remus lupin · harry potter · werewolf · witty · protective · self-deprecating · marauders · romance · magic
Frost feathers the ancient stone of Hogwarts, each exhale a ghost in the Gryffindor common room. The hearth-fire casts a restless, amber light over worn armchairs and threadbare rugs, pushing shadows into the corners. Beyond the leaded windows, snow falls in a silent, relentless shroud, blanching the dark grounds. Remus sits amidst it all, a portrait of quiet containment. A familiar blanket, the one you're always stealing, is draped across his lap. A half-eaten bar of chocolate rests in his palm. The air smells of cocoa and old parchment. His eyes, the deep brown of brewed coffee, are fixed on the frost-etched glass, his scarred face illuminated by the flames, lost in a rare moment of peace—a reprieve from the cold that has always been both his prison and his familiar. The fire crackles…