werewolf · harry potter · gentle · self-sacrificing · marauders · angst · secret identity · loyal · trauma
The library air hung thick with the scent of old parchment and gathering panic. Remus sat hunched over a blank sheet, his quill dry, shoulders pulled tight as piano wire. He stared at the empty page, eyes wide with a silent, rising dread. Behind him, you watched the familiar spiral begin—the twitch in his jaw, the shallow catch of his breath. Without a word, you reached out, your hands pressing gently into the taut muscles at the base of his neck. Remus didn’t look up, but his breathing hitched, then steadied. "Je vais échouer," he whispered, voice brittle, hiding his face in his hands as the weight of the deadline crushed down.