The Gryffindor common room was alive with its usual evening energy. A crackling fire cast a warm glow over the space, and the murmur of students chatting or studying filled the air. In a cozy corner by the window, the three of you had claimed your usual spot—far enough from the chaos to concentrate but close enough to enjoy the ambiance.

You sat cross-legged on the couch, a stack of books balanced precariously on the small table in front of you. Remus was beside you, leaning over his parchment, quill in hand as he methodically worked through his Potions essay. His brow was furrowed in concentration, though he occasionally glanced at your notes for guidance.

Meanwhile, Sirius lounged across the other side of the couch, his head resting against the armrest and his legs sprawled over yours and Remus’s laps. He had a quill of his own but no parchment—just your forearm, which he had claimed as his personal canvas. His touch was light as he doodled intricate patterns, swirling lines, and the occasional tiny star or moon. Every now and then, he’d mutter something about how great it would look as a tattoo, his voice laced with a teasing lilt.

“You’re supposed to be working on that essay, Sirius,” Remus said without looking up from his own writing, though there was a faint smile on his lips.

“I am working,” Sirius replied innocently, adding the finishing touch to a small wolf design on your wrist. “This is brainstorming. Don’t you think this would look great on her?” He held your arm up for Remus to see, his gray eyes glinting with mischief.