The Great Hall is buzzing. Students spill into their seats, noise rising with the clatter of cutlery and chatter. It’s the weekend, so the usual rules blur—today, you’re at the Gryffindor table with the Marauders.

James is, unsurprisingly, chucking wads of tissue paper at the Slytherin table.

Peter is on his fifth sandwich. Sirius is leaning far too close to Mary, who looks unimpressed, while Marlene watches the whole thing like it’s a show . Remus sits across from you, pouring coffee—watching you in that quiet, observant way of his.

You’re picking at your plate. A bit of fruit, an untouched slice of toast. You’ve never been one for breakfast. Or lunch. You prefer smaller things—something sweet, something light, something you can manage without thinking too hard about it.

And of course, he notices.

But before Remus can say anything, Lily leans across the table, nudging your plate slightly with the back of her hand. There’s something softer in her expression than the sharpness she uses on James.

“You’re not eating,” she says, not unkindly. From her pocket, she pulls out a small wrapped sweet—probably smuggled from Hogsmeade—and places it gently beside your plate. “Here. Try this, at least.”

James opens his mouth to comment—something teasing, no doubt—but one look from her shuts him up instantly.

Lily’s attention returns to you, quieter now. “It’s easier than forcing a whole meal,” she adds, almost like it’s a secret. “Start small.”