maraudersmumu
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Latest Posts by maraudersmumu
Mary’s eyes narrowed with an air of mock seriousness, her quill twirling idly between her fingers. Maybe I’ll try it. Though, if it fails me, I’ll be sure to cite you in my impending howler to Professor McGonagall.”
She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table as her grin widened. “Improper use of a charm, you say? Chaos? Potter, you’re against chaos?” She arched a brow, smirking. “If you’re against chaos, then I’m the Minister of Magic.”
At his dramatic display of being wounded, she let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, forgive me, James. I underestimated your reputation as an academic prodigy. Of course, you’ve picked up a quill before—how else would you have signed all those detentions?” She propped her chin in her hand, her expression filled with feigned thoughtfulness. “Though, I imagine those are more co-signatures than solo ventures because no doubt Sirius, Remus and Peter were involved too.”
Her grin softened at his chuckle, though the teasing didn’t falter. “Still, you might be right. If you really applied yourself, the sheer brilliance of it all might collapse Hogwarts under the weight of your genius. I’d never get any studying done with McGonagall fainting in the halls, Remus sulking in the corner, and, worst of all, me having to admit that James Potter actually impressed me.”
She sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. “So, for the good of wizarding society, I agree—stick to the practicals. That way, the rest of us can keep up without your monumental brilliance overshadowing us.” The glint in her eyes betrayed her amusement as she picked up her quill and turned back to her parchment, though not without a final teasing glance his way.
"Exactly." A smile followed the tipping of his head, almost as though he was taking his crown off to her. "Why waste time flipping through pages upon pages when you can simply exist near the knowledge?" His gaze levelled with hers. "It's worked wonders for me. Really cleared up my schedule."
"As mentioned," James said, the whisp of a smile on his lips, "Osmosis helps you learn many things. Though I would advise against improper use of such a charm. It would cause chaos, I believe." He nodded his head as if to approve of his own point. "And we both know I am adamantly against chaos." Truthfully, he couldn't see what good the use of a flirting glow charm would have - much less have any reason to use it. It was a similar tactic to amortentia, which just did not work. Would you ever feel happy with the result?
"A very prestigious reference, that. Bound to propel you to an O." Those titles sat pretty well with James, if he was honest. "Scholarly indeed. I'll have to officially adopt those titles."
James propped himself up on one elbow, leaning against the table and feigning a look of utmost distress. “Mary, you wound me,” he drawled, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. "I've been known to pick up a quill or two in my time." He cocked his head. "But it is better done as little as possible. Chaos ensues, even with my best intentions." Fingers tapped against the desk. "Professors fainting from the sheer academic brilliance, Remus disowning me out of frustration, you having to admit you're impressed." A low chuckle filled the otherwise quiet library. "No, better to stick to the practicals where possible." He smiled, leaning back and running a hand through his already mussed hair.
Narcissa watched him closely, her eyes softening as the silence stretched between them. She recognized the rigidity in his posture, the carefully measured control of his tone, and the weight that clung to his words. She had seen it often enough before—not just in Regulus, but in herself. They all carried their burdens differently, but they carried them nonetheless.
"Yes," she said finally, her voice quiet but firm. "We do all carry the weight of it. And we all make our choices." She stepped closer, not intruding but bridging the distance slightly, her gaze steady and kind. "But that doesn’t mean the weight is yours alone to bear, Regulus."
Her hand brushed lightly against the edge of the shelf, a gesture that felt more reflexive than deliberate. "I know that Sirius' absence has cost you," she added gently, her words careful, a subtle acknowledgment without pressing too far. "And I know how much you’ve had to shoulder since then, but you're not alone."
Narcissa let the words settle before offering him a small, almost wistful smile. "It’s not an easy thing to reconcile, is it? Being a Black and being... ourselves." Her tone softened further, almost conspiratorial. "But I’ve always believed you see more clearly than most of us, Regulus. Perhaps even more than you let yourself admit. Whatever choices you make, I hope you trust yourself enough to make them fully."
She paused, giving him a moment before continuing. "You don’t have to answer me," she said, her smile faint but warm. "But if you ever wanted to talk—not about Sirius, not about the family, just... about you—I’m here."
Listening to her words, Regulus pressed his lips together as though in thought. His mind flickered briefly to the doubts that tugged at him in private moments, but he pushed them down, as he always did. There was nothing more devastating than allowing them to the surface, especially in the company of his family. Even Narcissa.
