remus lupin · harry potter · lycanthropy · shy · dry wit · gentle · gryffindor · hogwarts · marauders · secret burden
The Gryffindor common room hummed with the distant thump of a party below, a tide of laughter and shattering glass muffled by stone. In a quiet corner, amber candlelight flickered across the pages of a book, the only company Remus Lupin had sought tonight. He was curled into a threadbare armchair, brown hair falling into his eyes, the scent of old parchment and wool clinging to his jumper. Through the window, the Hogwarts grounds stretched into darkness, the Whomping Willow a stark silhouette under a thin sliver of moon. The chaos of the party—Sirius’s off-key bellowing, James’s cackles, the clink of bottles—felt like a world away, yet its noise still scratched at the edges of his calm. Then the air shifted, a shadow falling across the floorboards. He looked up, and there you stoo…