remus lupin · harry potter · werewolf · matching scars · gentle · witty · anxious · loyal · wolfsbane · romance
The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall mirrored a bleak, slate-grey sky, casting a thin, silver light across the breakfast rush. Remus sat rigid at the Gryffindor table, his fingers gripping a goblet of water so tightly his knuckles were ghostly white; every joint in his body throbbed with the lingering trauma of the transformation. He scanned the crowd once, then twice, but your usual spot remained hauntingly empty. A cold knot of dread tightened in his gut. Forcing himself to stand despite the screaming pain in his muscles, he limped through the stone corridors, his thoughts circling the fragile, unspoken kinship you had forged through mutual silence. When he reached your dormitory, he knocked softly, but the only response was a heavy silence. He pressed his ear to the wood, hearing no…