"Perhaps," he agreed, his tone tight, deliberately controlled. It didn't betray the conflict that swirled beneath it, but his posture was a little too rigid, his gaze still fixed on the room’s decor as though it could somehow anchor him. When ready, after allowing the silence to stretch a beat too long, his gaze returned to Narcissa. "Regardless, it's representative." This wasn't said with resentment, only finality. It was a mere truth.
What suits the family. Regulus thought that perhaps Narcissa was right, but for the wrong reasons. Regulus wasn't going to pretend he was the perfect male heir for the black family. Sirius would have been much better in those shoes, in theory. But as far as what was good for the family... Perhaps he knew better than his cousins, than his parents on that front. The Black family - sacred twenty-eight and a legacy that spanned generations. Yet, bowing to the Dark Lord. Servants. He wouldn't dare speak those thoughts. He barely dared to think them. "We all carry the weight of being a Black. Whether we thrive in the limelight or the shadows."
Her comment about his brother caused him to tense even moreso. He exhaled through his nose, a sharp sound that could’ve been a laugh. Could've. The topic of his brother would forever be a sore spot. It had been years, but none of those years apart could erase the memories they did have together. The years had stained them, warped them, and repurposed them... But, Regulus couldn't help but long for something that could never be. He glanced at her briefly, then away again. Narcissa was aware, likely more than anyone, of what his brother's departure had meant for Regulus. Though even she hadn't been told of the full weight of it. Reg's tight-lipped nature was not a new phenomenon. "We all make our choices." The words were clipped, too final, as if daring her to press further. He wasn’t willing to discuss his brother with her, not now—not ever, perhaps. Not when he wasn't sure of where his own loyalties stood.
“Enchantments is a mature and understanding partner,” Remus said solemnly, though his lips twitched. “It knows I have other interests. Broader horizons. It supports me in my pursuit of diverse intellectual stimulation.” He leaned back slightly, cradling the muggle book protectively against his chest as James’ curiosity flared. “It's called The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, and it's about one of the best detectives in the world,” Remus said as he adjusted his grip on the leather-bound book. “And for your information, Holmes doesn’t judge me for my divided attention. He’s far too busy solving mysteries and being clever.” He paused, narrowing his eyes at James. “Unlike some people who barge in uninvited and disrupt perfectly peaceful afternoons.”
“Invited,” Remus scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “You call being dragged by the ankle out of the library ‘invited’? That’s a very loose interpretation of the word, Prongs.”
Still, the elbow to his side drew a reluctant smile, even if Remus tried his best to roll his eyes in response. “Fine. Moony and Prongs Take on the Outdoors—though I’m reserving the right to rewrite the title when this inevitably ends in chaos. I’ll have something like, ‘Two Idiots and the Consequences of Their Actions’ in mind.”
He allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, though his body language was more resigned than enthusiastic. “You do realize that ‘expanding my mind’ doesn’t have to involve reckless spontaneity, right? It could involve, I don’t know, sitting quietly by the lake. Or bird-watching. Or—Merlin forbid—letting me finish my book in peace.”
Remus gave James a pointed look as he watched him dig through his sheets for his wand. “Honestly, how you ever manage to keep track of anything is a mystery.” His voice was dry, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
And then James burst through the door like a whirlwind of enthusiasm, dragging him along in his wake. Remus barely managed to snatch his cardigan from the back of a chair as they went, muttering under his breath.
“Fine,” he called after James with mock exasperation. “But I’m counting these five minutes, and if I end up covered in mud—or worse—I’m hexing you.”
Despite the grumbling, Remus couldn’t quite suppress the faint smile creeping across his face. James was impossible, but he was also James. And that, frustrating as it was, made all the difference.
James had to fight back the laughter that pulled his lips into a smile, knowing if it made its way passed his lips, he'd lose his bargaining power with Moony. "Of course," he began when he'd effectively banished the urge, "your romantic coffee date with Enchantments for the Moderately Ambitious yesterday slipped my mind." He pulled his head back to get a better view of the muggle novel Remus was so enamoured by. "Does Enchantments know you're being unfaithful?" His lip curved into a smirk. "What's so alluring about this muggle book, anyway?" A brow raised, genuinely curious, since he wasn't able to glance the title of the thing. He was no purveyor of muggle fiction, although he had learned of its existence in muggle studies at some point. And he was certain he'd seen Lily carrying very non-wizard tomes throughout the years.
