Imagine
Hogwarts is just the school. It’s “where magic is born”, as its headmaster says. And even if that is not entirely true, it’s clear that Hogwarts’ ambiance invites magic in.
Magic and, apparently, sin.
There’s two bodies kissing passionately in a corridor corner, almost hidden by columns. Her arms are around his neck, while his hands have started exploring under her shirt a long time ago. She can’t believe that she finally is, after all those years, having the opportunity to live what she’s living. That is, until the moment is abruptly interrupted.
– PadfooOOOOT
– Where the FUCK are you, Pads?
– Stop screaming, or we’re gonna get that damn cat instead of a dog.
– PADFOOOOOT
– James. STOP. SCREAMING.
– YOU are screaming, Moony…
Sirius Black smiles against his date’s mouth. He lets go slowly and he calmly lets his hand run through his long, dark hair.
– Hey, I’m sorry, I kinda need to go. Rain check?
The girl tries not to appear as pissed as she is actually feeling.
– Yeah, sure.
– Great. Ciao, gorgeous – he says with a smirk. And it’s not just because he knows she won’t be able to resist it - he just can’t help it when he hears his friends calling him.
He catches up to them with long strides; to Moony, as tall and scrawny as always, maybe a bit pale, since the full moon is coming; to Wormtail, small and nervous, constantly checking if someone’s coming; and to Prongs, his brother from another mother, who slides his glasses up his nose and welcomes him with an amused smile and his usual combing his hand into his messy hair.
– Halleluja, Padfoot. Where the hell were you?
– Trying to get laid, Prongs. Remember what that is?
– You’re a moron, Sirius.
– That’s not true. I’m a great friend who is just on time for the weekly prank.
– Sirius – Moony interrupts – we’ve been looking for you for half an hour. If you didn’t wanna come you could’ve just stayed with your date.
– Don’t be silly, Moony – he answers, pretending to be hurt – if there’s something that Sirius Black likes more than birds, that’s his friends.
And Remus Lupin thinks he hasn’t ever heard a sentence that he identifies more with.
When they were in the third year, Sirius and James wouldn’t stop looking for girls to hook up with. There wasn’t a day when one of the two didn’t update their conquest list, talked about it to each other or tell absolutely everyone (or, more accurately, every one in the Gryffindor third year’s male dormitory) what they were and were not doing.
Remus always preferred to stay out of it. Remus was another kind of guy. Remus wanted to read books and pretend not to be interested in what their friends were saying. It would’ve been easier, of course, if he wasn’t dying to hear every word, just to get jealous and feel his insides burning up. Anyone would think that being a werewolf is the kind of thing that becomes your biggest secret, but the truth is that Remus was an expert in secrets, and him wanting to kiss Sirius Black against the corridor walls was fairly more important than being a stupid werewolf. Or, he wasn’t sure, a werewolf who was stupid.
The prank goes great, as it always does, and soon the extravagant drawing of Albus Dumbledore wearing John Lennon’s iconic round glasses is shining over the surface of the Lake. A small multitude of black robes and colourful ties crowds in the shore, with small laughs and low-voiced comments. Welcome, sixth year.
A bit further away, the Marauders look proudly at their masterpiece. Remus, sitting at the base of the tree shielding them from the sun, hums quietly to the tune of Imagine. Next to him, Peter is sketching absent-mindedly a new drawing, the tip of the quill sliding over the parchment with a soft scratching sound. James has climbed the tree, and lets go of his inseparable snitch every few seconds just to catch it lazily a few instants later, almost as if he did it just to prove to the ball that she can’t run away. Sirius looks at him from a higher branch, because he’s Sirius Black, and Sirius Black always has to sit in the highest branch. That’s why he’s the first one to see the silhouette approaching, which makes him smile naughtily.
– Hey, Potter – James looks up, and he still has time to catch the golden ball – you’ve got visitors. Looks like someone’s here to start your official fan club.
– James already has an official fan club – points out Peter.
– Yeah, Wormtail. You are the founder.
Peter throws him a parchment ball, and Sirius lets out a giggle.
There’s no denying that Sirius is a very optimistic person. There’s no need to compare Lily Evans’s red hair with fire to note that she’s fairly angry. James doesn’t really care, though, because he immediately puts his snitch away in his pocket, cleans his glasses on his shirt and starts combing his hands through his irremediably messy ebony hair while his feet touch the grass on the ground.
– Don’t worry, James. You look like you could be casted for a perfume commercial – says Remus, not looking up from the parchment that Peter keeps doodling in. James doesn’t look very impressed but he doesn’t have any more time to doubt himself, since the young prefect is already in front of him.
– I’m going to KILL YOU. – she says, crossing her arms over her chest, and James can’t help but look at what that does to her cleavage – It’s the fourth fucking prank in less than two weeks. Gryffindor hasn’t lost this many points in all of its history, and I really CAN’T let it slide again. Remus, please, help me out here. And EYES UP, Potter.
If James was one of those people who blush, there wouldn’t be a single inch of his face not covered in red. But he’s not, so he just looks up and combs his hair once more. Remus stands up, and the sun reflects on his red and gold badge for a moment.
– You’re right, Lily. I’m sorry. You should tell McGonagall it was us.
– As if that was necessary. It smells like Marauder all over.
– You’re a killjoy, Evans – says Sirius, jumping down from the tree – you come here and try to tame Moony’s wild side, instead of letting yours loose.
– Fuck you, Black.
– Don’t say that to me, Evans. The temptation is too strong…
Lily turns away, even more pissed than before (if that was even possible) and starts going towards the castle.
– Hey, Lily. Lily! – James shouts, breaking his silence – I’m sorry too!
– Fuck you too, Potter – she answers without turning back. Sirius’s laugh gets lost in the distance as she gets further and further away, walking into the school.