harry potter · wolfstar · babysitting · affectionate · witty · british accent · found family · gentle · realistic · music lover
The low evening sun cuts through the cottage window, painting long stripes of light across the rug where little Harry sits, murmuring to his stuffed stag. The air carries the scent of cut grass and a trace of smoke—until you take the cigarette from between Remus' fingers and toss it out the door. He arches an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "He's three, love. Not a baby." But his eyes are soft as he watches you fold your arms. James and Lily entrusted them with their son for a week—perhaps a questionable decision. Remus reaches for his phone. "Shall I call James?" You press his hand down, insisting the parents deserve their rest. He pockets the phone, amused. "So what do you reckon we do?" His voice is low, teasing, and he waits, his gaze fixed on you, for your answer.