"That is an unfair comparison!" James protested. "Padfoot's bad ideas are always a good use of my time. And, if I recall correctly, you were invited. And thus, it was not neglect." He crossed his arms and a small nod punctuated the comment.
"I'll have you know I put a great amount of effort into entertaining myself. I just happen to enjoy company. Some people enjoy doing things with their bestest of best friends." He elbowed Remus in the side. "Besides, who would read a book about poor, old James Potter stuck inside on a bloody gorgeous day... when they could read: Moony and Prongs taking on the outdoors!" James exclaimed, though relented: "Okay, the title needs work - but that's why you're part of the story."
Upon Moony's agreement, James practically jumped off the bed, falling backwards to the floor and scrambling to get up before his friend even considered changing his mind. "Absolutely no quidditch... or wrestling. Yes, sir!" The dark-haired wizard saluted, smile plastered onto his face. Now the only conundrum was what they could do.
Seeing hesitation begin to cloud Remus' judgement, James grabbed him by the arm to tug him onto his feet. "Nope. You said yes - you have to expand your mind now." Admittedly, he didn't have a plan on what yet but he was sure it would come to him within the next 5 minutes. There were countless things they could do both on and off campus. "Besides, using the levitation charm on Sirius gave us some great new intel! It was absolutely benficial." He grinned. "Regardless of the... hitches."
James fished for his wand, which had gotten lost somewhere in his own bedsheets. He definitely needed to start leaving it in easily accessible places. But that was future James' problem. "Moony and Prongs take on the outdoors!" The wizard exclaimed, door bursting open as he did so. James, who hadn't bothered to remove his shoes when he entered the dorm the last time, hadn't even considered that Remus might need time to prepare. He looked back.
Narcissa’s lips twitched, the barest flicker of amusement threatening to break her practised poise. She tilted her head, her pale hair catching the soft glow of the light, and regarded James with the kind of cool detachment reserved for overly eager performers.
"Ah, yes," she began, her tone a perfect blend of dryness and sharpness, "your happy helping of arrogance, recklessness, and that unyielding Gryffindor optimism. A truly baffling concoction. It’s a wonder you’ve made it this far without collapsing under the weight of it all."
She closed her book with a deliberate slowness, letting the pause linger just long enough to keep him guessing. When she spoke again, her voice was softer but no less cutting, with an edge carefully hidden beneath her smooth delivery. "You’re fortunate, James. Most wouldn’t tolerate such impudence. But then, I suspect you’ve always counted on your audacity to carry you through. I hear you have a knack for landing on your feet—no matter how recklessly you leap."
Her gaze briefly caught his, the faintest flicker of something teasing glinting in her eyes before she glanced at the book. She ran a finger along its spine, as if reminding herself that she had far better uses for her time, though the smirk playing at her lips suggested otherwise. "As for my reading," she said, her voice now laced with mockery, "it’s hardly the sort of thing you’d grasp easily. Some pursuits, after all, require more than sheer determination and an oversized grin."
She leaned back slightly, crossing her arms with the grace of someone who knew exactly how to command attention without asking for it. After a brief pause, her smirk deepened, a glimmer of amusement finally betraying her mask of indifference.
"Still," she continued, her voice lowering ever so slightly, "do feel free to keep trying to amuse me, James. Who knows? One of these days, you might even succeed."
With that, she reopened her book, her expression calm and composed, though her eyes betrayed the faintest spark of intrigue—a sign, perhaps, that she found him far more entertaining than she’d ever admit.
James grinned, large and proud. It was the kind of grin that could disarm or infuriate, depending on the other person. Although knowing the blonde before him, he anticipated the latter, but ever optimist, James thought today might just be the day she would surprise him. Still, he didn't shy away from a challenge, so he settled into what was now his seat with warmth. He wouldn't have joined Narcissa had he bothered to look (and would make a note to do so next time), but as it happened, he was willing to ride the wave today. And most others, if he was honest.
"Well, good morning to you too, Narcissa," he said brightly. The juxtaposition between their tones might've been jarring without context. "I see you've been working on that winning personality of yours. That's an E for Exceeds Expectations. Keep it up and you might just earn that O you've been vying for."
