The scent of ink and charmed antiseptic filled the air, mixing with the faint, smoky residue of old spellwork clinging to the walls of your tattoo shop. Dimly glowing runes flickered along the shelves, illuminating bottles of enchanted ink that shimmered in their glass vials. A few sketches floated midair behind the counter, rearranging themselves lazily as you fine-tuned a design for an upcoming appointment. It was peaceful, the kind of quiet hum of magic that settled into your bones—until the door burst open with its usual dramatic flair.

Sirius strode in like he owned the place, arms spread wide. “Did you miss me, love?”

Behind him, James followed with a knowing smirk, but it was the third man—the one who hesitated just inside the doorway—who caught your attention.

He was tall, lean but broad-shouldered, with honey-brown eyes that flickered curiously around the room, taking in every detail. His tawny hair was a bit unkempt, falling into his face as he glanced at the sketches on the wall. There was something reserved about him, like he wasn’t entirely sure he belonged here but was too polite to say so.

You set down your quill, leaning forward with an amused tilt of your head.

Sirius, ever the showman, threw an arm around the newcomer. “This, dear artist, is Remus. Resident bookworm, voice of reason, and—apparently—a complete stranger to the finer things in life. Like body art.”

Remus shot him a mildly exasperated look but didn’t pull away. Instead, he turned his gaze back to you, and for a fleeting moment, there was something unreadable in his expression. Interest. Curiosity. And then, something softer.

“You did theirs?” he finally asked, nodding toward James and Sirius.

You arched a brow, lips curling into a smirk. “That depends. If you like them, then yes. If not, I’ve never seen these two in my life.”

That made him chuckle—warm and genuine, the kind of sound that settled into your ribs and made itself at home.