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

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.

{ remus tag dump }

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?"

my youth is yours

LET HER DO IT!!

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?”

{ 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."

{ spencer tag dump }

“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.