Archive of Our Own

Remus slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the bright light. Snow-white sheets, heavy curtains surrounding the bed, the sharp smell of medicinal potions and salves. He immediately knew where he was: the Hospital Wing. Again.

He let out a muffled groan, covering his face with his hands, but was instantly met with a searing flash of pain that tore through every muscle. It felt as though his body was burning from the inside, his head was splitting, and his joints ached as if someone were trying to twist them apart. A feverish shiver overtook him, making his teeth chatter uncontrollably.

"Damn…" he whispered hoarsely, not even attempting to fight the weakness, merely wetting his parched lips with his tongue.

Remus propped himself up on his elbows, slowly and with great difficulty, glancing at the bedside table next to his bed. He knew there would be a pain-relief potion there—Madam Pomfrey always left it in plain sight.

At first, he endured. He endured until the very last moment, letting the pain consume him until it was the only thing he could feel. Sometimes, it seemed as though the pain was part of him, inseparable from his very being. He hated the sensation. He hated his dependence on potions. Drinking them made him feel weak, useless. And each time, he delayed as long as possible, until his body felt like it was about to break apart, until sweat poured from him in streams, and his mind was shrouded in a dense veil of agony.

But one day, Madam Pomfrey outwitted him. She had simply brought him a glass of water, and he, still sleepy and utterly drained, drank it down in one go, never suspecting a thing. He realised there had been a potion in the water only later, when the pain disappeared so quickly and completely that it felt almost magical. That day, for the first time, he returned to the dormitory late in the evening feeling almost normal. Almost… human.

Now, he didn’t argue. Grasping the potion from the table, he opened the vial with trembling hands and took several large gulps. The bitter liquid scorched his throat, but relief began to wash over him within moments.

Placing the empty vial back on the table, Remus lowered his head onto his knees and tightly shut his eyes. Gradually, the spinning room steadied, his body ceased its trembling, and the pain began to subside. He exhaled shakily, almost breaking into a groan.

It was over. Another transformation was behind him.

Remus turned his head toward the bedside table again and couldn’t help but smile. There lay a bar of chocolate, a book with a bookmark tucked inside, and a note. He didn’t need to read the signature to know who had left the modest gift.

Yesterday, he and Tonks had their first joint duelling lesson. She turned out to be much more capable than she gave herself credit for. Quick, focused, and with an innate intuition, she easily anticipated his moves and reacted almost flawlessly. Her spells flew with a precision that would have made many upper-year students envious. It seemed as though she had either a wealth of experience or a natural talent. But she didn’t see it herself. Tonks worried endlessly about her clumsiness, as if every fall or stumble negated all her skill.

Remus felt he should reassure her, tell her that she was already remarkable and that confidence would come with practice. But he knew words alone wouldn’t suffice. So he had spent all of Saturday evening searching for tips on improving coordination and overcoming awkwardness during duels. It had been a pleasant distraction, keeping his mind off the looming full moon. He’d been so engrossed in asking questions and reading that he barely noticed the headache and exhaustion that usually intensified before the transformation. He was even less irritable than usual, though perhaps that was because he had been alone in the library with no one to grumble at.

However, during the training, nothing went as planned. His body began to give out—his arms wouldn’t obey, and sharp movements brought pain. This frustrated him more than usual. He had snapped at her, hardly aware of what he was doing. Now, he felt deeply ashamed. She didn’t deserve that, especially after being so kind and open with him.

He remembered her embarrassed expression when she started apologising for not keeping track of the lunar phases. It had struck him as almost absurd. Why should she care about his problems? Tonks was already doing more for him than anyone else. She always visited him after the full moon, bringing her smile and sunny stories that warmed his soul. Every time she appeared in the Hospital Wing, he felt human again.

This attachment to the pink-haired witch was almost foolish. He didn’t know where it had come from, but he didn’t care. He enjoyed her company, and he would do anything to preserve their friendship.

Remus took a deep breath, his smile widening as he reached for the note. Her untidy handwriting was unmistakable: the letters danced across the page as awkwardly as she did.

Remus,

Thank you for yesterday. You were a fantastic teacher. I hope this book helps sharpen your defensive skills (though you’re already too good). The chocolate is just to add a little sweetness to your day.

Feel better, and if you need anything, you know where to find me.

Tonks.

He read the note several times, feeling a warm wave wash over him. These words meant more to him than he could express. Smiling, he reached for the chocolate, broke off a small piece, and popped it into his mouth. The sweet taste instantly lifted his spirits. Then he picked up the book Tonks had brought and began leafing through it, savouring the ease of the moment.

"Hello, Pete," he replied more quietly, meeting the gaze of his friend, who—credit where it was due—looked slightly sheepish. "What are you doing here?"

James, Sirius, and Peter always visited him after a full moon to check how he was doing. Usually, they showed up closer to dinner, after the second lesson. But now, judging by the soft rays of sunlight streaming through the window, it was still daytime—probably the second lesson.

"Oh, just a small injury," Peter grinned, shrugging, and nodded towards his arm.

Only then did Remus notice that one of Peter’s arms was bandaged and secured in a sling.

"What happened?" Concern was evident in Remus’s voice.

"Nothing major," Peter waved his good hand dismissively, as if it were a trivial matter. "In Transfiguration, we were supposed to turn a vase into any plant. I’d just been reading about Crassula, you know, the money tree. It’s so charming, with its neat little green leaves, and they say it brings good luck if you take care of it properly."

"And?" Remus squinted, already guessing that the story was about to take an interesting turn.

"Well, I might’ve mixed up a few letters in the incantation. Instead of Crassula ovata, I accidentally said something closer to Dionaea muscipula," Peter continued, dropping heavily into the chair beside Remus’s bed.

