‎·༻𐫱༺·

“You better not run too far away from home, Duke,” you whisper at him. Duke only pokes his head from the gate. Then, as if thinking better of it, “Respectfully. Your Grace.”

He tilts his head sideways, and you only wave at him before turning around. Normally, you’d swing home the rest of the way. But you hardly have a chance to wander into these posh areas, so you might as well enjoy the view. Each house is different in its architecture, with delicate gates and gardens decorating their entrances—for a moment, you wish you had your camera with you. The sight is definitely pretty enough. The downside is that if you showed the photographs to Remus, he’d certainly wonder how come you managed to sneak your way into the nicer neighborhoods of the city.

“Oh, please. You seriously thought that?”

You halt, nearly slipping with the wet pavement at the familiar cadence. Quiet and soft, but your overdeveloped hearing (and secret affection for the owner of said soft voice) immediately picked up on the words. Almost like he’s by your side. Wait—

You flick your wrist towards the lamppost across the street, launching yourself up to perch on the light and look down at the empty street. Just narrowly missing the two silhouettes turning the corner into the neighborhood. Remus and… yeah, Regulus Black.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you drop your head to your knees. Hunching over yourself and taking advantage of the large tree that can cover your figure from any prying eyes that can look up. “Why is it always something?”

“Remus, you’re the one who said I had illegible handwriting.” Regulus says, almost jokingly. You don’t know him that well enough to decipher what his tone means. “Not my fault you can’t read.”

Remus laughs. Properly laughs, and it’s a miracle you don’t fall off the lamppost. You crawl backwards on the light, gaining momentum before jumping off to the next one. Yeah, you’re following them back into the neighborhood, so what? You know better than to let Remus hang alone with Regulus Black, whatever story he thinks they have. 

You nearly miss the next lamp when they stop, slipping onto the pavement and throwing yourself into a shrub when you accidentally curse under your breath. Regulus’ head whips in your direction.

“Well, here we are.” Remus says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Safe and sound.”

Regulus shakes his head, blinking rapidly before turning back to Remus. “You didn’t need to walk me home, Remus.”

“I don’t mind,” he says easily. As he always does. He glances around the street, then back at the house. It’s in this distraction that he misses the look that crosses Regulus’ eyes, almost… affectionate. Fond. “This is a nice place. When did you move in?”

“Hm?” Regulus blinks, then shakes his head again. “Oh, not that long ago. A few months, I believe.”

“Really?” Remus hums, looking back at the house. Then at Regulus. His lips twitch sideways. “Well, it suits you. I’m happy for you, Reg.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. I mean,” he brushes his hair away. “I still want you to do well… despite everything.”

“Oh, don’t.” Regulus sighs, looking away and appearing almost… frustrated. You frown, narrowing your eyes to look better knowing damn well your vision is perfect. “Remus, please. There’s nothing for you to worry about. I’ve told you.”

“Still…” Remus shrugs, shoving his hand back in his jacket. “Can you at least… be careful?”

Regulus parts his lips, either in surprise or… something else, you don’t know. But you can gauge it, you’ve felt it yourself whenever Remus asks you the same. And of course, you’re far stronger than Regulus, because he doesn’t rein himself in like you do. You’re secretly glad you’re hidden, and not perched somewhere you can fall off from, when Regulus takes a step forward, cupping his face and pulling him down for a kiss. 

You crawl backwards deeper into the shrub, trying to put as much distance between them and you. But your heart, traitorous and masochist when it comes to Remus, doesn’t let you stray too far. 

“Reg—” Remus exhales, barely a whisper as Regulus steps back. “I don’t—what are you doing?”

“What?” Regulus blinks, momentarily confused. “Is this about… y/n?”

You frown, looking up from the gravel to try and get a glimpse. Across the street, Remus sighs again. He takes Regulus’ hands, gentle and careful as always, and guides them down. 

“I thought you wanted to… try again?” Regulus goes on, voice tipping into embarrassment the longer Remus takes to answer. 

“Regulus… you’re the one who called me,” he answers instead. “Is this why? Because you want to… try again?”

“Well,” he clears his throat. “I… yes?”

“Okay.” Remus nods, almost thoughtful. “Why? Why after all this time? Why when—”

You suck in a breath, as low as you can before looking around the bushes for a possible exit. One that won’t give yourself away. Whatever conversation they continue turns into a humming in your ears as you scramble out the shrubs from the other side, far and far away for them to even notice you. No one is around as you walk away, farther and farther until you reach the end of the neighborhood and can peacefully swing into the streetlights without gaining too much attention. 

It isn’t until you reach your street at the university grounds that you finally let the words sink into your brain. Your heart. And so do the tears. You flick your wrist towards the building across from your dorm and climb up, pushing your legs to your chest and giving yourself a couple of minutes to feel sorry for yourself before going home. 

Maybe if you hadn’t gotten so close… maybe if you had just accepted Remus as James’ friend from school, if you hadn’t asked about his dissertation and what his favourite novel was. Maybe if you hadn’t accidentally followed him home that night after a party back in first year, if Spidergirl hadn’t been out patrolling to notice him stumbling around campus… maybe if you hadn’t grown so attached to Remus… none of this would’ve happened.

You sniffle, acutely aware of how pathetic you look. Spidergirl, hunched over herself crying on a building, using her own hood as an improvised handkerchief when the person she wants to comfort her is out there with someone else? You’re glad it’s night, and that no students are outside because this surely would make a dent to your ego if it landed in any updates account. The same accounts Remus follow—Jesus fucking Christ. What were you thinking?

“Stupid,” you scold yourself, bumping your forehead against your knees. Once, twice, thrice, trying to get your head to rest. To stop turning the conversation around and find the exact moment you went completely wrong with your assumptions.

And even then, if Remus was interested in you. How could you even entertain it? When, even as friends, you keep lying to his face over and over again? When your life represents all he suffered, when you’re a reminder of the same people who hurt him? Of everything he’s been through? 

“Why am I not surprised to find you here?”

Your head snaps up, and, of course, you come sliding off the brick wall. Crash landing on the ground. Remus curses, crossing the street without even checking if anyone’s coming.

“Fucking hell,” he exhales sharply, startled and breathless at once. “Shit, are you okay?”

“Yup!” you scramble to stand, brushing the dust off your suit. What dust? It’s not even windy. Jesus. “Yeah, good as new!” you say, voice catching in that obvious tell that you were crying. 

Remus tilts his head, eyes snapping up to your face. “Are you…” he frowns. “Are you okay? You sound… odd.”

You clear your throat. “Why do you think so? I just fell off a building.” 

His frown deepens. “Were you crying? I heard…”

“What? Me? Crying?” you scoff. Of course, it sounds wet and overly pathetic. “Spidergirl doesn’t cry.”

His lips twitch, like he wants to smile despite himself. But they return to a straight line. You drop your head, sighing.

“I just… um, bad night,” you make a vague gesture towards the city. “Found a lost puppy and… well. Those always,” you make another vague gesture, mimicking bawling. Please stop talking. “you know?”

“I… know, yeah. Sort of,” he glances around, at you, then at the dorm before looking back at you. “Did y/n make you cry?”

“What?”

“Well,” he points at your dorm building. “aren’t you here to… visit her? Or are you on your way home?”

I am home, you almost say. “Um… no?”

“You don’t seem sure.” Remus says, sounding a touch amused. But there’s worry underneath. It makes your heart ache again. Damn Remus. “Did you have a fight?”

“No,” you shake your head, fixing the hood of your suit over your head. “Just… um, passing through. Making sure things are okay… I suppose.”

Remus stands straight at this. “Why wouldn’t they be? Is she okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off. “Just standard vigilantism procedure.”

“Ah. Vigilantism, of course,” he shoves his hands into his jacket. “Where does the lost puppy fit into those procedures?”

You scoff, and Remus tilts his head, brows furrowing again. “Are you calling me a liar?” you cross your arms.

“What? No, I’m just… well, if you did encounter a lost puppy with y/n, I might have to go check on her.” He mimics you, crossing his arms. Lips twitching in a way that is dangerous to both your heart and your, well, your lie. “She’s quite emotional when it comes to baby animals. In fact, the other night, she cried when we watched Dumbo—the live action.”

“Who doesn’t cry watching Dumbo?”

“Well, that’s true,” he brushes his hair away. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Your heart stutters. “Ask me?” you tilt your head, forcing levity to your tone. “I’m the one that ought to be asking questions here.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“What are you doing out this late? Again?”

Remus blinks, then again. As if recalibrating. He glances over your head towards your dorm, then to the side to the path he’s coming from—the posh neighborhood... Regulus’ house. 

“Walk me home?” he asks after a beat. “I can answer all the questions you want on the way. If,” he smiles, tentative and familiar all at once. “you promise to answer some of mine.”

“Huh?”

He starts walking, jutting his chin down the path to his flat building. You groan, shooting web towards the upcoming streetlight to follow after him. Remus is smiling to himself when you catch up, though it doesn't really reach his eyes. Pensive, almost. 

“Um… so?” A thwacking sound, then another. Remus watches your shadow on the pavement as he walks. “Why are you out so late?” you ask again. 

“Same reason you are,” he takes out his pack, putting a cigarette between his lips. “Was walking a friend home.”

