Hey, Remus!

The kitchen of Grimmauld Place was quiet, the dim glow of floating candles casting flickering shadows across the old wooden table. The rest of the house had settled into silence, but Maria and Remus remained, lost in each other.
Maria sat perched on Remus's lap, her fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair. He sighed into her touch, his grip on her waist tightening ever so slightly as if anchoring himself to the warmth of her presence. Their lips met in slow, lingering kisses. Deep, unhurried, savoring. It wasn't the desperate kind of kiss stolen in fleeting moments between missions, reunions, Sirius' always larger than life presence or Kreacher's shocked remarks, but something softer, something that spoke of comfort, of belonging. Maria's fingers traced along his jaw, her touch featherlight, as if memorizing the shape of him.
Remus pulled her closer, his hands splaying over her lower back, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles through the fabric of her sweater. He could feel the steady beat of her heart against his chest, the warmth of her breath ghosting over his skin between kisses. He let himself sink into it, into her, as if he could melt into the moment entirely. The sound of the door swinging open shattered the quiet.
"I would tell you to get a room," Sirius drawled, stepping inside with an air of dramatic suffering, "but I've already given you two. Mary's not even putting it to good use. I swear I'll leave you both Remus' room in my will if you just leave my kitchen snogging-free while I'm still alive."
Maria let out a startled laugh, hiding her face in Remus's shoulder as a deep flush spread across her cheeks. Remus, for his part, exhaled through his nose, a mix of fondness and exasperation.
"Sirius," Remus said, exhaling through his nose, "far be it from me to tell the host what to do in his own home, but perhaps a little warning next time? Maybe some loud footsteps? A strategically placed cough?"
"Ah, Moony, you underestimate me. I am morally obligated to make my guests uncomfortable." Sirius strolled over to the cupboard, rummaging through it before pulling out a bottle of firewhisky. "And I live here. You two are just squatters." He shot them a smirk as he uncorked the bottle. "If you insist on defiling my kitchen, at least have the decency to leave me some of my own liquor. Just keep the snogging confined to literally any other room, will you? Preferably one with a door. And a lock. And don't forget to add some Muffliato."
Remus sighed, pressing a kiss to Maria's temple before resting his forehead against hers.
"We should probably listen to him."
Maria huffed.
"Fine." But she made no effort to move from his lap.
Sirius shook his head, muttering something about young love and reckless disrespect for communal spaces as he sauntered out of the kitchen.
Maria turned back to Remus, her fingers still toying with the collar of his sweater.
"Now, where were we?"
Remus hummed, brushing his nose against hers before pulling her into another kiss. They'd relocate eventually. Probably.
Little did they know that in the next day, things were about to get darker.

*

The tension in the room was suffocating. Dumbledore had just finished explaining the situation:  Harry Potter had been lured to the Department of Mysteries, believing his godfather was being tortured by Death Eaters.
Sirius was already pacing, his face twisted with fury.
"So, Voldemort wants him there," he growled. "Then let's not waste time. We need to get to Harry."
Maria, standing near the fireplace, felt her heart clench. This is it. She gripped the back of a chair to steady herself. Her mind raced with everything she knew from the books: the veil, the archway, Sirius falling... She couldn't let it happen.
"Sirius."
He turned to her, eyes blazing with determination.
"We don't have time for this," he snapped. "Harry's in danger. I'm not going to sit around while my godson is out there..."
"I know." Her voice was steady, but her hands trembled. "I know you want to protect him. But please... please, just be careful."
Sirius frowned, his brows knitting together in confusion.
"I'm always careful."
Maria let out a bitter laugh.
"You're never careful. You rush in without thinking, Sirius. You..." She stopped herself, taking a deep breath. "You've been locked up here for too long. I get it. You want to fight. You want to help. But..."
"Enough."
His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife.
Maria stepped closer, desperation bleeding into her tone.
"I'm begging you, Sirius. Just... think this through. Let us go. You don't have to..."
"I do have to." His eyes flashed with anger. "Harry's my family. My responsibility. I won't hide while he's in danger."
Maria felt her chest tighten. She glanced at Remus, hoping for support. His face was pale, his eyes locked on her with quiet understanding. He knew. He knew what she was trying to say without saying it outright.
"Sirius." Remus's voice was soft but firm. "We'll all go. We'll protect Harry. But Mary's right. You need to be careful."
Sirius threw up his hands in frustration.
"Careful? What would you have me do, Remus? Sit here like a coward? Let everyone else take the risk while I..."
"No one's asking you to be a coward," Mary interrupted, her voice trembling. "We're asking you to stay alive."
Silence fell over the room. Sirius stared at her, his jaw clenched.
"What are you saying, Mary?
Her gaze didn't waver. She took a step closer, lowering her voice.
"I'm saying you have nothing to prove. Not to Harry. Not to anyone. You don't have to go out there and die to be a hero."
Sirius flinched, as though her words had struck him. His expression hardened.
"I'm not going to die."
Maria swallowed the lump in her throat.
"You don't know that."
Sirius shook his head, his frustration boiling over.
"I know what you're doing. You think you know something. Something from your world. But this isn't a story, Mary. This is real life. And I won't let Harry face it alone."
His words hit her like a blow.
"I'm not trying to control you," she whispered. "I just don't want all of us to lose you."
For a moment, something flickered in Sirius's eyes. A crack in his bravado. But it vanished as quickly as it came. He turned away, grabbing his coat.
"We're wasting time."
Maria's hands clenched into fists.
"You're walking into a trap."
Sirius stopped in his tracks but didn't turn around.
"I've been in worse traps," he muttered. "I'll be fine."
Maria's heart shattered. She turned to Remus, her eyes pleading.
Remus crossed the room slowly, placing a hand on Sirius's shoulder.
"She's right, you know." His voice was quiet. "You have nothing to prove. You don't need to be reckless to show Harry you love him."
Sirius finally turned, his gaze softening as he looked at his oldest friend.
"I'm not being reckless, Moony. I'm doing what's right."
Remus sighed.
"Just... come back to us. Alive."
Sirius smirked, his usual mischievous glint returning. "Of course. What's the worst that could happen?"
Maria bit her lip to keep from screaming. You die, you idiot. That's the worst that could happen.
As Sirius strode toward the door, Mary called out one last time.
"Sirius."
He paused, glancing back at her. Her voice broke.
"Don't try to be a hero."
Sirius's expression softened for a brief moment.
"Too late for that," he whispered.
And with that, he was gone. Maria sank into the nearest chair, burying her face in her hands. Remus knelt beside her, placing a gentle hand on her arm.
"You tried."
"It's not enough," Maria whispered. "It won't change anything. He's going to die."
Remus's hand tightened slightly.
"We don't know that."
Maria lifted her head, her eyes filled with tears.
"I do."
Remus's expression was pained, but he said nothing. He didn't have to. The weight of her knowledge hung between them like a curse neither could break. After a long silence, Maria took a shaky breath.
"We have to go after them."
Remus nodded.
"We will."
Maria stood, wiping her tears away.
"And if there's a chance to save him..."
"We'll take it," Remus promised.
As they headed for the door, Maria cast one last glance at the empty room.
Please, let me be wrong.
But deep down, she knew: the story was already written. And some fates were harder to rewrite than others.