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23/11/1976
A feeling of relief overwhelms Remus the second he steps inside the warmth of the greenhouse. He had debated whether to come down at all today, dreading the trek through the freezing cold, but in the end he’d decided to suck it up and brave it; he was in desperate need of some relief. Ever since the temperature had dropped, his bones had been screaming at him non-stop.
On top of that, he’s also relieved to see that no one but Dorcas is currently occupying the space. He’s in no mood to talk to anyone today. Or at least not to the chaotic bunch that is the rest of the Slytherins who usually hang around Dorcas. It’s not that he minds them; he actually kind of likes them, but they can be a little bit too loud for his taste sometimes. Regulus is the exception: he’s quiet – almost always is – and so Remus definitely appreciates him.
As he takes a few more steps inside, Dorcas looks up at him, a joint already lit between her slender fingers. She offers him a soft smile, shifting a little on the bench in a silent invitation.
When he sits down beside her, he briefly wonders if he should kiss her by way of greeting. She is his girlfriend, after all. The thought evaporates almost as soon as it appears. He can’t quite see the point of it anyway. They’re not a particularly touchy couple, and they never really have been.
It’s something Remus has thought about often; touching, kissing, maybe even more, but it never feels quite right. His mind always seems to go blank when he tries to picture intimacy with her.
They’ve kissed, of course. They have. Just not very often, and never with much passion. More out of a sense of obligation than anything else. If he really thinks about it, he can’t even remember the last time they did. He doesn’t mind, not really. He’s never been someone who craves closeness. If anything, it tends to make him squirm.
He doesn’t think Dorcas minds either, they’re content like this. It’s easy, it’s quiet, it’s comfortable.
The greenhouse hums softly around them, glass panes fogged over from the contrast between the cold outside and the trapped warmth within. Sunlight filters through in pale, fractured beams, catching on the leaves and turning them translucent at the edges. The air is thick with the smell of damp soil and something green and bitter, layered with the faint, sweet sting of smoke. Somewhere above them, water drips steadily from a cracked pipe, each drop slow and deliberate, as if time itself has decided to linger here. Wrapped in heat and growing things, the world beyond the glass feels distant, muted.
Dorcas passes the joint over to him without having to ask if he wants a hit. He’s here for a reason, after all. Remus fills his lungs and holds it there for a moment longer than he probably should, the smoke warm and sharp as it settles in his chest. When he exhales, it comes out slow, curling lazily into the air between them.
The effect doesn’t hit all at once. It never does. It starts small; an easing, barely noticeable at first. The tension in his shoulders loosens by a fraction, the ache in his bones dulling at the edges. His thoughts slow just enough to stop tripping over each other, stretching out into something softer, less insistent. For the first time all day, he feels like he can sit still without bracing himself for the discomfort that usually follows his every move.
He relaxes into the bench, the tension easing from his posture as he passes the joint back to Dorcas. She takes it without hesitation, bringing it to her lips and inhaling deeply, unhurried.
They sit in silence for a while after that, the quiet settling comfortably between them.
After a while, Remus speaks up. “No other Slytherins today?”
Dorcas hums. “No, didn’t tell them I was coming down here.”
“Fair.”
She lazily passes the joint back to him. Their fingers brush lightly against each other. Neither of them reacts to it at all. He notices this fact, but not with any surprise. It’s always been like that between them. No fireworks, no sparks, no electricity, no butterflies. He’s not sure if a relationship should be like that anyway. Besides, he read somewhere that butterflies are just anxiety in disguise.
Still, his thoughts drift briefly to a certain dark-haired boy, stirring all sorts of unexpected reactions. He shakes his head, trying to push them away.
“Your friends are still not invited here?”
Remus smiles at that. “No, this is my sacred no-Marauders sanctuary. I do enjoy a bit of quiet from time to time,” he replies, even though he knows that when he comes down here, it’s quite regularly not for a quiet time. His Slytherin friends can be just as rowdy as the Marauders.
“Where do they think you’re off to every time you come down here?” Dorcas questions.
He lets the question hang between them for a moment before answering. “To be honest, I think Sirius knows where I disappear to. He just chooses to let me have it, I guess,” something Remus is entirely grateful for. “James is probably way too busy to notice my absence most of the time. And if Peter notices, I don’t think he cares. Or wonders, for that matter.”
