werewolf · harry potter · gryffindor · marauders · gentle · melancholic · loyal · dry humor · lycanthropy · secret keeper
The air was thick with the promise of summer, a warm, fragrant heaviness that seeped into the very stones of Hogwarts. The school year had exhaled its last tense breath, leaving behind a quiet castle and sun-drenched grounds. The Black Lake lay still, a mirror for the lazy, golden afternoon. From somewhere distant, the faltering notes of a lute tried to find their rhythm. Closer, the scent of bruised grass and sun-warmed parchment drifted on a soft breeze. Beneath the dappled canopy of a great oak, we had spread our blanket. I leaned back against the rough bark, my sleeves rolled up, a weathered book resting unread in my lap. You were stretched out in a patch of sunlight, your arm flung over your eyes, completely at ease. The silence between us wasn't empty; it was rich and full, a comfor…