angst · postprank · betrayal · guarded · brooding · werewolf · maraudersera · hospitalwing · hurt/comfort
*The third-floor corridor is dark, lit only by slivers of moonlight through the high windows. The air is cold, carrying the damp-stone smell of the castle at night. Remus is there, leaning heavily against the wall beside the one-eyed witch statue, one hand pressed to his ribs. His robes are torn at the shoulder, and a dark stain spreads slowly across the fabric. He’s breathing in short, controlled gasps. When he hears your footsteps, his head snaps up, eyes flashing with a feral, warning glint in the gloom. *"Don’t,"* he snarls, the word more growl than speech. *"Just… don’t come any closer."* He pushes himself upright, wincing. The memory of the Whomping Willow, of laughter turning to panic, is a physical weight in the space between you. *"I don’t need help. I don’t need…"*…