Thud. You scramble to catch up, seeing you landed wrong, and a few feet behind. “Friend?”

“Yeah,” he nods, taking a long drag. “S’complicated.”

“Complicated… in a good way? Or a bad way?”

“Well... That depends on who you ask.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Remus huffs a laugh. “I thought this was a your turn my turn type of situation,” he glances sideways at you, smirking around the cigarette. 

You roll your eyes, then remember he can’t see you, then wave him off. “Alright, then. Ask away,” you jump, swinging close enough to the ground. “Just no personal questions,” you gesture at yourself. “for obvious reasons.”

“Right, of course.” Remus nods, taking a long drag. Like he’s finding the words. 

You’re starting to think he’s not actually going to ask you anything when he reaches for his backpack. He procures a small sandwich bag, a tad wrinkly you can barely make out the contents at first glance. Except, when you do, you’re glad you’ve decided to hover a few inches off the floor—because you would’ve surely fallen face first into the curb.

“Where d’you get that?”

“You tell me.”

You glance down at the bag, feeling your heart leaping all the way to your throat and struggling to function properly. Your note, from the other night, movie night—with webbing. Your webbing. How…?

Remus studies you silently, almost meticulously like he’s gauging your reaction. You don’t know why, or how, seeing you can’t even show any expression with the mask. 

“Oh, right!” you facepalm yourself, almost too harshly. He blinks in surprise, and you only scoff. “Right, this. Of course, silly girl, our friend.”

“What?”

“You see,” you point at the webbing. “I’ve given y/n some to use as… uh, tape. One time she… she ran out of tape for her prints!”  

“You gave her… this,” he points at the bag. “For tape?”

“Yup!” 

“But—”

“Honestly, I should have a talk with her about it! I specifically told her to use it carefully!” you click your tongue. “That girl, my god.”

“Okay… so, um,” he puts the cigarette back between his lips, raising the bag between you. Like you’re not acutely aware of its existence. “First, that’s… okay. Tape. She uses your web as tape… for some reason,” he takes a short drag, and you brace yourself for the upcoming question. “How did you know I was talking about y/n, though?”

A beat. 

Your brain freezes. A split second where nothing happens, just white noise. And Remus’ eyes staring right through you. Hell, right through your mask, if you really think about it.

You swallow thickly, glancing between him and the bag. Then realize you’ve taken too long to answer. “How?” you ask, then snort. “How could I not know? Look!” you point at the note. “That’s her handwriting!”

Remus must be reeling. Actually reeling, because he does look down at the note. Like he hasn’t seen your handwriting first hand, like you don’t see him nearly everyday and have studied together since you’ve met. 

“Right,” he blinks, eyebrows wrinkling. “Right, of course. I… keep forgetting you two are close.”

“Not that close.” You say quickly.

“Well, close enough that you can identify her handwriting,” he smirks. “And give her your… web stuff to use as tape.”

“Now who’s the one asking too many questions?”

He raises his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright!” he twists around, pocketing the bag back inside his backpack before continuing walking. “It was just a question.”

“Just a question, huh?” you jump, launching yourself upwards, hanging upside down from the streetlight a few feet away. “Who was that friend you were walking home?”

Remus laughs. “Ah, so that’s how it is, hm?”

You shrug. “You started it.”

He brings the cigarette back to his lips, looking down at his sneakers as he takes a longish drag. But doesn’t immediately speak after blowing the smoke out. “Promise not to tell?”

“Who would I tell?” you scoff. “Duke?”

“Who’s Duke?”

“The puppy… nevermind—I promise, yeah.”

“Uh.” Remus frowns, tapping at his cigarette. “Right, about your question. It’s complicated… he’s a friend now—or I thought he was, but we… dated. A few years ago.”

“Ah,” you force nonchalance into your tone, still dangling upside down. “Still got feelings?”

“Sort of,” he answers. “Not me, at least.”

You hold fast to the streetlight, unless you fall off. “No?”

“No. I…” he pauses, cutting you a quick glance. “I care about him, but not like that anymore. Not like… well,” he takes a step to the side, putting his cig out. “Not like someone else.”

“Someone else?”

“Hm,” he flicks the butt of his cig into the bin. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m not asking.”

Remus laughs. “Okay, then. My bad.”

You shift positions, pushing yourself up to sit on the streetlight instead. “Sorry.”

“What for?”

“Overstepping, I s’pose.”

“You didn’t,” he shakes his head. “Or at least not in a way that would make me uncomfortable.”

“Still…”

“You’re fine,” he looks around, looking positively torn about walking into his flat building or staying back a couple of minutes. “Just… um, can I ask you one last thing?”

Your heart stutters. “Sure.”

“Do you… when you’re out fighting crime lords and stuff, does the name Regulus Black ring a bell?”

Oh God. Did you leave a trail? You glance over your shoulder, out towards the nicest part of the city, then back at Remus. He’s staring back at you with a question in his gaze, but a worrisome divot between his eyebrows as well. 

“Uh… why do you ask?”

“It’s just…” he brushes his hair away, stalling. You swallow nervously, acutely aware of his every movement as he leans sideways over the post. “He’s… my friend’s brother and, well, I think he’s mixed up with the wrong crowd. Has always been, and now he’s dragging my friend with him.”

“Ah. Your… friend,” you fix the hood of your suit. “This friend you have, uh, sort of complicated… stuff with?”

He huffs a laugh. “Nothing passes by you, huh?”

“Well, they don’t call me Spidergirl for nothing,” you shrug. Remus almost mimics it, but the worry is still lingering on his stance. You lean over your arm, nearly laying down. “The name does ring a bell. He’s from a well-off family, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“Your friend too, I assume.”

“You’ve cracked the case.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to pinpoint who you’re asking me about,” you shift, looking around the street. Wondering if you should lie or… tell him the truth. 

Somehow, Remus manages to notice your hesitation. “Don’t lie to make me feel better.”

“What?”

“If he’s mixed up in dodgy shit, I want to know.”

“Why? So you can… step in and what?”

He tilts his head. “So he is involved in dangerous things.”

“I didn’t say that,” you hold onto the streetlight, sliding backwards until you’re hanging upside down again. You’ve found it easier to speak this way. “It’s just… well. I can just tell you that he’s not… involved… directly?”

“Directly? What does that even mean?”

“What I mean,” you repeat, crossing your arms. “Is that I don’t think he’s doing it ‘cause he genuinely enjoys it. Or that’s what I’ve gathered so far.”

Remus hums, contemplatingly. “What else have you gathered?”

You snort. “That’s a lot of questions about somebody you supposedly don’t have feelings for.” 

“What?”

“Yes, I’ve seen Regulus Black doing some dodgy shit. No, I don’t think he’s directly involved. I’ll keep you posted on the rest, anything else?”

“Hey—”

You shift, landing almost silently and a few feet away from him. The opposite direction to your dorm this time, you can’t risk it again. “Well,” you point at his flat building. “In you go.”

“I don’t—what?” he tries to step into your path, but you only flick your wrist up towards a building. But don’t jump yet. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s late. You shouldn’t be out,” you say instead, feeling your own voice wavering. Jesus fucking Christ. “Especially if you’ve been hanging out with… that bloke Regulus.”

Remus’ jaw tightens, studying you with a certain confusion that you don’t have the energy to try and hide away from this time. 

“Right. Of course.” He nods, taking one single step backwards. “Thank you for… walking me home, I’spose.”

“No problem,” you salute him. 

But Remus doesn’t take another step. He just… stares. “Can I ask you one last question?”

“Depends.”

“Earlier… you weren’t crying about that… lost puppy, were you?”

You look away, gaining momentum before jumping to climb the wall. “Goodnight, Remus.”

He reaches for a pen, hunched over a table as he scribbles. “Dear Eurydice,” he says, loud and commanding without losing the longing cadence of his character’s tone. “I wonder if you miss reading books in the underworld—”

From the seats, Xeno nods approvingly as he paces back and forth between the rows. You smile, busying yourself untangling a few cables. Honestly, you’ve seen this production and the rehearsals enough times to numb the feeling it caused you during the first read through. 

Sirius repeats the scene, pacing around with the pages before reaching for a prop book (seeing the official one for the play isn’t finished yet), glancing and smiling at the cover before setting it down on the ground. The lights follow each of his movements until the scene finishes, dimming the stage into darkness and silence.

“Incredible! Bravo!” someone claps from the entrance. It’s a miracle you don’t fall off the catwalk. Barty claps as he walks down the rest of the steps towards the stage. “You nearly made me bawl, handsome.”

Sirius flushes, brushing his hair away in what you know is bashfulness. “Thank you,” he picks the book up again, fiddling with it like it’s not just an old prop. An obvious tell of nervousness. “Not that I don’t want you here but… what are you…?”

“Came to pay you a little visit.” Barty smiles, leaning his crossed arms over the stage. Smirking up at Sirius in a way that makes your skin crawl.

You unhook your leg from the side of the catwalk to back away from the light, lest he notices you if he looks up. A few of the tech crew members continue their work, and you only push yourself up to walk out of the catwalk altogether. Movement picks up under you on stage as Xeno starts pointing out directions for the next scene and Sirius lowers himself to whisper to Barty. The hairs of your nape stand in every direction at the sight, wondering if you’d have time to slip out to go to your dorm and put on the suit before rehearsal is over. The idea of leaving Sirius alone with Barty for another second terrifies you more than you can even begin to explain.

