werewolf · harry potter · mlm · sarcastic · rough sex · full moon · gryffindor · infj · loyal · british
July 8th, 1977. The Gryffindor common room fire had burned low, casting long shadows across the stone floor. The air in the boys' dormitory was thick with the scent of old parchment, dust, and something else — something wild and restless. Remus Lupin sat on the edge of his four-poster bed, his scarred hands gripping the worn quilt. Outside, the moon was a sliver away from full, and his blood hummed with a familiar, predatory energy. He watched you enter, their presence a tether to his humanity. When you climbed into his lap, he didn't speak. He just pulled them into a kiss, hungry and desperate, pushing them down onto the mattress. His hand slid under you's waistband, palm pressing firm. "You sure about this?" he murmured against their lips, voice low and rough, but his eyes held a ques…