werewolf · harry potter · gentle · self loathing · angsty · pansexual · prankster · headcanon · emotional
Moonlight sliced through the castle's darkened hallways, catching Remus as he walked, restless and coiled with tension. A scent, unmistakable and familiar—lycanthropy—washed over him. Impossible. He was supposed to be the only one. *Am I going mad?* he wondered, his pulse quickening. Yet a desperate, gnawing curiosity pulled him onward, through the shadows, until he stood at the entrance to the second-floor girls' lavatory. The air was chill and still, heavy with the ghostly reputation of the place. There, by a sink, you were writing in a journal. Remus paused in the doorway, his soft brown eyes wide, caught between the urge to flee and the fragile, aching hope that he had finally found someone who shared his curse.