“y/n!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you nod, crouching to collect your backpack and board from your cubby. “I’ll come extra early tomorrow—tech week and all. Got it.”

“You better be on time this time!” they call out as you rush out the door.

The wheels clatter as you set the board on the pavement, pushing yourself forward with such force you have to whistle to announce yourself lest you accidentally knock into someone. You fix the straps of your backpack over your shoulders with each push, feeling a light breeze hitting your face as you coast through campus and out the arts center. 

Of course, with your luck, it’s only a matter of time until something happens. You nearly crash into Remus when you turn the corner into campus.

“Oh, fuck—” he blinks in surprise, pulling the headphones down to his neck in the same beat you catch your breath. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” you say, still pathetically breathless. “Sorry, I—um…”

Remus’ lips twitch into an amused little smile, studying you over. “Going somewhere?”

“Hm?” you tilt your head, clearing your throat and forcing your expression to be calm and casual. Not at all panicked and nervous. “No. No, not going anywhere. Why? Are you?”

“I was actually on my way to the arts center.”

“You were?”

“Yeah, Sirius asked me to go.”

Alarms ring in your head. “What? He did?”

“Yeah,” he takes your elbow, hand moving up and away from your already healed wound to pull you to the side. He smiles at the few people walking past that you were definitely blocking from walking through. “He’s asked me to help with the play, for his part. Orpheus, right?”

“Now?”

Remus tilts his head. “Yes… are you okay, dove?”

“Me? Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? Actually,” you hop on your board again. “I was actually coming back from rehearsal. It’s done, no point in walking all the way there, right?”

“It’s over?” he asks, frowning. You nod rigorously, still trying to catch your breath and trying to calm the erratic thumping of your heart—even if you know Remus can’t hear it. He looks around. “That’s weird he said he still had a couple of—”

“Lines? Yeah, just a small quick run through of a scene. But we’ve left it for tomorrow,” you explain, a little too fast. Remus doesn’t have any qualms to hide his amusement this time, and you’re beginning to think your breathlessness is not from rushing across campus this time. You clear your throat. “Ran short ‘cause Barty came to visit him.”

His smile dims a tiny bit, but obvious to the trained eye. Yours specifically. “What?”

“Yeah, dropped by as a surprise.” You roll your eyes. 

Remus glances over you at the Arts building, then back at you. Behind his eyes a look that makes your insides twist. “Is that why you were running off?” he asks, the bemused tone returns as he crosses his arms. “So Sirius doesn’t rope you into an icebreaker with Barty?”

Not really. But you’ll take it.

You force out a laugh. “How’d you know?”

He huffs a laugh, hooking an arm through yours. “Come on then,” he gives them a small tug, and it takes you a beat too long to remember yourself. “Where were you going then?”

You give your board a small push, enough to stay by his side. “Huh?”  

“I assume you were on your way somewhere, with the way you nearly crashed into me.”

You scoff, a tiny bit nervous. “I wasn't rushing,” you wave him off. Remus’ lips twitch again, sideways in that knowing smirk of his. You look away. “I mean, not that I was rushing just… uh, how was your day?”

Remus laughs, actually laughs. Warmth spreads all the way to your cheeks and neck at the sound. “It was okay. Had to work on the final draft between classes but good overall… Do I want to know how yours went?”

“It went well,” you clear your throat, forcing the earnestness of your voice to stay casual. It’s becoming a harder task as the days go on, especially around Remus. You glance down at your backpack, then at him. An idea pops into your head, scrambling to keep him as far as possible from the theater department. “Actually, are you… free?”

“Now?”

“I mean, if not… That’s okay. Just—I have to stop by the darkroom labs,” you swallow thickly, a touch nervously as well. You accidentally push yourself a tiny bit harder, but Remus only holds fast at your linked arms to hold you back from rolling away. A well practiced routine. “I have to drop some new shots at the paper tomorrow and—well…”

“I can come with you, yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. I have the rest of the day free,” he nods. Then, bends slightly to the side. Smirking. “‘Sides, I’ve always wanted to see how the lab works.”

“You’ve never been?”

Remus shrugs. “You’ve never invited me,” he says, pushing out a long sigh. He cracks when your eyes widen. “I’m joking, dove—hey, where are you going?”

You shake your head in feigned upset. “You’re officially uninvited.”

“What!” he gasps. Though his offense is genuine, a laugh still escapes him, and it’s enough to make you drop your own act. Remus holds fast before you can push yourself away again. “Come back here.”

“Stop,” you laugh, but let him pull you back. The board rattles with the pavement as it rolls back. A little too far, and the ratty soles of your sneakers come slipping off. It’s a testament of how quick your defenses drop around Remus, because your reflexes react a bit too late. “Woah, shit, shit—”

Remus frowns slightly, tilting his head in recognition that is so fleeting you think you almost imagined it. It helps that he’s grabbing tightly onto you to let your brain focus on something else—you’re acutely aware of his arms around you, goosebumps at your skin and all the way to the baby hairs on your nape. His hand splays on your lower back, giving it a single push to help you stand back straight. 

“You,” he says, leveling you with a look. But not letting go yet. “are going to cause yourself another concussion.”

You blink, swallowing nervously. “Sorry, I… my board is faulty.”

“Like the pavement outside the Three Broomsticks?”

“Hm?”

Remus’ lips twitch, a stutter of movement before tilting his head slowly. To the side. Like muscle memory, you copy the movement. His eyebrows wrinkle, almost in recognition—

“Well, well… Isn’t this a cozy picture.”

You spring away from him, scrambling almost comically and dropping your arm from where you had been fisting at his jacket. Sirius’ smirk spreads, eyes glancing between you two like he’s enjoying every bit of what he’s walked into. It’s a shame the person next to him is Barty Crouch Jr.

“Hi, um. Sorry—didn’t see you,” your eyes flicker down to their joined hands. Panic tightens in your chest. “…coming.”

Barty only shakes his head, smirking. “S’okay, just came to visit Sirius. Pick him up for a little night out.” He says, in return, his eyes glance between you and Remus. “I take it you’re heading somewhere similar?”

“No.” Remus only says, then clears his throat. “Hi, sorry. Just… I’m walking y/n to the darkrooms, seeing rehearsal ran short.”

Sirius’ brows furrow. “What?” You shoot him a panicked wide eyed glance, and he parts his lips in realization. “Ah, yes. Right.”

“Darkrooms?” Barty asks, tone twinged with curiosity. His eyes zero on you, whether consciously or not, you look away. 

“I’m, um, studying Photography.”

“Really?”

“Hm.” You nod, glancing down at your board. Rolling it back and forth, back and forth. “I’m dabbing a bit on analog, so…”

“Oh, please. She’s being modest.” Sirius says, grabbing onto Barty’s arm with all the casualness and domesticity of the world. It rings alarms in your head again. “Every shot of Spidergirl you’ve seen on the papers? She took them.”

Your heart stutters, then slams and drops all the way to the floor. Even more when Barty’s gaze whips back towards you. 

Remus clears his throat. “Sirius.”

“What? Can’t I show her off?” he asks, genuinely offended. “I can fawn over y/n, too. You know, that’s not a Remus only thing.”

“I mean, it’s mostly just a matter of luck,” you add quickly. “And I’ve got the most rotten luck on campus, I’m always there when she’s wreaking havoc, so…” you make a vague gesture, mimicking a camera. And immediately cringe at yourself. “Anyway! Um, Remus?”

Thankfully or not, you still can’t quite pinpoint your feelings about this, Remus immediately understands the hurry of your tone. He hooks an arm around yours again. “Right, well… we still have a few stops on the way.”

Sirius turns to him. “Don’t think you’re off the hook yet,” he narrows his eyes playfully. “I still need to talk to you about my notes.”

“Of course.” Remus nods, though his eyes flicker, very fleetingly, towards Barty before returning to Sirius. “Tomorrow?”

“Oh, that’s perfect actually—we’ve got a longer rehearsal,” he starts to say, and you deflate in resignation. Especially at the way Barty nods as well, like he’s clued in about the rehearsal and will likely attend as well. Great. “Right, y/n?”

“Yeah,” you manage to say, patting yourself at the way it doesn’t tip too far into dryness again. “Full day, s’tech week.”

“Great. See you then?” Remus says, but is already tugging your arm. “Nice seeing you, Barty.”

To your utter horror, Barty flashes him a grin. Predatory almost. “You too, Lupin.”

You wave at them, feeling your heart on the ground when Barty tugs at their joined hands towards the opposite direction. You push the board away, rolling side by side with Remus and feeling a sudden wave of frustration hit you square in the chest.

“You okay?”

“Hm?” you blink, glancing back at him and meeting his worried gaze. “Sorry, yeah.”

“You went all quiet.”

“I know, sorry,” you shake your head, pushing at your board and locking your stance. Lest you slip away. “It’s just… that prick gives me the creeps.”

Remus nods, poking his tongue into his cheek in that way you’ve known as his need to rein his annoyance. He glances back at Sirius and Barty over his shoulder. “Me too.”

“I just…” you push, Remus follows. “I don't understand why he must be at every bloody rehearsal.”

