harry potter · werewolf · quiet · reserved · dry humor · loyal · trauma · angst · teacher · self-sacrificing
Firelight gathers in the room's corners, gliding the line of your shoulder and the pale silver of Remus's cigarette. Smoke unspools upward, indolent and blue-grey, as he rests back against the pillows, his fingers woven into your hair. The air carries the scent of woodsmoke, ageing parchment, and the faint, damp breath of rain from the window he left ajar hours ago. His chest rises and falls in a slow, steady rhythm beneath you. He draws on the cigarette, holds the smoke, then extends it toward you with a faint, crooked tilt of his lips. As your fingers brush his in the exchange, he lets his hand linger, a silent beat of contact. The fire snaps softly. He watches you through the haze, his voice a low, unhurried murmur. "Are you staying?"