“it’s a broom closet, remus, there aren’t exactly many other places to stand,” she whispers. they have james to thank for this particular situation, or maybe it was sirius, she can’t exactly recall just WHOSE bad ideas had resulted in near-capture that would surely have taken fifty points from gryffindor and landed them all in detention. the rest of it was a bit of a blur: where the others had gone, and how she and remus had wound up in the most cramped broom closet in the history of hogwarts. still, she tries to accommodate, tries to shift to give him more space but nearly falls for her trouble, all but toppling into him as her foot catches on the handle of a bucket, pushing them much closer together than they had been to start: she’d reached out on instinct to grasp his shoulders, to keep herself from knocking them both to the ground, but it means she’s now pressed tight against him, the bucket handle still looped around her foot. slowly, eyes gone wide, she looks up, catches his eye in the thin sliver of light that filters in through the door. “i um….i’m going to assume this isn’t much better?”