebrows to raise in mild surprise. He took the last sip of his butterbeer, obviously trying to hide his smile. 

“Fine. I’ll consider it.” 

You rolled your eyes at his ever so nonchalant response, eliciting a small chuckle from him.

"We should probably get going," he said, standing up with a smile that suggested he was genuinely considering your invitation.

The night drew to a close with Remus once again at your door, where you urged him to seriously consider the trip to France. "It's better than staying in the castle, bored and alone," you said earnestly.

"Who says I'll be bored and alone?" Remus countered while feigning a puzzled look. "You heard Mr. Filch on the walk back from Hogsmeade; I owe him a few chess games. I will clearly be very busy."

You rolled your eyes and playfully hit his arm. "Remus, I'm serious."

"I'll have an answer for you soon," he assured you, his tone sincere. "I just need to check a few things around those dates."

You playfully challenged his remark, teasing, "Oh, you're so busy that you have to check your schedule?"

With a playful narrowing of his eyes, he responded, "Precisely."

You couldn’t tell if he was just playing hard to get with the mention of his chess matches, but you couldn't help but smile as you said goodnight, closing the door behind you. Standing there for a moment, you listened for the familiar sound of his own door closing down the hall, just like every night, the routine bringing a subtle comfort.