Whispers of the Dove / R.L & S.B

🌼~°6°~🌼

<<<<Remus>>>

The quiet hum of footsteps echoed through the otherwise empty corridors as I wandered back from my chambers, my mind occupied with lesson plans and the ever-growing weight of my responsibilities. Most of the students were off enjoying themselves in Hogsmeade, but something caught my attention—a lone figure sitting by a window, staring out at the grounds.

"Harry?" I called softly, approaching him.

He turned, his expression a mix of surprise and resignation. "Professor Lupin."

"Why aren't you with your friends?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"I didn't get my permission slip signed," he muttered, trying to sound indifferent. "It's fine. They're all having fun, and I've got... this." He held up a book, though it was clear his heart wasn't in reading.

I offered him a small smile. "Why don't you join me in my office? I was just about to have some tea."

Harry hesitated but then nodded. "Sure."

We walked together in silence, the quiet atmosphere of the castle wrapping around us. It felt strange but oddly comforting to have Harry here with me, so much like his father yet entirely his own person. James Potter had been one of my best friends, and now, sitting across from his son, it was impossible not to see the similarities.

I busied myself with the kettle as Harry settled into a chair, his gaze wandering around the room. "It feels good to talk to you a bit, Harry," I said, setting a steaming cup in front of him. "Even if it's a little... painful."

Harry looked up, puzzled. "Why painful?"

I gave a small, wistful laugh. "You look so much like your father."

Harry blinked, then grinned. "That's what everyone says."

We sipped our tea quietly for a moment before I spoke again. "I've been meaning to talk to you about the Boggart in our lesson."

Harry's eyebrows raised slightly. "Yeah? Why didn't you let me face it?"

I leaned back, clasping my hands together. "To be honest, Harry, I wasn't sure what form your Boggart would take. I was concerned it might transform into something that could cause panic among your classmates."

Harry tilted his head, curious. "Like what?"

"Like Voldemort," I said quietly.

His eyes widened, the shock evident on his face. "Voldemort? You thought that's what I'd see?"

I nodded. "It seemed likely. He's the source of so much fear for you and so many others."

Harry shook his head, looking down at his hands. "It's not him, though. It's the Dementors. They're worse."

The admission hit me hard. "The Dementors," I echoed softly. "I'm sorry, Harry. They are terrible creatures. No one should have to endure what you've been through. But it just shows how smart you are, fearing fear itself."

Before Harry could respond, the door creaked open, and Severus Snape stepped in, carrying a tray of vials. "Your potion, Lupin," he said, his tone clipped but not unkind.

Harry's eyes flicked between us, his brows furrowing. "Potion?"

Snape placed the tray on my desk, his dark eyes narrowing slightly at Harry. "For his condition," Snape said, clearly annoyed at the intrusion.

Harry looked at me, concerned. "Condition? Are you okay, Professor?"

I gave him a reassuring smile. "It's nothing to worry about, Harry. I have a weak immune system; this potion helps me."