messrs.

oooh wow......probably...pumpkin candles, bonfire smoke, petrichor & cologne

The famed Gryffindor parties in the Room of Requirement were always wild. The room was always huge and filled with beanbags and sofas, with speakers everywhere. All Gryffindors in fifth year and up were always invited, and maybe some Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws on the occasion, but never the Slytherins. (Slytherins never came to Gryffindor parties, though now and then one would manage to sneak in. Dorcas was working on a charm to keep all the nasty snakes out.)  

And, of course, you can’t have a party without lights, charm courtesy of a Ravenclaw named Santino. And the Marauders, as they called themselves, would bring a full stock of food, and booze to spike the punch with. As they were the ones to organize the parties in the first place, they had to make sure their guests arrived excited as they could, got as smashed as they could, and went through classes the next day as hungover as they could.

In the corner of the room, the four sat around a table, Peter next to Remus and James next to Sirius. They seemed to be laughing over something, and Remus and Sirius were engaging in a not-so-subtle game of footsies under the table.

who cooks: sirius are u kidding me remus always sets shit on fire 

who does the laundry and other chores: remus loves the smell of clean clothes, and the warm fabrics between his fingers so remus does laundry and sirius does a lot of cleaning

how many children do they have: harry basically

who’s more dominant: rEMUS MOONY LUPIN IS SUCH A GODDAMN DOM R.I.P. ME

favorite nonsexual activity: dancing are u kidding these nerds love dancing together so much and a lot of the time sometimes it does get sexual and they’re like “whoops”

their favorite place to be together: any park or nature setting, there’s this one maple tree by the great lake that they love to go make out under

any traditions:

their “song”: do you wanna by the kooks B)

what they do for each other on holidays:

where did they go for their honeymoon: italy! rome and venice and florence and milan and pompeii and naples and italy

where did they first meet: compartment 21 of the hogwarts express

any pets: *coughs* 

what do they fight over: each other’s safety, mostly, which is tragically beautiful. but other times they’ll fight over dumb things like taking out the trash or music

let’s say he grew up with pureblood parents who tried to force him on other purebloods, mostly girls

and he always made great friends with them, but, to his parents’ disdain, never liked them in that way

13-year-old peter getting the talk from his parents: “peter, honey, it’s okay if you like boys instead, we’ll love you the same”

peter knowing he doesn’t like boys, but he doesn’t like girls either

teenage peter growing up with his three best friends going through relationship after relationship like the school ghosts go through the walls and feeling isolated 

them asking him who he likes and the answer is almost always “no one” but every now and then he’ll make something up so they don’t think there’s something wrong with him

and he truly does believe that something’s wrong with him until 7th year, when he overhears a girl in the library tell her friend that she’s “never liked any boys, or girls, for that matter, in that way”

he immediately joins in on the conversation, and him and the girl scour through book after book, until finally, she finds a muggle book on sexuality and they find it’s called asexuality

she also finds something about being aromantic, and they both identify with that, and after looking through the book a bit more, they make posters on lesser-known orientations and put them around the school

sirius discovering he’s pansexual and lily discovering she’s biromantic heterosexual because of them

James: The wood of brand-new broomsticks, treacle tart, fresh-cut grass, and Lily’s sweet, flowery perfume.

Sirius: Old sweaters, vanilla cupcakes, the Potters’ house, marijuana 

Remus: Motorcycle oil, Honeyduke’s Finest Chocolate Bars, smoke from the Gryffindor common room fireplace, coconut shampoo

young remus, isolated from the world without any real friends, never learning how to socialize properly with anyone but his parents

11-year-old remus getting on the hogwarts express and hoping to god that no one gets in the compartment with him

so when two boys enter, laughing and giggling loudly, he just pulls his coat up over his shoulder and pushes himself into the wall, hoping he won’t be noticed

then another boy rushes in right before the train leaves the station, breathing heavily and tripping over his words

an hour into the train ride, remus is still staring out the window and the boys, who have been talking the whole time, fall silent for a moment

the boy that ran in last, whose name he overheard was peter, asks quietly to the other two boys, “wha’s ‘is name?” 

there’s no response from the other boys and remus freezes in fear when peter taps him on the shoulder. holding his breath, remus turns to look at him, wishing he could disappear. peter asks him, “wha’s your name? why you sittin’ all lonely like that?”

all three of the boys are staring at him now, so he says under his breath (but to him that’s like screaming), “remus.” his hands are shaking

“...remus? funny name, that is. i like it,” peter says through a smile. “i’m peter, this is james, and sirius. he’s got a funny name, too, don’t worry.”

