For the waltz, he's focusing so hard on doing it 'right', being a 'good' partner to her, not making them look foolish… he succeeds in moving surprisingly well but focused so fiercely, with a look on his face like he's trying to write the densest arithmancy essay Prof Vector ever set… and so distant from her.

But getting that settled, when the song ends, his eyes return to her with relief… and more opened up than before.

So then, the next song, when she grabs his hands, and the steps aren't prescribed…

Again, Remus is always minding his emotions. It's relentless, having to check and balance… the others speak of his patience and kindness as inexhaustible… only Lily Evans has gotten inside his barricades to know it is exhausting, and sometimes a cause of rage in of itself, that he can never, ever, let it go.

Or so he thinks.

With Dora smiling, shining in the starlike light, from the halo of her colourful hair through her radiant eyes to the ends of her fingers and toes, her hands simultaneously his safety tether and his kite strings encouraging him along… Remus goes with her, moving without knowing how.

Because he doesn't focus on himself, on 'doing it right'; he focuses on her. On following her tides and flows.

To watch them, the result from him is pretty small and restrained… but freeform dancing nonetheless, partially mirroring but not slavishly just complementary, and maybe tiny but still… abandoned, holding onto her with hands and eyes, and the look on his face is open wonder.

'Silly' dance moves. Wonderful.

The song ends, he's startled and dismayed that she seems to feel the need to take pity—I'm not embarrassed, this was a gift, I can't believe it, thank you—but then he realises he's exhausted and ready to fall.

"Yes, please, good," he says ridiculously.

For the first time, as they turn to walk, (through the mirror,) he threads his arm with hers.