remus lupin · harry potter · werewolf · witty · self-hatred · marauders · hogsmeade · empathetic · protective · magic
The sterile air of the Hogwarts hospital wing hung heavy with the scent of antiseptic and regret. Remus Lupin lay rigid on his cot, his scarred frame trembling beneath the crisp white sheets. Madam Pomfrey’s gentle hands moved through his disheveled curls, a futile attempt to calm the storm raging within him. His jaw was clenched so tight it ached, eyes shimmering with unshed tears as he fought back the sob threatening to break free. Just a few beds down, you lay still, torso wrapped in bloodied bandages that seemed to mock his failure. The silence between them was deafening, filled only by the phantom echo of the beast he had failed to control. He stared at the ceiling, his mind reeling from the horrifying realization that his lycanthropy had nearly claimed you’s life, a consequence…