nine

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"Werewolves find it hard to distinguish their feelings, often attacking those they care about most due to confusing the emotion for hatred."

Wren had opened the book to a random page, her eyes skimming along the words but not really taking them in. She kept her head down as Remus turned to face the student, having luckily succeeded in buckling his belt and making himself look somewhat presentable.

"Mr Potter!" He greeted, his breathing still slightly ragged, "How can I help?"

Harry noticed the girl sitting not far from where his professor was standing, "Oh, sorry! I can come back?"

Remus waved his suggestion off, "No need Harry."

The boy stalked closer, playing with the frayed edges of his cloak's sleeves, "I was just wondering whether you could teach me how to do that spell you did on the train?"

Remus furrowed his brows, his mind too full of more recent events that he couldn't quite remember what Harry was talking about.

"When the Dementor attacked me, professor." Harry confirmed.

"Ah!" Remus nodded his head, "The Patronus charm."

"It's ok if you can't," The thirteen year old boy rambled, "I just thought it would be helpful because they seem to like attacking me and.."

"Harry." Remus cut him off with a smile, "It's fine, I'll teach you."

The two set to work setting up the Boggart. Wren was sneakily watching the way her professor's hands and biceps flexed as he lifted the cupboard, suddenly very aware that she wasn't wearing any tights. Goosebumps popped up along the skin of her thighs, the cold air brushing against them.

The sun outside had started to set, night time descending rapidly across the castle's grounds. Orange light was peeking through an arched window behind the Boggart, as Wren's eyes wandered over the intricately carved detail of the blackened wood.

"Right, Harry." Remus instructed, "The dementor is going to come straight at you when I open the door, so you need to be ready."

Wren shut the book she had been pretending to read with a quiet thud, turning to watch the inevitability doomed situation unfold.

"Ok." The boy nodded, "I'm ready."

Wren had never jumped from her seat so quickly, as she rushed over to where Harry had collapsed on the floor. Remus was busy tackling the Dementor, his patronus encapsulating the ghastly creature in a glow of blue light.

"What happened?" Harry opened his eyes, blinking back the confusion.

"You chickened out." Wren replied.

Harry decided that he wanted to give it another go, readying himself before the Boggart with his wand clasped in a shaking fist. Remus had asked Wren to stand to the side, just in case Harry passed out again.

Now that she was standing straight, she could feel the remnants of hers and Remus' previous antics dripping down her inner thigh.

"Ready?" Remus asked, to which the boy nodded. It took a moment longer for the Dementor to emerge this time, though it threw itself at Harry with such force that he didn't even stand a chance.

It started to feed on Harry's memories, the sound of the magic emanating from the creature enough to make Wren wince. Remus shot it with a spell from the other side, causing it to detach from Harry and search for food elsewhere.

Its soulless eyes locked onto Wren as she stumbled backwards, the backs of her bare thighs pushing up against Remus' desk. She thought she could hear Remus calling her name over the noise, but she couldn't be sure.

The dementor hovered closer, pushing Wren into a theoretical corner as she had nowhere to hide. She was half expecting it to attack her as it did Harry, but instead it was replaced by a broad shouldered man. Through her panic she had forgotten it was a Boggart.

Her father was only a few inches in front of her, the sharp tip of his wand poking into Wren's neck. He was slowly leaning forward, pinning her down on the desk behind her. She watched in horror as his lips curled up into a smile, his teeth coated in what seemed to be blood.

She struggled against him as he reached for her shirt sleeve, yanking it up with a rough hand. When he saw that her arm was clear of any scars, he looked to his daughter bewildered.

Wren whimpered as he brushed a finger along the length of her forearm, her mind alight with questions. How was he doing this? Wasn't he just a figment of Wren's imagination, a materialisation of her biggest fear? Where the fuck was Remus?

As if summoned, Remus appeared beside her, blue light pushing her father away from where he was leaning over Wren. She watched as he disappeared into the cupboard, Harry slamming the doors shut behind him.

Her chest was practically heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She sat up and leant forward, so that her legs were dangling over the edge of her professor's desk, dropping her head into her hands.

She heard Remus mutter something to the Potter boy, followed by the creaking of the large oak door closing. Remus' footsteps sounded against the cobble as he made his way back over to Wren. He went to place a hand on her knee, but Wren was on her feet before he could.

Wren backed away from him, her mouth forming the words "I'm fine", though her voice was barely audible. She was like a deer in headlights, stunned and unable to move as she tried to gather her thoughts.

Remus noticed the tears rolling down her freckled cheeks, as she bit down on her bottom lip. He took a step towards her, only for Wren to take another step back.

"I'm fine." She managed to say this time, though her voice cracked as she spoke.

