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

🌼~°9°~🌼

<<<<Willow>>>>

The school year has officially settled in, but I'm not sure if I have settled in quite yet. My classes are going okay—I'm a bit less awkward than before—but it still feels strange standing in front of a classroom full of judging eyes, expecting me to guide them through their school years and exams.

While tidying up my classroom, I hear footsteps behind me. Turning around, I see Remus approaching, a light smile on his face.

"Willow, I've been searching for you," he says, his tone warm but weary.

I smile back, though I can't help but notice how tired he looks—dark circles under his eyes and a faint lifelessness in his expression. Yet, when he looks at me, his eyes seem to spark with a glimmer of life.

"What are you still doing here, Miss Langley?" he teases as he steps closer. "The first Quidditch match is about to start—Gryffindor against Hufflepuff. I don't want you to miss it."

I chuckle. "I don't know, Mr. Lupin," I reply mockingly. "I've never been to a Quidditch match before. It sounds... kind of boring to me."

His smile falters for a moment, but he quickly recovers. "Really?" he asks, feigning surprise, before offering a charming grin. "Well then, take my hand, my lady. I'll escort you to your very first Quidditch match. Harry's playing as Seeker—I think you'll enjoy watching him."

Hearing Harry's name makes me smile. Lily had often written to me about James and his Quidditch antics during their school days.

"Hmm, you might have convinced me," I say teasingly. "But what if I get cold?"

Remus chuckles, his laugh deep and genuine. "I'll keep you warm myself, I promise."

Before I can respond, he walks around me and grabs the coat I had draped over a chair. Gently, he wraps it around my shoulders, his hands brushing lightly against my arms.

"Come on," he says, taking my hand in his. "Let's not keep Harry—or the match—waiting."

With that, he leads me out of the classroom, his warmth and enthusiasm contagious.

The game had been thrilling so far, Gryffindor dominating with seamless teamwork. I found myself fully immersed, shouting along with the crowd as another Quaffle soared through the hoop.

Remus's hand had found mine at some point—whether to calm me or himself, I wasn't sure. But I didn't let go, savoring the quiet warmth of his touch even as the cold rain began to drizzle, then pour. The water didn't bother me much, nor did it seem to faze him, but my concern shifted to the players battling the elements midair.

My eyes flicked to Harry, focused and intense as he darted after the Snitch. His movements were sharp, precise, but something changed—his head snapped up, his face pale.

A chill that had nothing to do with the rain crept down my spine. Following his gaze, I saw them. Dementors.

The dark, hooded figures hovered ominously around the field's edges, their presence suffocating. My heart clenched as I noticed Harry's broom wobble. He was struggling, his strength and focus visibly draining under their influence.

Reacting instinctively, I leapt to my feet, yanking my wand from my coat. "Expecto Patronum!" I shouted, my voice ringing out through the stadium.

From my wand erupted a massive black wolf, its translucent form shimmering with blue light. It bounded toward Harry, fierce and determined, scattering the Dementors as it reached him. The oppressive cold lifted slightly, but it was too late to stop what was happening.