It was the weekend before the holidays. Exams were over, students were ecstatic about getting to see their family, and the entire castle seemed to shimmer. There was a whole new feeling of lightness in the air. The news of war was slowly letting up, The Daily Prophet focusing more and more on semi-frivolous things. Everything seemed lovely, as though the universe had finally learned how to exhale.

Of course, for most.

The Friday afternoon before everyone would be leaving for the holidays the next morning, Narelle and Remus had sat themselves in the library. Ever since the first snow, the two of them remained inside for their study sessions. However, they also had soon stopped studying, especially after Hogsmeade. They spent the afternoons chatting, Narelle filling him in on the gossip that she had been overhearing from Janine. They didn't talk about anything extremely serious—she didn't talk about her parents not writing to her, he didn't talk about when he felt sick near the full moons. Every conversation that they had was casual and lovely, both of them perfectly happy to just be in each other's company. Until after Remus' outburst in charms that previous Monday.

Everyone had been whispering about it, and it bothered Narelle to no end. Two days before Friday, Janine sat with her at breakfast and was gossiping about it.

"It's quite absurd," Janine hissed to the small group of Hufflepuffs listening in. "I mean, quiet kid like him, why get so worked up over a wolf?"

"Jesus, would you shut up about it?" Narelle had found herself snapping, shooting Janine a nasty glare. When none of the other Hufflepuffs stood up for Remus, instead just stared at her, she flushed with embarrassment. She said nothing more, just grabbed her bag and stormed out of the Great Hall to wait outside of the potions classroom until classes started.

As they sat across from each other in their spot of the library, neither Remus nor Narelle made eye contact for quite some time. Each minute was excruciating for the other—should one of them speak up? Should they ask about it? Should they ignore it and start talking about what they were doing for the holidays?

Narelle was consumed with worry for him while Remus felt as though his insecurities and heartbreak was taking over. He knew that she would see something, notice something. His lycanthropy was a disease that could never be cured, a monstrosity within him that would drive everyone away. The only people who stayed were the Marauders and his parents—the people that loved him unconditionally. He wasn't sure what romantic love felt like, and he was positive she could never love him unconditionally, so she was completely out of the picture. And yet… he still hurried to their little table next to the window after classes. He still searched for her in the halls. He still couldn't stand the idea of not seeing her before the two of them parted for the holidays.

He didn't want to think about it, but it was everywhere. After class, the Marauders and even Lily Evans sat around him like a shield, shooting everyone nasty looks if they were eyeing him too much. It was blatant, like a flashing sign above his head: WARNING! SCREAMS AT WOLVES! He was scared to think about it especially in front of Narelle, as if she had some wondrous ability to read his mind. Remus was aware at how implausible that was, but it still terrified him.

Lastly, he was bitter. He was enraged. Disgusted, even. The vilest thing about him was what represented him. He could never get away with it. Sure, he was born normal, born without his "furry little problem," but it was apparently still meant to be. Fate or whatever. God, what a ridiculous and disgusting…

"Remus," he heard Narelle say softly and he looked up, panicked she had read his mind. Instead of disgust, though, he was greeted with a kind smile. "Do you want to go for a walk? I—I understand if you don't want to talk, but I feel guilty making you sit here."

Remus was dumbfounded. She felt guilty? Why would she feel guilty for anything?

"That, actually… That sounds lovely, Narelle."

Her face lit up slightly and they stood, gathering their things and placing them in their bags. As they made out of the library, anyone in their year who looked at Remus was met by a scalding look from Narelle. He felt oddly protected, despite her being a good half foot shorter than him. She looked as though she was ready to hex anyone who said a thing.

All he could think about was a wispy badger wrapping around her legs, her eyes wide with shock.

They began to wander the halls silently, their arms brushing as they walked side-by-side. She looked tired. Then again, Remus realized, she seemed to be looking more and more tired with each passing day. She yawned and he studied her. Maybe her night terrors are coming back, he thought, furrowing his brows.

"Have you been getting enough sleep?" he asked gently, raising an eyebrow.

"Huh?" she glanced at him, eyes widening, before realizing what he had said and looking back down at her black Mary Janes. "Oh, um… Not really." Narelle thought of all of her recent, nearly sleepless nights with every passing day without a letter. Her mother always sent her a letter towards the holidays to let her know whether or not she would be home. As well as that, her father sent her at leasta Christmas card featuring his new, what? Year old son? Narelle was feeling like a little kid again, and hating it. She missed her mother's hugs, missed her laugh, missed spending afternoons with her father when she was little. She missed the feeling of complete certainty when she was younger, knowing her parents were always alright and that she would learn if otherwise immediately. This uncertainty, this constant looking in the papers for her father, was exhausting.

Remus could see this plain on her face. Not that he knew anything about her parents but, whatever it was, it was visibly weighing her down. He slowed to a stop, reaching out for her elbow, and she stopped, looking up at him.

"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly, searching her face. She needed to re-do her ponytail, he noticed. When didn't she, though?

