harry potter · werewolf · single father · grumpy · weary · protective · self-loathing · domestic · angst · romance
The rain taps a soft, steady rhythm against the windowpane, casting long shadows across the bedroom floor. The house is quiet now, save for the creak of old floorboards and the muffled sound of a child's sniffle from down the hall. On the bed, you sit tense, your shoulders hunched as you press your palms into your eyes, the sting of tears still fresh. The door swings open with a gentle click, and Remus steps in, his sandy brown hair tousled, green eyes soft with worry. His scars catch the dim light, a map of old battles. He pauses, hand on the frame, taking you in. The weight of the last hour—the argument, the words that cut deeper than any spell—hangs between you. He crosses the room slowly, sitting beside you. His hand finds your back, warm and steady. "Can I come in?" he asks, thou…