“Well, I mean…” he shoves his hand inside the pocket of his jacket. “he does look smitten with Sirius but, yeah… seeing it from a professional standpoint, I’m sure it must be frustrating to have distractions at rehearsal, right?”

Again, not exactly what you mean. But you’ll take it.

Remus hums. “At least you don’t have to endure all that on your own tomorrow.”

“No?” you blink, and his lips twitch in amusement. “Oh, right. Sorry, you’re right.” Right… another thing to worry about. Remus being there. With Barty. At rehearsal. 

“Dove.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

He stops, and you do as well. Mostly because you might end up rolling too far ahead if you don’t. His eyes study you silently, and you’re acutely aware of every inch of your face the more he looks at you. Whatever he’s searching for, you’re not sure if he’s going to understand.

“Why don’t we have a movie night after this?”

You’re glad you’ve stopped, because this surely would’ve made you eat pavement again. “Huh?”

“Yeah,” he nods, jutting his chin towards the Photography building. “We haven’t had one of those in a while, and it’d help you relax a bit.”

“I’m relaxed,” you say, a tad too quickly. Remus only huffs a laugh as he opens the door for you. 

“Of course you are.”

You step on the end of your board to tuck it under your arm, knowing McGonagall would have you by the throat if she sees you skating inside the building again. Remus only waits for you to enter, and for your answer. In this distraction, you make the necessary mental calculations to make sure this doesn’t derail your nightly patrol plans. Maybe if you pretend there’s a Spidergirl emergency, or if your aunt has called about visiting as a surprise—

“Oh, where are you going?” 

“What?”

Remus tilts his head, but doesn’t offer another explanation. He reaches for your arm to guide you back, he points back at the door. The darkroom labs. 

“Sorry,” you laugh, brushing your hair away. “Um, don’t know where my head’s at. Sorry.”

“S’fine,” he glances down at your board. “Here, let me take that. I’m sure you need both hands for this.”

Or… maybe… patrol can be postponed tonight.

You shake your head to yourself, a very quick and fleeting movement that has Remus’ lips twitching into a little smirk. You gesture at him to follow you as you push the door open with your shoulder.

For a moment, you let yourself drift off into the task. Listen to his questions and answer honestly, roam around the lab with Remus trailing behind and letting him touch and ask everything that he finds curious about the process. When you slide the darkroom door to the side, it’s hard to rein your heart into functioning properly at the way his lips part.

What if… Spidergirl took a day off?

“No wonder you’re always here.” Remus murmurs, glancing around. He looks handsome under the red lights. “It’s bloody cool.”

“Yeah?” you breathe out. He nods, turning back to look at you. Of course, you look away, clearing your throat. “Right, so… I’m just here to pick up… these.”

He follows your finger, and it’s almost comical how his eyes widen. You’re so startled by his own reaction that a laugh bubbles out of you. “You took these?” he points at the finished ones, hanging with the rest of your peers’ work. But, apparently, yours must’ve stood out to him, because he points directly at yours. “y/n.”

“You like them?” you ask, in feigned nonchalance as you unclip them for inspection. “They’re a bit different from what I usually…”

“Are you joking?” he walks up to you, looking down at the prints. “They’re incredible.”

Your eyes flicker up, studying the side of his face and the way his lips remain parted in surprise, the little scar stretching across his dimple. He admires and studies every inch of the photographs, brushing his hair away; you know him well enough to understand it’s him restraining himself from touching them. You wonder if he can feel your heart pounding. 

He seems to feel your gaze, because his face turns and you’re acutely aware of your closeness. Your breath hitches… in the same breath his phone starts buzzing inside the back pocket of his jeans. 

You take a step back, turning around to fuss with the prints and get them ready to go. Remus pats at his pockets, clearing his throat.

“Um,” you point at the sign by the door. “You… sorry, you can’t use the phone… here.”

“Oh,” he blinks, following your finger. He walks to the door, looking like he wants to let the call go straight to voicemail. “Right. Sorry, I’ll be right back.”

“Sure,” you nod, thankful that he’s slipping out to notice the sudden squeak that escapes you. 

The door slides closed behind him, and you hunch over yourself and the edge of the metal table. You hit your forehead softly against the cold material, once, twice, thrice. Jesus fucking Christ—what’s the matter with you? Why must you always look away from your own rules when it comes to Remus? And why is Remus so hard to lie to?

You swallow the jumble of feelings trapped in your throat, taking the photographs before stepping out of the darkroom. Remus is just wrapping up his call, whispering into the speaker of his phone before noticing your presence. A strange, almost foreboding feeling overcomes you when he hangs up.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods, smiling and still feeling like it’s not entirely the truth. Jesus, is this how you always act around him? “Sorry, it was just Reg. He was asking me about… uh, grabbing a coffee but—well, anyway. What’s next?”

“Reg…?” you blink. “As in Regulus?”

Remus hums in assent. “Don’t worry. I told him I already had plans.”

“You did?”

“Of course,” he nods, glancing at the prints, then at you. “Unless—”

“No!” you say, a knee-jerk reaction. You clear your throat. “I mean, no. Of course, I just… forgot for a second. Must’ve been the chemicals.”

His eyes snap back to the darkroom, then at you. It’s almost pathetic how quickly relief blossoms in your chest when his lips twitch amusedly. “…The chemicals.”

“Hm, very strong chemicals. I’ve had headaches for days ‘cause of them.”

“y/n, you were there for 10 minutes.”

“See?” 

Remus huffs a laugh. “Alright, then. Seeing you’ve been affected by the chemicals, I s’pose we have to pick a mind numbing film, huh?”

“I think that’s a splendid idea,” you nod rigorously. Then cringe inward. Splendid? Really? Remus looks away, barely containing his smirk. You turn around. “Um, let me just… get these ready, yeah?”

“Of course. Do you mind if I watch?”

“Oh. Um,” you glance down at the prints. “Sure.”

You finish your quick printing process, almost rushing into it the more Remus asks questions and the closer he gets. It’s a miracle you don’t accidentally ruin them. 

When you’re done, and you’re walking towards his flat—him walking by your side and you pushing your board with feigned calmness—Remus goes on with film options, pros and cons of each and which one you should start with. You only nod along and answer with quips that make you either want to web your mouth shut or disappear altogether. 

You glance down at your clothes. “I have to shower, though,” you murmur, words heavy on your tongue and fighting to escape. 

She sighs, but doesn’t argue. Guilt gnaws at your insides, prompting you to round the sofa to sit by her side. You glance back at your laptop on the coffee table, fingers twitching to open and log into your account—spreadsheets and calculations and saving accounts that are waiting for you. Pandora carefully toes it away from your side, smiling knowingly when your gaze snaps back at her.

“How was your day?” 

“It was, uh…” you trail off, forcing yourself to focus. To clear the fog in your mind. “It was okay. Finally managed to finish that song Moody was stuck on—and did some work for the new Weird Sisters’ single.”

“Oh, that’s lovely. Are you allowed to speak about it?”

You nod, hands finding each other. She glances down at your fingers, already picking at your cuticles. “I think so, yeah. I mean… it’s just a rough draft, but m’sure we can salvage some for the final product.”

“I’m sure your guitar parts will be the best part of the song,” she says easily, and you know her well enough to know she’s buttering up for something. Pandora only hums, looking away and making a show of settling more comfortably on the sofa. “Anyhow, why don’t you shower while I order takeout? We can catch up on that show you like.”

“You want to watch Industry?”

Pandora shrugs. “I’m open to finding new hyperfixations.”

You huff a quiet laugh. “Let’s see if you think that when we get to the final season.”

“Oh, please—I’ve lived with you and Reg for nearly five years. Nothing can scare me at this point.”

“Hold that thought.”

You stand, already reaching to undo your hair, carding your fingers to relieve your tension headache on your way to the bathroom. As you walk past the entrance, toeing your boots off, there’s a knock at the door. 

“Oh, God—did you order food beforehand?” you laugh, mostly amused and mildly surprised.

“What?”

You roll your eyes, opening the door ready to greet the delivery driver and coming face to face with your boyfriends instead. Sirius pushes himself to stand straight, not quite waiting until words come out before wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. 

“Oh, um. Hi?” you blink, accepting his hug with one tight squeeze before he’s stepping back. You glance between them in confusion, and they do the same with a funny look. “What are you…”

“Hi, dove,” Remus says easily, kissing the corner of your lips seeing it’s the only available patch of skin he can kiss with Sirius still fully not letting go of you. “Do you still need a couple of minutes?”

“What?” you blink. Apparently, the fog in your mind hasn’t dissipated at all. “What do you mean?”

Sirius steps back, lips twitching with amusement. “Our date?”

Your breath stutters, and so does your heart. There’s a stretch of silence where the panic is the only thing that you’re allowing yourself to feel. Nearly overriding your guilt.

“Fuck, fuck—I’m so sorry,” you turn around, nearly scrambling back into your flat. “Come in. I’m really sorry, I promise I didn’t forget it’s just—I thought it was tomorrow. We said Saturday, didn’t we?”

Pandora watches you walk in and out of your room, and the sitting room, collecting clothes and stepping into her room to dump the ones you think are hers. “Today’s Saturday, love,” she supplies quietly, shifting to turn towards the door. “Hi, boys.”

