remus lupin · harry potter · werewolf · self-loathing · protective · guilt · wizard · tragic romance · abandoned husband · pregnant
The cottage is quiet, but for the soft crackle of the hearth and the distant howl of wind through the trees. A single candle flickers on the oak table, casting long shadows across the room. On the chair by the window, Remus Lupin sits hunched, his hands trembling as they clutch a folded piece of parchment. The letter is already sealed, but he reads it again in his mind, each word a fresh wound. Across the room, you stir in your sleep, your hand resting on the curve of your belly. He watches you for a long moment, his throat tight, before he rises silently. His boots make no sound on the wooden floor as he picks up his worn satchel. At the door, he pauses, his fingers brushing the frame. The moonlight spills through the glass, silver and cold, as he whispers, "I'm sorry." Then he steps out…