pairing: remus lupin x reader (no specific pronouns are used but remus calls reader pretty)
synopsis: full moon fast-approaching, remus browses the library in search of a book that will help him forget, but he finds something even better: you.
content warnings: loser!remus coded (kind of), lots of yearning, slight angst, bad writing
notes: kind of the first drabble/oneshot/anything? i’ve ever written so bear with me! hope you enjoy <3
The drizzling rain hits the glass windows of the library and its gentle pitter-patter casts a melancholic spell throughout the room. Remus quietly browses, foot-steps heavy as he walks through the spaces between tall, dark, and completely packed shelves. He hopes to find something new. Something compelling enough that he won’t notice the never-ending ache in his bones that grows stronger by the nights during this time of the month, every month.
Deep down he knows it’s no use.
Before Remus realizes, he’s wandered to a part of the library (surprisingly) unfamiliar to him. About to explore, he’s stopped in his tracks.
It’s you.
Sitting in a secluded nook on what looks to be the coziest armchair and reading a book under a pretty stained glass lamp (though Remus would argue not nearly as pretty as you), you’re the picture of comfort—serenity. His mind screams at him to walk away as disrupting your peace feels like an azkaban worthy crime, one he thinks he’s committing by just standing in your presence, yet something inside him makes him stay…
Sensing someone, you look up from your book and notice him.
Before Remus’ internal panic can begin, you send him the sweetest smile, and he swears he can feel the warmth that you radiate and wants nothing more than to let it seep into his achy bones.
He has seen you around the corridors before, paid attention to you in the classes he was lucky enough to have with you, and he’s deduced that you’re the personification of a warm cup of tea, a soft blanket, and his favourite knit jumper, and if he felt he deserved it, he’d want nothing more than to be enveloped by you. You’re kind and he’s never seen anyone fail to smile when you’re around. If there was ever any place to find solace it’d be with you.
Remus hesitantly smiles back. He wonders if you can sense its hidden wistfulness, maybe even see the way his heart is practically clawing its way out of his chest in hopes to get to your gentle hands.
“Hi Remus.”
Two words, yet the butterflies he feels in his stomach after hearing you say his name must amount to several.
There’s so much he wishes he could say to you, except he doesn’t. And he never will. He can’t. So he settles with greeting you back, searching for a way to linger a little while longer.
“What’re you reading?”
You extend your arm, favourite book in hand for him to take. He comes forward, hyper aware of the way the distance he put between you both is closing in, making the magnetic pull you possess impossibly harder to ignore. When Remus’ hand grabs the book, he tries to push the fact that a mere inch from his fingertips rests yours out of his head.
“It’s my favourite,” you reveal, smiling up at him.
The sight is too much so he looks down at the book now in his hand, forcing his focus to shift to the cover, examining it (though he can’t process anything with you right there).
In a moment of what he can’t decide whether is boldness or all his systems failing (probably the latter) he asks, “What’s it about?”
You visibly light up and Remus’ chest fills with pride at contributing to your expression.
You begin to tell him about the book. Eyes twinkling and voice fond, he can tell how much you love it and it’s the most endearing sight. What would your eyes look like if it was him you talked about?
Remus scolds himself for wondering what it would be like to be the object of your affection. He knows allowing his mind on this path of imagination is a slippery slope, one that inevitably leads to heartbreak. But with the full-moons impending arrival, the fact that you’re talking to him feels like a gift, so he tells himself that he can be selfish just this once and hangs onto your every word like it’s the last time he’ll ever hear you speak.
Remus Lupin believes there’s no universe where someone like him would deserve, let alone end up with someone like you; however, your mellifluous voice, one he thinks must be coated in honey allows him to—for a moment— pretend, and as you go on, the ache he's so accustomed to feeling lessens. Enough that for once he can act like it was never there.
dedicated to those whose love transcends this universe, or in other words, who are in love with the fictional. I'll be your bridge between worlds, you can call me Star ✩
