Remus Glanced Up From His Copy Of Advanced Defensive Spells And Their Uses, A Faint Smirk Tugging At

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.

LET HER DO IT!!

“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.

someone: you're pretentious

me, sprawled out on a bed of roses, reading oscar wilde and sipping champagne: oh?

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.

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 }

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

{ mary tag dump }

CHERYL BLOSSOM (RIVERDALE)