Alecto's Smirk Lingered, But Her Hand Dropped Gracefully To Her Side, The Movement Deliberate. "Wise

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.

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?”

“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.”

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."

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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?”

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."

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.

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