"A Venus flytrap?" Remus repeated, trying to suppress a grin.

"Yeah. But not just any flytrap," Peter went on with a serious expression. "Apparently, I accidentally created an enlarged version. And let’s just say it wasn’t exactly friendly. I barely dodged when it tried to eat me along with my wand. But it still managed to get a bite in."

"Sounds dreadful," Remus nodded, though the corners of his lips twitched with amusement.

"It was!" Peter declared with an air of exaggerated importance, as if recounting a heroic deed. "Madam Pomfrey said the bite would’ve been dangerous if I were an ant or something like that. As it is, a bit of ointment, and it’ll heal."

"How on earth did you manage that?" Remus raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smile. "I mean, Crassula ovata and Dionaea muscipula sound completely different."

"I… er… got a bit distracted," Peter admitted, scratching the back of his head and dropping his gaze in embarrassment.

Remus couldn’t hold back and let out a quiet chuckle. Peter was, perhaps, the only person who could stumble into trouble so absurdly that even he couldn’t help but find it amusing.

"And how are you?" Peter asked, his expression brightening noticeably. He seemed pleased to have distracted his friend from darker thoughts.

"I'm fine," Remus replied calmly, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

Peter cast a brief glance at Remus’s right arm, wrapped in bandages, before meeting his eyes again, his scepticism clear.

"Well… I will be fine," Remus clarified, noticing the look and giving a small smile. "I’ve taken the pain-relief potion, and Madam Pomfrey’s healed the worst of the injuries. By evening, I’ll probably be as good as new."

Peter nodded, but his eyes remained watchful, as though he wasn’t entirely convinced.

"Are you sure you’re all right?" This time, his voice was quieter, almost serious.

Remus held his friend’s gaze, weighing whether he should be entirely honest. But he didn’t want anyone worrying more than necessary.

"Yes, Pete," he said with a gentle, but firm smile. "Really. I’m fine."

Peter exhaled with relief and grinned again. "All right. But if you need anything—call us. You know we’re always here."

Warmth spread through Remus’s chest. Peter’s words, spoken so casually, suddenly carried a profound significance.

"I know," he replied softly. Then, after a moment’s thought, he added with a faint smile, "By the way, do you want some chocolate?"

"Chocolate?" Peter perked up, his face instantly lighting up.

Smiling at his friend’s enthusiasm, Remus reached for the chocolate bar and handed it over. Peter eagerly broke off a piece, popped it into his mouth, and hummed contentedly, closing his eyes in delight.

"I didn’t know they handed out chocolate in the Hospital Wing," Peter joked as he quickly polished off his portion. "Is it some kind of secret password? Or do you have to bribe Madam Pomfrey?"

Remus chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "No, chocolate isn’t usually on the menu here. Tonks brought it."

"Really?" Peter looked surprised, glancing around as though expecting to see her hiding somewhere nearby.

"I think she came in the morning while I was still asleep," Remus replied, breaking off another piece of chocolate. His voice softened slightly as he added, "She left a note."

He nodded towards the note lying on the bedside table, and Peter followed his gaze.

"That’s good," Peter remarked, biting into another piece of chocolate.

The two shifted their conversation to the Transfiguration lesson. They laughed over the ridiculous moments—like when one vase had suddenly turned into a nut tree that shed its shells all over the classroom, or when James accidentally animated his vase, and it chased him around the room. Peter, with exaggerated seriousness, recounted how the Venus flytrap had tried to eat his wand, and Remus laughed so hard he had to cover his face with his hand.

As evening approached, Madam Pomfrey came by to check on them. Satisfied with their progress, she finally discharged them. Before leaving, they grabbed a quick meal—a bowl of steaming broth and soft bread, which seemed to magically restore their strength.

When they arrived back at their dormitory, the sound of loud laughter and joyful shouting reached their ears. Remus and Peter exchanged glances, already guessing the likely culprits.

Opening the door, Remus froze, staring at the scene before him.

James and Sirius were bouncing on the beds, tossing pillows into the air and shouting something incomprehensible over the noise. They looked like two five-year-olds who had been let loose after a sugar rush.

"I see Potions was productive for you two?" Remus asked, folding his arms across his chest with an air of weary amusement.

James and Sirius immediately froze mid-bounce, their heads whipping around to face the doorway, where Remus and Peter stood.

"Remmy!" they shouted in unison before leaping off the beds and rushing to him, wrapping him in such an enthusiastic hug that he stumbled slightly.

"Oi—what are you doing?" Remus croaked, his sore muscles protesting against the unexpected assault.

"Petey!" they cried, letting go of Remus and launching themselves at Pettigrew with equal energy.

"You won’t believe what happened!" James clapped his hands together, beaming at his friends.

"Halloween’s on!" Sirius declared, his eyes shining with excitement.

Remus sat heavily on the bed, letting his head fall back.

"So, the prefects took pity on you, did they?" he asked, raising an eyebrow sceptically.

"Oh, if only!" Sirius scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "Those killjoys won’t allow anything. They could’ve at least let us throw a small party, right?"

"A small party?" Remus chuckled softly. "You were trying to buy fireworks!"

"So what!" Sirius huffed, sitting up straighter. "What’s a celebration without fireworks, eh?"

"And they would’ve been small fireworks," James added with a perfectly serious expression, as if defending his honour. "Nothing extravagant."

"In any case, you probably shouldn’t have mentioned it to the prefects," Remus said, shaking his head, though a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"It… sort of slipped out," Peter muttered, his cheeks flushing slightly.

