⋆⭒˚.⋆

You shake your head, closing your eyes when the movement dizzies you more and opting to gesture at him with your finger. Remus nods, though he seems unsure as his hand rubs across your shoulder blades. 

“I think I’ve got enough.” Lyall still says, not looking up from his microscope. He hums right after, as he tends to do when he discovers yet another anomaly in your already… rare genetics. “Hm, interesting. Your blood cells are regenerating at an incredibly fast pace,” he glances up. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“How do you think, dad?” Remus answers simultaneously, his hand doesn’t stop moving on your back as he speaks.

“Remus.”

“It’s okay.” Lyall stands straight. “I’ve been told I have quite tactless manners when it comes to treating… erm, patients,” he hesitates, rubbing a finger across his forehead. He shakes his head, dismissing the thought. “What I meant to say is that, if your blood cells can regenerate with such speed, I don’t know why the symptoms of the prototype keep affecting you. It appears that the cells that were created with the venom remain unaffected by the tests so far, so I’m thinking he must have tried to interfere with your immune system.” A pause. “The human one, I mean.”

You drop your hand, forcing yourself to sit straight to look at him. “My human one?”

“No, well… Forgive me. I meant, what’s left of your human anatomy.”

“What’s left?” you ask, forcing your words to take shape and weight instead of sounding like slurring and barely understanding mumbles. You clear your throat. “So the reason it’s affecting me is that whatever he did to me… infected my entire anatomy?”

Lyall hesitates, eyes flickering between you and Remus. “I believe so, yes. How you feel right now—with the sonic blast you said I mean… is it by any chance similar to the symptoms you presented with the spider bite?”

You frown “Uh… I think so? That was very long ago, I…” you look down, trying to take inventory of your own body, or whatever’s left of it. 

“Can we try something?” Lyall asks, rounding the lab table. Remus tenses, hand splayed over your back and tucking you to his side. Subtle but immense in its protectiveness. “Do you feel good enough to shoot a web?” he pauses, eyeing Remus before adding, “Just one. I’d like to run some tests on it.”

“Oh. Um… sure,” you glance down at your wrists, wiggling your hands a bit before shooting a small web into your palm. Lyall’s eyes widen in fascination, leaning just enough for Remus to pull you away in the same matter. But you’re too busy disentangling the webs to hand them over. “Here.”

“Fascinating,” he takes them readily, raising his palms to inspect them closer. “You said your body just naturally produces them?”

“I think so.”

“Have you ever run out of them?” he asks.

Your lips twitch, memory and affection blossoming in your chest when you glance up at Remus. He looks back at you, biting back his own smirk in memory—at how he asked you the exact same question. 

“No, I haven’t. It’s… uh, it’s weird because I recently got hurt in that specific part and the webs never… it was like nothing happened. It doesn’t even hurt.”

“Have you noticed a difference in texture? From before and now, after the sonic blast?”

“I…” your brows furrow again, trying to think. “I don’t… I don't know. They stick well, and carry weight and stuff.”

“Hm,” Lyall looks away, too. You’re beginning to pick up on his mannerisms, noticing the way he always looks away when he’s deep in thought, when he’s running theories inside his head. “You don’t happen to have an old sample, do you?”

“No, sorry.”

Lyall waves you off, smiling a bit. “It’s okay. We can work with this—”

“Actually…” Remus speaks up, and your head snaps up to look at him. Though he’s pensive and staring at a point on the metallic table. “Yes, she has one.”

Your eyebrows snap up in surprise. “I do?” you ask, frown deepening when he doesn’t answer, turning around to walk back to his backpack he’s left in the living room. “Remus…?”

Remus returns quickly, before you can even try to remember what he’s talking about and realizing what he means when you notice the little plastic bag in his hands. Your old note. 

“Remus,” you say quietly, heavy with bafflement as he leans over the table between you to hand it over. “You carry this in your backpack?”

