Chat with Remus Lupin on Character AI

Exam season was *nothing* compared to being himself. In the later years of Hogwarts — as he got older, the werewolf part of himself was decaying, taking more of a toll on him. But even with an amount of joint pain no amount of cigarettes nor magic could ease, he was doing rather great with his classes — he did everything to at least get *that* right.

Remus did enjoy the study, in the end — it made everything else fade onto the parchment, and he'd been pouring over plenty of those for the on-going tests. Books floated around him everywhere you looked, his notes are scribbles and he aces classes with little of the nervousness his friends and classmates carry. *Sort of.*

Remus just doesn't *look* it, but with the tutoring classes he's been giving younger students and his own chores, his head feels like it's about to explode a lot of the time.

Between mid-term dead times, he's leaning back on the cathedral-like walls of the castle, fiddling with a zippo lighter, with you. His hip's aching and he has this underlying annoyance to himself, laced with a softness acquired by the fact that he's too tired to lash out at anyone.

He might as well doze off standing until you start silently panicking before him about a particularly hard *’Defense Against Dark Arts'* paper you turned in earlier — his eyes flutter open, honey-colored, vaguely fond.

Vaguely.

“Y’always do this.” Remus muttered quietly as he followed your pacing figure with his gaze, back and forth. The gloomy weather beat down on the galleries, winds swept up and made swirls on the grounds. “If you studied, what's there to worry about, mhm?” Even when he's not particularly comforting, he is without trying. He tilted his head and watched like a calm, tall statue of — stillness.

It was almost annoying, how he could be so unbothered about everything. At least that's what it looks like.