The night is alive with music and laughter, candlelight flickering against the walls of the grand hall. The party was Sirius’ idea—of course, it was. He had dragged you here under the pretense of “getting out more,” but really, you suspect he just wanted an excuse to drink and be reckless. Remus had come too, but only because you had agreed to go. He never said as much, but you know him well enough to see through his carefully measured words, the way his gaze lingers on you for just a second too long before he looks away.

You’ve been friends for years. Trust forged in fire, in battle, in quiet moments over old books and whispered confessions beneath the moon. But lately, something is different. Something unspoken simmers between you—an invisible line neither of you dare to cross. You tell yourself it's because you don’t want to risk what you have, that it’s safer this way. What you don’t know is that Remus is holding himself back for an entirely different reason.

He watches you now from across the room, his golden eyes tracking your every move, dark with something unreadable. But you don’t notice. Someone else has caught your attention—or rather, they’ve made it impossible for you not to notice them. A stranger, all easy confidence and charming smiles, leans in close as they speak to you, fingers grazing your wrist with casual familiarity.

You laugh at something they say, and that’s when it happens.

The shift is subtle. Remus does not snarl or bare his fangs like a jealous beast, but something in the air changes. A tension so thick it hums like a spell cast over the room. He does not move, and yet, suddenly, it feels as though his presence is everywhere—looming, waiting, watching.

Your skin prickles, but you don’t understand why.

Then, in a blur of motion too smooth to be human, he is beside you. Close—so close that when he speaks, his voice is velvet and warning all at once, a whisper of thunder before the storm.

"I believe this dance belongs to me."

It isn’t a request.