delicate

del·i·cate [del-i-kit]

–adjective

1. fine in texture, quality, construction, etc.

2. fragile; easily damaged; frail.

3. so fine as to be scarcely perceptible; subtle.

Chapter One - Inquiry

I knew there was something wrong with Remus. The way he never joined in with our jokes, the way he half-heartedly contributed to our pranks, the way he seemed to always have an excuse to go to the library. I knew that Remus was suffering an internal battle, though I didn't quite know what. Don't get me wrong, I had asked him. Oh yes, I had asked him.

"Moony, what's up? You seem a little down lately."

We were sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room on a Friday night, which was empty apart from a few Third and Fourth Years sitting at various tables, and Remus was curled up on the small sofa by the fire. I was sitting opposite him in the armchair, reading a Quidditch magazine.

He looked up from his book. "Hmm?"

"Sorry, you mustn't have heard me. Are you okay? You seem kind of upset."

Remus' brow creased and he replied with, "Why?"

"Just something I noticed is all. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Well, I'm fine, James, really. I'm just tired," cried Remus, slamming his book shut.

"Hey, it's alright, mate. Don't get mad!"

"I'm not mad!" he snapped. I glared at him. "I'm not mad," he repeated, looking down at his feet.

"I'm sorry," I replied gently.

"S'alright. I'm just going to head up to bed." He stood from the couch and made his way up to our dormitory. I sighed.

"Just give him some space," said a sweet voice from behind me, a voice I knew only too well.

I turned my head and saw Lily Evans standing behind me.

"I don't know why he's acting so defensive, though," I said.

She must have sensed the exasperation in my voice because she took a seat on the armrest and squeezed my shoulder.

"I know. He might have stuff on his mind and isn't ready to talk about it. Or perhaps he's just stressed. But it could be that he really is tired. I don't know, maybe wait a little bit and then ask him again."

Lily laughed when she saw the look of incredulity upon my face.

"Don't look so surprised, Potter! Just because you aren't very sensitive doesn't mean every other guy isn't!"

I gasped, feigning offence. "I'm sensitive! I cry every night," I jested, folding my arms immaturely.

Lily let out a small giggle. "Right," she replied sarcastically. "Well, I've got stuff to do. I'd suggest not bothering Remus when you go up to bed, alright? He's delicate."

I nodded. "Goodnight," I said softly.

Lily's face softened and nodded. "Goodnight, James."

I sat in the armchair a bit longer, the Quidditch magazine sitting untouched in my lap. What was Remus hiding? And had Lily really called me James? Normally I was only referred to as 'Potter' ... I knew Lilykins wanted me ... But anyway, back to Remus ... Something was bothering him ... And I was going to find out!

A/N: I'm not sure if describing Remus as 'delicate' is very accurate, but in this story, he will be. Just... yeah. This is a short chapter because the next one couldn't be squeezed together with this one. Reviews would be nice, but are not necessary.