James' eyes moved to the book as she placed it, with purpose, on the table before them. Pulled away from it by her continued line of questioning, he peered up at her again. James wasn't sure whether he'd rather dodge her curses or her questions. But, ever the good sport, he plowed on ahead. "Oh, how well you know me. Let's say it's a happy helping of all three." He raised his brows a moment, his bright smile still plastered onto his lips. "Besides, you know you secretly live for these little interruptions of mine."
James leaned in again, eyeing the book. "So, what is it today? A gripping tale about the trials and triumphs of good, old-fashioned wizarding families? Or a thrilling essay on the remarkable allure of whatever shade of emerald you'll no doubt be wearing to Sluggie's Christmas Party?"
Narcissa turned the serpent-shaped stopper in her hands, her expression cool but faintly touched with a wry smile. She didn't glance back at Regulus immediately, letting the soft glow of the library lamps play across the antique's coiled form.
"Fitting, yes," she murmured, her voice smooth and measured, but with an undercurrent of something sharper. "Though I sometimes wonder if it's the serpent that defines us, or we who give it meaning." She tilted her head, finally meeting his gaze. "Perhaps both."
Her lips curved in a faint smile, not unkind but marked by the weight of their shared legacy. "It is a good pick," she agreed, setting the stopper down with deliberate care. "You’ve always had an eye for what suits the family, haven’t you, Regulus? Even when you kept yourself a step apart." There was no reproach in her tone, only a quiet acknowledgment of truths best left unspoken.
Turning slightly toward him, her fingers brushed the edge of a nearby shelf. "The Blacks and their serpents," she mused. "I wonder if your brother will ever fully be able to shed his skin."
Regulus stood a step behind her, quiet but present. His gaze was fixed on the book stopper in her hand. "I didn't mean to startle you." He said, stepping back and giving his cousin space. His eyes drifted to the antique bookshelf stopper she'd acquired. "A snake for a Black — it’s fitting." It was quite interesting, really. The way everyone in his family gravitated towards serpentine imagery. Was it out of genuine pleasure, or was it some inherited trait they'd all received along with their name. To be part of the Black family was everything, once. Still was, on the surface.
"It's a good pick." He smiled.
Mary’s smirk widened into a grin, her dark eyes glinting with a spark of mischief that could rival Sirius’s own. She tapped her quill against the table, feigning deep contemplation. “Outshine the stars, you say? Careful, Black. Flattery might actually work on me—if you’re lucky. But let’s get one thing straight: chaos might be where the magic happens, but it’s also where eyebrows tend to go missing. I’m rather fond of mine, thank you very much.”
Leaning forward, she rested her chin on her hand, her tone teasing yet tinged with challenge. “Now, I’ll admit—peace isn’t always my thing. And as you know, I’ve been known to dabble in a bit of chaos myself. But unlike you, I don’t throw myself into mayhem without a plan. The last time I got talked into a so-called ‘brilliant idea,’ it ended with Peeves setting off dungbombs in McGonagall’s office. Let’s just say I’ve become a bit more selective about my partners-in-crime since then.”
She tilted her head, her grin deepening. “That said, I do enjoy a bit of reckless fun. And I’ll admit, the idea of leaving some poor first-years wondering how their cauldrons turned into screaming banshees is… tempting. But if you think I’m just going to blindly follow you into one of your harebrained schemes, you’re sorely mistaken. I have standards for my mischief.”
Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret. “So here’s the deal, if I’m going to trade my peaceful evening for whatever chaos you’ve cooked up, I want in on the planning. No surprises, no last-minute detours into disaster.”
"Ah, Mary, my dear! Your wit is as sharp as a Ravenclaw's quill, and that smirk of yours could outshine the stars." Sirius leaned back in his own chair, running a hand through his tousled hair with a roguish grin. “Oh, if you only knew the extent of my chaos. Chaos is where the real magic happens, where the unexpected dances with the absurd!” he replied, his voice smooth with a hint of mischief. “While I might not exactly be the model student—let’s just say my activities have always tended to veer more towards the adventurous side of the spectrum.”
