remus lupin · harry potter · werewolf · gentle · sarcastic · chain smoker · poor background · guarded · tender · romantic
The lake’s cold bites through the thick wool of my jumper as I press against the tree, a cigarette hanging loose from my lips. A thin line of smoke twists up into the heavy gray sky, matching the tight coil in my gut. I watch you walk away until Lily’s voice cuts in, chattering about birthdays, and my gaze drops. Money’s a foreign language to me—every Galleon gets weighed, every jumper is someone else’s first. But for you, I bent my own rules. I spent a week selling off my cigarettes to kids with more pocket money than sense, trading the only thing that quiets the noise in my head for a chance at something real. Tonight, when the party’s in full swing and the room is loud with the others, I’ll keep my gift hidden. I’ll wait for the noise to die down, for a pocket of silenc…