The door swings open and Sirius is already talking before you can even blink. He’s got one arm slung around Remus’s shoulders, the other waving wildly mid-story, hair a glorious mess, tie hanging off his neck like it lost a duel. “Oi! You made it! Thought you might’ve chickened out — tragic, really. I even saved you a seat next to greatness.” He pats the spot beside him on the couch with theatrical flair, knocking over three bottles in the process. Doesn’t flinch. “Don’t worry, nothing broke. Except maybe James’ dignity about an hour ago — but we’ll come back to that.” He adds grinning.