“Of course,” he shrugs casually. “And of course I brought it here. I figured it would help, if it was needed.”

Lyall is already preparing the samples and too busy muttering to himself to even pretend he’s listening to your conversation. Too deep in whatever formulas and hypotheses his mind is going through. 

The note lies discarded and barely noticed next to the microscope. Remus reaches for it, knowing it’s no use in touching it when his father already took what he deemed the important parts. This one is his to keep.

His lips curl into a little shy smile when your gazes meet, nimble fingers folding it smaller and smaller to fit into his wallet. Your heart nearly melts at the sight, feeling the hopelessness of your reality lingering in the room when you remember he’s tucking it away for safekeeping. Like a memory of when times were easier, when his life was easier and not trying to survive whatever comes after. Like a memory of a life he can no longer go back to, not after you took it away from him when you decided to climb through his window following the smallest of theories that he might’ve known your secret. In the end, all you did was turn his life upside down.

“Hey,” he says quietly, hand returning to your back. This time you do let him tuck you closer to his side. “You still feel faint?”

“A bit,” you confess just as quietly. “The juice helps.”

He turns to the glass, halfway finished now. “Would you like more?”

“No, m’okay. I think it’s passing now,” you blink experimentally, rubbing a finger on your eye and not caring about your smudged mascara. Or what’s left of it. “I’m just tired, I s’pose.”

“I know,” his hand travels up, thumb sweeping at the baby hairs of your nape. “We’ll go back when he’s done, yeah?”

“What about…”

“You need to rest. Opening night is tomorrow and it’s going to be a whole thing. I know how you get.”

Your look away, a bit bashful. “I reckon it’ll be better this time. All I have to do is check the upper lightning.”

“You’ll get to see the play, then,” he smiles, a little ruefully like he knows you’ve caught up on his antics. His not so subtle attempt to distract you from whatever Lyall is muttering to himself by the microscope. “That’s a first, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. And not from the catwalk this time,” you joke lightly. “It’s not a very interesting angle.”

“Well, it’s just the top of Sirius’ head. I highly doubt it’s entertaining. Even if his intonation is flawlessly pained or whatever Lovegood kept saying every bloody rehearsal.” 

You huff a quiet laugh, amused and a little nostalgic. “I believe his exact words were Greek tragedy personified.” 

“Well,” Remus tilts his head, smiling to himself. “That’s Sirius to you, very Dionysian as always."

“He’s always loved a tragic character.”

Your lips twitch sideways, an almost smile that isn’t enough to appease him. Or to ease the knot in your chest when you think too much about Sirius, to not let the worry consume you and reach for your phone in hopes he’s answered to your messages. 

Remus tilts his head faintly to the side, picking up on the cloud of worry eclipsing your little corner. “What is it?”

“I just…” you look around, at the table and the specimens Lyall has so far. “I just wish he stopped being so stubborn.”

“I know,” he nods. “But we will try again, yeah? After this is over and we get a chance after the play, we’ll talk to him again.”

“It won’t work,” you sigh. You turn to meet his gaze when Remus tilts his head again in confusion. “James said Junior’s going.”

“He probably won’t. If it’s also true they’ve broken up.”

“But what if they worked things through when he left?” you argue. Remus doesn’t take it personally, not when he knows it’s mostly your anxiety talking—and the fact that you’re asking the same questions he’s been wondering since James broke the news of Sirius leaving home to go back to the city, to Junior. “I just… I didn’t think Junior would be so…”

“Manipulative?” Remus supplies.

“Yes, that. And a conniving little shit, too.”

He huffs a laugh, and from across the table, at the very end, Lyall’s lips twitch as he continues studying the webbing samples. It ebbs when he switches it for the new one, first tentative as he keeps putting it in and out and switching between the web from the note and the one you’ve just given him. 

