Ever since you had first met him, you’d known Remus had a tendency to worry. Be it pacing the corridors in the middle of the night over an exam result he didn’t like, or biting his nails and picking at his skin around the full moons.

But he had become so much more worried when you’d had your first child. The second you had told him you were expecting, he was very close to wrapping you in bubble wrap.

The second the child was born, he never let either of you leave his sight. Midnight cries? He was up and into the room, wand clutched in his hand prepared for the worst. Colic? He drove all the way to St Mungo’s to make sure nothing else was going on.

So, whenever you would rouse in the middle of the night and find his side of the bed empty, you knew where he’d be.