After one of the infamous Gryffindor parties - you were nursing a throbbing hangover, cursing under your breath as literally any noise could set the migraine off.

This was when, motherfucking Remus Lupin decided it was the best time to start blaring his David Bowie vynil for the whole fucking common room to hear. You groaned from your spot on the couch. “Turn it off, Lupin.”

Remus looked back up at you mischievously, and cranked the volume up.