He tilted his head, studying her with mock seriousness. “As for your serene little bubble of quietude, let’s be honest. It’s a lovely thought, but you and I both know that peace is terribly overrated. Besides, don't you ever get bored? Life’s too thrilling to sit around, even under the glow of the moonlight. The ghosts can keep each other company; I’d rather stir up a bit of fun.”
Sirius's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, clearly relishing the idea. “As for the mayhem, well, it’s a bit of a delicate art, really. A spontaneous escapade here, a cheeky prank there—one mustn’t detail the formula too much, as that tends to spoil the surprise! But I can promise you, whatever we end up doing will be a brilliant story for the ages. And if that means skipping essays… well, consider it an added bonus.”
He leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice. “So what do you say, Mary? Care to trade the tranquil for a dash of delightfully reckless?”
Mary arched an eyebrow, her lips twitching into an amused smirk as she watched James adopt his regal pose. “Osmosis, is it?” she repeated, her tone dripping with mock reverence. “I had no idea we were in the presence of such a pioneer of unorthodox study techniques. Truly, the textbooks will sing of your methods for generations, Potter.”
At his mention of the Flirting Glow Charm, Mary snorted softly, shaking her head. “You know, James, the fact that you know about a Flirting Glow Charm speaks volumes. Was that from one of those textbooks you so rarely grace with your attention, or are we venturing into your field research?”
Her grin widened as she watched him wink and lean back. “Breaks, you say? Of course. A cornerstone of brilliance. I’ll be sure to cite you in my footnotes. James Potter, Esq., Champion of Distraction and Master of Breaktaking. It has quite the scholarly ring to it, don’t you think?”
As he sprawled out on the table, Mary tapped her quill against her parchment in exaggerated thought. “Inspiration, hmm? Careful, Potter, too much exposure to true genius might overwhelm you. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for you feeling the sudden urge to actually pick up a quill. Might ruin your reputation.” She shot him a teasing smile, before turning back to her notes, though the humour still danced in her eyes.
"Many wish to embody dedication as I do. Few actually achieve such heights." James straightened up, adopting an almost kingly posture as he spoke. "It's really quite the skill - the osmosis. I could teach it to you, but only some of us have the knack." He said, flashing a daring smile. "I'll have you know that I do occasionally read the textbooks - if I fancy it."
James nodded along as though enraptured by the subject. In truth, he'd long ago thought it unnecessary to write about the correct form when practicing magic - charms or not. Surely practical experience was the better method of testing such things. Nevertheless, it seemed that parchment did in fact grown on trees and their professors were absolutely going to use that as a way to torture them. "Important stuff, that. You know one wrong flick of the wrist and your Flirting Glow Charm can go devastatingly off course." He pointed at the notes. "Glad you're taking it so seriously."
"Oh, you can never have too many breaks, MacDonald. That's when the magic happens." He winked before sitting back in his chair again. "Consider that my sage advice." Running a hand through his hair, his gaze moved around the library for a moment, darting between bookshelves and across tables. He slid down onto the table, giving up whatever quest his eyes had been on, and rested his head on top of his hands. "Perhaps I'll sit and gain inspiration from what is no doubt a essay worthy of the next edition of A Charmed Mind: Essays of the Enchanted Arts."
“First of all, it was Enchantments for the Moderately Ambitious, thank you very much, and I finished reading that yesterday— this, I'll have you know, is a muggle novel.” Remus retorted, shooting James a mock glare as he tucked the book tighter against his chest. “And second—if you’re feeling neglected, you’ve got no one to blame but yourself. You’re the one who decided Sirius’ bad ideas were a better use of your time than keeping me company earlier.”
He tilted his head slightly, eyebrows arching as James’ pout morphed into full-blown theatrics. “Oh, the tragedy of poor, forsaken James Potter,” he said dryly, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Trapped indoors while the world turns! Forced to entertain himself without resorting to actual effort. What a fate.”
Remus finally sighed, closing the book with exaggerated care and letting it rest on his lap. “Fine. Five minutes. But don’t think I’m going to chase you around the Quidditch pitch or wrestle with you like Padfoot. My day’s been peaceful, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
He glanced out the window, squinting at the perfectly blue sky, and then back at James, whose grin was somehow as bright as the sunlight outside. “Expand my mind in other ways,” Remus echoed, feigning thoughtfulness. “You mean like how you expanded it the last time you convinced me to come outside? I’m still recovering from the fallout of your ‘charming’ use of that levitation charm on Sirius.”