He hums, and your hushed conversation is immediately halted. Remus takes half a step back, thumb stroking up and down and in circles at your nape. A grounding and tender movement that works to ease you as much as it calms him. 

“What is it?” 

Lyall hums again, not quite standing straight and away from the microscope. “Fascinating,” he answers instead, definitely to himself. You turn to look at Remus, hoping he can somehow explain his father’s weird reaction, but Lyall gestures with a hand. “Remus, come look at this.”

You try to tame your panic at his tone, even if nothing about it or his stance calls for an alarming discovery, your nervous system has been so rewired these past days, you can’t help but feel panic bubbling in your chest. Remus’ hand lowers to the curve of your shoulder, giving it a soft and reassuring squeeze before stepping away to round the table. You reach out for the juice again and give it tiny and useless sips knowing it’s long finished. 

“Dad, you know I can’t understand any of this,” Remus says as he steps in front of the microscope. Guided by Lyall with a look you’re too anxious to even try to dissect.

Lyall chuckles. “You don’t need to know a thing or two about science to understand this,” he points at the microscope. “Just take a look.”

Remus’ eyes flicker very quickly to you before bending to look down into whatever his father is so eager to show him. You watch with a clenched jaw as Lyall switches the samples, once, twice and thrice until he stops. But Remus gestures a finger at him to switch the samples one last time.

“What is it?” you ask, finding the words slipping past without you thinking twice about it. 

“It’s…” he frowns, a worrisome divot between his eyebrows that you can see even as he bends down to check the samples again. “Well, it’s… denser.”

“What?”

“Yeah, come here,” he beckons you over, pointedly ignoring the frown in Lyall’s face when you stand. Hesitant and slow at first before Remus’ hand flattens on your lower back, steadying you as you look into the microscope. He switches the samples for you. “See that? How the fluid seems more solid than the one from the note? It’s thicker.”   

Lyall blindly takes his thumb forceps again, free hand reaching for the newer sample. You watch him move, feeling your heart pounding and a stark contrast to his eerily calm movements as he probes carefully at the sample. He hums to himself, increasing in curiosity when he tries to take it off the microscopic slide and it doesn’t unstick. It remains thick and unmoving, hard as a rock and a complete difference to your other webs.

“…what?” you frown, looking down at your wrists.

“The adhesive particles have been improved as well,” he notes, setting both away to scribble down in his notes. “I had a hypothesis but with these samples… it’s clear the molecules have stronger bonding sites. Which makes them… stick harder, I’m assuming.”

“It’s thicker and harder to dissolve.” Remus concludes, bending to be at eye level with the samples, eyes flickering between them. “If someone gets caught in these new webs”

You swallow thickly. “They wouldn’t escape,” you rub a thumb over your palm. “They’d be trapped.”

“This is new, I assume?” Lyall asks as he rounds the table, taking off his gloves and throwing them into the bin. 

You press harder at your palm when he pushes his sleeves up, like he’s getting ready to begin his experimenting. “Yeah. But… uh, the other day, when I was out patrolling… my webs didn’t shoot out thick like that.”

“It could be unconscious. If your body is tense or in high alert, the webs would come out thicker as a defense mechanism.”

“Like spiders do.”

“Exactly,” he nods once, lips twitching. “I reckon that if you were out, uh… patrolling, and nothing happened, there wouldn’t be a reason for the webs to answer aggressively to a relatively harmless situation.”

“That’s… good, right?” you hesitate, hating yourself for asking and even more for hopefully waiting for his answer. 

“It can be, yeah. If you can control it.”

“I can learn.”

Lyall’s lips twitch more visibly this time, and Remus doesn’t have any qualms as he properly smiles at your confident answer. 

“I think so, too,” he answers as he finishes buttoning his sleeves over his elbows. 

Remus stands to attention at this, jaw clenched tight as his eyes flicker between his father and you. “So?” he asks. “What did you deduce?”

