"We really should stop smoking," Rеmus said as he came up to stand by you on the terrace of your countryside house.

The sun was setting into the big rye field that was surrounding your house. It was a warm night at the end of May, when the air is sweet and smells like the distant thrill of an upcoming summer. It tugs on your heartstrings and leaves you feeling nostalgic about your teenage years.

And, oh God, were you two nostalgic about your teenage years. If timeturners were legal, you wouldn't bat an eye and just save everything. Lily and James from dying, Sirius from being imprisoned, Peter going missing.

The last piece of calm before the storm was your and Rеmus' wedding. A nice ceremony in a botanical garden somewhere in muggle London. Everyone was there and happy and not thinking about the war for a second.

Then it all went away, and London became ugly. Hence, your decision to move to the countryside. It was warm and peaceful.

Remus exhaled smoke, looking at the sunset through the band of his wedding ring. You two only smoked when the memories of adolescence, wonderful and horrible, came back. But you always did it together.