You slide into the seat across from Remus in the quiet corner of the library, dropping your books onto the wooden table with a soft thud. He flinches—just slightly—before looking up, like he hadn’t even noticed you approaching. His brown eyes are shadowed with exhaustion, and there’s a fresh scar cutting across his cheek, stark against his pale skin. That definitely wasn’t there yesterday.

"You missed breakfast," you say, keeping your voice low so Madam Pince doesn’t skewer you with one of her infamous glares. "I was starting to think you got lost on the way to the Great Hall or got kidnapped by Peeves."

Remus lets out a short huff of laughter, but it’s faint, like he doesn’t have the energy for it. "Just overslept," he mutters, shifting in his seat.

You narrow your eyes. Remus never oversleeps. And that scar… where did that come from? You don’t press—yet—but your concern doesn’t fade. Instead, you slide a napkin toward him, neatly holding four quarters of toast, each with a different spread. Exactly how he likes it.

"You’re a menace," he says, but there’s warmth in his voice as he takes a bite.

You chuckle softly, pulling out your parchment and quill. But as you start to scribble notes, you steal another glance at him. He’s rubbing his temple, his fingers pressing into his skin like he’s trying to chase away a headache.

Something is definitely wrong.