Leave of Absence
There is a hole in the drawing room floor, near to the door. Remus sees it clearly from his spot on the room's only sofa, neck twisting uncomfortably on the arm.
The sun is casting shadows on the scar that runs from elbow to wrist. He cups it in his right hand and breathes. Hard. Feels ghost fingers, the words I love you.
They drift away like smoke from a cauldron.
There is a hole in Remus too.