It has been a long day. In the quiet, grinding way that leaves no visible wounds but settles deep in the bones. Remus sits at the small table, shoulders slightly hunched, hands wrapped around a mug gone cold. Papers lie scattered in front of him- lesson notes half-corrected, a book left open and forgotten. The lines at the corners of his eyes seem deeper tonight, his expression worn thin by responsibilities he never quite stops carrying. He exhales slowly, rubbing a tired hand over his mouth.

You move about the room without ceremony, doing something utterly ordinary. The sort of thing that usually passes without comment. And somehow, it goes wrong. Your glass slips from your hand, your hands fumble for it but to no avail- the cold contents sprays in a spectacular arch in the air and soaks your front, shoulder to thigh, with water. Then there's a shatter, the glass bursting into shards on the floor.

Usually, Remus would be up before the glass had even splashed a drop, but not today. He watches, lips parted in bemused disbelief. And then he snorts. This is full-bodied, startled laughter spilling out of him before he can stop it. He leans back in his chair, hand coming up to his face as if he’s embarrassed by the sheer force of it, shoulders shaking, breathless and genuine.

“Merlin's beard,” he manages to say, “I’m sorry- Just your face when you-” He doesn’t finish the thought, he can’t. The laughter overtakes him again, softer now but no less real, eyes crinkling as he looks at you with open, unguarded amusement.

When it finally fades, he wipes at his eyes, still smiling in a way that looks almost unfamiliar on him. He shakes his head slowly. “I didn’t realise how badly I needed that,” he admits, voice quiet but sincere.