After a beat he adds, “And besides, they probably think I’m spending time with you, which, as you might have noticed, isn’t even a lie. Nobody thinks it’s strange I want to have some private time with my girlfriend, right?”
Dorcas hesitates. “I suppose not,” she finally says.
After all, it had been their friends pushing this relationship from the start.
It had started with Remus and Dorcas meeting in the greenhouse. Most of the time when Remus came down here, there were at least a little bit of people around. Usually, a handful of Hufflepuffs and more often than not, Dorcas and her Slytherin friends. He kept his distance at first, but Barty and Evan didn’t seem to understand the concept of keeping to themselves and slowly he had been roped into their friend group. Albeit a bit reluctantly. He wasn’t the most social of people, and he also didn’t know how to navigate the fact that Regulus was part of it. Silly as it felt – he had nothing against the younger Black brother – he was nervous about Sirius finding out they were spending time together.
As it turned out, Regulus had been hesitant too at first, which made the first few weeks of Remus being involved with the group feel awkward and stilted. But gradually, whatever tension had existed between them eased (no doubt helped by the generous amounts of weed smoked during nearly every encounter). Now they could exist together in quiet, mutual understanding. Remus could even admit that he rather liked Sirius’s younger brother – he could be incredibly witty – and he might have quietly taken it upon himself to try and reconcile the two brothers.
So, Remus became a part of the friend group that consisted of Dorcas, Regulus, Barty, Evan and Pandora, the latter of whom was actually in Ravenclaw and wasn’t always joining their trips to the greenhouse, but was certainly a pleasant addition when she did.
Outside of the greenhouse, they didn’t really interact all that much, but they were significantly more friendly with each other than before. Putting the age-old Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry behind them, now that they had come to know each other.
Then came a duo-assignment in Potions, a class where Gryffindors and Slytherins were taught together, and Remus had been paired with Dorcas by Professor Slughorn. Naturally, he was delighted – not only was Dorcas extremely bright, there wasn’t another Slytherin he would have rather worked with. James ended up with Snape, and Remus was surprised the two of them hadn’t murdered each other yet.
Of course, the Marauders immediately noticed the already existing friendship between him and Dorcas and that had been the start of their pushing and prodding. The other Slytherins had caught on to it and excitedly joined in. Or rather, Barty and Evan did. Regulus didn’t care for this kind of stuff and Pandora seemed to be on another planet half of the time.
Thus began a long period of teasing and hinting at a potential romance. Remus tried not to let it get to him, but his friends could be really persistent. The only logical solution, to both of them, seemed to be to indulge. And that’s how they ended up here: the two of them, in the greenhouse, alone, and in a relationship.
A relationship that certainly lacked passion and fire, but that was comfortable and gentle nonetheless. Remus was certain this wasn’t his “it”, yet he felt content in the moment all the same. After all, he cared deeply for Dorcas; he was even sure he loved her.
The ‘in love’ part of it, though…
Outside, the sky had been starting to cloud over, the sunlight dimming to a pale, grey wash that made the greenhouse feel even warmer in contrast. Shadows stretched across the leaves, soft but growing longer, and the air carried a faint, electric stillness that hinted at impending rain. A breeze slipped through a cracked window, carrying the scent of wet stone and moss from the castle grounds. Somewhere above, a loose tile rattled against the glass, and Remus could just make out the first tentative drops of water clinging to the edges of the panes.
Their joint was almost at its end, but Remus didn’t feel like going back to the castle just yet. If he was smart, he’d go before the downpour started, but he couldn’t be bothered.
“Do you ever-”
“How is-”
Both Dorcas and Remus speak at the same time. Neither of them finishes their sentence. Remus glances at Dorcas, who is smiling up at him. He’s a fair bit taller than her, even sitting down.
“You go on,” Dorcas says quietly, cocking her head.
“Oh,” Remus continues, “I was just going to ask how your Transfiguration paper was coming along.”
“Hmm. Alright, I think. Almost done, I’ll let you have a look at it before I need to hand it in. You know a lot more than me about the subject anyway…” She says that last bit with a slight smirk and Remus knows. He knows that she knows. And he knows that she knows that he knows that she knows. Yet, they never speak about it. He’s really grateful for that.
“I don’t know about that,” he answers instead, “You’re probably the smartest witch in our year. Hell, probably the whole school.” He truly believes it.