“Hi.” Sirius answers, just barely audible as he follows after you. Quick to sense the cloud of anxiety and stress that clings to you with every step. Remus only steps inside calmly, closing the door and toeing his own shoes off. 

“Hi, Pandora,” says Remus. 

Pandora only flashes him a knowing smile, nodding her head towards the hallway before turning back to her phone. Remus needn’t have to be told twice, he starts towards your room where he can begin making out the sounds of your breathless arguments against Sirius’ steady and logical ones.

“Hey, it’s okay—shit. Careful.” He tries to say, crouching down to pick up the crate of records you nearly stumble with. “Love, hey. Come here.”

“No, it’s not okay. My god, I’m really sorry,” you only answer, already stepping away from him as you struggle to shrug off your jumper to put on a new one. It’s in this moment of distraction that Remus accosts you from taking another hurried step towards your dresser. “Remus—”

His hands coast up from your elbow to your shoulders, warm and gentle against your skin. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” his voice is immense with patience. Even as you shake your head, Remus only takes your face in his hands, forcing your gaze up to meet his calm expression. Not an ounce of anger of disappointment like your mind is trying to lie to you. “Hey, look at me.”

“Remus, I have to get ready—”

“The date can wait, there’s no rush. I promise you it’s okay,” his thumb sweeps at your cheek, eyes cataloguing a path from your wide eyes to the way you simply can’t catch a breath and hold it long enough to relax. “Breathe.”

“I—”

“Breathe, please.” 

You swallow thickly, forcing yourself to inhale and exhale. It sounds like it takes an effort, and the guilt gnaws at your insides when Remus sends Sirius a look over your shoulder. You hug your elbows, suddenly acutely aware that you’re in nothing but your old balconette and corduroy trousers—it’s a testament of how upset they must be if Sirius hasn’t joked about trying to lure him into bed. You glance back at him, trying to decipher his mood.

Sirius seems to catch your eyes, because he sighs deeply and pats at the spot next to him on your unmade bed. Remus only gives your cheek one loving squeeze before dropping his arms, and you wordlessly walk over to Sirius’ open arms. Feeling a tiny bit embarrassed and a whole lot guilty.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, accepting the jumper he hands you to shrug it on. “I promise I didn’t forget it’s just… I lost track of time I s’pose.”

“I know, and it’s okay, sweetheart. Truly,” he brushes your hair away and out of the neckline of your jumper. His jumper, really. “Are you okay, though?”

You nod, even before you can fully process what he’s asking you. “Me? Of course.”

His mouth ticks to the side, amused and knowing at once. You let your eyes catalogue his face, gauge his reactions and find the disappointment that simply won’t come. Sirius only cups your face in his hands, guiding you closer and staring straight into your eyes. He smells fresh and handsome like sandalwood, like he got all ready for this date. For you. And you forgot.

“Are you okay?” he asks again, gentle but firmer. Searching for the real answer. 

“Yeah.”

From your other side, the bed shifts. Remus’ presence is just as welcoming as it is unsettling as he sets a hand on your leg. You glance down, watching as his thumb sweeps up and down in grounding motions.

Your phone buzzes, and it’s almost comical how quickly you stand to reach for it from the back pocket of your trousers.

AM: Need a guitarist for a newly signed artist. Mostly demo. You in?

YN: yea i’ll be th

“Alright, give it here.” Sirius says, taking the phone from your hands before you can even finish typing. 

You frown. “What’s your problem?”

“What’s my problem?” he repeats, tone and face expressing nothing but disbelief. “y/n, you’re the one who forgot what day it is. Not me,” he glances at the phone. “And you’re accepting a job mid conversation—mid conversation!”

“Give me my phone back.”

Sirius has the gall to scoff. “Yeah, fat chance. I’m keeping this.”

You exhale sharply, too far deep in your denial to see the worry seeping from his eyes, his movements and the way he simply won’t stop glancing down at the phone. 

“You’re unbelievable—both of you. You can’t keep my phone like a prison warden. What the fuck is wrong with you, Sirius?”

“Me? You’re asking me, when you’re the one overworking yourself into oblivion?”

“Oh, please,” you scoff, already stepping away from between them to collect your clothes. Putting them back on. Like you’re on your way out again. “It’s just one session.”

“And last night? Last week? Today?” He watches you move, tossing the phone into your bed and immediately changing tactics to stand in front of the door. You tap at the divot between your eyebrows, once, twice, like you’re channeling all your patience. Sirius’ eyes glance back at Remus, in realization. “Is this about the contract money?”

“Oh my god—of course you’d think that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You huff a low, almost bitter laugh, already running around checking the notes on your desk. Your notebook, a few loose pages, finger pointing out the door towards the living room—where your laptop is. Your lips part and close like you’re listing things off to not forget before going out again. 

“You know what,” you mumble, brushing your hair away before turning to him. “We’ll talk about this… whatever this is later, okay? I need to be—”

“You need to be here.” Remus says, firmer now. “Moody can wait.”

“Well, not really no. Seeing you won’t let me answer the bloody message—he’s probably off searching for someone else,” you snap, an unconscious reaction that has your heart twisting with guilt. But you glance back at your phone, still in Sirius’ hand, and your frustration fires on once again. “So, no. He can’t wait.”

“y/n, what the fuck?”

“No, what is wrong with you?” you frown. “How can you be so… so calm with this? How can you go on and—and tell me off for working to make up for that bloody contract debt? I’m doing my part—”

“You’re overworking yourself. That’s what you mean?”

“I’m working. Period—if I have to take a few extra sessions to cover the quota, so what?” you cross your arms, fighting against yourself to keep the lump in your throat hidden, pushed down and down so you can speak. “The debt won’t pay itself if I sit back and hope for the best.”

“The debt is paid, y/n. The settlement money paid it, and Regulus put his part and—”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you don’t get it. You don’t—just… let me go to this session, and we’ll—”

Sirius steps forward, seemingly done hearing this argument. “And we’ll what? Reschedule this conversation? Make sure it fits into your schedule? Your little spreadsheet?”

You suck in a breath, sharp enough that it rattles your insides. The guilt dissipates slowly, morphing into something worse, resignation. “You know what? Keep the phone, whatever. Just move,” you side step him, reaching for the doorknob and slipping out before he can react. “I won’t even bother to explain when you clearly don't understand.”

“y/n—”

“Forget it.”

You press your notebook and pages closer to your chest, walking the rest of the stretch towards the door in eerie silence. From the sofa, already munching on overheated takeaway, Pandora glances up with wide eyes. 

“I’ll be back later, yeah?” you say, crouching down to put on your boots. A tiny bit harsher than usual.

Pandora, of course, immediately notices this. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you wave her off, standing straight to take back your jacket. Your scarf, your earphones—except you don’t have a phone. Your guitar, the pages. You check everything is in order, a silent routine. “I’ll be back later.”

From the deep end of the hallway, the door opens again and you hurry on shrugging your jacket on. The lump in your throat grows and grows the closer the steps get. With some struggle that you pretend is just your usual routine before a shift, you manage to open the door and walk outside with your guitar case.

Except, as you walk closer and closer to the elevator, the door doesn’t click shut. And the steps follow.

“y/n.” Remus says, a silent plea. “Hey, look at me.”

You feel stupid, and childish and petty and embarrassingly emotional. You don’t answer, but when you press the button again, it’s too harsh and an answer in itself. 

“y/n—”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Just forget it, Remus.”

“I called Moody, he said it’s not urgent. He’ll wait for you—just, come back inside for a minute?”

“Why? So you two can keep making fun of me?” you shake your head, forcing your tone to stay even. Of course, it catches in the last words. “Of my little spreadsheets?”

“That’s not what he meant.”

“Didn’t he?” you swallow thickly, feeling the traitorous lump closer and closer from snapping loose. You exhale deeply, a shaky breath that you try to hold back. “Just… forget it, please.”

“How can I forget it, look—you’re hurt, and I don’t want you to go outside like this,” he dares to take a step closer. “I know you’re scared, I know why you’ve created the spreadsheets, and it’s okay. That’s okay, I promise you—but… this? The extra shifts, and the overworking?”

You rub your lips together. “I have to do this, Remus,” you press the button again. Harder and harder each time. “You don't understand.”

“Yes, but I’m trying,” he reaches for your face, immense in his gentleness and patience. Mildly surprised when he finds damp skin. “We’re trying, dove.”

“I just…” you suck in a breath. “I just… I don’t know what to do.”

He frowns. His other hand follows, cupping your face and guiding it away from anyone that can step out of the elevator. “About…” he hesitates, thumbing your tears away. “About the contract?”

“And the debt and… and how can we go on with everything else when we will end up owing more money to the label?” you whisper. “I… I don’t like not knowing, it’s—” your shoulders slump, still with fear of being misunderstood. 

Remus nods, guiding your face closer to kiss your forehead. “Come back inside, yeah? We’ll talk about it.”

He curls an arm around your shoulders, taking your guitar with the other and guiding you back inside the flat. Pandora has probably sequestered herself to her room for privacy, and the kitchen remains a clutter of open and closed cabinets as Sirius walks around preparing… whatever he’s doing. He pauses when the door clicks shut behind you. 

