six

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Wren's hair was sticking to her face, soaked from the downpour of heavy rain, droplets dripping from the ends of her lashes. She had a black puffer coat tightly wrapped around her torso, the hood deemed useless as she let the rain drench her.

The coat wasn't even zipped up, open to show the sharp shadow of her collarbone, and the cuffs were slightly rolled so that the pale skin of her wrists was showing.

A deep burgundy scarf hung loosely around her neck, the soft fabric now wet and cold to the touch. She put a lit cigarette to her shivering lips and took a long draw, trying to smoke it all before the rain put it out.

She had a bad habit of smoking when she was nervous, and she always found herself feeling as such before a Quidditch game, worrying that Milo would get injured.

The weather had only made her panic more, the cause of her having smoked three cigarettes in the space of ten minutes. They hadn't done anything to calm her, but they were a nice distraction for a brief few moments.

She made a mental note to change clothes, or at least drench herself in perfume, before she met up with Milo after the match. He hated it when she smoked, and he somehow seemed to be able to smell it from a mile away. 

She was standing just outside the general area of the Quidditch pitch and stands, impatiently waiting for the game to start and be over. Wren didn't notice the presence behind her until it spoke.

"You know those are bad for you." They stated, the low husk of the voice startling her.

Wren fumbled for a moment, unsure of what to do with the still lit cigarette in her hand and painfully aware of the man standing behind her. She could have thrown the cigarette away and stamped it out with her foot, she could have even kept smoking it, but she ultimately decided to stub it out on her wrist, her brain taking a few seconds to catch up as she gasped.

Remus stepped closer to her, grabbing the cigarette from her hand and throwing it onto the dew-covered grass below, his shoe crushing it into the mud.

He looked down at her in disbelief, "Why would you do that?"

"I panicked!" Wren replied, her brows furrowed as she looked down at the small but sore circle of burnt skin on her wrist.

"Panicked?" He repeated, grabbing her arm to take a closer look at the burn. His hair was sticking to his face too, mousy brown curls swept across his forehead.

"Yes, professor," She emphasised his title, "I panicked."

Remus' breath hitched in his throat for a moment, his hand freezing in its soft grip of her forearm. Sometimes when he looked at her, it still took him a moment to remember that she was, in fact, a student. Despite their agreement to forget the events of that fateful Wednesday night, he still occasionally found himself thinking about it when he zoned out.

He noticed as Wren winced when his finger grazed the skin around the wound, even if she did try to hide it.

"Come with me." He instructed, nodding his head in the direction of the castle.

"Where are we going?" She asked, her feet still planted in their position on the ground as he turned to look at her.

"My office." He replied.

Just like on her birthday, Wren wasn't sure what possessed her to follow him. Maybe it was the fact that the burn on her wrist was really stinging, or perhaps this man really was putting a spell on her whenever he looked into her eyes.

*

Wren trudged up the stairs in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom behind Remus, the sudden warmth of the castle having caused a red hue to paint the tip of her nose and across her cheeks.

She followed him into his office, surprised by how empty it seemed. A pile of thick books were stacked on his desk, a few more scattered around on the oak. He had a small, and seemingly charmed, tiered box open on his desk, overflowing with various pieces of parchment.

The curtains draped over the large window were partially closed, a few rays of sun peeking through and bouncing off the stray particles of dust that were floating through the air.

Wren watched as he dragged his office chair round so that it was facing another, smaller chair. He gestured for Wren to sit, before he went over to a wooden cabinet and began rooting around through glass bottles and flasks.

"How come you have so many potions?" Wren asked, sitting up straight and craning her neck in an attempt to get a better look at the contents of the cupboard.

"What?" He said, looking over at Wren with a smirk on his face, "A man can't dabble in the art of potions?"

Wren pulled a face of disgust which caused Remus to laugh, "Snape would kill you for even thinking the words, 'dabble in the art of potions'".

The smile on Remus's face fell as he went back to rummaging through the small glasses lined up on the shelves in front of him.

"Snape would kill me anyway." He mumbled. Wren had heard his small comment, but chose not to question it as she let silence fall back upon them for a moment.

She gently ran the tip of her finger over the raised edges of the burn, only then realising that it was on the same arm as her charmed scar.

Remus picked a small bottle of clear ointment from his vast collection of potions, seating himself in the chair opposite Wren.

"What is it?" Wren questioned, eyeing the small bottle clasped in Remus' hand.

"Just a healing ointment." He said, swishing the liquid and watching as it gained an orange hue, before turning clear again. "It's got phoenix tears in it."

Wren wracked her brain, trying to think back on the thick book of charms that taught her how to hide her scar. Phoenix tears shouldn't interact with the spell. And besides, the burn was a couple inches below the scar anyway.

"Have you always been this.." He paused, thinking of the right word before he spoke, "Cautious?"

"Only with strangers." Wren replied, watching as the corners of his mouth twitched into a small smirk.

He responded with a small raise of his brows, holding back his laugh.

"What?" Wren questioned, feigning her innocence to get a reaction out of him.

"Nothing." Remus said with a small shake of his head.

She shifted in her seat, putting one leg elegantly over the other. "You may not be a stranger to drunk Wren, but you are to sober Wren."

"Drunk Wren and Drunk Remus are most definitely not strangers." He mumbled to himself, a small smirk playing on his face as he waited for her reaction.

