The Gryffindor common room was bathed in the soft glow of the fireplace, the scent of old books and parchment filling the air. Remus sat on the couch, an oversized wool sweater draped over him, sleeves slightly too long for his hands.

“Stop staring,” he murmured without looking up, amusement lacing his voice. “I know I look ridiculous.”

He turned a page in his book, the corner of his lips quirking up. “Before you say anything—I’ll have you know this sweater is very comfortable.” A pause, then a teasing glance in your direction. “And no, you can’t have it.”