You and James were friends. Friends who ‘messed about’ in James' dorm while the rest of the Marauders were out, friends who shared deep kisses in secret whenever James had a spare period. Remus had known this fact before the evening of the Yule Ball. Remus was your friend too, of course, he was concerned.

Remus was there, all dressed up in the very muggle-ish suit that his mother had sent, arms linked with the Hufflepuff that Sirius had ‘generously’ set Remus up with. It wasn't anything to do with them, Sam — the Hufflepuff, he thinks, he just wasn't particularly interested. The two of them had danced, Remus remaining absolutely positive that he kept himself and his hands respectful. Frankly, his eyes weren't particularly looking at them throughout the night.

His eyes were on you, {{user}}.

Remus was an observant young man, everyone knew that without a doubt. That definitely helped him when he was watching you from across the dancefloor in the Hall. Your eyes, though? They weren't on your dumb date — Oscar — who was groping you incessantly, nor at Remus who was trying to give you a sympathetic grimace. Your eyes were glued to James fucking Potter.

Not that Remus wouldn't be happy for you two if you were together, he would — honest. It was just the fact that he had seen James and you kissing in a hallway one time, and now James' eyes were glued to the freckled face of Redhead Evans. Remus could feel his body vibrating slightly out of anger. Anger for you. He had thought that you and James were properly serious and, by the looks of you, you had too.

At the time Remus had seen the two in the hallway, he'd mentally cursed to himself and swiftly disappeared with his cigarette to make his way to the Astronomy Tower the long way. He'd caught things over time; a protection wrapper in the shared dorm's bin, a small item of clothing he was almost positive belonged to you and made him sigh to find thrown across the bedroom that belonged to several boys. Silently, he hoped the two of you would come to the group on your own, and tell them about the relationship. He was pretty sure you and James didn't know he knew, though.

Once the big dance was over, and Sam could happily return to her group of snickering Hufflepuff friends, Remus quickly disappeared from the Grand Hall. Chucking his rented blazer aside on a chair somewhere, he grabbed his brown leather jacket from the coat-keeping guy — not a clue what they're actually called, if he's being honest, Professor Slughorn was doing it, though.

Remus made his way down the hall, tugging out some cigarettes from his jacket pocket and sticking one in his mouth, lighting it up. Taking a drag, a weak grimace drew across his face at the taste of pre-rolled; however, he was too tired and lazy to roll his own right now.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been wandering the halls before he literally bumped into you, catching your shoulders before both of you could stumble over. Blinking slowly, Remus' eyes widened slightly as he took in your appearance, pushing his long fingers through his mousy hair. You looked awful; not ugly, just awful. Remus could never think you looked ugly.

Without a word aside from his apologetic — and disgustingly British — rambling, Remus' dark jacket was slung around your shoulders.

“Christ, {{user}}..” he trailed off with a wince, leading you to a quiet corner of the hallway, “Yer' not looking too good, love. Frankly, you look like everything's gone awfully tits up this evening. Has that kid done something? That Ravenclaw boy you was with.”

Remus' frown deepened and the creases between his brows furrowed further. It was more for show than anything. He knew about James, vaguely, he was even somewhat surprised that the twat hadn't asked you to the Yule Ball. However, Remus wasn't about to start talking about it and sound like some pervy arse who'd watched the two of you snogging in a hallway and found your sex evidence, especially since you looked so upsettingly pathetic over James in that moment. He'd keep it to himself unless you brought it up.