“Well…” he rubs his jaw, thinking. It makes your heart clench in both dread and anticipation. “I have an idea, but I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“What is it?” you ask before Remus can ask what he means. You brush your hair away. “I can take it.”

You don’t miss the way Lyall cuts a quick glance at Remus before turning to you. He points at your blood samples. “With these, I can recreate the sonic wave they used on you—”

Remus stands. “No.”

“But I can also use them to build a countermeasure that can protect you from its effects.” He finishes off, holding your gaze and pointedly ignoring Remus’ interruption. 

“Can you actually?” you frown, glancing down at your blood samples.

“y/n,” Remus takes a step closer, frowning. “Certainly you’re not considering going through that? Again?”

You reach for his hand under the table. “We promised I’d try to,” you remind him, trying to soften your voice and swallow your fear. “Worst case scenario nothing happens.”

“And if I may,” Lyall starts to say, cutting himself off when Remus sends him a glare. You clear your throat, reassuring him enough to continue. “The best case scenario is we find a countermeasure in case they try to use it on you again… and your powers improve in the process.”

“Improve?” Remus asks, nearly snapping and with an edge enough to make you frown as well. “Do you call making her go through the same fucking hell all over again improving?”

“Remus.”

“It’s the only option we have, son.” Lyall says, eerily calm. But your overdeveloped hearing can pick up on the lie, on the way his heartbeat picks up its pace. 

“Okay,” you nod.

“y/n.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.” You turn to him, lips twitching into a reassuring smile that does anything but reassure him. “We have to try, okay? Now it’s not just me who’s in danger… Sirius, too.”

Remus looks away, jaw tightening. He presses his fingers to his eyes, harder and harder you know he’s seeing stars. It’s in this small stretch of silence that you turn to Lyall with a curt nod, his own heartbeat pounds louder when he mirrors it in the same quick manner. You watch him walk away and start gathering his instruments to work on the prototype.

“Remus,” you say quietly, reaching for his hands. “Hey, look at me.”

He sighs into his palm, but eventually lets you lower his hands. “There has to be another way.”

“There’s not,” you shake your head, thumb stroking his knuckles. “Which is why we have to try.”

“You keep saying we,” he brings your hands closer to him. “But you’re the one that will go through that… that—”

“I know,” you nod quickly, running your thumb across his hand again. A grounding touch for both of you. “I know, but…”

“I know—there’s no other way.”

You swallow nervously, trying to bring some levity to your tone. “At least you’ll have an excuse to let me stay over again, right?” you tilt your head, searching for his gaze. “I’ll need my top nurse tonight.”

His lips twitch, knowing what you’re trying to do and letting you. “I think I need to be promoted to doctor at this point,” he jokes back. Flimsy at first, but you’ll take it. He turns his hand in your hold, running a finger over the scar on your palm. “And surgeon, too.”

“Right, my mistake. Top doctor and surgeon.” 

“Good thing I stocked up before coming here,” he adds, wiggling your hand just enough for you to understand his meaning. You spread your fingers open to let him thread them together with his. 

“See?” you smile. “Always so prepared.”

“Of course, my patient keeps getting into all kinds of trouble.” His thumb brushes the back of your hand. He sends you a sideways glance, corner of his mouth ticking faintly. “And seeing she won’t stop… I must make the proper arrangements.”

You huff a laugh. “What do these arrangements entail, if I may ask?”

“Oh, don’t even get me started. She’s quite particular, asking for all sorts of posh things,” Remus goes on. “Spicy pizza from that corner shop she loves, and crisps. A massage that one time, too.”

“I’ve never asked for a massage,” you frown, feigning upset. “Any other patients you go around nursing to health that I should know about?”

Remus fails to hide his smile this time, shaking his head in fond exasperation. “I can’t talk about that specific treatment right now,” his voice quietens, head bending to nearly whisper into your ear. His smile turns into a bemused smirk when your gaze snaps back to him. “I’m very sorry but that can’t be arranged this time around…” a pause. “for obvious reasons.”

