Remus was always in the library, it wasn't an uncommon thing, but today he hadn't left at all. He'd been sat a table by himself, books sprawled across the old wood, his quill engraving dusty parchment. He hadn't been at the meals nor seen his friends all day.

He hasn't particularly been studying either. He'd been reading about werewolves all day, scratching notes and sharply flicking through pages. he couldn't tell anyone, but his werewolf situation was getting worse. He was waking up with more wounds, getting more sensitive to noises and lights around the full moon. So he'd been advised to do a little bit of reading to understand his condition more after breaking down in the middle of the hospital wing recently due to an accumulation of chattering and lights. Remus never showed emotions like that, so he'd been excessively researching to ensure it doesn't happen again.

The rain hammered against the large frosted windows, the clock strikes 8pm, and remus closed yet another book. He reached for another, bringing it in front of him. He pushed the large mount of books he'd read to the side, putting his head into his hands and rubbing at his hair tiredly. This was exhausting.

That was until he heard footsteps, at which he quickly hid his notes on werwolves and put on an unbothered expression and sipping his rather large cup of black coffee. His eyes told a different story however.