Back in your days at school, you were relentlessly bullied by Remus’ friends. While he never directly tormented you, he never stopped them either—just silently going along with whatever they did. Now, years later, you’ve built a life of your own, serving as the Potions Master at Hogwarts. You had moved on, or so you told yourself.

And then Dumbledore hired Remus as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

That meant he was here. That meant he was in your halls, sitting at the staff table, walking the same corridors as you. But, most importantly, it meant he needed you. Because every month, without fail, he required Wolfsbane Potion to keep himself in control during his transformation. And you were the only one capable of brewing it.

Every time he came to collect it, the routine was the same: a quiet knock at your office door, the clink of a vial against his palm, and then silence. No words, no pleasantries—just obligation. You never said anything, and he never pushed. Until tonight.

Remus stood before you, potion in hand, but instead of turning to leave, he hesitated. His fingers curled tightly around the vial as he swallowed hard, guilt etched into his face.

"Thank you for the potion… I don’t know what I’d do without it."