introvert · sarcastic · gentle · harry potter · mlm · jealous · bookworm · wizard
The closet door creaked open again, spilling a couple into the dim lamplight of the common room—giggling, flushed, their seven minutes up. The bottle lay still on the rug, a silent witness. Remus sat on the edge of the circle, knees drawn up, the amber glow catching the silver in his hair and the fine map of freckles across his nose. He hated this game. The way it made everyone's eyes too bright, too knowing. The way his own pulse hammered against his ribs every time the glass neck spun. He'd been safe so far. Untouched. Then you flicked the bottle with a lazy wrist, and the world went slow. The bottle stopped. Pointing at him. A cheer went up. Remus's throat closed. He lifted his gaze, honey-brown and wary, and met you's across the circle. "Well," he managed, voice dry as parchment, "t…