"But that doesn’t matter now!" James declared, cutting through the awkward pause. "Because something else happened!"

"The professors have approved a party for all third-years and up in the Great Hall!"

Sirius dramatically threw his hands in the air, as if heralding the start of a grand festival.

"There’ll be music, food, and… costumes!" Sirius added, his voice ringing with excitement.

"A party? Costumes?" Peter repeated, his eyes widening in delight as if he were already imagining himself in some spectacular outfit.

"Can you believe it, Petey?" Sirius chimed in, clapping him on the shoulder. "Life’s looking up again!"

"And have you thought about costumes yet?" Peter asked, heading to his bed, his eyes still sparkling with enthusiasm.

"No, we were waiting for you," James admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Then, adjusting his glasses, he raised a hand suddenly, as though struck by inspiration. "Maybe I should enlarge my glasses!"

"What for? Are you having trouble seeing?" Peter frowned, slightly confused.

"For my costume!" James exclaimed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"And who exactly are you supposed to be?" Sirius asked, crossing his arms and squinting at him with mock suspicion.

"Who else?" James puffed out his chest and grinned proudly. "A professor!"

Sirius stared at him, clearly trying to decide if his friend was joking. His face remained serious for a few moments, but then he threw his head back and burst into laughter.

"What? Got a better idea?" James crossed his arms, feigning indignation, though the twitching corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement.

"Of course I do!" Sirius announced, flipping his hair back with the flourish of someone unveiling the next great trend. "I’ll be a pirate! Just picture it: leather boots, a sabre at my side… I’d look absolutely dashing!"

He winked at his reflection in the mirror, as though already picturing himself in full pirate regalia.

"You’d need an eye patch to complete the look," James teased, squinting mockingly. "Then I could be… let’s see, a knight! Or no… an archer! With a bow and arrows."

"Mm… not bad," Sirius said with an exaggeratedly thoughtful nod, casting James an overly critical look. "At least it’s better than a professor."

"You’re just jealous!" James grumbled, though he couldn’t help laughing along.

Peter watched his friends’ banter with a wide smile, clearly enjoying their playful brainstorming. He rubbed his chin as if deep in thought.

"What about a ghost?" he suggested, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "A white sheet, a spooky voice!"

Sirius tilted his head to the side, pretending to seriously consider the idea.

"Isn’t that a bit boring? You know, the usual plain white sheets…"

"Why plain?" James chimed in, his enthusiasm reigniting. "You could make it original! Like a ghost in chains, straight out of an old story."

Sirius frowned in mock deliberation, then pulled a theatrical grimace.

"Sounds like too much effort. I’m all about style."

James rolled his eyes, but his warm smile betrayed his amusement.

Meanwhile, Remus sat quietly on his bed, gazing out of the window. He heard every word but chose not to join in, merely smiling faintly as his friends tossed ideas back and forth.

"Rem, what about you? Who are you going as?" James suddenly asked, turning his attention to him with an eager look.

Remus stiffened, his shoulders twitching slightly. He shifted his gaze from the window to his friends, who now watched him with open curiosity.

"I haven’t decided yet," he replied briefly, trying to sound calm.

He pretended to consider the question, but a faint unease stirred within him.

He’d never really celebrated Halloween.

Or rather, he couldn’t remember the last time he truly had: dressing up, gleefully collecting sweets, hearing the sound of children’s laughter ringing through the streets. It had been so long ago, back before the bite.

Back then, his mum used to sew his costumes by hand. She carefully cut out every detail, adding touches—shiny buttons, embroidery, or scraps of fabric that made each outfit special. They would go trick-or-treating as a family, and every time someone opened the door, Remus proudly showed off his costume. In the evening, he would sit on the rug by the fireplace, counting his sweets while his parents read him stories about ghosts and spirits.

But everything changed after the bite.

The idea of dressing up in a costume, when once a month he became a real monster, felt strange and frightening. Even more troubling was the attention that his family worked so hard to avoid. They moved frequently, kept to themselves, and sometimes even hid Remus’s very existence from new neighbours. It might have seemed cruel or odd to outsiders, but Remus understood and didn’t object. Extra attention could be dangerous—especially during holidays when people were quick to notice anything unusual.

Instead, Halloween in their family became a quiet affair. They baked biscuits, lit the fireplace, and took turns reading spooky stories. It was cosy. It was right. But… something was missing.

When Remus arrived at Hogwarts, his first Halloween with his friends was a revelation. They laughed until their stomachs hurt, ate pumpkin pies, competed to see who could tell the funniest jokes, and spent hours sharing ghost stories. For the first time in years, he remembered how much fun it was to be part of a celebration.

But the news of this year’s costume party made his heart pound. It was as if he were that small, vulnerable boy again, back in the days just after the bite.

Remus stifled a heavy sigh.

"I’ll think about it," he finally said with a smile. "I’ve got plenty of time, don’t I?"

His friends nodded, taking his answer at face value, and quickly resumed their animated discussion of costume ideas. James cast him a thoughtful look, as though he had picked up on something in Remus’s voice or expression. But he chose not to press, instead diving back into the lively debate.

Peter proposed something else, making Sirius laugh loudly as he countered the suggestion, and James began drawing shapes in the air with his finger, as if envisioning how his costume would look.

Leaning back against the headboard, Remus allowed his thoughts to wander, the cheerful noise of his friends providing a comforting background.

"We need to organise a Prank Week!" Sirius declared enthusiastically as he burst into the room like he was storming into a council chamber. His voice echoed off the walls, instantly drawing everyone’s attention.

James, lounging on his bed and lazily twirling his wand between his fingers, turned to raise an eyebrow at him.

