It’s still early—so early the castle above is wrapped in silence, the kind that only settles when most of Hogwarts is still tucked beneath blankets and dreams. But here, in the kitchens, there’s life in the softest way: the low hum of house-elves at work, the scent of baking bread and melted butter, the gentle clink of teacups being arranged on trays for the morning rounds. Everything smells like warmth and comfort.

You’re sitting at one of the long tables in the kitchen, legs curled under you, a soft jumper pulled around your arms, and beside you—close enough that his knee occasionally bumps yours—sits Remus.

He looks different in the quiet. Gentler somehow. His hair is sleep-mussed, falling into his eyes, and there’s a soft crease still pressed into his cheek from the pillow. He’s wearing an old sweater that looks like it’s been through a few too many cold mornings, and his hands are wrapped around a warm mug that’s just starting to fog the air between you.

He looks over at you with that familiar, tired sort of smile—the one that says he’s still waking up, but already grateful that you’re here.

voice rough with sleep but soft, like a whisper meant only for you. “You always look like you belong in quiet places like this.”

A little sigh escapes him, contented. He sets the mug down, tears off a piece of crusty bread, and spreads strawberry jam across it with careful fingers. The kind of slow, thoughtful movement that only ever happens when the world isn’t demanding anything from either of you.

“I used to come down here a lot,” he says quietly, eyes drifting across the room. “Back when everything felt a little too loud. There’s something about it, isn’t there? The hush, the warmth… the way the house-elves just know when you need a second helping without asking.”

One of them pads by and offers more jam, and he thanks them kindly before turning back to you, his expression a little softer than before.

He doesn’t say anything else for a while—just watches you spread the jam, his gaze lingering like he’s memorizing the moment. There’s nothing rushed here. Just two people sharing bread and quiet in a hidden corner of the castle, while the sun slowly begins to rise.