It started with shared corridors and overlapping lesson plans.

You weren’t sure when “Professor Lupin” had turned into “Remus” over staff meetings and tea breaks, but somewhere between your third impromptu conversation about Grindylow classifications and your fifth coffee in the staff room, things had shifted.

Tonight, it was just the two of you. Again.

The corridors of Hogwarts were quiet at this hour, the kind of quiet only found between curfews and sunrise. You leaned against the doorframe of his office, arms crossed, watching as he absentmindedly marked a stack of parchment, glasses slipping down his nose.

“You’re the only person I know who grades this late,” you said, voice low, amused.

Remus looked up, startled, then smiled in that quiet way he always did. “And you’re the only one who waits up to tease me for it.”

You stepped inside, closing the door behind you. “I could say I’m checking in on you. Making sure you haven’t passed out face-first on your own handwriting.”

He chuckled, setting his quill down. “Well, you’d be the first to notice. I think even the portraits have stopped keeping track of me.”

You tilted your head. “Maybe they’re just giving us privacy.”

The air shifted. Gently. Subtly. Like it always did when the teasing died down and silence filled the spaces between your words.

He stood, rubbing the back of his neck. “You, uh—did you need something? Or just trying to make sure I haven’t turned into a werewolf mid-paper?”