"I’m not against it, of course," he drawled, eyeing Sirius with curiosity. "But could you perhaps explain why it’s needed?"

"Needed?" Sirius repeated, dropping onto the nearest chair and throwing his legs over the backrest like a true philosopher. "James, the need for pranks is like the air we breathe. Hogwarts is crying out for grand, epic mischief!"

"Did the girls tell you your jokes were lame again?" Remus asked from his bed without lifting his head from his book. His lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile.

Sirius shot him a scathing glare but, seeing no reaction, rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

"Marlene said my joke about seriousness was stupid. Can you believe that?! Is she serious?"

"No, she’s Marlene. You’re the only Sirius here," Remus muttered.

For a moment, silence fell over the room before everyone burst out laughing—everyone except Sirius, who rewarded them with another reproachful look.

"Anyway," Sirius cut in, determined to stop their laughter. "Lily also said our pranks were pointless and we’re… useless."

"What? She actually said that?" James sat up straighter, his eyes widening in outrage.

"Well, not exactly," Sirius admitted with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But you get the idea."

"Then we must have a Prank Week!" James agreed, his face lighting up with excitement. He quickly glanced from Peter to Remus and then back to Sirius. "Got any ideas?"

Sirius smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"We start simple," he said, raising a finger like a professor delivering a lecture. "First: we swap out the contents of classroom blackboards for something more… inspiring."

"Such as?" James prompted, clearly challenging him to come up with something bolder.

"Poems about the boredom of Transfiguration, for starters," Sirius suggested, grinning. "Or turn the blackboards into mirrors so everyone spends the lesson staring at their own reflection instead of notes."

"Bit underwhelming," Remus mumbled, still not looking up from his book.

Sirius pretended not to hear the comment and moved on to the second part of his plan.

"And then… we spike the breakfast pies with potions. Imagine it: every third pumpkin filling makes the eater speak only in rhymes!"

"Hmm, not bad," James said, his interest piquing as a grin spread across his face. "And what about the finale? What’s the grand finish?"

"Oh, the finale will be spectacular!" Sirius stood and spread his arms wide like a conductor before an orchestra. "A massive feather explosion in the Great Hall. Everyone will be stunned, everyone will laugh, and we’ll… well, we’ll definitely be summoned for a chat with the professors."

"And that’s exactly why we shouldn’t do it," Remus interjected, closing his book and fixing Sirius with a tired look.

"Rem, do you ever support my ideas?" Sirius squinted at him, though the grin never left his face.

"I do," Remus replied evenly. "When they don’t carry the risk of getting us expelled."

"This will be legendary!" James exclaimed, clapping Sirius on the shoulder. "But we’ll have to figure out how to avoid the… consequences."

"That’s why I love you, James," Sirius said with a broad smile. "You always think strategically."

"Come on, Remus!" James winked. "We could even prank Tonks."

"I don’t see why we’d need to prank her," Remus muttered, rolling his eyes. The thought of coming up with a harmless prank just to see her genuine laughter, however, warmed his heart. His cheeks flushed slightly, and he quickly looked away, hoping no one noticed.

"Looks like he’s almost caving!" Sirius teased, winking at Remus. "Pete, what about you?"

"I’m all in!" Peter declared, bouncing on his bed with enthusiasm.

"Well, Rem, three against one," James said with a playful grin.

Remus sighed, glancing at his friends with a fond smile.

"I never said I was against the idea. I’m just saying we need to be cautious and make sure the professors don’t suspect us," he said seriously. "I’d rather not end up on Professor Elsdor’s detentions during the full moon."

"Of course, Remus," James said, settling onto Remus’s bed. His tone grew calm, and his gaze sharpened with interest. "You’ve probably got some ideas already, haven’t you?"

"Naturally," Remus smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief.

From there, their planning erupted into a flurry of creativity. For several nights in a row, they sat together, jotting down every prank they could imagine. Each idea was added to a growing list, debated, refined, and perfected. They grouped the pranks into cohesive plans, hunted down suitable spells in the library, and even tested them on each other, memorising the funniest results.

Exactly a week before Halloween, the plan was polished to perfection. James proudly supplied the Invisibility Cloak, their indispensable tool. With it, they could sneak into the necessary rooms, cast their spells, test the outcomes, and vanish just as silently. Then they would reappear in the Great Hall, feigning groggy innocence—a simple act, as by that point, they were hardly sleeping anyway.

Remus often joked to himself that by Halloween, they wouldn’t even need costumes—their gaunt faces and dark circles would make them look like zombies naturally.

Every prank was meticulously planned. They enchanted statues and pumpkins to mutter eerie phrases or move chaotically, scattering sweets whenever they collided with something. They created "ghosts" that floated after students, pulling faces meant to terrify. They spiked drinks with spells that transformed the liquid into thick slime or made it sparkle with harmless but startling colours.

Their favourite part, however, was watching the chaos unfold. Sitting at their table in the Great Hall, they wore their most innocent expressions, stifling laughter as students tried to make sense of what was happening. When anyone asked if they knew who might be responsible, they synchronously shrugged and answered with the utmost sincerity.

The plan was flawless. Everything went off without a hitch—until one moment.

They stood in the corridor outside the entrance to the Great Hall. There were still a few hours left until dawn, the castle was silent, and the light from their magical lamps barely illuminated the walls. They hid behind one of the columns, whispering final instructions to each other as they prepared for the next item on their list: soap bubbles.

This prank was the pinnacle of their week. They had spent weeks crafting a special spell that held perfectly on the bubbles’ surface. It was a combination of charms: tickling, attraction, and durability. When the bubbles popped, the targeted student would dissolve into uncontrollable laughter, while the bubbles would reform and continue to follow them.

