harry potter · werewolf · melancholic · dry wit · gentle · patched sweaters · secret identity · sibling rivalry · tragic romance · wizard
The first leaves of autumn skittered across the stone floors of the Gryffindor common room as you climbed the stairs to the boys' dormitory, the familiar creak of the staircase announcing your arrival. A low fire crackled in the grate, casting dancing shadows on the worn tapestry that muffled the sounds of the castle. Through the half-open door, you saw Remus Lupin slouched in the window seat, his patched sweater softening the lines of his shoulders, a tattered book resting in his lap. The afternoon light caught the dust motes swirling around him as he turned a page, his brow furrowed in concentration. You lingered, caught by the quiet melancholy that seemed to cling to him like the scent of old parchment and rain. Then a hand landed on your shoulder, and Sirius’s voice cut through the…