“y/n,” he breathes out, already walking towards you with a troubled expression, cracked open with guilt. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t… have said that. I shouldn’t have made fun of you—I’m sorry, love,” he takes your hands, shaking as much as yours do. “I didn’t realize they meant that much to you and I’m sorry.”

“I know,” you nod. All that’s left to do, really. 

His shoulders slump. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” you nod again, feeling his thumb stroking the back of your hand. Like a silent coaxing, a desperate coaxing. “I just—I like that they help me stay organized, to keep control. I don’t… they’re not just a pastime for me, Sirius.”

“I know that now, love. I’m really sorry.”

You glance back towards the sofa, the coffee table, where your laptop remains unopened. Sirius follows your gaze, then your steps as you round the living room to set it on your lap.

His eyebrows knit together in realization when you turn the screen at him, at all the rows and colors and what they mean—meticulously prepared and organized, every session, every shift, every earning and how it was spent and where it could go to in the future. He can’t even imagine how long this must’ve taken, probably days, weeks, or months. Since the first time they noticed your overworking tendencies coming back—the day after the meeting Kingsley and Regulus broke the news about the contract debt.

What catches his eye, though, and immediately grabs his heart and clenches painfully, is the last row at the very bottom. S&R Moving in savings, and the date—the first ever argument between you about the future of your relationship, about moving in together, about sharing expenses and forming a life in one place. Even with the impending uncertainty of the settlement, the lawsuit and the contract, they had broached the subject out of practicality to lessen your burden. You had turned it down with a similar argument, but now, apparently, the idea still lingered in your mind.

“I saved everything I could from our first big paycheck, and from my time at the mailroom and the pub—but,” you glance back at the screen. “If we did another album, or single, or went on tour again, it wouldn’t have been enough to pay another debt.”

Sirius nods, but it’s Remus who speaks first. “So you’ve been preparing, in that case?”

“Yeah.”

He nods, looking back at the spreadsheet before reaching for the laptop. He shuts it closed with one calm movement, setting it back on the coffee table before reaching for your face again. And this time, you fully let him.

“I understand why you did it, but I wish you hadn’t kept this away from us for so long, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” you rub your lips together, trying not to glance down at your hands. Fingers fiddling and picking around your cuticles. “And I’m sorry for pushing you away, I didn’t mean to.”

“We know you didn’t.” 

“We just worry.” Sirius murmurs, forcing his gaze away from the laptop to look at you. 

You nod once, throat constricting and not at all surprised when a sniffle escapes you. Like a chain reaction, your tears follow.

Remus sighs deeply, and a lot heartbroken as you shift, face dropping to the crook of his neck while tears cascade silently down your cheeks. His hand curls around you, thumb sweeping at each tear that falls with immense patience. Sirius wiggles your fingers open, stopping yourself from picking harder at your cuticles and to bring your joined hands to his chest—except, you beat him to it. A halfway hug that is more desperate rather than comforting. It works to crack his heart open, though.

Remus presses a quick kiss to your eyebrow before guiding your face away, thumb stroking the remaining dampness he finds on your cheeks. “Why don’t we stay in tonight, hm?”

“But, what about—”

“Moody said he’s already signed you in for the session.” He explains immediately, gentler than firm this time. “For tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Hm,” he nods, dropping his hands to the sides of your neck. “And actually needs an in-studio bassist as well, so we’ll go tomorrow, yeah? Tonight we rest.”

You glance between them, seemingly torn but without any energy to argue. “Okay… okay, yeah.”

“Perfect,” he kisses your cheek again before standing up. “I’ll get started on takeaway, yeah?”

“But—”

“What he means,” Sirius says, tucking you into his arms. “is that Pandora already ordered takeaway, he’s just heating them up.”

Your lips twitch, and Sirius kisses the corner of your mouth with something akin to relief. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer and closer until you’re nearly draped on his lap. 

“She also mentioned something about catching up on one of your shows?” he asks easily, finger tracing idle patterns on your hip.

“She did?” you frown, glancing towards the hallway, then at Sirius. “Wait, you want to watch Industry?”

Sirius makes an amused sound. “Of course I want to watch your little freak show,” he drops a kiss on your shoulder. “I must know where you get all your ideas.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. The movement makes the last tear still trapped in your eyelashes to roll down, but Sirius intercepts it with a kiss before it can reach your cheekbone. 

Remus comes back with the foam containers, narrowly missing them from tipping on the coffee table. He settles with a little tentative smile as Sirius starts going through the TV options. 

He shakes his head, pretending he hadn’t been staring daggers at the back of Ron’s head. “It doesn’t count,” he says easily. And a little petty, as well. That’s what Sirius gets for keeping him in the dark. 

Sirius gawps, genuinely wounded before turning to you. It’s almost comical how his smirk spreads, both taunting towards Remus and knowing at you. “And what does my lovely girl think?” he leans over his broom, arms crossed and irritatingly handsome. “Her opinion ought to matter the most, seeing she’s so interested in Quidditch as of lately.”

To your credit, you only shrug. “I didn’t really pay attention. Sorry, dad.”

Harry flies lower, side by side now. “Why didn’t you?” he glances at Sirius, copying his stance over his broom. “S’the least you can do, seeing you stole our star player.”

At your side, a tiny bit closer than a friend would do, Ron blushes. “Fuck off.”

Ginny snorts. “Star player? Ron?”

“He meant me, Ginny,” you tilt your head, smirk spreading at the way Ron rolls his eyes at you. Fondly. Scooting a tiny bit closer. You wave them off. “Alright, then. Scurry off, you’re still in a tie.”

“Ah, so you have been paying attention.” Sirius points at you, eyes narrowed. “You just like being a petty little contrarian.”

You shrug. “Maybe.”

Sirius juts his chin at Remus, smirking. “She’s just like you, Moons.”

Remus only sends him a mock smile from his seat, tucked away under the shadow in the little garden table. His book remains open but the pages yet to be flipped, too engrossed enjoying the day to focus on the story. Across from him, Lily hums knowingly, flipping a page of her own book with a little smile.

“What?”

“Hm?” she glances up. Even if she’s wearing sunglasses, he can spot the mischief in her eyes. “Oh, nothing.”

“Lily.”

“They’re adorable, s’all,” she flips a page. “He’s very sweet with her, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he’s a sweet kid,” he shrugs, but his eyes still flicker up to where you’re laying down on the picnic blanket. Still engrossed in whatever Ron is talking about and definitely not in the forgotten, open book on your lap. “That’s still a bit much, don’t you think?”

Lily laughs. “Remus, relax. They’re not even that close.”

“They look close enough to me.”

“Ginny told me Ron has been pining after her since that time they went to the Quidditch cup.”

“What?” his heart stutters. “Since then?”

“Oh, please. It wasn’t that long ago.”

“Last year!”

Lily closes her book, looking far too pleased with herself as she leans back. “Makes you think, right?” she reaches for her glass, ice mostly melted. “They’re finally getting their moment.”

Remus scoffs, but immediately schools his expression when you walk up to them. Book tucked under your arm and cheeks flushed enough to know something transpired during your hushed conversation. You glance back to the match over your shoulder, watching as Ron joins after taunting and joking from his sister and Harry.

“Hi, love.” Lily smiles, setting her feet away from the empty seat for you. “How’re you feeling?”

“Heaps better,” you nod, sitting between them and setting your book down. The bookmark hasn’t been moved. Lily sends your dad a wide look, almost smug that, of course, you catch. “What?”

“Nothing. Just glad you feel better. Right, Remus?”

Remus nods, smiling back at you. “Of course. Would you like more lemonade, my darling?”

“Oh, um, sure. Thanks, Da.”

He smiles, watching as you settle back, eyes occasionally glancing back at the match. You tap at the spine of your book, repetitively and almost in a thoughtful manner. Remus recognizes it enough to know there’s something you’re bracing for.

“Ron asked me out,” you say quietly, between sips of lemonade. 

“What!?”

You turn quickly, eyes wide to find a comically large pair of grey eyes staring back at you. Sirius points at you with a gaping mouth, but no words come out. 

“Dad!” you turn back on your chair, dropping your face to your hands. “Oh my god.”

Sirius jogs the rest of the way to your table, finger still pointing at you. Remus only rolls his eyes, handing him his own lemonade to drink up instead of saying something incriminating out loud again. 

Lily smiles. “That’s nice, lovely. When?”

“Um,” your glance back at your dads. “Tonight.”

“Tonight?” Sirius asks louder, and this time, his volume does catch the attention of the rest as they stand a few feet away. “What do you mean—”

“Sirius.” Remus sighs. 

“Dad,” you say simultaneously, shrinking down and down on your chair. “Quiet, please?”

“I won’t be quiet. You can’t just drop this bomb on me and go!” he sips at his lemonade, nearly choking with the haste he does to swallow it down. “What will you wear?”

You blink. “What?”

“Yeah, we haven’t got much time to prepare.”

“Wait. You’re not…” you glance between them, face now full of confusion. Remus’ heart aches when you tilt your head slightly to the side, looking more and more like Sirius with that tiny frown. “Is it okay…?”

Remus nods immediately, clearing his throat and sending Sirius a chiding look to stay quiet. He turns to you. “Of course it’s okay, darling girl.”

