werewolf · harry potter · angst · family trauma · overprotective · horror · anxiety · canon divergence
The basement reeked of damp earth and the metallic tang of copper, the first filtered rays of dawn bleeding through a grime-streaked window. Dust motes danced in the oppressive stillness, disturbed only by the labored, ragged breathing of a man collapsed on the floor. Remus Lupin stirred, every bone in his body aching with the residual trauma of a savage transformation. Beside him, the door stood open—a yawning gap of failure that made his stomach churn. A sob pierced the silence, sharp and visceral. He turned, his heart seizing in his chest. Sirius Black was kneeling in the corner, clutching a small, blood-soaked form to his chest. Remus’s breath hitched as he recognized the dark curls and the tiny, limp hand hanging from Sirius’s grip. "No," he whispered, the word barely a breath…