#c.a

You thought you'd imagined it at first the weight of their stares, the stillness beneath the music. The common room swayed in gold and smoke, laughter rolling like thunder against the walls, but in that instant it felt like everything had tilted toward her.

Sirius was the first to move. He tipped his chin toward Remus, muttered something that made the taller boy’s mouth curve, and then they both rose. The crowd seemed to part without quite knowing why, a ripple of glances and shifting bodies, and suddenly they were close enough for you to smell the smoke on their clothes and the faint sweetness of firewhisky on their breath.

“Enjoying yourself?” Sirius asked. His grin was crooked, careless, but there was something behind it... a curiosity, almost wary.

You managed a nod. “Trying to.”

Remus’s eyes flicked to the bottle in your hand. “Maybe slow down. Those are stronger than they taste.”

“I’m fine,” you said, too quickly. It came out brittle, defensive, like you had to prove you could keep up.

Sirius chuckled, low and quiet. “You always say that before you’re not.”

The words shouldn’t have stung, but they did. Maybe because of how easily he said you always, like he’d been paying attention all along. Before you could think of something clever, Remus plucked the drink gently from your fingers, set it on the table. His hand brushed yours, brief, steadying.

“Come sit down,” he said, voice softer now. “You’ll make me nervous standing there like that.”

You should have laughed, should have made a joke and walked away, but you didn’t. The couch dipped beneath you as you sat, the room spinning slightly, and suddenly Sirius was beside you, knee pressed warm against yours. Remus leaned back on the other side, long fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass.

The three of you spoke for a while or maybe they didn’t. The words blurred, fragments of jokes and questions that you couldn’t quite hold onto. What you remembered were flashes: Sirius’s laugh brushing against your shoulder, Remus’s hand steadying you when you swayed, the thrum in your chest that felt dangerously like hope.

Somewhere near midnight, the crowd thinned. The music softened to a heartbeat in the background. You remembered Sirius leaning closer to say something and the world narrowing down to his mouth, to the sound of your own pulse. You remembered Remus’s quiet smile over the rim of his glass, a small, secret thing that made you dizzy for an entirely different reason.

Then, nothing certain just warmth, voices, the soft blur of being seen.

When I woke, the morning light was thin and merciless. My head ached, the room smelled of smoke and alcohol. For a long moment I didn't know where I was. Then I felt it.

The weight of a blanket, the press of someone's shoulder against mine. I turned my head just to see them. Both asleep, breathing evenly, the quiet between them deeper than any dream.

At I first I felt my throat tigthened. I didn't remember enough to know what happened, only enough to understand what it looked like.

For a few fragile seconds I let myself believe it. That maybe this meant something, that maybe they'd wanted me as more than a passing thought of an alcohol. I traced the light across the curve of Remus's jaw, the streak of silver in his hair, the way Sirius's hand twitched slightly in his sleep like he was reaching for something.

Then the doubt came to me, it came as fast and cold as the morning air through the slightly open window. They looked so peaceful, so complete and I realized no matter how much I wanted to be one of the girls they kept near them I would never be part of their own world. I will never be, I was a guest in a story that had already been written: like the girls they slept and threw aside. And whatever happened last night -if anything had- would fade into the same smoke and laughter as every other party in this castle.

Carefully, I slipped put from between them, feet bare on the cold wooden floor. The blanket fell away. Neither of them stirred instead just got closer to eachother's embrace.

By the time I reached the door, my hands were shaking. Not from regret, not exactly. It was the kind of shaking that came from knowing I have touched something beautiful that was never meant to be mine.

Outside, the dormitory hall was quiet. I looked through the stair's, few students fell asleep at the common room. James and lily sleeping heavily on the red couch placed by the fireplace, hugging eachother tightly. Marlene and Mary passed out on the carpet their legs tangled together like they fall asleep during drunken late night conversation and for a brief second I wished I should've been there instead of with Remus and Sirius.

I sighed shaking my head and cursing at the disgusting taste that alcohol left on my tongue, I really needed a hot shower to relax my muscles.

I entered my shared dormitary with the girls, surprisingly Dorcas was awake doing her bed, she looked at me as I entered inside. A wicked -probably ready to tease- smirk creeped on her face. I walked towards to my bed, "Well, how was the night?" She trailed behind me, her arms were crossed waiting for an answer.

"I don't know what to feel, really. I just feel more tired than yesterday and I just feel..." I stopped not knowing how to end the sentence, I sat on my bed. I could feel her drilling holes on my back with her stares.

"I want to talk about this later." I murmured dropping my head low staring at the wooden floor. Staring at it like it was interesting, she only hummed and patted my shoulder in response.

I didn’t see them for the rest of the day.

Classes blurred together, each one a different kind of noise that my mind refused to hold onto. The professors’ voices came and went like the tide low, rhythmic, meaningless. I wrote notes I didn’t read, smiled when someone laughed near me, but it was all mechanical. I couldn’t stop replaying the morning in fragments: the way Sirius’s arm had fallen across Remus’s waist, the warmth still lingering on the pillow beside me, the sunlight touching their faces as if it knew something I didn’t.

