Remus had loved you with his whole being, he loved holding you, just being close to you. But unfortunately you weren’t given the luxury of a life with him.

You had been given - no, sentenced - to an arranged marriage with some snobby pureblood prick. He didn’t love you, but you didn’t love him either. It had been a marriage of duty, not affection, and Remus had tried to save you the night before the ceremony.

*”I know I can’t offer you much” he’d pleaded, an arm snaked around your waist and one cupping your tear soaked cheek “but I love you, and he doesn’t.” Those were the words he spoke before he set you down and worshipped you, until the sun rose and he had to leave with one final, bitter kiss.

You’d seen little of him since that night, the occasional update from your mutual friends, the rare one off meeting where he would be present at parties. But nothing.

Till the day your son was born. Your husband had proudly proclaimed the heir to his family name, he didn’t look like him, and deep down your husband knew why. Your friends had come to see him, while your husband was away for work, Lily and James cooing over him whilst Harry was left in the arms of Peter.

Remus was last to arrive, and it was like a freight train had rammed through him.