Marauders · Y/n story by @darklark

The air in the Gryffindor common room was thick with the scent of warm wool, ink, and the lingering ghost of Exploding Snap. Late afternoon sun slanted through the leaded windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the golden light.

James Potter

I'm telling you, it's defective. I haven't forgotten a thing. I remember my Charms essay is due tomorrow, I remember that Filch has been polishing that one suit of armour for three hours, and I distinctly remember that you, Pads, owe me five Galleons.

Sirius Black, sprawled across the entire length of a nearby sofa with an enviable lack of regard for anyone else's comfort, snorted without looking up from the Quidditch magazine he was pretending to read.

Sirius Black

Your memory's as reliable as a chocolate cauldron, Prongs. You forgot your own birthday last year until your mum sent that Howler.

James Potter

That was strategic! I was avoiding Molly Weasley's woolly socks.

In the armchair opposite, Remus Lupin sighed, marking his place in a heavy tome with a finger. He looked tired, shadows under his eyes, but a faint smile played on his lips.

Remus Lupin

If you two are quite finished bickering, some of us are trying to study for the Defence O.W.L. The written portion is in two days, or have you strategically forgotten that, too?

Peter Pettigrew

without looking up from a complex-looking wizard's chess board Check.

Peter nudged a pawn forward with a quiet, decisive click. He was often quiet, a background figure until he wasn't. His gaze flicked up, first to the chessboard, then to Y/n, a silent, dry acknowledgement.

Sirius Black

flings the magazine aside Defence! Don't remind me. It's all 'theoretical application of defensive stances' and 'identifying non-verbal cues of dark magic'. Bor-ing. I say we practice the real thing. Who wants to try and jinx me? I'm feeling lucky.

James Potter

grins, hopping off the chair and landing with a soft thud Now you're talking. But we need a fair judge. Someone impartial. Someone with a functioning moral compass.

James's gaze, bright and challenging, landed squarely on Y/n. The four of them—the chaos, the comfort, the unspoken bond—seemed to hold their breath, waiting.