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Back in the broom closet, a whole new aura of uneasiness and shock swan through as Nova remained frozen.
The name-her name-hung in the air, heavy and electric. Her smile faltered into nothingness, and her heart stumbled like it had missed a step. Her real name. The name no one here was supposed to know. The witch felt the room grow closer and smaller around her, suffocating her but at the same time bringing in this barrage of mixed emotions-anger, shock, panic.
"What did you say?" she asked, her voice low, the sharp edge of disbelief cutting through the stillness.
Remus's face went pale, his calm unraveling as he realized his mistake. "I-" He started, but the words tangled, caught in the trap he'd unknowingly set for himself.
Her pulse roared in her ears, those breaking barrage fighting for dominance, within her. She tensed, trying to hold a semblance of neutrality in her face, trying to not give away her true self, as she chuckled nervously, trying to tune in her emotions in a totally different direction, changing her dread to an act. "Why did you assume it'd be my name? Look, I made it very clear that day at the ministry, I'm not a Black, okay? I'm not Sirius' daughter."
Remus didn't have any expressions on his face, as he stood on his feet, slowly, his amber eyes trained on hers, his jaw a bit tight. He didn't say anything, his head tilted to the side with a complex look as he watched her rant.
"It's just a series of coincidences which weirdly tangled with each other, it couldn't possibly hold any . . ."
She paused with a soft hitch of air when his warm fingertips brushed over the skin above her chest, his grip wrapped around the necklace hanging around her neck. ". . . meaning."
Unexpectedly, his lips had parted a bit, his eyes soft as slick of his saliva coated his bottom lip. His blown eyes studied the jewel before he looked up at her eyes, to which her breath stopped a bit in her nostrils and her lungs.
"This is not yours." He spoke, voice as soft as cotton and breath as slow as slumber. As if, he didn't want to spook her, didn't want her to be discomforted in any way.
"What do you mean?" she only whispered, shakily, trying to keep up the act still, a soft chuckle mixing it which only seemed to die down when he gave her a look-a look which translated to 'don't try to lie.'
A look of exhausted defeat blemishes her features as she let her body slump a bit. She looked down at the pendant herself, caressing the white stone before she asked, giving up, "How long have you known?"
He smiled with a comforting warmth, his eyes on the stone, as he tried being as gentle as possible as if trying to tell her that he understood and that he didn't judge. "Quite some time. I didn't know for sure, but it took me some . . . overthinking to finally figure it out. You see, I'm quite the depiction of paranoia, Black. It's an occupational hazard."