You nearly melt with relief. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he smiles, reaching over the table to squeeze your hand. “You feel better to go, though?”

You nod, a tiny movement that is mostly out of excitement rather than to reassure him. Remus huffs a laugh. “Yeah. I feel better.”

“Heaps better, you mean?”

Sirius sets his lemonade down. “Um, I rather not ask about what you two are secretly talking about,” he turns around, waving at James to indicate he’s pulling out of the match. “But we’re talking about that later. Come on, my love—we’ve got things to do.”

“Now?”

“Well, yes?” your dad’s tone borderlines on disbelief, reaching for your hand to help you up. Careful, always careful. “Lils, you coming?”

Lily pushes her chair back hurriedly. “I’m coming!”

Remus laughs, watching you being shepherded inside to prepare for this date. He doesn’t miss the way you look behind your shoulder, lips already twitching up in that smile he’s seen more and more of since summer started—around Ron, specifically. His eyes flicker back to the match, where Ron is waving back at you from the skies. Looking as excited and positively giddy as you do.

You feel the gravel scratching your skin before you can realize you’ve fallen, board flying away with the force of your fall. “Fuck. Shit—” you push yourself to stand, but not to your full height. You flick a wrist towards your board to catch it before it can continue rolling down the street. Even if it’s empty. It certainly won’t survive another accident.

“Jesus fucking christ,” you exhale sharply, looking down at your elbow and feeling the sleeve of your jumper slightly damp. Well, so much for your injury free night. 

At the thought, your head snaps up, immediately ignoring the stinging sensation and the way it morphs into pure, unadulterated dread at what you see. Your friends, laughing and joking around no other than Barty Crouch Jr. And worse—him laughing back. Engaging. Letting Sirius play with his hands and tuck his hair and openly flirt with at the table. Wait—

You look back down at your phone, scrolling up your open conversations and text messages.

SB: attention 

SB: free pints on me 2nite at 3 broomsticks 

SB: pls pls pls don’t miss it 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whisper, each word leaving with more urgency than the previous one. Of course. Of course Barty is off duty tonight—he’s being paraded around with Sirius, as his new fling or whatever they’ve got going on. Of course. “Fuck.”

You chance a quick glance inside the pub, heart clenching with dread before slamming into your ribcage as a person comes back from the bar. Jesus fucking Christ—one thing after another. Regulus sets the brand new pints on the table, looking unusually calm and relaxed despite the times you’ve seen him before. Lately closer to Barty than Sirius, to your own nightmarish luck. And then, of course, he slides into the booth next to Remus. 

YN: james james james james james jamesjaens

You glance back up, catching the way James is already picking up his phone and angling himself away from any prying eyes. Your fingers type to their own accord, mostly driven by panic.

YN: i’m outside. pls come out

Inside, James scrambles to get out of the booth, and you groan.

YN: don’t be so obvious my god.  

YN: and DONT tell anyone i’m here please

The bell chimes, letting the warmth of the heater travel through the door. “Yeah, just something I… yeah. Be right back,” a pause. The door clicks shut. “y/n?”

“Down here.”

James looks around, then down at the pavement where you’re hunched down over your knees. He cuts a quick glance back at the window, making sure he’s not within sight before lowering himself to the pavement, you sigh deeply as he tries to crawl the rest of the way to you. Meanwhile, you try to ignore the fact that this is definitely an odd sight to anyone that might be walking outside or across the street—two people crouching down a pub window? 

“What’s wrong?” he whispers.

“What the fuck is Barty Crouch Jr. doing here?” you whisper back, though a tad harder. Panicked, mostly. 

“Who? Oh.” James shifts, freeing a hand to fix his glasses. “Sirius invited them.”

“Them?”

“Junior and Reg.”

You blink, aghast. “Junior and Reg—Fucking hell, since when are you lot on a nickname basis?”

“They’re nice.”

“No. James, listen to me. Barty Crouch Jr. may look nice, and laugh and whatever the fuck he’s been telling you—but he’s not nice. At all.”

“Well, he and Reg—”

“And don’t even get me started on Regulus Black.”

He frowns, turning his head back to study you. “Wait…” he levels you with a look, one you return with far more deadpan than his. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous? What—James, I need you to listen to me,” you reach for his shoulders, stopping him from trying to take a peek inside again. “Those two are not nice. They’re dangerous people. They can’t be here.”

“What?” he blinks. “How can they not be nice? You’ve met Reg—”

“Yes, I’ve met ‘Reg’, and Regulus Black. And Barty Crouch Jr,” your whispers grow sharper and sharper the longer he takes to grasp the intensity of the conversation. “As Spidergirl.”

“Wait—” his head whips back to the window, where Sirius is whispering closer and closer into Barty’s ear as the conversation carries around the table. Completely smitten and in their own bubble. “He doesn’t look…”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“Maybe he’s not really part of the Clan, y/n. He doesn’t strike me as…”

“Evil?” you finish off, a bit sharp and in a way that you immediately feel guilty at the way he frowns. But your panic overrides your guilt. “James, him and his men nearly blew up a bank just last week. Held people hostage, for fuck’s sake.”

“But that was his father, how can—”

“Oh my god,” you twist, reaching for your board. “I can’t do this right now. And they can’t see me, so tell them I got sick or something, please.”

James sighs. “y/n, wait.”

You’re about to stand, nerves spiked enough to miss the way his tone changes. What you don’t miss, though, is the sound of steps shuffling towards the door. The bell chimes again.

“Thanks, I'll be back—oh. Dove?”

You screw your eyes shut, letting your head drop to your knees. Scrapped, too. For fuck’s sake.

Remus immediately plucks the cigarette from his lips, not thinking twice about walking towards you and crouching down. “What happened? Are you okay?” his eyes study a meticulous path from your face to your shoulders, they linger a tad longer on your arms and knees. “Did you fall?”

“Um,” you rub your lips together, forcing your gaze to stay down and not on him. Or your elbow or knees. “Yeah.”

He reaches for your elbow, turning it to the side and guiding it towards the light. James winces, just noticing the blotch of blood that has stained your jumper—the one you deliberately picked and fixed for tonight. You drop your head to your knees again, resigned and not at all caring about how this can be interpreted. James, of course, sighs like he understands.

But Remus misunderstands completely, and somehow it’s the reaction that aches the most. “Oh, that was a brutal fall. Let’s get you inside,” he helps you up, taking your board as well. “M’sure Sirius has a kit somewhere.”

You still, casting James a panicked glance. “Um, no, don’t worry. I’m okay, Remus—really…” you falter, in the same beat Remus does when he glances down at your board. Sticky with webs where you tried to stop it from rolling into traffic. Your heart stutters. “Ran into Spidergirl on the way. You know her.”

He glances at you. “What?”

“I mean, not that you personally know her but—well, she’s always leaving a mess behind and all,” you swallow nervously. “All that.”

Remus glances at James, then back at you. Million questions flashing across his face before he shakes his head, setting them aside as he turns to you. “Let’s get those treated.”

James’ eyes widen in raw panic. “Um, Remus. I think—actually…”

You exhale deeply, and in resignation as well. Remus shakes the webbing off your board, frowning in lingering confusion before he opens the door for you. Even with every instinct screaming at you to not step inside, a small push at your lower back is enough to lower any of your remaining defenses. Damn Remus.

James only nods reassuringly at you, already reaching for his car keys. Just say the word, he mouths at you. 

Sirius perks up when he sees you walk in, scrambling to stand and not at all caring at the way he startles Barty and the entire table as he beelines towards you. His smile dims when his eyes flicker down to your scrapped up knees, then at the board tucked under Remus’ arm.

“y/n,” he sighs, exasperatedly fond. But mostly exasperated. “Again?”

“I’m… sorry?” you hesitate, trying and forcing your gaze to stay on him and not on the two figures you can make out the silhouettes of over his shoulder. “And sorry I’m late.”

He waves you off. “Late? Please, this is the earliest you’ve ever been since we met. Oh, speaking of,” he hooks an arm around yours, already dragging you deep into the pub and missing both the wince on your face and your very obvious nerves. “I want you to meet someone.”

“Now? Sirius, my elbow is bleeding.”

“Yes, yes, it’ll be quick. I promise, then I’ll go fetch the kit while you get to know each other.”

I rather not, you think to yourself. You must have made a sound that exposes your train of thought, because Remus huffs a laugh behind you. Already turning towards the bar to fetch the kit. You watch him go with barely contained panic. Then back at James, whose eyes are so wide it borders on comical. I have to go now, you mouth at him.

“Barty, this is y/n. The mastermind behind every fabulous shot you’ve seen of me at the theater department and the only one I trust with the lighting.” Sirius explains. You’d feel very emotional and touched by his introduction if he weren’t introducing you to the devil himself. “And Reg—you’ve met y/n, right?”

“I have, yes. Nice seeing you again.” Regulus says, stretching a hand out to you. His eyes glance down at your elbow when you stretch it back. “Oh, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just fell off my board, nothing too serious,” you manage to say, somewhat calmer and stalling to not turn towards Barty. You can already feel his piercing gaze all over you. “Um, nice meeting you, Barty.”

His eyes snap back at you, and he flashes you a grin. “Likewise. I’ve heard quite about you, Sirius won’t stop raving about you.”

“He does?”