Wren groaned in disgust, "Oh my god!"

"Alright, sorry." He held his hands up in mock surrender, "Not talking about it."

Wren nodded, "Right."

An awkward sort of silence descended upon them for a moment; Remus coughed to clear his throat as he glanced anywhere but at Wren.

"Just put the stuff on." Wren sighed, nodding her head towards the ointment that Remus had placed on the table. She pulled her coat off, placing it on the back of the chair she was sitting on. The cold air hit her immediately, the cotton of her shirt thin and, unbeknownst to Wren, slightly see through.

Remus scooted his chair closer so that his knees were touching Wrens, gently holding her arm in his hand. His fingers were warm against Wren's skin, as she felt herself relaxing into his familiar touch.

With a firm grip on the bottle, he lifted the dropper from the glass and splashed a few drops onto Wren's arm. To Wren's surprise, it didn't hurt; A slight tingling sensation spread around the burn, as she watched the charred edges slowly start to heal.

"So why were you in a Muggle pub?" Remus asked, his eyes immediately finding Wren's as he looked up.

"Oh, uh." She started, slightly taken back by his sudden questioning, "Milo's muggleborn and he grew up in London, so he likes to take me out to random places sometimes."

"Ah," Remus nodded, looking back down at her arm, "I see."

They both paused for a moment, before Wren found herself saying, "It was my birthday." His eyes met hers again.

"Happy birthday." Remus replied immediately, the brown of his eyes boring into the blue-ish green of her own. His thumb started to rub gently against her wrist, rubbing the healing potion on and around the burn.

Wren couldn't help it, but a small smile appeared on her face. The movement of his thumb against her skin felt just like that night, when she tried to touch his face and he stopped her.

"Belated." Remus corrected himself, a small smile now playing on his lips too.

"Thank you." She said, her voice barely a whisper. Wren took this moment to take a closer look at the scars etched into his face; The scar just beside his lip looked healed and the one on his right cheek looked relatively fresh, yet they looked almost identical.

They stared at each other for just a moment too long, Remus being the first to look away as he awkwardly cleared his throat. Wren quickly stood from her seat, pulling her arm away from Remus' grip.

"I should go." She mumbled, grabbing her coat from the back of the chair but not bothering to put it on.

Wren began to walk away, Remus watching her retreating form, before she quickly spun round to face him, a few wet strands of hair whipping against her neck.

"Thanks." She smiled meekly, holding up her arm which had mostly healed, only a small pink scar left as a reminder of her idiocy.

Remus responded with a polite smile and a small nod of his head, his back still straight against the back of his chair, his hands clasped between his slightly open legs.

Wren gave him one last nod of thanks before scurrying from his office, gently pulling the heavy oak door to a close behind her.

*

"Ok what about," Milo started, his voice trailing off as he thought carefully about his next words, "Professor Snape, Professor Lockhart and Professor Lupin."

Wren groaned, "Milo!"

The two Gryffindors were playing fuck, marry or kill, sprawled out on Milo's four poster bed with their heads at opposite ends. Wren's head was hanging over the edge, the length of her hair draped across the dusty floorboards, but she propped herself up on her elbows to shoot her friend a glare.

Milo's eyes widened as he tried to suppress his smirk, "What?"

"You know what!" Wren swatted a delicate hand at him, "You can't make me do it with professors!"

"Yes I can!" Milo protested, his head resting comfortably against his pillow, "Look, I'll go first."

"Kill Snape because, well, he's Snape." Milo continued, his remark eliciting a laugh from Wren, "Fuck Lupin obviously, and marry Lockhart because then I could travel with him."

"Marry Lockhart?" She grimaced, "And have him tape a mirror to your face every time you have sex?"

Milo laughed, "Oh God, true. I'd just have to find Ron Weasley to obliviate him again so I could run away and marry a mysterious Italian man and live in a cosy little cottage with my own personal vineyard."

Wren smiled at her friend's rambles as she waited for him to finish.

"Don't tell me you'd marry Lupin?" Milo started, "You'd constantly be wearing scarves to hide the hickeys!"

"No!" Wren squealed as she swatted at Milo again, "I think I'd just fuck Lupin."

"Again." Milo said, trying to hide it under a cough. Wren heard him perfectly though, shooting him a glare before she continued.

"I'd kill Lockhart because otherwise I think I'd have to kill myself." Wren laid herself back down, the blood rushing straight to her head, "And I'd marry Snape and just hope that he gets so caught up in his brooding that he forgets I exist."

The two were silent for a moment as they thought of another trio to include in their game.

"Ooh, I've got one." Wren's voice was strained slightly as she sat herself up, crossing her legs as she smiled excitedly at her friend, "Oliver Wood, Marcus Flint or Percy Weasly."

Milo immediately grimaced, "Kill Marcus Flint. I don't even care if I went to prison."

Wren scoffed, her fingers rubbing against the smooth burgundy silk on Milo's blanket.

"Fuck Oliver Wood." Milo decided, "Have you seen his muscles? He could pin me down any day."

"And marry Percy, I guess." Milo spoke with an unbothered shrug of his shoulders, though Wren noticed the scarlet blush that creeped onto his cheeks.

The two made eye contact, causing Milo to pull his pillow over his head, squealing as he tried to hide his blush.

"Oh my god!" Wren pulled at the pillow, though Milo was a lot stronger, "You like Percy!"

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