For Aurora, it felt strangely unsettling to step into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, knowing she would be the one teaching today. The room carried the remnants of Professor Lupin's presence, his meticulous organization, the faint scent of parchment, and a lingering warmth that seemed at odds with the cooler, sharper atmosphere Snape left behind whenever he filled in.
The students clustered outside the classroom didn't hide their relief at seeing Aurora instead of the dreaded Professor Snape. She heard a few whispered exclamations: "Finally!" and "Thank Merlin, it's not him again." They filed into the room with noticeably lighter steps, the tension dissipating like steam from a boiling kettle.
Aurora set her bag on the desk and faced the class with a small, encouraging smile. "Alright, before we start," she said, her voice carrying over the soft shuffle of chairs and bags, "who here actually wrote the essay that Professor Snape assigned for today?"
The room fell silent. Slowly, and with a hint of reluctance, Hermione raised her hand, followed by Lucrecia. The other students exchanged guilty looks, clearly dreading the consequences of not completing the assignment.
"Okay," Aurora continued, her tone kind but professional. "If you'd like, you can hand them in, and I'll take a look at them. But after speaking with Professor Lupin, I've been asked to let you know that the essay won't be graded. It was unfairly assigned by Professor Snape and covered material outside your syllabus."
The weight of her words seemed to sink in, and a wave of relief swept through the room. A few students exhaled audibly, one even muttering, "Thank goodness."
"But the professor will come back to us, right?" Neville asked hesitantly, his round face filled with concern.
Aurora hesitated, momentarily caught off guard by the question. "No, he won't be back, Neville," she said softly. "That's why I'm here."
The reaction was immediate and deafening.
"WHAT?!"
The entire class erupted into chaos, voices overlapping as students expressed their shock and confusion. The sheer volume of their reaction startled Aurora so much that she almost dropped the textbook she was holding.
"Calm down!" she said, raising her hands in a futile attempt to regain control. "I thought you'd be happy he's not here!"
"Happy?!" Ron's voice rose above the others, his expression a mix of disbelief and indignation. "Professor Lupin is the best teacher this subject's ever had!"
The rest of the class immediately voiced their agreement.
"Yeah, he actually teaches us stuff!"
"And he doesn't humiliate us every time we get something wrong!"
"And his lessons are fun!"
Aurora blinked, taken aback by the vehemence of their defense. For a moment, she simply stood there, absorbing the students' unwavering loyalty to her colleague. Then, recovering her composure, she cleared her throat.
"I like him too," she said gently, "but I think there's been a misunderstanding. I was talking about Professor Snape. He won't be returning to teach this class. Professor Lupin will be back later this week."
The shift in the room was instantaneous. Relief washed over the students like a tidal wave, and the tension dissolved into a chorus of murmured "Oh!".
"Then forgive our outburst, Aurora," Lucrecia said with a diplomatic air, her tone light and tinged with humor. She shot Ron a pointed look, raising one eyebrow as if to say, Perhaps you could've waited to let her explain.
Aurora smiled, her shoulders relaxing. "No harm done," she said. "Now, shall we begin?"
Remus sat quietly in his office. He couldn't fall asleep. The full moon always drained him, leaving his body aching and his mind restless, but this time it was different. Even if he lay down, he knew rest wouldn't come. The thought of Aurora standing in front of his class, teaching his students, kept pulling his thoughts back to the present.
The faint hum of her voice drifted through the walls. He couldn't make out every word, but the occasional burst of laughter or enthusiastic outburst from the students told him that things were going well. He let himself relax, sinking back into his chair as he listened.
The students' strong reaction to her mention of him had surprised him. They genuinely cared about him. The way they had rallied behind her words, defending him, speaking of him so warmly, touched something deep within him. He hadn't realized just how much he'd come to mean to them. The thought made his chest tighten, a rare warmth spreading there.Maybe I really am doing something right, he thought, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
That smile lingered for the rest of the day, fed by one particular moment that replayed in his mind. Aurora had said it, in front of everyone, without hesitation: she liked him. It was a simple statement, yet it carried so much weight for him. It wasn't just the words, it was the ease and sincerity with which she'd said them. And if he was honest with himself, he liked her too. More than he cared to admit. More than he felt he deserved to.
Meanwhile, Aurora stood in front of his class, feeling surprisingly at ease. She'd been aware, almost from the start, that Remus was likely sitting in his office, listening. Instead of making her nervous, the thought grounded her. It was as if his quiet presence was there, steadying her, reminding her that she wasn't alone in this.
She glanced out at the students, watching their eager faces as they listened to her explain the topic. They had spoken so passionately about Remus, and she couldn't help but feel a swell of pride on his behalf. He deserved their admiration, their respect.
As the lesson continued, she found herself speaking not just to the students but almost to Remus himself, as though her words could carry through the walls. She wanted him to know that they all cared about him, that she cared about him.
And somewhere, just beyond that classroom, Remus sat in quiet contentment, feeling as though he was hearing exactly what he needed to.
"They love you, they'd probably lay flowers at your feet if they could," Aurora teased, a playful lilt in her voice as she glanced at Remus.
