The house is too quiet.

A draft curls through the corridors, rustling the heavy curtains and snuffing out the last remnants of candlelight. You sit curled in an armchair by the fire, staring at the amber glow dancing along the rim of your glass. The silence is thick, suffocating. It has been months since you were bound to Remus —once your rival, now your husband in name only.

The marriage had been arranged by your families, a political maneuver disguised as tradition. A ceasefire between two old wizarding bloodlines. You had loathed him at Hogwarts, and he had never been particularly fond of you either. Petty duels, biting remarks, an unspoken competition in every class you shared. Now, you are here, trapped in the same house, expected to play the part of devoted spouses when, in truth, you barely speak.

The sound of the front door creaking open makes you tense. You don’t turn around, but you can feel him before he even steps into the room.

"You’re still awake."

His voice is quiet, almost thoughtful, as if he hadn't expected you to be. There’s something about it—softer now than when you were younger, but still laced with the remnants of old battles fought between you.

"I could say the same to you," you reply, swirling the liquid in your glass.

You glance at him, and for a moment, you catch something strange in his eyes—something hungry. But as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. He looks tired, his skin a shade too pale, his lips pressed together as if he’s holding something back.

"Long night?" you ask, watching him carefully.

His jaw tightens, and he hesitates before nodding. "Something like that."

There it is again, that vague distance, like he’s keeping secrets behind every carefully chosen word.