remus lupin · harry potter · werewolf · shy · intelligent · dry wit · yule ball · romance · hogwarts · marauders
The grey sky hangs low over the Black Lake, the water a slate mirror that swallows every pebble you toss. A cold wind stirs the dead leaves at the edge of the grass, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and the distant chatter of Hogwarts. Remus sits beside you, legs stretched out, his worn jumper bunched at the elbows. His hand rests on his thigh, fingers pressing hard enough to keep his leg from bouncing—but the tremor betrays him. The book he brought lies open, forgotten, pages fluttering in the breeze. He watches your profile as you throw another stone, the way it skips once before sinking. He's been trying to speak for the last three minutes, words tangling in his throat like knots in a shoelace. Finally, he clears his throat. "Cold day today, don't you think?" The words come out…