“i’ll have you know that all my family has space names, thank you very much.”

james starts laughing, and so does peter. remus smiles, and listens in on the rest of their conversation (because they don’t force him to talk) for the rest of the train ride. 

when they finally go through the sorting ceremony and his name is called, remus thinks he’d rather die right there on the spot than go up in front of everyone. and he just might. what if he makes himself look stupid? what if he trips on the way up and everyone laughs at him and he’s forever known as remus lupin, the boy who tripped going up to the sorting hat? 

but he goes anyway, and the hat starts mumbling and grumbling ‘til it screams out “GRYFFINDOR!” and remus doesn’t know what to make of it until he sees the boys from the train down below, at the red table

but he thinks they won’t let him sit with them, so he tries to just walk past, but james grabs his arm

he flinches, pulling his arm away, and james lets go, still smiling like he’s got the sun behind his eyes

“won’t you sit with us, remus, mate? you are gryffindor, after all.”

remus shrugs and sits down next to james, across from sirius and peter and talks to them throughout the rest of the feast. 

they’re the only gryffindor boys of their year, and therefore the only boys in their dorm room. they spend the whole night giggling and laughing and remus thinks his life’s never been better, and in the morning he starts his classes with his new friends 

been wanting to do this forever, actually! eeee

Roses. Why did everyone always order roses?

Yeah, he got it, they were typical lovey-dovey flowers. But there were so many other options! There were tulips, lilies, gerberas, daisies, sunflowers, carnations, and orchids! There were infinite other options, infinite combinations, and they always ordered a bundle of red roses.

Of course, it didn’t matter to him what flowers people bought, because either way it brought in profit, but he just got sick of all the roses. 

People came in asking for roses when they meant sunflowers, or lilies. Or they ask for orange flowers for their mother, when they obviously mean pink. Of course, he couldn’t tell people to their faces that they were being stupid, because he’d lose all his business. Besides, not everyone can be a floral expert. 

He sighed.

It was hard being a florist. 

He looked out to the tattoo parlor across the street, his eyes dragging across the form of the artist crouched over his station by the front window. He was fixated on his work, the needle in his hand steady against a sobbing teenager’s thigh. The girl looked like she was on the verge of passing out, and she was squeezing her mother’s hand.

The inside of the parlor looked dark, but clean, and he wondered why he’d never stopped by. The artist in the front was cute, that was for sure. He’d turned to work on another part of the girl’s leg, and his rolling stool and tight, tight pants gave him a view he shouldn’t be allowed to have. Gave him thoughts he shouldn’t have been having.

He was pulled out of these thoughts when the artist straightened up and stretched, grabbing various cloths and beginning to clean her leg.

Shit, he’s almost done, he thought.

He rummaged around his desk for the “Will Return” sign and stuck it on the door. He grabbed his wallet and keys, scolding himself for taking a break when he shouldn’t have been.

He waited for the girl to leave, and for the artist to clean up his station completely. Then the artist walked out the front door. 

The sunlight made his golden curls glow, and the sleeves of his sweater that was much too small for him were pushed up past his elbows, revealing a different kind of sleeve underneath.

Realizing it was now or never, he grabbed one last thing before running up to the artist. Trying to subdue the fact that he was slightly out of breath, he produced a single red rose from behind his back with a flick of his wrist.

At first, the artist looked startled, then taking in the florist’s pleading grey eyes and disheveled black hair, he smirked at him. “Tacky and cliche. I thought you were a florist?”

“You can learn even more about my job if you go out to dinner with me,” the florist said.

The artist laughed. “Textbook.” God, he’s gorgeous when he laughs, the florist thought. “I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m Sirius,” the florist said hopefully.

“Yes, I know you’re being serious, and I’m asking your name.”

“S-I-R-I-U-S.”

“Oh,” the artist laughed and looked down at his feet, and the florist swore he could see him blushing. He looked up. “Remus.”

“You like sushi, Remus?”

“Love it, actually.”

“Good, then I’ll see you at Wasabi’s at 7?”

James: Peanut butter and fluff, of course. He likes it cut in half down the middle, and always ends up with the fluff getting all over his face. And sometimes in his hair. Usually, it gets in his hair. He’s a fucking mess.

Sirius: Some of the only things he keeps from his snooty pureblood upbringing are his affinity for cucumber sandwiches cut into tiny triangles. He would always eat all of them from the silver platter during afternoon tea, and Regulus would tease him that he was going to turn into a cucumber.

Remus: Really, he’ll eat whatever the hell’s around. Egg and lettuce? Good enough. Tomato and cheese? Yeah, whatever. The kid’s a living vacuum when it comes to food, and he’ll eat anything as long as the crust is cut off.