*

Remus' cloak was draped over Wren's shoulders as she sat on the brown, leather sofa in his office, her knees hugged against her chest. The tears had subsided, instead being replaced by a drained and rather hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Her back was pushed up against the square cushion as she half-heartedly watched Remus make her a drink. He tapped a spoon against the ceramic of a mug, before wrapping his fingers around the handle and walking over to where Wren was sitting.

"Is this one of your special potions?" She asked with a quirked brow, trying to make light of a dire situation.

"It's just tea." He laughed, as he handed her the mug before leaning against his desk. Wren held the tea with both hands, taking a small sip.

Despite everything that had happened in the past half an hour, she couldn't help but feel annoyed at herself for letting Remus see through the cracks in her carefully curated facade. She felt as though he were looking at her differently all of a sudden, pitying her for reasons still unbeknownst to him.

"Don't look at me like that." She pleaded, her thumb brushing against a small crack in the rim of her mug.

"Look at you like what?" Remus asked, confused, as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Like you pity me!" She replied, "Like I'm a.. child." Her voice trailed off towards the end of her sentence, averting her gaze from the chocolate brown of Remus' eyes that usually comforted her.

"I'm not looking at you like anything, Wren." He dismissed, though Wren was sure she could see pity burning in the pools of his eyes. She chose to ignore it however, as she took another sip of her tea.

They were both quiet for a moment - a silence that Wren found strangely comfortable. Her senses were overwhelmed by Remus' familiar scent, with it being stronger than usual with his cloak wrapped around her frame. The fact she felt so comfortable in his presence only confused her more, but this calamity was a nice contrast to the current war going on inside her head.

For now, at least, she was choosing to forget that he was her professor.

Remus decided it best to change the subject, wanting to take Wren's mind off of the situation rather than pry. What Wren had thought was pity was nothing more than worry for the girl before him, her knees tucked under her body as she almost cradled the warmth of her tea.

"Why does Milo hate you?" Remus questioned, his voice cutting through the silence that had fallen upon them.

"Hm?" The deep hum of his voice caught Wren off guard as her eyes darted up to look at him.

"Earlier," He gestured, "You said that Milo hated you."

Remus watched as Wren's shoulders deflated, frown lines appearing between her brows, "Oh."

"It was nothing!" She shook her head, soft curls falling across her front, "I, uh, I kissed Percy?"

If Remus had a drink, he most definitely would have spit it out, "Percy Weasly?"

Wren swore she saw a hint of jealousy flash across his soft features, before he pushed himself up from where he was leaning against his desk. He placed one hand on the padded arm of the chair and the other on the back, leaning over Wren as he looked at her with eyes so intense, she could have melted.

Wren's breath was hitched in her throat, Remus' face only an inch away from her own. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt his lips press softly against the curve of her own, teeth gently nibbling on her bottom lip. He pulled away, leaving Wren yearning for more.

Her eyes opened considerably faster than they had closed, the loss of contact coming far sooner than Wren would have liked. Parting her lips, ready to protest, Remus moved one hand from the arm of the chair and placed it tenderly on her cheek, the pad of his thumb stroking against Wren's flushing skin the way she often longed to do to him.

Wren couldn't help the way she leaned into the touch very slightly, her lips pulling into a smirk, "Are you jealous, professor?"

"And what makes you think that?" Remus smirked at the brunette girl sitting before him, as he allowed himself to sit down on the soft leather, his arms spread over the back curve of the cushion behind Wren's head. The moment was over as suddenly as it had started.

Wren's eyes scanned his face for any hint of the emotion that lay beneath, her gaze tracing along the scars that she had become so familiar with. She noted a slither of hurt, and a great deal of restraint laced in his otherwise stoic expression.

"Why do you fear the moon?" Her question came out of nowhere, catching Remus off guard. The elder man faltered as he furrowed his brows, not quite sure what to reply. He had told Wren about his fears in a brief moment of vulnerability.

Wren was a student with whom Remus had grown recklessly close to, and yet he could say with utmost certainty that he had never felt this comfortable around someone since before Sirius was locked away in Azkaban.

As if she knew he was struggling to find the right words, Wren continued.

"I like the moon." She found herself saying. She didn't mean for it to sound conceited, merely dwelling on his confession. She noticed how the muscles in Remus' jaw tensed slightly at her remark, moving in a small jutting movement as if he were grinding his teeth.

When he didn't say anything, Wren continued, "I've always liked the moon. It's pretty - in a strange, lonely sort of way."

"You can always count on it," Wren continued to ramble, still sniffling slightly from where she had been previously crying, "The sun isn't always there, but the moon always is."

Remus looked towards Wren, an unfamiliar feeling of admiration pooling in his gut, one that caught him so off guard he couldn't mask it. A small smile was playing on his lips at her incessant rambles; He wasn't sure if she were trying to make him feel better or not, but either way he was thankful.