“Well, good thing you’re not a witch then. You could run for smartest wizard in our year.” Her smile is bright and Remus can tell she is feeling the aftereffects of the joint they shared. She seems looser than she usually is, lighter somehow.
Not quite knowing what to say to that, Remus tries to change the subject, “What were you going to say?”
Dorcas tilts her head, a silent question.
“Earlier,” he adds, “when we spoke at the same time. What were you going to say?”
“Oh,” she looks away again. “Nothing important. Don’t mind it.”
Remus’s first instinct is to pry, but he knows how much he hates it when people do that, so he lets it go, choosing silence instead.
The raining has started now, a gentle drumming against the glass panels. A few centimetres to their left, a puddle begins to form beneath a cracked pane overhead, water seeping through in slow, steady drops.
Dorcas watches the puddle for a moment, following the slow drip from the cracked pane above. “Looks like it’s finally giving in,” she says, nodding toward the leak. “I keep meaning to tell Sprout about that, but I never do.”
“We should probably let her know,” Remus supplies. “At this rate, we won’t be able to sit here dry much longer.”
“Merlin, where would we be smoking then?” Dorcas adds, feigning something like shock.
“That would surely be the death of us,” Remus adds, just as dramatically.
“Tell me about it,” Dorcas replies, though this time the playfulness doesn’t quite reach her voice.
Remus senses the shift in tone and nudges her gently with his shoulder.
“I wouldn’t mind getting rained on,” he says quietly, “if it meant sitting here with you – smoking or not.”
Dorcas hesitates for a second.
“Remus…”
“I know.” Because he does know where this is going. Has felt it for a while now. Has known it for a while.
Dorcas shifts on the bench to face him fully, taking both of his hands in hers.
“No, listen to me,” she says, and her voice is honest, but threaded with something unmistakably sad. She doesn’t get any further than that, though. The words seem to catch in her throat.
And so he continues for her.
“I like this,” Remus says instead, softly. His gaze drifts past her, to where the rain slips through the crack in the glass and darkens the stone beneath it. “Us, sitting here. Not having to be anything more than this.”
His fingers curl slightly around hers, more grounding than intimate. “It’s easy,” he adds, almost apologetically.
Dorcas swallows, her eyes following the same steady drip of water. She nods once, slow and careful, as if the movement alone costs her something.
“I know you like someone else,” he adds after a breath. It’s a stretch, but he feels like it’s now or never.
Dorcas’s eyes widen slightly and she wants to say something, defend herself maybe, but Remus won’t have that.
“It’s okay, Dorcas. I know,” he says, trying to put as much into the words as he can without having to say more. He doesn’t want to say it.
He doesn’t want to explain that he knows why she looks at Marlene the way she does, or that he understands. It doesn’t feel necessary. He can see the shift in Dorcas’s expression as it dawns on her; realising that he really does.
And because it only feels fair, he adds, “I like someone else, too.”
“You do?” She asks quietly.
Remus can’t help but smile, “I do. It’s killing me, actually.”
Dorcas snorts, entirely ungraceful. “Tell me about it,” she says for the second time in a short period.
They fall silent again, but it’s comfortable. Easy, like it’s always been.
The rain comes a little harder now, tapping insistently against the glass and splattering into the puddle forming at their feet. The sound is steady, almost hypnotic, and it fills the silence between them without needing words. Remus watches a droplet cling to the edge of the cracked pane, teeter, and finally fall, rippling the small puddle below. Once again, Dorcas shifts slightly, resting her head briefly against his shoulder.
“I would still like to be your friend,” she says solemnly.
It fills Remus with warmth. “I wouldn’t let you go, even if you tried.”
“Remus Lupin! Holding me hostage?” Her voice carries the playfulness again, and he’s glad to hear it.
“Guilty,” he grins.
“Well, good. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
Remus hums in lieu of response, content. He feels lighter than before. A pleasant mix of the weed and the truth.
“We should probably head back soon,” Dorcas notes.
“In a bit.”
Dorcas doesn’t move and Remus settles in a little more.
***
Remus doesn’t know for how much longer they stay after that, only that it’s completely dark when they finally return to the castle. He nearly slips on the wet cobblestones – Dorcas catching him just in time – and they spend the rest of the trek upwards giggling.