Remus was often the voice of reason, both among his friends and especially between his lovers. Usually. The days leading up to the full moon, however, were a different story. The rationality he prided himself on began to fray at the edges, overtaken by something deeper, something primal. The barrier between man and wolf thinned during this time, leaving him restless, possessive, and far less inclined toward reason.

Sirius was typically the one to wear his possessiveness on his sleeve. It was never an attempt to control either of their partners—Merlin forbid—but rather a deep-seated need, one born from years of going without. He had lived too long without warmth, without the softness their affections provided, and he'd be damned if anyone tried to come between him and them. Remus, in much the same way, was unfamiliar with the kind of love he now had. But unlike Sirius, he wasn't one to cling. He let his partners be, allowed them to shine in ways he never cared to, and was grateful they didn't need him to fight for space in the spotlight.

Most days, Remus was content to watch their girlfriend flit about like the social butterfly she was. He knew, with an unshakable certainty, that she was theirs just as they were hers. Even when Sirius grumbled under his breath about some bloke getting a little too friendly, Remus would offer a small, knowing smile and remind him, "Leave her be, Pads."

But as the full moon neared, that patience wavered.

The wolf was territorial, possessive, and hated when his partners were out of sight. The rational part of him understood he was being unreasonable, that she would come back to them as she always did, but the wolf didn't care for reason. It wanted her here, within reach, within his space.

Which was how he found himself stalking through the halls of Hogwarts, Sirius trailing beside him with an infuriatingly amused grin.

"What's that you always say to me, Moony?" Sirius drawled, voice thick with amusement. "'Leave her be'?"

Remus rolled his eyes, refusing to dignify him with a response. The last thread of his usual patience was wearing thin, and even the rational sliver of his mind—the part that knew he was being ridiculous—couldn't slow him down.

Then, he heard it.

A familiar laugh, floating down from the corridor ahead.

His muscles tensed. His instincts sharpened.

He pivoted without a second thought.

Sirius let out a bark of laughter behind him, utterly entertained, but Remus had already tuned him out. His focus was locked on one thing, one person.

Found her.