"I feel safe in the moonlight," Wren shrugged, mostly to herself, "Guided. Like I can do anything, hide from any-"

She was cut off mid sentence by Remus' lips on her own, moving slowly as she found herself getting caught up in the kiss. He was leaning towards her with both his hands cupping her cheeks, the skin on his palms unusually cold compared to the warmth of Wren.

She looked longingly at Remus as he pulled away again, her whole body wanting more. A wave of palpable tension washed over them, the unruly pair seemingly unable to control themselves around each other.

In true Winslow form, Wren could not handle the awkward silence for long, so she blurted out, "I hate that he's my biggest fear." Her voice carried as a whisper through the room, eyes glued on a slightly uneven floorboard.

Remus was speechless, as he watched Wren gulp down the lump that had formed in her throat. He quickly realised however, how difficult this was for her, and he connected the dots himself, "Your father."

Wren's brown hair bobbed slightly as she nodded her head solemnly, "My father."

*

Wren was sitting alone at the end of the long Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, Milo having decided that hearing Penelope Clearwater's shrill voice was a better fate than talking to Wren.

She had managed to corner him earlier that morning in the common room, rambling rather incessantly about how the kiss didn't mean anything, and that she was simply playing the game. Milo shook his head and told her that he needed more time.

Wren just wasn't sure how much longer she could wait. Milo was her best friend, her only friend, and she missed him like crazy. Ever since she can remember, Milo had been there skipping through the halls of Hogwarts right beside her. For him to be so metaphorically far away, felt as though a whole chunk of Wren was missing, as though someone had brutally ripped her in half.

If she could turn back time, she would. But she couldn't, and so for now she was on her own.

A familiar nest of red hair pulled Wren from her pit of self wallowing, as Percy Weasley sat down at the table next to her. For a moment he didn't even acknowledge the girl, as he pursed his lips and scanned the vast selection of food in front of him.

It wasn't until he had finally decided on a few slices of buttered toast and a plain croissant that Wren spoke, "Hi Percy?"

"Oh!" He turned towards her with a smile, his face flashing the same colour as his hair, "Hi Wren!"

She watched with furrowed brows as he slathered even more butter on his already buttered toast, eyeing him suspiciously as she waited for him to speak again.

"So," He started, pausing for a moment to take a bite of his food, "I was wondering if maybe you'd like to go out with me on Friday night?"

Wren's brows relaxed, less concerned and more guilty at the fact she may have led on her friend.

"Oh, Percy." She gave him a slight shake of her head, "I'm sorry.."

He turned away, his distinct Weasley features contorted into that of hurt. Wren felt awful.

"No, no, no." She rested a delicate hand on his shoulder, "It's not that I don't like you, I do! You're one of my closest friends!"

The boy tried to distract himself as he picked apart his toast with his fingers, Wren's attempt at comfort failing miserably. He scoffed at her feeble attempt, feeling totally and figuratively friendzoned.

"It's just.." Wren wracked her brain for an excuse, wanting to let him down easy. Her gaze gravitated towards her Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, a smile on his face as he nodded along to Professor Sprouts rambles.

"I'm sort of.. seeing someone."

Technically, it wasn't a complete lie. She had slept with him a couple times, and she would have to be an absolute idiot to not see the way that he looked at her.

But then, was it anything more than a childish crush? Fleeting glances at each other here and there, feasting in Wren's teenage delusion.

"Oh." Percy sounded disappointed, but his voice was laced with a sense of understanding.

"But I do know someone who would love to go out with you.." Wren gave him a small, friendly nudge.

"Really?" His whole face lit up at her comment, eyes wide like a puppy begging for a treat, "Who?"

Wren's eyes drifted over to Milo's direction, and she exhaled a deep sigh, she felt a stab in her heart as she noted how miserable Milo seemed with his head resting against his hand. Percy attempted to follow her line of sight, but the loose waves of Wren's hair were obscuring his view.

"Wren, who?" Percy pushed on, slightly agitated, but Wren didn't reply.

Milo's name was on the tip of her tongue, her hand balled up into a fist under the table as she dug the tips of her nails into the soft skin of her palms. She practically had to gulp the words down, leaving Percy with a very bewildered expression on his pale features.

She knew that her telling Percy how Milo felt about him would be the last thing that he wanted and as much as she thought that maybe she could sway Percy Milo's way, she knew that playing Cupid was most definitely not the right move.

Milo and Wren had been friends for as long as she could remember and she knew that if she told Percy then Milo would never forgive her. And she just wasn't sure if she could live with herself without Milo by her side.

She gave the boy beside her a small shake of her head, only making Percy even more confused, as she picked up her glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

The platinum blonde haired boy caught her eye for a moment as she took a sip, but he quickly glanced away as though she didn't even exist.

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