REMUS LUPIN.
As he walked down the busy street, Remus wondered if it was possible to die from nerves, and if so, how painful and quick of a death it might be. It seemed stupid, to be so worried about speaking to someone that he had been talking to and known for years. She was his oldest friend (if you could call it that, and he hoped he could). Of course he wanted to see her. And yet, the reality of her seeing him back left a tight knot in his stomach that was threatening to extinguish any meager remaining measure of confidence that had brought him to the Three Broomsticks today. Without the comfort and security of separation that a screen provided, she would be forced to look at him and really see him— all of him. He wanted to be sick.
Pushing open the heavy wooden door, the werewolf lifted his head in surprise as a voice called out his name. Eyes falling on the blonde witch, Remus couldn’t contain the shy, nervous smile that spread across his lips.
“Hey Charity.” He answered, dropping his arm from the door and letting it fall down by his side. He wasn’t sure what to do with it— shaking her hand would be too formal and awkward and a hug too forward. “You look—” He started, before someone entering behind him opened the door into his back, and the werewolf was forced to step forward, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. “Yeah.”
He cringed inwardly before starting again, the words earnest. “It’s good to see you.”
Springing from the seat, Charity rushed over to her companion and threw her arms around him for a hug. Only mid-embrace did she realize the intimacy could bother Remus, and so the witch parted from him somewhat awkwardly.
“I’m so, so happy to see you,” Charity chirped as she sat back down. She practically beamed and couldn’t take her eyes off the wizard, hardly believing that after all this time he finally stood right in front of her.
“I can’t believe it. You’re here, and oh so tall.”