Remus laughed, his warm, genuine chuckle filling the corridor and drawing a few annoyed murmurs from the nearby portraits. Aurora joined in, her laughter light and free, echoing in the quiet night. She adored these late-night patrols with him. Exhaustion often dulled their senses but sharpened their humor, turning ordinary conversations into delightful absurdities. She could almost hear the portraits grumbling in their frames, lamenting their midnight disruptions.
Tonight, their route led them toward the Astronomy Tower, its spiral staircase looming ahead. Remus normally would have groaned at the prospect of climbing all the way to the top. But over the past three months, he'd learned how much Aurora loved the tower, her enthusiasm infectious. It had become a ritual of sorts—one he secretly looked forward to despite the strain on his legs.
"Aurora, please," he huffed as she darted ahead, practically skipping up the steps. "Not so fast. I'm not twenty anymore."
She paused mid-step, turning to face him with an exaggerated look of disbelief. "You sound like you're at least sixty!" she exclaimed, her grin teasing. "Come on, Remus, how old are you? Thirty? You're still young!"
"Thirty-four in three months," he replied, pausing to catch his breath. "But thanks for the flattery. Usually, people assume I'm forty-four, or worse."
Aurora chuckled, slowing her pace to match his. "Three months, you say? When's your birthday?" she asked, a spark of curiosity in her eyes. "And don't think you can get away with being cryptic—I'll find out one way or another."
"March 10th," he confessed with a faint smile, his tone both resigned and amused.
Aurora's face lit up with a smile so bright it rivaled the stars overhead. "March 10th. Got it," she said, her voice warm, as though she were already scheming.
When they reached the top of the tower, the crisp night air greeted them, carrying with it the faint scent of pine from the Forbidden Forest. Above them, the stars stretched across the heavens, glittering against the velvety darkness. Aurora leaned on the stone railing, gazing up at the night sky with an expression of pure wonder.
"Back to our students," Remus said after a moment, breaking the peaceful silence. He settled beside her, his voice soft but tinged with amusement. "They really like you too."
Aurora turned to him, arching a brow. "Is that so?"
"Absolutely," Remus replied, his tone earnest. "I hear them talking in the halls. They say you're one of the kindest professors they've ever had. A fair teacher who actually listens to them."
Aurora smiled, but there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes. "That's nice to hear," she said softly, glancing back at the stars. "But I think they only say that because I don't give them as much homework as Snape does."
Remus chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't sell yourself short. They see how much you care, Aurora. It's not just about homework, or the lack of it."
For a moment, the two stood in comfortable silence, the world around them quiet and still. Then Aurora nudged him lightly with her elbow.
"And they love you too, you know," she said. "They'd probably throw a parade for you if it wouldn't get them a week of detention with Filch."
Remus laughed again, a sound so warm it seemed to melt the chill in the air. Aurora joined in, her joy infectious. And as they stood there, laughing under the stars, it felt, for a moment, like all was right with the world.
"It's nice to have a coworker like you, Remus," Aurora said after a moment of silence. Her voice was soft, carrying a sincerity that made him pause. "I like you, and I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me."
"I like you too, Aurora," he replied, his tone gentle. But then he caught onto the deeper meaning in her words and tilted his head slightly. "Why wouldn't I want to talk to you? You're a truly wonderful person, and talking to you is always a pleasure."
Aurora smiled, a hint of shyness in her expression. "Thank you, Remus. That means a lot." She hesitated before adding, "You know, not everyone has felt that way. People don't always want to talk to me, but it's okay."
Remus frowned, concern flickering in his eyes. "Aurora?" he asked gently, turning to face her fully.
They were standing closer now, close enough that Aurora became acutely aware of the space—or lack of it—between them. It felt intimate, almost too intimate for colleagues. She couldn't recall the last time she'd been this near to someone she wasn't related to, except perhaps in cramped spaces like a crowded bus with her sister.
She laughed nervously, brushing it off. "Let's just say people sometimes avoided talking to me. It's really not a big deal, Remus. It happens. They probably thought I was a little... odd."
"Odd?" Remus repeated, his brow furrowing deeper. "Aurora, what do you mean?"
"Oh, you know," she said, waving her hand dismissively but unable to mask the vulnerability in her voice. "People thought I was a bit of a know-it-all when I was younger. It's nothing serious. Just what happens when you're a child who's a little too eager to share everything you've read in books." She let out another nervous laugh, but this time it didn't quite reach her eyes.
Remus sighed softly, and before she could react, he rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Aurora," he said, his voice low and earnest, "there is nothing wrong with being bright or curious. If anyone ever made you feel otherwise, they were wrong."
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of them. Remus's touch was steady, grounding, but the space between them had dwindled to mere inches. Their noses were almost brushing, and Aurora's heart thudded in her chest.
She blinked, startled by the intensity of the moment. "We should go," she murmured, stepping back to put some much-needed distance between them. "We have to finish patrolling."
Remus hesitated, his gaze lingering on her for a fraction of a second longer, but then he nodded, his usual warm smile returning. "Of course. Lead the way," he said, falling into step beside her once more.