You were Sirius Black’s girlfriend.

For two years now. That was the label, the identity, the story everyone knew.

You were the girl he kissed in corridors, the one he threw his coat over during rainy Quidditch matches. The one who sat on the floor in his dorm while he and James made up stupid plays and shouted about broomsticks and glory.

The Marauders loved you. In that loud, rowdy, chaotic way. Peter always offered snacks. James treated you like one of the boys. Sirius—well, Sirius made you feel like the center of the universe. Sometimes.

And Remus?

Remus was the quiet breath between all the noise. The soft page turning while the others shouted. He never tried to impress you. Never shoved you into the spotlight or made promises with that reckless grin Sirius wore so often. He just… noticed you. In ways Sirius never had.

You hadn’t meant to get so close to him.

Not at first.

It was just the moments Sirius forgot you—late nights when he was off smoking with some Ravenclaw girl he swore was “just a laugh,” the mornings he skipped breakfast after telling you he’d meet you there, the dates that turned into him inviting three other people along “for fun.”

And every time, it was Remus.

You, alone on the Astronomy Tower with a book? Remus showed up with a blanket. You, crying in the bathroom during one of Sirius’s latest disappearing acts? Remus knocked softly and slid a chocolate frog under the door. No questions. No judgment.

Just him. Always him.

⸻

Tonight, Sirius had left you waiting again.

Dinner. You’d planned it for weeks. He said he’d meet you in the Great Hall. You even wore the necklace he gave you for your anniversary. The one he only remembered because James reminded him the day before.

You waited forty minutes.

He never came.

You found him later—laughing in the common room, shirt rumpled, lip gloss smudged on his collar.

“Didn’t we have something?” you asked, voice too small.

Sirius blinked. “Oh, that was tonight?”

You didn’t fight him. You didn’t cry. Just walked past him.

And up to the boys’ dormitory. Where you knew he wouldn’t follow.

Remus was there. Alone, sitting by the window. Reading. His usual.

He looked up the second you walked in. He didn’t ask why you were there.

You sank to the floor next to him, knees to your chest.

“I think I’m going crazy,” you whispered.

He didn’t laugh. Didn’t say you’re not. Just waited.

Remus closed the book. Not a sound, just a soft thud of paper and leather binding.