{ Cissy Tag Dump }

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: 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.

{ remus tag dump }

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?"

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."

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.

AIRPLANE! (1980) dir. David Zucker, Jim Abrahams, Jerry Zucker

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?”

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.