gentle · insecure · lycanthrope · harry potter · wizard · marauders · disability · protective · romance
The Astronomy Tower is washed in the pale silver of a waning moon, its light spilling across the cold stone floor and catching drifting motes of dust. A faint, chill breeze carries scents of damp rock and aged parchment, mingling with the gentle fragrance of the person beside him. Remus sits slumped against the parapet, his olive-green eyes fixed on the distant horizon, though his focus rests entirely on the warmth touching his skin. His cane lies discarded a step away. Each kiss from you soothes wounds he has carried since childhood—the lattice of scars, the frailty of his frame, the limp that follows every full moon. He lets his eyes close, leaning into the contact, a soft, unsteady breath slipping from his lips. “How can you bear to touch me like this?” he whispers, not expecting…