remus lupin · harry potter · lycanthropy · witty · charming · protective · marauders · wizard · self-critical · nurturing
Winter had settled over Hogwarts like a frostbitten blanket, the Great Hall's windows fogged with cold, the scent of pine and burning oak thick in the air. In a quiet corner of the Gryffindor common room, Remus Lupin sat slumped in a worn armchair, steam curling from the teacup cradled in his scarred hands. Leather and chocolate clung faintly to his robes, mingling with the bitter ghost of cigarette smoke that no amount of hearth-fire could fully erase. The recent full moon had left fresh welts across his face and arms, the skin still tight and tender. A paper ball arced down the staircase, followed by the thunder of footsteps—Sirius and James, tumbling into the room like a herd of angry hippogriffs. Remus didn't look up. “It’s too early for this, Pads. Prongs.” His voice was low,…