But he couldn’t quite keep the amusement out of his voice as he stood, leaving the book carefully on the chair. “Come on then, Potter. You’ve got five minutes to prove this isn’t a terrible idea.”
“Chill out, Moony," James smiled, still reaching for the book his friend clutched like he couldn't bear to be torn from it. "I’m not trying to ruin the riveting love affair you've got going on with Advanced Spells for Overachievers-" he grunted. "-or whatever that is.”
"Guilty." He said with the blinding flash of a smile. "And some of us are feeling neglected." An overexaggerated pout forged its way onto James' faced, only slightly marred by the fact he had just been smiling. "I'm just saying, you've been glued to that for hours. It can't be that interesting." One final attempt at reaching for Remus' new love interest, and James finally gave up, hands in the air in defeat. "Come on. Sirius is off doing Merlin-knows-what, Peter’s probably off whispering sweet nothings to the kitchen's elves, and here I am: dangerously close to falling asleep from boredom... in the middle of the day!”
He flopped down beside Remus. “What do I want, you ask? Only your undivided attention for five minutes. Maybe seven." Looking doe-eyed at his best mate, James relented. "Okay, maybe a lot longer than that. But look, it's nice out!" He pointed out the window, through which he could miraculously see the blue sky. "And you're making me stay indoors. It's not right."
James nudged the corner of the book with a finger, grinning as he added: “Come on, Moony. Expand your mind in other ways.”
Mary raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk as she crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “You thrive in chaos? I’d never have guessed, Black,” she quipped, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “And here I was thinking you were the poster boy for order and discipline.”
Her gaze flicked over to the window where the moonlight spilled in, painting the room in silvery hues. “As for me,” she continued, fixing him with an amused look, “I was actually enjoying the quiet—something you seem determined to disrupt. But I suppose it’s hard to expect peace when Sirius Black is on the prowl, keeping lonely ghosts company and all.”
She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin in her hand, her smirk deepening. “Skipping essays for mayhem, though? Tempting offer. Care to elaborate on the mayhem, or is it the type of thing one just needs to go with the flow?” Her eyes sparkled with intrigue.
Sirius leaned against the edge of the table, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face as he ran a hand through his tousled hair. "Well, you know me, McDonald. I thrive in the chaos of the night," he replied, his voice smooth and teasing. "Besides, someone’s got to keep the ghosts company. They can get a bit lonely, you see."
He glanced around the dimly lit room, then returned his attention to her, his eyes glinting with mischief. “And what about you? Lost in the depths of coursework or just enjoying the quiet? I’d like to think it’s the latter, but then again, I’ve never been one for schoolwork. How about we skip the essays and cause a bit of mayhem instead?”
Mary glanced up from her scattered papers, her lips curving into a wry smile. “Oh, James,” she said, her voice carrying a teasing lilt, “your dedication to academics is truly inspiring. If only we could all plop into chairs and absorb knowledge through sheer proximity to textbooks.”
She leaned back slightly, arms crossing over her chest as she regarded him with mock seriousness. “What is it, you ask? Well, if you must know, it’s an attempt at deciphering the unfathomable mystery that is Professor Flitwick’s latest assignment. Something about wand movements and their effects on nonverbal incantations.” She gestured vaguely at the jumble of notes before her, letting out a dramatic sigh.
Mary’s gaze flickered over him, noting the familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “But enough about me and my noble struggles. What about you, Potter? Come to offer your wisdom, or are you just taking a break from terrorizing our peers and lecturers?”
"Oh, just studying ever so rigorously." James said, plopping down into the seat opposite from her. "Really, can't get enough of it." His forearms rested on the table in front of him and he leaned forward. Looking down at the books and pieces of parchment that littered the desk in front of Mary, he grinned slightly. "Not to give you an advantage or anything," he began, "but the best-laid coursework usually requires quill to parchment."
He sat back, leaning comfortably against the wooden backrest of the seat. "What is it, anyway?" Although James Potter thought himself rather skilled in the art of reading upside down, he wasn't about to intrude on another student's own writings. Well, not a students beyond their group of Marauders, anyway. He did have more self-control than that. Still, he was curious what had been so dull to force Mary's thoughts into the abyss of the bookshelves she'd been staring vacantly at.
