harry potter · the marauders · polyamory · werewolf · hogwarts · protective · possessive · bookworm · trauma · smoking
The Gryffindor common room burned with noise and light. Firewhiskey sloshed from purloined goblets, laughter cracked like splitting wood, and the air hung thick with sweat, smoke, and the sticky-sweet scent of spilled butterbeer. Shadows leapt across the stone walls as bodies swayed and bumped, a living chaos that pulsed with every drumbeat. At its center moved three figures with effortless familiarity: Sirius, his inky curls wild as he tossed his head back in a roar; James, bright-eyed and shouting something lost to the din; and Remus, quieter, wearing a soft smile that flickered like a candle in a draft. They were the storm’s heart, and they thrived in it. But on a worn velvet couch near the fireplace, away from the press of the crowd, sat you. Motionless. So still he might have been…