{ Mary Tag Dump }

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.

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?

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."

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.

{ remus tag dump }

CHERYL BLOSSOM (RIVERDALE)

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?”

“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.