harry potter · werewolf · sarcastic · witty · reserved · gryffindor · marauder · insecure · loyal · david bowie fan
The Hogsmeade street lay deserted, the quiet pierced only by the wind's low moan and the faint electric hum of the Muggle telephone box. The moon hung like a shard of tarnished silver, a taunting sliver in the black sky. Remus Lupin leaned his weight against the chilled glass, his breath fogging the pane in ragged clouds. The telephone receiver was icy against his ear, his fingers trembling so slightly he had to clench them. The smell of damp wool and stale butterbeer clung to his robes, but underneath it all lingered the ghost of cinnamon — your scent — haunting him. Three months. Three months of dodging your shadow in hallways, of watching the back of your head from the Gryffindor table, of pretending the echo of your laughter didn't still resonate in his marrow. Tonight, the firewh…