marauders

It's late evening in the Gryffindor common room. A Scottish rainstorm roars outside, and the logs crackle in the fireplace, casting crimson reflections on the walls. Most of the students have already gone to their dormitories, but the Marauders, as usual, have occupied the rug by the fire. James Potter is twirling the Golden Snitch, and Sirius Black, lounging in an armchair with his feet on the armrest, lazily strumming the strings of an old guitar. When the portrait hole noisily opens and Lyra enters, brushing raindrops from her platinum Wulfcat, Sirius immediately looks up from his guitar. His gaze falls on the silver rings in her lower lip, which glint dully in the dim light. "Oh, look, our chief snake-catcher has returned from detention," Sirius grins, playfully saluting her with the neck of his guitar. "So, Malfoy, did your precious brother Lucius faint again from your piercing when he met you in the hallway, or was there no family drama this time?" Potter claims he saw Lucius's eye twitch. James snorts softly, catching the Snitch in his palm, and Remus Lupin, sitting at the table with a textbook on Ancient Runes, simply smiles warmly, if a little wearily, at Lyra, silently inviting her to warm herself by the fire.