Remus was particularly proud of this idea. It was his invention, discovered accidentally while researching duelling spells with Tonks. He’d spent countless hours experimenting, blending charms until he achieved the ideal result.

Not that he’d ever admit it, but he was especially eager to prank Nymphadora with this spell. Her laughter—bright and unrestrained—always seemed to sweep away his worries. He hoped the prank wouldn’t offend her but would bring a moment of joy instead.

Remus had thought carefully about how to weave the idea seamlessly into the group’s overall plan so that his motives wouldn’t stand out. He dreaded their teasing, especially if they guessed why he’d been so quick to join in on this escapade.

But if Tonks were to call him her "perfect balance between a bookish guy and a prankster" again, he supposed he could endure even that.

One evening in the common room, with deliberate nonchalance, Remus hinted to his friends that some people still considered their pranks "not the best." He didn’t need to say much. He knew Sirius, James, and Peter would immediately guess who might have said it—and speculate exactly what had been said.

The truth was that Tonks and Alice had never said anything of the sort. On the contrary, they had often praised the boys’ pranks, laughing until tears streamed down their faces. But this was a detail Remus decided to keep to himself. If his friends knew the truth, his entire plan would fall apart.

James immediately latched onto the idea. Convincing Thad to help them was surprisingly easy—James promised that Alice and Tonks would be thrilled to hear he’d been involved. Thad, blushing slightly, agreed, and soon they had a new accomplice.

All the while, as the group debated the plan’s details and picked the perfect moment for its execution, Remus kept shaking his head, insisting it was a "terrible idea." He knew that if he didn’t protest, James and Sirius might not take it seriously. But as soon as he called the plan flawed, their enthusiasm only grew stronger.

And now, here they were, standing in the corridor outside the Great Hall, hiding behind a column. Breakfast was about to start, and Tonks and Alice were due to arrive any moment. Sirius’s stifled chuckles and James’s whispered suggestions mixed with Peter’s nervous murmurs.

Remus, on the other hand, appeared calm. He kept a close eye on his watch, waiting for the precise moment. Everything had to go perfectly. A snap of the fingers, the spells would activate, and the results would unfold before them.

But then, a familiar cough echoed behind them.

Remus turned slowly, his heart sinking, and met the stern gaze of Professor McGonagall.

Well, that’s ruined everything.

All their preparation, all the close calls they’d avoided, only to get caught now. His heart thudded dully in his chest as he instinctively glanced around, checking to see if Tonks was approaching. He prayed she hadn’t arrived yet. At least then he could salvage some shred of dignity.

"P-P-Professor McGonagall!" Sirius blurted, plastering the most innocent smile he could muster across his face. But Remus could see the way his eyes darted nervously down the corridor, searching for an escape.

"May I ask what is going on here?" McGonagall asked, her tone as sharp and stern as ever—one they were all far too familiar with.

Remus stared at the floor, his mind racing for any excuse, any plausible explanation. But nothing came. His brain refused to cooperate. He felt a pang of frustration.

Frustration that, caught up in his hopes of making Tonks laugh, he hadn’t insisted on a more foolproof plan. Frustration that they’d chosen this moment, of all moments, to leave the Invisibility Cloak behind. Frustration that McGonagall had caught them right now, mere seconds before Tonks and Alice could have appeared.

The perfect prank, the perfect moment, had crumbled to nothing.

"We… uh… we were testing the durability of soap bubbles, Professor," James offered weakly.

"Durability?" McGonagall repeated, narrowing her eyes. Her gaze swept over the bubbles floating lazily in the air before landing back on the boys. "So, you’re telling me that this… hysteria-inducing contraption was part of a scientific experiment?" She took a step forward, and her robes shifted slightly.

Remus caught sight of something that made him freeze: a bright pink t-shirt, a denim skirt, and striped tights beneath her robes. He was so thrown off that his mouth opened as if to ask, "Professor McGonagall, do you always wear vibrant t-shirts under your robes?" The thought was so absurd that his brain refused to process it any further. Thankfully, Sirius jumped in before Remus could blurt out anything disastrous.

"Of course, Professor!" Sirius exclaimed hurriedly. "We thought… well, if students laugh more… then… it might improve their… uh… learning!"

McGonagall folded her arms across her chest, fixing them with an icy glare.

"Learning, you say?" she drawled slowly. "And who, may I ask, came up with this… brilliant approach?"

Remus stepped forward, finally snapping out of his stupor.

"It was a group decision, Professor," he said evenly. "We just wanted to add a little fun before the holiday."

She gave them a long, scrutinising look—the kind that usually made them shuffle uncomfortably.

"Fun?" she asked sternly. "You believe that making a mockery of others is an appropriate activity for students of your calibre?"

Remus wasn’t really listening anymore. His brows furrowed as he stepped closer, catching a familiar but misplaced scent.

His heightened sense of smell had always been both a blessing and a curse. He could recognise someone with his eyes closed, just by their scent—a talent that was often inconvenient. Living with three teenage boys whose collective aroma left much to be desired had been a challenge in itself.

But this smell was entirely different. It wasn’t McGonagall’s usual comforting scent of biscuits, black tea, and old parchment—the one that reminded him of a grandmotherly warmth, even if her sharp gaze constantly reminded him she was no kindly granny.

Now, it was something else entirely. Fresh, floral, with hints of lavender and caramel.

This wasn’t McGonagall.

This was…

Remus’s thoughts came to a halt when he heard a familiar laugh.

"Alice!" ‘McGonagall’ snapped, her voice shifting instantly, no longer stern but scolding. "You were supposed to stay quiet!"

