𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 [𝐣.𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫]

24: 𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔟𝔬𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔡𝔦𝔞𝔯𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶

There was no time for hangovers, or succumbing to any other mysterious illnesses as the end of the year approached.

This meant that each of the Marauders and all the girls that had partaken in the raucous game of spin the bottle dragged themselves out of bed, bleary and ever-so-nauseous. As weeks flew by, there was rarely a time of rest. Not when the OWLS were looming ahead of them.

Even James dedicated himself to after-class conversations with McGonagall. Once he'd even gone as far as to skip Quidditch Practice.

Romances, lingering feelings, underaged drug use, and lasting feuds were put on hold in favor of studious hours spent in the library.

That is, unless your name was Sirius Black.

"Bug off," Remus snapped, his book closely promptly as he turned to look at the arrogant boy, his eyes glittering with mischief.

Sirius crossed his arms over his chest, pulling out two Honeyduke's chocolate bars from his pockets. He set them down on the cluttered table with a knowing wink. "I refuse."

Remus sighed, putting his cigarette out in his inkpot. "I'll give you two minutes. What do you want, Padfoot?"

"I have a proposition." Sirius looked very proud of himself. His hands fidgeted with a random scrap of parchment until the shreds fell to the ground in flakes of confetti.

Remus flicked his wand lazily, not bothering to look up from his reading. The stray flecks of disappeared before they hit the ground

"You have one minute remaining." Remus returned to his notes, dipping his quill into his slightly ashy inkwell. Sirius watched his spindly fingers speckled with ink like a critic examining a magnificent work of art.

Sirius changed tact. He pulled his lips into a pout. "That isn't fair, moony."

Remus shook his head in amusement. "Life isn't fair."

"Way to beat the mood." Sirius watched his fingers run through his unruly curls. The golden glow emanating from the library's luxurious, rectangular windows illuminated the harsh scars the drew themselves across his face.

And yet, he'd never looked softer.

He swallowed, watching the curve in his jaw harden. Remus gripped his quill tighter at the introduction of a potions essay. As fun as it was to watch two seemingly arbitrary animal appendages amalgamate, Remus lacked the delicate touch and foresight that was required to keep your potion from blowing up or otherwise failing to do its preassigned job.

He riffled through his textbook hopelessly, craning his neck as he searched through the stack of potions references he'd borrowed from the library.

Sirius leaned over, glancing at the problem that was troubling his dear moony.

"Crushed dung beetle claws."

"What?"

"That's what you're forgetting."

"Thanks, mate."

Sirius leaned back, admiring the view.

*******

He bounded into the Common Room, a hefty book in hand. "Heya Brigitte!"

"James." She inclined her head at this entrance, the cigarette she once held between her fingers dissolving into ash.

He looked at her curiously. "How'd you do that?"

"Do what?"

He gesticulated fantastically at the quickly escaping plume of smoke. "You- your cigarette. It's gone."