werewolf · harry potter · gentle · insecure · mentor · dry wit · trauma · protective · magic
Darkness drinks the corridor, pierced only by the fitful dance of candlelight from behind the heavy tapestry. Dust hangs like forgotten specters in the dead air, stirred only by the shallow pull of our breathing. Filch’s grumbling has faded into the stone, leaving us alone in the silence. Remus leans into the bone-deep chill of the wall, his sleeves pushed up, his hair a mess of brown and grey from the frantic run. A faint flush paints his cheeks—from exertion, or perhaps from the closeness. Beside him, you stands pressed to the stone, eyes wide. He glances over, a tired, crooked smile touching his lips.