A moment later, standing before them, was none other than Nymphadora Tonks. Her pink hair was shifting back into place, framing a face with bright blue eyes sparkling with mischief and freckles scattered across her cheeks as if placed there on purpose. Remus couldn’t help but think this was her true appearance—except, perhaps, for the hair colour.

"You should’ve seen your faces!" Alice giggled, clutching her stomach as she doubled over with laughter.

"Tonks?!" James exclaimed, realisation dawning on him. "That was all… you?!"

"Not so fun when the joke’s on you, is it?" Tonks retorted, imitating McGonagall’s tone but now with evident glee.

"That was… impressive," Peter admitted, staring at her in awe.

"I had no idea you could do that," Remus blurted out before he could stop himself. There was a hint of frustration in his voice that he hadn’t intended to show—disappointment that their week-long plan had been completely derailed. He barely had time to appreciate how expertly she’d turned the tables before Sirius voiced what he hadn’t yet acknowledged.

"Alright, you caught us, Tonksie," Sirius said with an overly dramatic sigh. "But doesn’t that make it all the better? We pulled a prank, you counterattacked with style. I’d say you’ve earned a place on our team."

"Oh, I’m smart enough to know better than to team up with you lot," Tonks quipped with a sly grin.

Remus, who had been silently watching the exchange, couldn’t tear his eyes away from her glowing face. Her laughter was infectious, her energy captivating. He felt like a fool for being upset about their ruined plan when she stood there, radiating joy.

As Tonks turned and headed toward the Great Hall with Alice, Remus’s gaze lingered on her, as though he were spellbound.

Only when she reached the entrance did he let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

"She really got us," he said, glancing at his friends.

Sirius and James exchanged looks before bursting into laughter as well.

"Got to hand it to her, she’s good," James admitted, grinning. "But we’ll get our revenge!"

"Not sure I’m ready for another round," Remus muttered, but the warm smile on his face betrayed his words.

Remus covered his eyes with his hands and let out a heavy sigh. He lay on his bed in his room, having spent hours listening to his friends busily preparing for Halloween.

Peter, clearly nervous, was frantically wrapping himself in bandages, trying to secure them with magic, glue, and even tape. But the bandages stubbornly unravelled, falling to the floor. James, noticing his frustration, cheerfully remarked that it made the costume look even more authentic. Peter exhaled in relief, though he was still irritated, tugging at a bandage on his right arm that kept coming undone.

James, on the other hand, looked supremely confident, as befitted his role as a romantic prince. He was dressed in a black suit with gold trim, complete with a red cape. On his head perched a crown he had crafted out of paper and enchanted to make it look as though it were made of real metal. However, his greatest challenge was his hair. For the past ten minutes, he had been standing in front of the mirror, struggling to strike the perfect balance between the crown and his hairstyle, sighing dramatically each time it went awry.

Sirius, in contrast, seemed the most at ease. His rock star costume was meticulously planned. He had bought a leather jacket over the summer at a Muggle shop, claiming he did it just to spite his mother. Yet Remus had noticed the gleam in his eyes whenever he talked about the purchase. To complete the look, Sirius added several fake earrings, chunky bracelets, and an electric guitar slung across his back. The guitar, admittedly, was a toy—a fact Sirius blamed on Kreacher, the Black family’s house-elf, who, according to Sirius, had done it on purpose. Undeterred, Sirius used a spell to enlarge the guitar to an impressive size. Perhaps too impressive, in Remus’s opinion.

"Are you sure you want to go like that?" Sirius asked, glancing over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow as he took in Remus’s outfit.

Remus looked down to assess himself. He was wearing his favourite knitted jumper and dark jeans.

"It suits my image, doesn’t it?" he asked, his tone tinged with irritation. The last thing he wanted right now was criticism of his costume.

He’d spent weeks agonising over what to wear. Then one day, he overheard Nymphadora mention that she wasn’t a fan of Halloween either. It had been a huge relief. Why should I bother? he thought. Maybe he could just relax, pick something simple, and not worry.

"Sure, if your image is a boring Muggle," Sirius said with an exaggerated eye roll.

Remus sighed in frustration, reaching for a scarf on his bedside table and wrapping it around his neck.

"Better now? Less boring?" he snapped.

Sirius merely snorted, shaking his head.

James finally turned away from the mirror, giving Remus a once-over before smirking.

"You know, it’s... minimalist. But maybe a bit of colour wouldn’t hurt?"

"He doesn’t need your ‘colour,’" Sirius interjected with exaggerated drama. "It’s his thing! ‘I’m boring but reliable.’"

Remus couldn’t suppress a smile, though he quickly looked away so no one would notice.

"I’m still going like this," he said firmly, pulling his jumper up a little higher.

"Fine, fine, Mr ‘I-Do-What-I-Want,’" Sirius muttered, returning his attention to his oversized guitar.

Remus sank back onto his pillow, feeling a faint warmth from his friends’ teasing smiles. No matter how much they joked, he knew they’d accept him as he was.

When they entered the Great Hall, music was already filling the space, and most of the students were spinning around on the dance floor. The faint glow of pumpkin garlands and flickering candles created a magical atmosphere, and for a moment, Remus paused, taking it all in.

It didn’t take long for him to spot Tonks’s pink hair, longer than usual tonight. She was standing with her back to him, chatting animatedly with Thad and Alice.

Alice looked radiant, her eyes darting between Tonks and Thad as she smiled so brightly it seemed as if she might turn into the Cheshire Cat. Thad, on the other hand, looked a little flustered, his cheeks tinged pink, though his voice sounded steady.

Remus couldn’t help but smile as he stepped a little closer, curious to hear what they were saying.