Narcissa’s eyes flicked up from her book, her gaze landing on James with precise recognition, though she let the silence linger just long enough to be uncomfortable. Finally, she spoke, her voice smooth and honeyed, with an edge like polished glass.
"James," she said, the single syllable carrying both familiarity and an unspoken reprimand. "I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always had a way of… inserting yourself into situations uninvited."
She closed her book deliberately, the soft thud punctuating her words, and leaned back slightly, folding her hands neatly atop the table. A faint, sardonic smile played on her lips as she tilted her head, studying him.
"So, what is it today? Idle curiosity? A desperate bid to procrastinate? Or just the sheer audacity of thinking I might enjoy your company?"
Open starter [ James ]
Having secured that morning's cup of tea from the friendly campus barista, James had looked around the claustrophobically small coffee shop. He found no hope of securing a seat by the window, which was his preferred spot to perch. No better entertainment than people watching, especially with the core textbook in his bag that was begging to be ignored. He'd read it eventually, of course.
So, choosing the next best distraction, he pulled up a chair on an otherwise taken table. He'd not so much as looked at the occupant, but he was never one to shy away from a conversation.
"You don't mind, do you?"
Remus glanced up from his copy of Advanced Defensive Spells and Their Uses, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Well, someone’s in a bit of a mood,” he teased lightly, leaning back in his chair as he took in the storm of books and Lily’s apologetic wince. “Honestly, Lily, if you’re trying to scare the other library-goers into silence, you’ve nailed it. Even Madam Pince looks like she might bolt.”
He shut his book with a soft thud and gave her a knowing look, his hazel eyes twinkling. “One of those days, huh? Let me guess—Transfiguration’s been trying to ruin your life again? That subject has it out for all of us.”
He leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand. “You know, I could help you. But fair warning, if you let me look at your notes, you’ll have to endure my deeply insightful commentary. ‘Oh, Lily,’ I’ll say, ‘what a bold choice to redefine the laws of magical theory. Revolutionary, really.'"
His grin softened into something more genuine, and he gestured to the chair across from him. “Come on, let me save your evening. Or at least make you laugh a bit while you remind me I’m only a slightly less frustrating problem than Transfiguration itself.”
Lily was growing frustrated. She’d had a horrible headache all day, she’d had to take twenty-five points away for dueling in the corridors, some from her own House, and she’d spent two hours on her Transfiguration homework only to discover that she’d gotten the theory completely wrong.
Storming into the library in a flurry of impatience and irritation, she didn’t even pause to shoot Madam Pince an apologetic look for her noisiness. Taking her books out of her bag and practically slamming them back down on the table, she glanced at the person across from her and winced apologetically. “Sorry about that,” she said. “It’s just been one of those days, you know?”
Spencer’s initial reaction was to stiffen slightly at the sight of another person, his usual instinct to ward off company. But then, realising it was Regulus, he sighed softly and offered a faint, begrudging nod—an acknowledgment that didn’t quite extend into warmth but wasn’t outright dismissal either.
“Regulus,” he said, tone even as he moved his glass aside. “Suit yourself. Just don’t expect much conversation out of me tonight. Long day.”
He gestured vaguely at the stool beside him, the barest flicker of an olive branch. As the bartender approached, Spencer added, “Though if you’re here for the Wizards Brew, avoid the draught on tap—it’s gone off.”
Chatter whirled around him in the small space, alcohol clinging to both furniture and clientele alike. Regulus, for his part, was not intending on adding to the middling hum of the establishment. Regulus had once thought that the Three Broomsticks would be less busy when they were able to come and go as they pleased, but it seems that Hogsmeade mandated days were not the only time the place remained busy.
Heading towards the bar, he'd barely had time to recognise the familiar figure before the man was telling him to leave. "I could." He said, settling down at the bar to order his own drink. "Or I could agree not to bother you and sit down regardless."
Alecto's smirk lingered, but her hand dropped gracefully to her side, the movement deliberate. "Wise of you to assume I’d risk it," she replied, her voice smooth, almost mocking. "I know better than to let curiosity get me killed."
Her gaze flicked to the object, dark and tempting, before locking onto Regulus with a sharp intensity. "Not all of us are foolish enough to play with fire when we don’t know how it burns."
She took a step back, her expression cold but calculating. "But I’ll give you this—sometimes the best way to learn is to let someone else make the mistake."
