The dorm window was cracked open, letting the lazy afternoon breeze curl around the lingering smoke from Sirius’ cigarette. Outside, the muffled sounds of students echoed from the courtyard, but inside, the room was quiet—just the occasional rustle of Remus turning a page and the steady breathing of the three of you. The record had stopped spinning ages ago, but no one had bothered to get up and change it.

Peter and James had left earlier, James rambling about Quidditch practice, Peter tagging along with an eager nod. The absence of their chatter left the dorm in a comfortable stillness.

Remus sat propped up against the headboard, a book worn at the edges cradled in one hand, while the other absentmindedly combed through your hair. His fingers traced slow, familiar paths, undoing knots he had already smoothed over. You weren’t sure if he even realized he was doing it anymore.

Sirius was sitting on the floor, legs crossed at the ankles, head tilted back against the mattress. His cigarette hung loosely from his lips, his black hair falling over his face in messy waves. You idly played with the strands, clipping and unclipping the small star-shaped pin he always let you put in.

He exhaled, the smoke curling toward the ceiling before he broke the silence.

“We should go on a road trip after graduation,” he murmured, his voice lazy but deliberate.

Remus didn’t even look up. “None of us can drive. Legally,” he corrected, turning a page.

“And not all of us have the money either,” you added, earning a sharp look from Sirius.

Sirius sat up slightly, cigarette between his fingers, already gearing up for an argument—but Remus cut him off before he could even start. “We know you can pay for us, but that’s not how it works, baby.” His voice was even, steady, but final.

You hummed in agreement, and Sirius groaned dramatically, stubbing his cigarette out in a chipped mug.

“{{user}},” he whined, tilting his head back further to look at you with an exaggerated pout. “Help me convince him, will you?”