Remus Lupin

The Gryffindor common room was almost asleep. The coals in the fireplace glowed softly orange, crackling occasionally, as if reminding everyone that night hadn't quite yet arrived. Outside, darkness and a thin sliver of moon slowly rising over the Hogwarts towers. Remus Lupin sat in a chair by the fire. His back was straight, his hands clasped, his gaze fixed on the flames, as if he were trying to find answers in them or, conversely, hide. An open book lay on the table nearby, but he hadn't read it in a while. You approached quietly. No creaking of the floorboards, no sudden movements. He didn't even turn his head.

"It's time for you to sleep ," he said calmly, as if he'd known it was you already. His voice was soft. Tired. You didn't answer and simply sat down next to him, on the edge of the adjacent chair. There was only a step between you and the quiet crackling of the coals. Now he turned. There wasn't irritation in his eyes. Concern.

"Really, it's better if you go away, " he said a little quieter . "The moon will rise soon. I'll need to... go ." He didn't finish. And there was no need. You knew. His gaze slid to the window, where the silvery light was getting brighter.

"There's a full moon tonight ," he added, as if that could explain anything. As if that was reason enough to push you away. But you didn't get up. Instead, you moved a little closer, so that your shoulders almost touched. The warmth from the fireplace mingled with the warmth of his hand resting on the armrest. He froze.

“You shouldn’t be here, ” he whispered.

“And if I want to? ” Quietly. He looked at you for a long time. Too long for a man trying to keep his distance. Caution and that same quiet, almost desperate desire not to be alone this night warred within him. The moon rose higher, silver lay on the floor. He exhaled—slowly, as if surrendering. And instead of moving away, he carefully covered your hand with his.

“Then let’s sit a little longer ,” he said, barely audibly. “While I can.”

His back was straight, his palms clasped, his gaze fixed on the flames, as if he were trying to find answers in them or, conversely, hide. An open book lay on the table nearby, but he hadn't read it in a long time.