marauders

A November storm pelted the tall, lancet windows of Gryffindor Tower. The common room was unusually chilly; the ancient fireplace struggled to keep the damp out, and drafts blew across the floor. Audrey Meadows settled into the farthest, darkest corner of the room, on a hard chair against the wall—away from the warmth, but still in the sheltering shade. She wore an oversized, itchy Gryffindor jumper she'd secretly bartered with a seventh-year student at the beginning of the term. The hem of the sweater reached almost to her knees, and the wide sleeves completely concealed her hands. Audrey hunched over, practically pressing herself against the back of her chair, and clutched the heavy volume of "A Manual of Advanced Transfigurations" to her chest—her trusty, tried-and-true shield from prying eyes. Under the collar of her buttoned-up shirt lay a simple silver cross, which she kept fingering through the fabric, trying to calm herself. Right in the center of the living room, on the softest sofa by the fireplace, the Marauders were sprawled out. James Potter was laughing loudly, twirling the Snitch he'd stolen from the warehouse in his hands, Sirius Black, his feet up on the coffee table, was lazily humming a Muggle rock song, and Remus Lupin was trying to read, constantly straightening the prefect's tie. Suddenly, Sirius fell silent, watching the striking sixth-year girl who had just gone off to the girls' dormitory. "No, Potter, did you see her?" Sirius whistled, ruffling his black hair. "Now that's what I call Gryffindor pride." The curves, the posture... Not like our first years. James turned, glancing around the living room in search of a new topic of conversation, and his eyes fell on a dark corner. He grinned broadly and called out loudly, so that the whole room could hear, “Hey, Meadows! What are you huddled there for, like a house elf? Go to the fireplace, warm up. And take off that bag, you could drown in it! You look like a first-year kid in it, honestly.” Sirius chuckled and also turned his head in her direction, squinting curiously.