“You’re awful,” you look away, blushing. “You’re getting me twice the food because of that joke.”

“Of course,” he nods, taking half a step back. “That can be arranged for you.”

“I knew you loved the whole nurse bit.”

“I mean,” he shrugs. “I was neutral about it but turns out I’m quite good at it.”

You smile, squeezing your intertwined hands. “Yes, you are,” you lean just enough for him to listen. “I’m in good hands.”

Remus exhales deeply, sounding a tad relieved by your reassurance. His eyes flicker very quickly to the side where Lyall continues tinkering with his instruments and whatever he’s doing to start working on the experiment. A look of hesitation and mild shyness crosses his face, and you drop a quick kiss to the side of his jaw before he can psych himself out of kissing you. Your thumb lowers to his wrist, the inner side and the clear tell of how fast his heart is going. You give it a few slow strokes in circular motions to try and reassure him. Hoping it’s enough for now.

The day passes in a blur that way, between quiet moments of reassurance and even quieter moments where the tension eclipses any of your attempts to make yourself and him feel better about this whole thing. Lyall doesn’t try to step in any single moment, keeping to himself as he experiments and runs test after test to improve both the prototype for the sonic wave and its countermeasure. You don’t have the heart to tell either of them that all his test runs have worked so far, swallowing down its effects the more they increase in impact with each test. 

It isn’t until he’s finished the first prototype for the gadget that you let yourself exhale in relief. Lyall tinkers hurriedly with both as he walks around his laboratory, your eyes are laser focused on his thumb as it hovers over the button—one small push and he can easily recreate that effect at the hijacked building. With all his recent test runs, you’re sure this time it could only make you actually faint. 

The moon peeks from the rooflights when he sets the countermeasure in your palm. It’s smaller than you imagined—they’re just… in-ears. Tiny and barely noticeable in-ears. 

Lyall hums amusedly at your surprised reaction. “Can you put them on please?” he asks, pointing at your ears.

You look down at your hand, thumbing at the earbuds with a strange mix of relief and hesitation. You try not to let the hope get bigger in your chest, knowing it always finds a way to distinguish itself before you can even act on it. Remus strokes your nape a few times before stepping away, despite his better instincts by the troubled look that crosses his face. The divot between his eyebrows deepens in evident worry when you silently pop them into your ears. 

“Can you hear me?” Lyall asks, voice clear as day. You nod in answer when words die inside your throat. He only mirrors it, shuffling to stand a few feet closer. “Okay, now tap it twice. But let the second one linger.”

“Which one?”

“Any of them is fine.”

You brush your hair away from your face, too quick and before Remus can notice the slight tremor of your fingers. He crosses his arms, gripping his elbows with enough force you can see his knuckles turning white—his heart pounds as loud as Lyall’s. In a strange way, the sound of their nerves is calming enough to make your own a bit more bearable. You suck in a breath before doing what Lyall instructed, tapping at the earbud once and letting the second one linger. A beep follows, low but enough to make your skull rattle faintly. This must be how sleeper agents work, you think to yourself. 

You send them a thumbs up, and Lyall speaks. “Can you hear me?” he asks again, though a tad muffled. Like he’s speaking through a glass. 

“Not very clearly.”

“Brilliant,” he smiles. Mostly to himself, you assume. You watch him bend over the table to scribble his notes and observations. Test subject seems to hear partially, he writes. You lean away when he sets the pen aside to turn to you. “Alright, we’re going to try with the lowest level, okay?”

“Okay.” 

Lyall sends you a small smile, one you suppose it’s to reassure you but all it does is make your nerves go haywire again. Your eyes flit down to his hand, with the prototype and his thumb still hovering over the button to turn it on. He nods once before pressing it. You dig a finger on your palm, with such harshness you hope it eclipses the effect of the sonic wave that… never comes. 

