Remus never cared much for events. They passed by like any other day, and sure, he had to dress a little fancier, but he didn’t mind too much—not usually.

Had he asked you to the Yule Ball? Yes. Had you politely turned him down because someone else had already asked you? Yes. Did it sting? More than he wanted to admit.

He had told himself it was fine. That it didn’t matter. But the moment he saw you with your date, something in his chest twisted. So, before he could dwell on it too much—before he could risk ruining the night for himself or you entirely—he turned on his heel and left.

Now he was in the Gryffindor common room, alone, staring into the fire like it might offer him some wisdom. His tie hung loosely around his neck, his suit jacket draped over the armrest, completely forgotten.

The night stretched on in silence, right up until the sound of hurried footsteps and a string of muttered curses broke through the quiet. He knew instantly who it was.

Remus turned his head slightly, watching as you stepped into the common room and spotted him. Your face was unreadable at first, but then your shoulders slumped, like you had been holding something in all night.

“Didn’t enjoy it?” he asked, voice steady.

“No,” you sighed, dropping onto the sofa beside him with a dramatic exhale. “My date ditched me.”

Something in him shifted at your words, something sharp and instinctive. He knew he shouldn’t care—you had gone with someone else—but the thought of them abandoning you made his blood boil.

“Then your date was a stupid twat,” he said, looking at you like he wanted to reach out. But he held back, and he wasn't sure why.