Regulus stopped to look at the witch, his sharp gaze flickering between the object and her outstretched hand. "You might be looking to sate your curiosity, but I'm not willing to be your cat." There was no denying that the dark urge of the object was overpowering. However, Regulus had learned already that some things were better left untouched and unexplored. The argument for seeing what it could do was intriguing, for no other reason than the seductive pull of magic. But it was a distraction from his actual task. "By all means, offer your own paw."
where: three broomsticks who: open
Spencer sat down at the bar and ordered his drink. It was a much needed escape after yet another lecture from his father. He sat there for a minute, his head resting against the bar with his eyes closed, trying to block out all the noise. He just needed a minute of peace, a minute to himself. But before it even got to thirty seconds, he felt someone take a seat next to him. Spencer gave a heavy sigh.
"You could go away right now and make this easier on both of us," he said before finally opening his eyes.
where: Ye Olde Curiosity Shop who: open
Narcissa wandered through the aisles of the curiosity shop, an object catching her attention. Slender fingers collected the bookshelf stopper in the shape of a snake. It looked expensive yet there was something else about it... something magical perhaps. Excitement sparked in her blue hues. Her attention was pulled away from the antique as she felt someone at her side.
The blonde turned abruptly to the person. "Do you know it's rude to sneak up on someone?" Fingers clench around the snake book stopper in a possessive manner.
where: borgin and burkes who: open
It was captivating—a sudden, irresistible urge to touch the object. Her hand had reached up, the pad of her forefinger mere inches away, when the chime of the doorbell jolted her back.
Dark magic.
A sinister smile played across her features as she turned toward the sound of approaching footsteps. "I wouldn’t..." She had been seconds away from cautioning them against touching it when a new idea took shape. "Or," she said with a sly gesture toward the candlestick holder, "you could touch it. I’m curious to see what might happen if someone does."
“James, I swear to Merlin—” The words were more a resigned groan than a true threat, though Remus did manage to hold his book out of reach with one hand while the other tried halfheartedly to fend off his assailant. He twisted just enough to keep the precious novel safe from James’ grabby hands.
“You’re an absolute menace, you know that?” he said, glaring in a way that was entirely too soft to be convincing. His fingers still clung to the spine of the book, knuckles white with effort. “Some of us actually enjoy expanding our minds beyond hexing techniques and Quidditch strategies, you heathen.”
But James’ grin—wide, toothy, and maddeningly infectious—was doing its usual work of disarming him. He sighed, letting the book settle protectively against his chest, though his arms stayed firmly locked around it.
“Fine,” he said, relenting just enough to satisfy James’ need for attention. "What is it that you want?"
@maraudersmumu [ James x Remus ]
Bedsheets clung to the edge of the bed, fighting for dear life to remain on the bumpy mattress. Limbs sprawled over the width of it, dangling over the edge, while James watched his friend from a distance. Long fingers twirled his mahogany wand over and over, trying desperately to occupy himself in some way - not wanting to interrupt the clearly mesmerising words that clearly graced the crinkled paper of Remus' book. He'd long forgotten the tome he'd been skimming through. It lay facedown on the floor, open on some page with some dull, old scholar's tedious writings on this-and-that. Why bother reading any more? He'd already concluded that it was dreadfully boring. Remus, on the other hand, seemed rather enraptured by whatever it was he'd been reading. Been being the appropriate word, because at that very moment, James Potter finally spoke up.
"Okay, reading time is over." He announced, as if there'd been a literal timer, rather than the metaphorical one that was his own patience. And, without so much as a warning, he dove towards his friend in an effort to draw the riveting book-date to a conclusion.
Where: The Hogwarts University library Who: Open to all
Leaning back in her chair, her thoughts far away from anything to do with the pile of coursework in front of her, Mary sat up when she became aware of another person approaching the table she was sitting at. A quick glance at the clock told her that it was long past clocking out time for most.
"What are you still doing here?" She asked with a small smile. "Everyone's usually gone by now."
someone: you're pretentious
me, sprawled out on a bed of roses, reading oscar wilde and sipping champagne: oh?
AIRPLANE! (1980) dir. David Zucker, Jim Abrahams, Jerry Zucker
{ spencer tag dump }
{ cissy tag dump }
{ remus tag dump }
{ alecto tag dump }