You crack one eye open, brows furrowing together. There’s a small vibration in your ears that is uncomfortable at best. You raise a hand to press it deeper into your eardrum, and the effect muffles with the change. 

“What do you feel?”

You make a gesture. “A bit weird,” you answer, feeling suspiciously like you’re shouting. “It’s not so bad.”

“Okay,” Lyall nods. “I’m going to raise the level. But very gradually—if it hurts at any point, just let me know.”

“Hm.”

He holds your gaze for a second longer, the silence that follows is tense and long enough that you find yourself looking away from him. Remus’ jaw is clenched tight when you meet his gaze, even if he tries to soften his eyes. You okay? He mouths. All you can do is give him a slight nod before the discomfort starts again. 

“What about now?” Lyall asks again, taking a step closer and to the side. Eyes curious and detached as he studies the earbuds. “Does it still feel weird?”

“Yeah,” you swallow nervously. “It feels like buzzing.”

“But does it hurt?”

“Not really,” you answer truthfully. Because it doesn’t. You’ve gone through far worse things, broken ribs and limbs to accept that whatever you’re feeling right now is a mild inconvenience at best. “Just weird.”

He looks down at the sonic prototype. “Hm. That's interesting.” 

Remus stands straight, letting his folded arms loosen as he looks back at his father. “What?” he asks, voice muffled as well. But the emotion is clear as ever. “What is it?”

“This is the highest level,” Lyall turns the device for both of you to see. He frowns, fiddling a little with it before bending a bit to scan you more inquisitively. “Are you completely certain it doesn’t hurt?” he asks again. 

“I’m certain.” You nod. “It’s a bit uncomfortable. But I reckon I can get used to it the more we test it.”

Lyall leans back, humming and rubbing a finger on his jaw. He presses the button again, and the vibrations stop altogether. You don’t immediately pop out the earbuds, though, but he doesn’t seem to take it personally when his lips twitch knowingly.

“Can you shoot another web for me, please?” he asks instead. 

You do, feeling slightly more optimistic as you shoot more into your palm to hand them over. Lyall’s eyes widen in even more fascination when he begins preparing another slide to set the webbing under the microscope. It isn’t until he sets the device aside to put on his gloves that you finally take out the earbuds. 

“How are you feeling?” Remus asks, frowning deeper as he steps closer to stand by your side again. “You sure it doesn’t hurt?”

“I’m sure,” you reassure him, adding a little tentative smile. “I promise.”

“Please don’t downplay it for me.”

“I’m not,” you shake your head, reaching for his hand. “It really felt weird. But not weird bad, just…”

“Uncomfortable,” he repeats your answer, though he seems to not be very certain of its meaning.

Lyall hums. “Your webbing is still the same,” he mumbles from his spot, nimble fingers switching between samples. He only looks away to check the hour. “It’s been… eight minutes and the molecules of your silk remain the same.”

You don’t want to ask, still desperately trying to shove down the hope of your chest. “It… worked?” 

He hesitates, glancing back at the samples. “It appears so, yeah.”

At your side, Remus nearly slumps over you with the force of his relieved exhale. You squeeze his hand in return, all you can allow yourself to stall the flicker of hope from getting stronger.

“You shouldn’t feel anything, though. Not even discomfort,” he adds, eyes flickering between you and the samples. 

“I can handle discomfort.”

“I know,” his lips twitch. “I’d rather you not feel anything at all, though… can we run a few more tests?”

“Dad—”

“Just a few,” he’s quick to add. “So I can pinpoint exactly what to work on.”

You thumb at the earbuds, nervously at first before popping them back into your ears. “We can, yeah.” You nod.

“y/n—”

“It doesn’t hurt, Remus. I promise.”

It really doesn’t, and you do end up getting used to the discomfort. Achingly slow, though. 

