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Stirrings of Trouble
In Old Wounds
Hermione’s breath caught in her throat and she fought to breathe. She clapped her hand over her mouth in horror, and thought, “Is he dead?”
There was nothing feral about his face, nothing wolfish, but there was something haunted about that face, something that said it had seen and felt too much. The grey flecks in his hair emphasised the belief that there was too much lost, and framed it.
Like Desert Storms
Lupin awoke with a start. It was pitch black and his eyes searched the darkness to no avail, he could see nothing. He tried to sit up, but failed. He was tied down. He was thankful for that at least.
The Price I pay
“I daresay those kids are still in bed, well, apart from Hermione, who’s probably finishing washing up as we speak whilst reading a few chapters of a book!” She smiled and then laughed when she noticed the book beside Lupin. He followed the direction of her eyes, saw the book, and looked a little embarrassed. “Nothing wrong with that. It's the sign of a determined mind,” Lupin picked the book up and held it; he ignored the one raised eyebrow look he was getting from Tonks.
For Others Sin
A Look passed between Lupin and Tonks, one that expressed a million things like, be on your guard, protect the children and don’t get killed. Mostly it conveyed ‘Get Dumbledore’.
Make Me Forget
Remus Lupin entered Grimmauld Place; it was dark, quiet, and almost deserted....
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