"It's nothing," Narelle tried with a forced smile.

"No, it's not," he said pointedly, raising his brows. "If I drag you to a place to sit down, will you tell me? You look as if someone weighed the world on your shoulders."

"That's not physically possible," she said sarcastically and he let out a laugh, pulling his hand away from her arm and placing his hands in his pockets. "But, sure. Or I'll tell you about something completely unrelated, and we can just talk. Because you look tired, too."

Together, they wandered up two flights of stairs, still walking in silence. Now on the third floor, Remus half-led the way to a corridor. He walked over to a rounded, wooden door and jiggled the handle. With a gentle click it opened, revealing what was once either an office or an old classroom. It wasn't as dusty as Narelle had imagined, but it wasn't spotless either. Desks and chairs were pushed to the edges of the classroom, a blackboard still standing proud on the north side of the room. There were multiple windows, though, on the opposite end from the door. They were taller than the ones in their usual classrooms—from floor to ceiling almost, giving a lovely look of the grounds. It was snowing gently and frost etched itself onto the glass, beautiful and intricate. Pushed up against one window was a table, a worn quilt draped over it.

"I used to come here a lot," he said gently as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "Mostly Peter and I. James and Sirius… they're attached at the hip, you know. Peter and I liked to get away sometimes and stumbled across this. We haven't come back as a pair since around fourth year, though."

"Fourth year seemed like quite a time for change," Narelle said quietly, almost absentmindedly, as she glanced around the room. He looked at her curiously, but didn't ask a clarifying question. She walked up to the blackboard, running her fingers over a stray line of chalk. It had been there for so long, it didn't even come off, as if it became a part of the board. Remus moved to sit on the table, leaning against the window as he watched Narelle, who looked over at him. "Do you think that when we're with something or someone for long enough, you become a part of them?" She didn't wait for his answer before studying the chalk, pressing her lips together. "I hope not."

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" he called to her.

Narelle spun on her heel to walk over to the table. She didn't respond until she had hopped up onto it, crossing her legs, leaning into the stone outside of the window. She dropped her hands into her lap, looking out over the grounds.

"Nope," she said finally, before glancing at him. "Remus…"

He watched her with fear as she readjusted her posture, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear before taking a deep breath. She held it, looking at her hands, before looking back up again.

"I know I shouldn't ask, I…" she paused, choosing her words carefully. "Why did you react so… heavily… at your patronus?"

She watched him sigh, his shoulders slumping. His eyes left hers and looked out the window, and she suddenly felt extremely guilty. She knew she should have left it, knew that he didn't have to tell her. Why should she expect him to tell her something so personal when she couldn't tell him about her parents?

"I think that's a story for another time," he said softly, and she smiled gently at him.

"So I will get to know one day?" Narelle asked hopefully, widening her eyes at him. He let out a small, lovely laugh.

"If you stick around," he said quietly, and both of their facial expressions softened, each looking at each other. "So tell me about the badger."

"Jesus," she laughed sadly, burying her face in her hands. "I should have expected that question."

Remus shifted his position so he could face her, tucking one leg under the other. "Why did you gasp so loud?" he asked gently. "Wouldn't it be lovely to know that you're probably the truest Hufflepuff in years, maybe even decades?"

"I mean, sure," she huffed, shaking her head and looking up at him desperately. "But it's also awful. If it hadn't so blatantly there, everyone would think I'm faking it or doing it for attention, maybe even fame. It's such a cliché, to the point that even I am unnerved by it. And, I mean…" she looked away, her face flushing. She felt tears brimming hot in her eyes. Each moment she spent sitting with him, she felt her usual filter slowly decay—she could end up accidentally spilling every thought of hers. "My dad… he would be so disappointed in me. He always has been. I've never been enough of a Gryffindor, never enough of his daughter, never actually his own kid." By now, her tears had broken free and her hands shook as she tried to quickly wipe them away, hoping Remus wouldn't notice. Yet, emotions are hard to conceal, especially ones so heartbreakingly honest. "He's got a new one now. A kid, I mean. And his name is Sean, and he's lovely from the pictures I've seen, and he's got this bright red hair and apparently all he does is adventure and try new things and laugh. His mom left, but he's still so strong. He's more of my father's kid than I've ever been, or ever could be.

"All I've ever wanted since my first night here was to make my parents proud. The first thing they did when they found out I was a Hufflepuff was tell me that maybe I could do better, that they were surprised, that they couldn't believe they had a kid who wasn't a Gryffindor. I felt so alone and I hated my house for months. I hated waking up every goddamn morning and tying my tie. I hated sitting with all of the Hufflepuffs. And then, one day, I got a letter from my father telling me that he never really felt like I was a Gryffindor. He said I was too timid. And I just decided to be the most devout Hufflepuff I could be, you know? I barely told lies, I tried to be kind to everyone, I was quiet and gentle. It was just this constant thing lingering over my head, to just be as good of a Hufflepuff as possible. And then the other day, I had this flickering moment of hope that maybe my patronus would be something brave! A dragon, or—or a bear, something ferocious and daring. And then you know what happens? A badger. My ticket onto a train forever away from my father."