Lyall makes you go through different tests through the process; testing your adhesive particles, both with a small piece of paper and against a wall, climbing a bit before dropping back to the ground, more shooting webs and even asking Remus to leave the room to test your hearing. Each run test is as stress inducing as the next one, long pauses between his experimenting and sampling of his findings. 

By the time he considers the prototype done, you’re already stifling back yawn after yawn. Exhaustion seeping into your every movement even with every flimsy reassurance you give them that you’re okay. Thankfully, he created two sets of protypes—knowing you’d like to leave with one pair just in case it’s needed any time soon. 

“I’ll keep this one to try and find a way to improve it,” he explains slowly as he walks you to the front door. “Like I said, the point is for you to not feel anything at all.”

“But this will do in the meantime,” you point at your ears. As instructed by both him and Remus to keep them on at all times, even if they’re not turned on. 

“Still. Wouldn’t want to take any chances,” he shoves his hands into the front pockets of his trousers. He juts his chin towards Remus. “I’d let you know if… if anything changes. Is that okay?”

Remus nods, jaw clenched tight. You squeeze his hand behind your back. “Yeah, it’s okay,” he answers. “Thank you, Dad.”

Lyall pauses, momentarily stunned. “You…” he clears his throat. “No problem. We… we’ll stay in touch.”

You smile, both in relief and in gratitude when he looks at you. He nods in return, and you squeeze Remus’ hand quickly to prompt him to move. To go back home. 

｡𖦹°‧

Remus is just wrapping up his call with James when you step out of his bathroom. Freshly showered and eyes impossibly heavy, feeling the day’s toll finally come for you. You rub your eyes, narrowly missing the corner of his bed when you try to find your backpack to set the day’s clothes inside. 

“Yeah,” he nods, fiddling with the covers as he listens intently to whatever James is explaining. “Yeah, we’ll keep an eye out.”

He pauses, jaw tightening. You can barely make out whatever James is saying, though it’s slightly muffled because of Remus’ insistence to keep his phone’s volume low—even if he himself has complained about this. 

“Okay.” Remus runs a hand through his hair, mostly tousled now. From both the wind and his nerves. “See you tomorrow, then. Yeah, you too.”

You peek at him from your crouched position when he hangs up. “Nothing yet?”

“No,” Remus sighs. “Just that Sirius said he’s okay. And something about not being able to slip out to say hi before the play.”

You nod, looking down at your backpack. At the suit and your black clothes for tomorrow. “You don’t think…” you falter, chewing on your lower lip to stall enough to find the words. “You don’t think he’s angry with us? For sending him away?”

Remus sighs. “I don’t know.” 

“I just wish he knew it’s for his own good.”

“I think he knows that. But…” Remus looks away, then down at the covers. He’s been toying with a loose thread the entire time. “But sometimes it’s easier to ignore that little voice. I can’t imagine it being easier for him.”

For a moment, you don’t speak, nodding along to his answer and forcing your mind to not drift back to what he means. To his own experience with Regulus and the reason their relationship failed so catastrophically. 

You must’ve gone very quiet, because Remus glances up from his hands to look over at you. His eyebrows furrow when you continue fusing with your clothes, unfolding them and folding them like you’re physically forcing yourself to calm down. 

“Dove.”

“I’ll be there in a second. I just have to…”

“The clothes will still be there in the morning,” he says, voice gentle and softer than soft. He pats at the bed when you finally look up to meet his gaze. “Come here.”

“I just have to…” you repeat, words faltering when he sends you another look. It’s enough to make you sigh and set the clothes aside to stand.

You brush your hair away, trying to not look at the earbuds on the nightstand as you climb into the covers by his side. 

His eyes flit down to your shirt, and a startled laugh bubbles out of him. “What’s this?” he asks, pinching the hem of your tee. “Seriously?”

“What?” you follow his gaze. “It’s free promotion.”

Remus’ smile widens, head tilting slightly to the side in amusement. “For bed?”

