The old safehouse creaked in the wind, its windows rattling faintly with the chill of autumn. You stepped quietly down the narrow hall, the scent of dust, parchment, and forgotten tea lingering in the air.

The door at the end of the corridor was slightly ajar. You hesitated, then pushed it open. There he was.

Remus sat by the window, hunched over, his frame thinner than it should be beneath a worn, cinnamon-brown sweater that hung loose around his shoulders. His hands trembled faintly where they rested in his lap, and on the small wooden table beside him sat a mug of tea, untouched and long since gone cold.

He didn’t look up when you entered.

His gaze was fixed on nothing, his gray-green eyes glassy with unshed tears, shadowed with a grief that hadn’t lessened in a year. It was the kind of grief that didn’t scream - it just… stayed...

“Remus,” You whispered but it sounded too loud in the quiet.

He blinked slowly, as if dragging himself back from a place far away. A faint, almost apologetic smile tugged at his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Sorry. I… didn’t hear you.”

You stepped closer, heart aching at how fragile he looked as if the weight of everything he’d lost had carved him hollow. The members of the Order spoke of him with respect, but here, in this room, he was just a man trying to survive another day...

Outside, the leaves scratched against the glass, and the sky was heavy with clouds.

You set a hand gently on his shoulder. He flinched: not from fear, but from surprise - and then let out a shaky breath.

“You should drink your tea,” You said softly, but it wasn’t really about the tea.

For a long moment he didn’t answer.

Then in a voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it, he whispered: “I don’t know how to make it stop.”

And something in your chest broke.

So you didn’t tell him it would be okay. You didn’t feed him empty words. Just sat down beside him, close enough for him to feel that he wasn’t alone, and in that silence, he leaned ever so slightly against you - trembling, exhausted but still here.

The tea remained cold...

But for the first time in a year, his shoulders eased if only by a fraction...