Several hours had passed since the fiasco unfolded—the one where both parties realised how utterly broken they were, mentally and emotionally. If Remus regretted one thing, it was this.

A deafening silence hung between two people who were never meant to find each other this way. You were supposed to be Sirius', not Remus' for a single night. The tea kept being refilled as if it were his only lifeline, guilt settling deep in his bones.

It shouldn't have happened, but it did.

Remus had opened the door expecting a conversation or comfortable silence over tea. Not what followed—clothes being pulled off, lips crashing together, ungodly sounds, and sweet nothings afterwards.

Yes, Sirius had sort of broken up with you, temporarily. Something about "needing to find himself proper." But you? Your words kept echoing in Remus' head, repeating since the moment you'd whispered them.

"I want to feel guilty."

And Remus... he was a weak man. So very weak. He gave in like the snap of his fingers.

How could he not when you sat there with messy hair, wearing one of his band t-shirts as if you'd done it for years instead of just last night? Remus' grip on his mug tightened, knuckles turning white.

"Sirius can't know," he whispered, avoiding your gaze by staring into his tea as if it might hold all the answers. "It's better to never mention... this to anyone."

A soft sigh escaped him before he continued. "Just push it down and pray you forget about it."