“It’s comfortable,” you argue lightly, lips twitching into a smile. And scooting closer and closer to him. “But I s’pose you’re right. This is hardly necessary for promo when I’m getting into bed with Spidergirl’s biggest fan.”

He laughs. The sound is low and lovely enough that it tugs, once again, at your heartstrings. You find yourself scooting closer and closer, you’ve got no other choice but to crawl into his lap—even if he had already taken your hands to guide you to do just that. The realization makes your smile turn a tad bashful, even if Remus’ is still amused. His fingers continue pinching the hem of your shirt, some old merch you bought off a vendor one time as Spidergirl for a bit and ended up using it unironically ever since. 

“Would you like one for yourself?” you joke, following his eyes and smirking when his eyes snap up to you. “My eyes are up here, you know.”

Remus rolls his eyes, adjusting his hold to fully wrap his arms around your waist. If the movement is smooth enough to pull you impossibly closer, you have enough wits about yourself to pretend to not notice. After all, you’ve always thought his lap is far more comfortable.

He takes your hand, thumb stroking across your knuckles in a pensive manner. A silence settles between you, nice and comfortable as he, seemingly, takes his time to tell you whatever he and James discussed.

“I think…” he starts to say, but immediately looks away as he cuts himself off. With your free hand, you raise a hand to brush his hair away from his face. Remus sighs at your touch, and you let your hand drop to the crook of his neck. “I think it’s time you tell him.”

“Tell who? Sirius?”

“Yeah,” he nods, once at first. Tentative. “I think it would help him… see the full picture. Understand why we’re trying to make him step away from Junior.”

“Remus…”

“I know,” he threads your fingers together. “I know you said you didn’t want anyone else to know. But… but what if this time it actually helps?”

You part your lips to speak. I told you and look what happened, you almost say. He frowns when you look away this time, very obviously trying to hold back from answering. 

He tries again, gentler. “You don’t have to decide right now—”

“I think I do,” you argue softly. A bit dejected, too. “It feels like time is running out.”

“Maybe,” his voice quietens. “But we’ve gained some extra time today. With the experiments and all.”

You turn your head, lips twitching from side to side. “I don’t know,” your eyes flit down to your hand, your finger curled around the side of his neck and tracing the pattern of the scar that runs through that stretch of skin. “I don’t want to drag him into this thing if he ends up being okay.”

Remus nods. “That’s okay, too. But…” he hesitates when he feels your strokes pausing. “Well, think about it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” your voice quietens. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For… uh, making this difficult, I suppose?”

“You’re not making anything difficult. I know this is a hard decision to make. James knows, too. No one will take it personally if you take your time,” his arms curl a tad tighter around you, pulling you closer. “Even after the day you’ve had.”

You look away, a bit bashful and a little troubled by the reminder. “It wasn’t that bad.”

His lips curl slightly to the side into a little smile. “I figured you’d say that,” his hand flattens on your lower back, testing experimentally until you feel his palm tracing idle patterns up and down your spine under your shirt. “You feel better?”

“Yeah,” you scoot closer, cupping the side of his neck and relaxing when you feel his pulse point—it calms down with your touch. “Heaps better now.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Hm,” you smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes with your exhaustion. “And you? I’m sure it was just as overwhelming for you.”

“A bit, at first.” He admits quietly. “But, well, you helped.”

Inside your chest, your heart nearly melts into a puddle. “Yeah?” you ask just as quietly, leaning closer. Remus readily takes your weight, leaning back against his pillows and the headboard. “Glad I could be of help.”

Remus smiles, fond and endeared at once as he guides you for a kiss. You shift over your knees, setting them between his lap to deepen the kiss into a soft yet longer one. One of his arms travels up to your nape, curling around the back of your neck and brushing your baby hairs in a soothing manner—he tilts his head back, chasing the reassurance of your lips. 

He breaks apart just a hair’s length, lips curling into a smile that is almost shy. “I love you.”