"Good choice," Tonks was saying warmly, her voice friendly and encouraging. ""Your costumes really do match. Maybe you should dance together? I think it’d be adorable."

She nodded towards the dance floor, tilting her head slightly, her gaze lingering on Thad. Alice, hearing the suggestion, looked at Thad with even more hope, as if this was the highlight of her evening.

"Why not?" Thad finally said, offering Alice his hand, biting his lip nervously.

Tonks smirked and muttered under her breath, "Excellent work, Tonks."

She raised her glass of punch to take a sip, but before she could, Remus decided to step in.

"Talking to yourself now?" he murmured quietly in her ear, barely managing to suppress a smile.

Tonks spun around, her eyes wide with surprise, and then she lightly smacked his arm in mock indignation.

"Remus! You scared me half to death!" she exclaimed, though her tone was more playful than angry.

Warmth spread through him, and he knew it had nothing to do with the knitted jumper or the stifling atmosphere in the hall.

"Sorry, didn’t mean to," he said, his grin widening.

Tonks reached for her glass again, but before taking a sip, she paused and gave him a suspicious look. Her gaze flicked from the glass to him and back.

"You lot haven’t spiked the food, have you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him in mock accusation.

Remus frowned slightly, trying to decipher her meaning. She glanced at the glass again, and he couldn’t help but grin.

"No, nothing’s been tampered with," he assured her, but with a quick glance back at his friends, he added with a smirk, "Although… who knows what they’ve been up to while I wasn’t looking."

Tonks followed his gaze to James, Sirius, and Peter, who were chatting away without a care nearby. She let out a soft laugh.

"And how do you put up with them?

"You get used to it," Remus replied with a shrug, unable to suppress his own smile.

"Where did Sirius even get that thing?" she asked, nodding towards the oversized guitar that Sirius was proudly displaying to James.

"Don’t ask. I’d rather not know," he said, though he’d already heard the story several times that day. He just didn’t feel like talking about Sirius—not right now.

"Brilliant. A royal dream team: the prince, the rock star, the mummy, and…"

Tonks trailed off as she turned her attention to Remus, her eyes carefully scanning his outfit. Under her gaze, he felt his cheeks begin to warm. He quickly averted his eyes, unable to meet hers, suddenly hyperaware of how plain he must look in comparison to everyone else.

"And you’re supposed to be… what?" he heard her ask.

"Take a guess," he suggested, crossing his arms over his chest as though shielding himself.

"You’re… a professor? No, too boring…" Tonks tapped her finger against her chin, a gesture that made her look impossibly endearing. "A wanderer? Hmm… doesn’t fit. Oh! Maybe you’re a humble yet charming librarian?"

Remus snorted, trying to mask his embarrassment, and shook his head.

"No, it’s much simpler than that," he replied with a faint smirk, shrugging. "I’m a Muggle."

"A Muggle?" she repeated, her brows furrowing slightly as an expression of disappointment crossed her face. "You didn’t even try!"

Remus raised an eyebrow, feeling an unexpected flash of irritation at her words. He hadn’t wanted her of all people to criticise his choice. His retort escaped before he could stop it.

"Well, I’m not the one who claimed to hate Halloween and dressing up. And then shows up dressed like…"

He trailed off as his gaze landed on her costume, and his words fell away.

Until that moment, he’d been too wrapped up in his doubts and insecurities to truly look at her. Now, he saw her in an entirely different light.

Her pink hair shimmered under the spotlights, softly framing her heart-shaped face. Her freckles—more pronounced than usual—danced across her cheeks. And her eyes, a nearly transparent shade of pale blue, seemed impossibly bright.

She looked so enchanting, like something otherworldly. As if she’d stepped out of a fairytale and wandered into the hall by mistake. Like a creature from an ancient legend—beautiful, untamed, and immune to anyone’s judgment.

"…like a fairy nymph," he murmured, barely aware he’d said it aloud.

She truly did look like a nymph. Her name, Nymphadora, which she so loathed, had never suited her more perfectly than it did in that moment. Remus felt he should tell her. He should pull out every beautiful word in his mind and spend hours saying them until she finally believed him.

"By the way," he began, clearing his throat. "you loo—"

"Wow, Tonksie!" Sirius’s voice cut through, shattering the moment. "You look absolutely enchanting! You’re the one brightening up this otherwise dreadfully boring ball!"

Remus threw Sirius an irritated glance before he could stop himself. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he took a deep breath. Damn Sirius.

Why was it so easy for him to give compliments? Was it something all pure-blood families taught their children? Remus would have loved to attend just one of those lessons, to gain even a sliver of that confidence and an improved vocabulary. Maybe then he could find the right words to say when he was around Tonks.

"Oh, thank you, dear cousin," Tonks replied, offering Sirius an exaggerated theatrical bow. "And I must say, the rock-star look suits you."

Remus rolled his eyes, feeling irritation bubble up inside him. Why does this always happen to me? Why didn’t I prepare better?

"Well, I did make an effort!" Sirius replied with a wide grin, clearly revelling in the attention. Then he turned to Remus, his expression suddenly mock-stern. " But you could’ve at least worn a tie."

Remus stared at Sirius in disbelief. Why couldn’t he just keep quiet? Why did he have to bring up my costume again? Wasn’t the earlier embarrassment enough?

"A tie? Do Muggles even wear ties to balls?" he replied, striving to keep his tone calm, though a trace of irritation slipped through.

"At least something to distinguish you from a dull primary school teacher," Sirius quipped with a sly grin, clearly enjoying himself.

Remus couldn’t help but crack a smile, though it was more a reflex of frustration than amusement.