Remus listened to her carefully, widening his eyes. He had never known someone to take on the idea of their house so heavily. Sure, there were some Gryffindors he knew that seemed heartbroken when they weren't "brave enough," but he always felt as if they were guidelines rather than rules. Then, here was this girl sitting in front of him, crying because of all of the weight her house put on her. He had always assumed that Hufflepuffs were the most carefree—until now, that idea seemed true. But he watched her wipe away her tears, try to breathe through her desperate need to sob, and he felt his heart break.

"Anyone who isn't proud of you is blind," he said carefully. She let out a watery laugh, sniffling as she looked at her hands.

"If I were your kid, I think it would be different."

"First of all," he laughed, "it would be weird if you were my kid. Second of all, no, it wouldn't. I'm your teacher. At least… basically. I've taught you quite a bit with transfiguration and I've watched you grow. Not to mention we've gone to school together for six years—"

"You didn't even know I existed until this year," she said pointedly, raising her brows. He looked stricken.

"What—? Of course I did!" he protested, widening his green eyes. She let out a soft, genuine laugh.

"You barely knew my name at the beginning of this year!" she giggled.

"I knew that you yelled at James last year in Divination," he pressed, and she laughed even harder, shaking her head.

"He was a git! Still is! Not my proudest moment, mind you. It wasn't very kind."

"It was very honest," Remus grinned, and she continued laughing, free of her tears.

He couldn't stop looking at her, and time seemed to slow. She was beautiful, even with her face flushed from the burst of emotion earlier. Her blue eyes were on his and shimmering and lovely, the soft light from outside making her face glow, the two of them staring at each other—

Remus didn't know why he did it. Maybe it was Sirius' voice in the back of his head, grinning as he said You're a bloody Gryffindor. You go for it. Maybe he was too tired, too scared of her finding him out, that it blurred every rule in his head. Maybe he was just that damn reckless. He didn't really care why he did it, but until his dying day he would mark it as one of the bravest moments of his life. He found himself leaning towards her, his hand gently cupping her face. His fingers traced her jawline for a moment and she froze, her heart fluttering at his touch. He had her wrapped around his finger in that second as his fingers made their way to her hair. His mouth was on hers then, gentle but sudden. Narelle hesitated in shock for a minute before immediately reaching for his tie, pulling him closer. If she could describe it in one word, it would be fireworks. Her fingers made their way into his hair, his hands cupped her face, the two of them kissing deeply and desperately, as if it were their first and last. They kissed longer than either expected them to before pulling away slightly, looking at each other in fear. She knew he was the one to kiss first, but did he mean it? And he had felt that hesitation—did it make it less genuine?

Their mingling breath fogged up the window beside them, Remus' hands sliding down to her shoulders. Hers rested gently on his neck, their foreheads nearly touching as they searched the other's expression.

"Talk about an outburst," he murmured, and she let out a nervous laugh.

They fully pulled away then, both blushing as red as Christmas ornaments, looking down at their hands. Their knees had begun to press against each other but neither moved, again waiting for the other to speak. Everything was silent except for the almost inaudible sound of snow falling outside. There was a gentle murmur of students down below on their way about the school, the sun setting, the classroom they were in slowly dimming.

"Do you have a telephone?" Narelle stammered, looking up at him with wide eyes. He looked back at her, furrowing his brows in confusion.

"Uh, yeah, my mum uses it mostly—" he murmured, but she cut him off.

"Do you want my telephone number?" she asked, feeling suddenly stupid. And 12-years-old. "I mean… in case you want to talk. Over the holidays."

"Are you sure?" he stammered, widening his eyes at her. She quickly stood, nodding as she walked over to her bag. She rummaged around before ripping a small piece of paper off some parchment and what looked to be a muggle pen. She quickly wrote a series of numbers on it, pressing her lips together.

"I'm sure," she nodded, before holding the slip of paper out to him. Her face was still bright red and he noticed her fingers trembling ever so slightly. He took it, a smile slowly spreading over his face, lighting it up. "I need to get down to the Hufflepuff common room—I need to see if I can be at Aria's for Christmas. Long story. Uh," she pulled her bag up onto her shoulder and she pressed her lips together in thought, brow creased. "Write me. Or phone me. Either works."

He nodded slowly, still smiling. "Okay."

She was taking a step back now, a smile firm on her face as she looked at him.

"I hope you have a lovely holiday."

"You too."

"I'll see you next year? You know, 1977?" He snorted out a laugh.

"Goodnight, Narelle."

She flashed him a wide smile, tucking some hair behind her head. They both hesitated for a moment before she gave him a small nod and turned, hurrying out of the classroom. He watched her, suddenly feeling how fast his heart was, and looked down at the parchment in his hands.