By the time evening came, I was exhausted from pretending not to think. The Great Hall buzzed with its usual chatter, spoons clinking against plates, the scent of roast pumpkin heavy in the air. I sat as far down the table as I could manage, half-hidden behind a stack of bread rolls, hoping to disappear among the noise. Dorcas was talking about something —probably Slughorn’s latest disaster— but her words washed over me like static.

And then I felt it: that subtle shift in the air, a hush that wasn’t really a hush, but something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

I didn’t need to look up to know.

Sirius.

He slid onto the bench across from me like he’d always belonged there, elbows on the table, the usual reckless grin replaced with something unreadable. His eyes stormy gray and sharper than I remembered found mine immediately.

“Been looking for you all day,” he said, voice low enough that it barely carried over the noise.

My fingers tightened around my cup. “Why?”

“Because you disappeared,” he said simply, like that should’ve been explanation enough. “Remus thought maybe you were sick. I thought—” He hesitated, tongue running over his teeth like he was trying to find the right words. “I thought maybe you were avoiding us.”

I forced a small, humorless laugh. “Didn’t realize you’d notice.”

That made him blink, his expression shifting from careful to confused. “Notice? We woke up and you were gone. Of course we noticed.”

The way he said we made my stomach twist. It sounded natural, familiar the kind of effortless we that came from years of belonging together. I wasn’t part of that. I’d never been.

“Right,” I said softly. “You and Remus. You looked… comfortable.”

His brow furrowed. “Comfortable?”

The laugh that slipped out of me was small and sharp. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have stayed. You probably both thought—”

He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Thought what?”

“That it didn’t mean anything,” I said, the words coming out too fast, too bare. “That I didn’t mean anything.”

Something flickered across his face confusion, maybe. Or surprise. I didn’t wait long enough to find out.

“Don’t worry about it,” I muttered, pushing back my body to stood up from wooden long chair, crossing my legs to the epmty space behind me. “It was stupid of me to think otherwise.”

And before he could say my name, before he could make it worse by being kind, I walked out.

The next morning came with rain. The castle felt heavier when it rained the stone darker, the corridors colder. I spent most of the morning wandering between classes, keeping my head down, taking routes I knew they never used. I told myself it was better this way, cleaner somehow. If I didn’t see them, I could start to forget.

But fate, apparently, had other plans.

I found myself in the library, tucked in the back between two shelves that smelled of old parchment and dust. My fingers traced the spine of a book I wasn’t reading when a shadow fell over the page.

Remus.

He stood there quietly for a moment, one hand in his pocket, the other holding something I recognized immediately. My house scarf.

“You left this,” he said. His voice was low, careful, the kind of gentle tone people used when they weren’t sure if you were about to bolt.

I stared at the scarf for a beat before reaching out. “Thanks.”

But he didn’t hand it over. Not yet. His eyes searched mine slow, deliberate and I hated how easily he could see through me.

“You’re upset,” he said finally.

“I’m not.”

“You are.” His mouth curved faintly, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “You left like the castle was on fire.”

I looked away, toward the narrow window streaked with rain. “You and Sirius looked… happy. Peaceful. I didn’t want to ruin that.”

Silence stretched, long and tense. Then, quietly, Remus stepped forward and placed the scarf over my shoulders himself. His fingers brushed the back of my neck featherlight, grounding.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he murmured. “You were part of it.”

I turned to face him, the words catching somewhere between my ribs. “Part of what?”

His smile deepened small, shy, but real. “Last night. All of it. You weren’t an accident.”

I wanted to believe him. I really did. But before I could answer, a voice came from behind him.

“He’s right, you know.”

Sirius.

He stood at the end of the aisle, hands buried in his pockets, hair damp from the rain. His expression was softer than I’d ever seen it stripped of his usual swagger.

And then suddenly Remus huffed out a laugh. “We argued over who’d apologize first.”

Sirius’s lips curved, faint and tired. “He won.”

“You let me,” Remus murmured.

Sirius glanced at him, something unspoken passing between them, then turned back to me. “We should’ve said something last night. Should’ve made it clear.”

I crossed my arms. “Made what clear?”

“That we both wanted you there,” he said, and his voice broke a little on the word both. “Not because of the drinks. Not because of the noise. Just… because we wanted you.”

The library felt impossibly quiet then even the rain outside seemed to pause. My chest ached in that terrifying, wonderful way that hope does when it starts to creep back in.

Remus stepped closer, his hand brushing mine, tentative but warm. Sirius followed, his fingers grazing the other side. The air around us seemed to hum, something fragile and alive taking shape between our joined hands.

For the first time since that morning, I felt like I could breathe again.

I let out a shaky laugh, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “You two are terrible at communication.”

Sirius grinned. Really grinned this time, bright and unguarded. “We’re learning.”

Remus’s thumb traced gentle circles against my knuckles. “Slow learners,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

I squeezed their hands, feeling that warmth bloom through me quiet, steady, real. “Then I guess we’ll just have to keep practicing.”