"Better a teacher than waving around a guitar that I’m sure doesn’t even work," he shot back, hoping to end the exchange on a winning note.

"Quite the family comedy night," Tonks murmured softly, her smile warm and genuine.

Remus exhaled, trying to steady himself. He turned away to pour himself some punch, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. He figured he might have a chance to talk to Tonks again once he turned back.

But when he did, his heart sank. Sirius had already swept her onto the dance floor, spinning her with exaggerated flair. She was laughing, her pink hair swaying gracefully in rhythm with the music.

Damn Sirius, he thought, taking a sip of his punch and watching the scene unfold.

She looked so genuinely happy, moving effortlessly to the music. Her movements were light and unforced, almost magical, and her pink hair shimmered under the spotlights, creating an ethereal glow around her. It was mesmerising, and despite himself, Remus couldn’t look away.

Remus smiled faintly. His irritation began to fade. All he really wanted was for her to be happy, and seeing her like this brought him an odd sense of calm, even if there was still a twinge of something lingering inside.

"Maybe you should stop staring at her and just ask her to dance?" came a familiar voice.

Remus flinched, snapping his gaze away from Tonks and scanning the crowd.

"What?" he asked, feigning confusion.

James stepped closer, his face lit with the kind of smug satisfaction that came from solving a particularly tricky puzzle.

"Come on, Rem. We all see how you look at her," James said, nudging him with his shoulder.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Remus replied, trying to keep his tone as even as possible. "We’re just friends. I’m just… keeping an eye out to make sure no Slytherins bother her."

James let out a short, incredulous laugh.

"Sure, that’s exactly what you’re doing."

Remus shot him a sharp look, irritation bubbling back to the surface.

He didn’t want to talk about his feelings. He wasn’t Sirius, who could flirt effortlessly with anyone he met. He wasn’t James, who could flash a charming smile and leave girls swooning. And he certainly wasn’t Peter, who could say something as corny as "your eyes remind me of the sunrise" and somehow make it work.

He was just Remus—a regular guy with a dark secret. He’d never expected to have friends, and now he valued their friendship above everything else. To him, Nymphadora was a friend, and he wanted to keep things just as they were.

"Fine, mate," James said, exhaling dramatically as he pushed his hair back. "But at least relax. Dance a little. It’s a party, after all!"

"I don’t dance," Remus muttered, taking another sip of punch.

"Do you think they know how to dance?" James asked, smirking as he nodded towards the dance floor, where students were moving with carefree abandon, clearly more interested in having fun than following any sort of dance rules. "Come on, let’s go! It’ll be fun!"

Before Remus could protest, James snatched the glass from his hands and placed it on the nearest table. Then, grabbing him by the sleeve, he pulled him out onto the centre of the dance floor.

Remus glanced around nervously, as if searching for an escape route, when suddenly, Tonks appeared in front of him.

"If you’re going as a Muggle, you might as well show us how they dance," she teased, her tone light and playful.

Her eyes sparkled, and her movements were so infectious that Remus couldn’t help but be drawn in. Her smile was genuine, and her words carried a warmth that made his heart race.

He felt his cheeks begin to flush, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. The music swelled louder, and without thinking, he took a hesitant step closer.

"Fine, but only if you promise not to laugh," he said, throwing her a mock-serious look.

"I promise," she replied with that same radiant smile that made his heart skip a beat.

Before he could come up with an excuse, her hands guided him into the rhythm of the music.

At first, Remus moved awkwardly, as though his feet were completely out of sync with the beat. His eyes were glued to the floor, avoiding Tonks’s gaze at all costs. But her light, carefree movements and infectious energy slowly began to ease his tension.

"You’re not bad at all," she said encouragingly, her voice warm and kind.

"That’s something new," he muttered, shaking his head but allowing himself a small smile.

Gradually, he began to move with more confidence. The music seemed to seep through his guarded thoughts, leaving only a sense of ease. He cautiously lifted his gaze, meeting her shining eyes, and realised he no longer cared about looking foolish.

"Have you seen James?" he asked, leaning closer so she could hear him over the music.

Tonks followed his line of sight, and they both burst out laughing. James was performing exaggerated, theatrical bows in front of Lily, who was trying to maintain a serious expression but couldn’t quite keep her lips from twitching into a smile.

"Looks like a one-man show," Tonks commented, laughing.

"To be honest, this is his toned-down version," Remus added, his voice trembling with laughter.

They continued to move to the music, exchanging jokes and watching the crowd around them. Peter, still partially tangled in his bandages, was flailing in an attempt to match the rhythm, while an enthusiastic Hufflepuff was energetically demonstrating how to do the "wizard jig."

"I think if he keeps going, he’ll end up tying himself into a knot," Remus observed, prompting another burst of laughter from Tonks.

Sirius, meanwhile, in his flashy rock star outfit, was spinning across the dance floor, dramatically pretending to play his oversized toy guitar as if he were on a world tour. A group of older students had even started cheering him on, acting as his impromptu fan club.

"Well, at least he’s found his calling," Tonks remarked, nodding towards her cousin.

Remus merely snorted, feeling the last remnants of tension fade away.

With each new song, they both grew more at ease, their conversations flowing effortlessly. Remus found himself joking far more than he ever expected, and Tonks laughed so wholeheartedly that her laughter sometimes drowned out the music.

"You know, you’re not as bad as you thought," she said, pausing between dances.

"Don’t flatter me," he replied with a smile, though her words made his heart beat just a little faster.

By the end of the evening, Remus realised his cheeks ached. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed or smiled this much. He felt light, happy, free of the constant worries that usually weighed him down, even for just a moment.