“Of course, I do. I worship the ground you walk on,” he glances down at your knees. “and fall on, too. Apparently.”

You swat his arm away. “Prick,” you grumble. Then realize who is actually in front of you, silent and scrutinizing despite the charismatic demeanor they’ve put up with your friends. “I, um, I’ve heard many things about you, too.”

Barty leans back, lips twitching in a smirk you recognize. It makes your skin crawl. “Have you, now?”

“Why are you tossers doubting my ability to speak great things about you?” Sirius muses out loud, already making himself comfortable on the booth. Nearly on Barty’s lap. “Yes, I have talked about you with everyone.”

“Even when he was in denial about your date.” Marlene quips, still busy toying with the lemon slice at the bottom of her pint. “Couldn’t shut his sodding mouth about you.”

Sirius frowns. “I don’t think that I appreciate you throwing me under the bus, either.”

Marlene answers back, then Mary joins, then Lily—and conversation goes on like normal. Like any other get together with friends. You swallow nervously, trying to ignore the way your senses keep screaming at you, acutely aware of the set of eyes still sneaking glances at you. 

A hand, gentle and steady, flattens over your lower back. “Dove?” Remus’ voice breaks through your rushing thoughts, making you snap your head towards him. 

At the table, Regulus lights up nearly in the same beat you do. He slides back to his previous spot, like he had been saving Remus’ spot during his time away. Your heart clenches at this, in panic and an unidentified feeling you can’t entertain right now, you don’t know. 

Remus only nudges you, giving your back a gentle push towards the bar. But he only sends the table a small smile. “We’ll be right back, yeah?”

A chorus of agreements follow, and you only manage to catch James’ panicked gaze desperately trying to get your attention. Don’t leave me with them, he mouths. You hear him clearly, but Lily only frowns at him in confusion and it’s almost pathetic how quickly he scrambles to flash her an innocent grin. 

“Alright.” Remus pats the barstool, already going through the kit and taking out plasters and ointments. In his other hand a damp cloth. “Let’s see.”

“Remus,” you murmur, equal parts embarrassed and fond. “You don’t have to. I’ve fallen many times, I won’t bleed out.”

“I know.” He says easily, cleaning your knees first. “Still, wouldn’t want to take any chances, hm? ‘Sides,” he pauses, eyes flickering quickly at you. “It looked like you needed a minute.”

At this, you feel the floor giving out under you. Remus only devotes himself to finish cleaning the wounds, not speaking and giving you exactly what he thinks you want. A minute.

“Was it that obvious?”

“A bit,” he concedes, standing straight to take the ointment. His lips twitch, sending you a sideways smile. “Want to get out of here as soon as we’re done?”

“What?” you blink. You’re beginning to suspect you hit your head with the fall. ”But I thought… What about Regulus?”

“What about him?” Remus asks, bending a little to spread the ointment on your marred skin. 

“I thought you were, um,” you brush your hair away. Remus’ eyes flicker up, lingering on your stained sleeve before returning back to your knees. You try to find your courage. “Um… with Regulus?”

Remus huffs a laugh. “That ship has sailed, y/n. We’re just friends now.”

You cut a quick glance towards the table, noticing the way Barty and Regulus keep sneaking glances towards the bar as well. “Still…” you hesitate, head snapping back to Remus as he stands straight again. “It looked like…”

“Like we were chatting? Yeah,” he points at your arm, and you wordlessly push the sleeve up. “He was actually asking me about you.”

“About me?”

“Yeah. Just the usual stuff, how you’ve been and things of the sort,” he murmurs, divot forming between his eyebrows as he takes your arm. “Ow, y/n…”

“S’fine, barely hurts.”

Remus’ lips twitch, almost in recognition. To both your words and the stubbornness of your tone. “Having a high pain tolerance doesn’t mean you must test it every day, dove.”

“The pavement is faulty, and I was distracted.”

“Were you now?” he asks, cutting you a quick glance when you wince. “Sorry—why were you distracted? Were you texting and skateboarding again?”

“Um,” you brush your hair away. “Yeah.”

He only laughs, knowing and fond at once. The sound is enough for the hand tightening around your heart to loosen, a nervous chuckle bubbles out of you. Both at his closeness and the tenderness of his touch, tending to your marred elbow and spreading ointment with never ending patience. He flattens a plaster on your skin, thumb sweeping circle motions over the plastic and bringing goosebumps to your skin.

“Shall we then?” He asks. Your breath hitches when he leans closer. “I can’t fucking stand that tosser.”

“Who? Barty?”

Remus’ eyes flicker up to you, nodding slowly. “Yeah.”

You swallow nervously. “Why?”

He glances at the table, erupting in laughter as Barty continues speaking, hands moving around in explanation. At his side, Sirius stares at him like he hung the moon. Your expression sours, and it’s enough for Remus’ lips to twitch into an actual smile when he turns back to you.

“Should we have a reason? He’s a tosser—spent the first hour talking about his trips around the world. He’s got a personal jet, apparently.”

That you know. And you know it’s actually not as big as he probably made it sound like. But these are things Spidergirl knows, not y/n. So you have no other choice but to school your expression into one of pure surprise, and a twinge of annoyance. Though that one is far more sincere.

“And Sirius seems to like him just fine,” he finishes off, busying himself as he puts everything back inside the kit. 

“Yeah, and it’s driving me insane,” you push your sleeve down. Wincing a little when you manage to notice the actual blood staining your jumper. “I told him to be careful.”

“And he is. It’s that tosser I don’t trust.”

“No?”

He sends you a funny look. “You said it yourself, he’s involved in dangerous things. He dragged Regulus with him and now I’m scared he’ll do the same with Sirius,” he closes the kit, and finally turns to you. “You mean to tell me he’s suddenly taken an interest in Regulus and Sirius… Black? Just because they shared classes one time? Just because he liked Sirius’ play?”

You blink. “So you’re saying… he’s got,” a pause, weighing your words and feeling them in your chest. “Ulterior motives?”

“Maybe.” Remus concedes, shrugging. “Or maybe he’s just a tosser, who knows. I still don’t like him.”

You huff a laugh, and Remus mimics it almost unconsciously. You’re acutely aware that he hasn’t stepped away yet, something your heart won’t let you forget as it slams and pounds inside your chest. 

“Come on, then. Pizza on the way? The spicy one you like from that place?”

“You want spicy honey pizza?” you ask, genuinely startled and a tiny bit more in love. Especially when he shrugs, head tilting to the side. You mimic it almost unconsciously, and something about his expression pauses. “I thought you said it was too much for you?”

Remus only blinks, you think you’ve imagined it as he gestures at you towards the door. “I never said I’m having a slice—that one’s for you. I’m sticking to my usual order.”

“Fine,” you jump off the stool, swallowing back a wince and knowing it’s futile when Remus clicks his tongue. “You stick to your boring pizza and I’ll stick to mine.”

He chuckles. “I like my boring pizza.”

“Of course he does.” Sirius says as soon as you’re within earshot, nearly sitting atop Barty at this point. You pointedly ignore the worried twinge that overcomes you at the sight. “What? Already running off?”

“I’m feeling a bit knackered. y/n, too.” Remus explains, sending the table a sorry smile. “We’re just going to grab a quick bite before heading home.”

“You mean eating it outside on the porch instead of walking in?” Sirius jokes, and your friends follow. You try to, at least. “How romantic.”

Lily nudges him. “Be nice.”

“I am being nice!” he spreads his arms in front of him. Then turns to Barty, seeming to pick up on the way neither him nor Regulus know what he’s talking about. “y/n doesn’t like people coming into her dorm. She’s prickly.”

Your heart stutters. “Sirius.”

“What? It’s true.”

Barty turns to follow his gaze, meeting yours. “Why’s that? If it’s okay to ask, of course,” he wraps his arms around Sirius’ hip, pulling him closer. “Uni rules?”

“Yeah, something of the sort,” you answer, trying to not sound too dry. “Bit ridiculous if you ask me but, well, what can you do, huh? Um, Remus?”

Remus nods at you, then turns to Barty. “It was nice meeting you,” he says, polite and with a feigned warmth that only you and your friends spot. His warmth is more sincere when he turns to Regulus. “Nice seeing you again, Reg.”

“Of course. Catch up later?”

“Sure.”

You hug your elbows, thumb brushing over the damp fabric of your jumper in the same motion he did to your skin. Pushing down the strange feeling in your gut at the ease of his answer.

“Um, it was nice meeting you. Sorry I have to go early.”

“It’s okay.” Regulus nods, smiling politely as well. 

You only wave at them, locking eyes with James and nodding reassuringly at him. He deflates in relief, slumping sideways over Lily as he watches you walk out the pub with Remus.

When you step outside, he doesn’t feign surprise when you set the skateboard back down on the pavement. Hooking an arm around his in muscle memory. Remus only smiles to himself, stepping on the side of your board to tuck it under his arm.

At your baffled expression, he laughs. “What? You think I’d let you use it after how you showed up?” he tilts his head, almost playfully and squeezing at your heart. “I’m confiscating this all the way home.”

“What!” your lips part, both in surprise and betrayal. And a bit of fondness, too. “Remus!”

Remus only gives your linked arms a small tug, careful of your tender skin. “You’ll survive, come on.”