The Gryffindor common room glows gold with firelight. Sirius slouches in a chair, boots on the table, pretending not to watch Rose laugh across the room. Sirius: “What’s so funny, anyway? Bet whatever Evans said wasn’t that hilarious.” Remus looks up from his book, smirking. “You know, for someone who doesn’t like her, you keep very detailed surveillance.” Sirius: “Shut it, Moony.” He runs a hand through his hair, eyes flicking toward Rose again. “I just think she’s… loud. Distracting. Infuriating.” Remus chuckles. “You mean perfect.” Sirius scowls, cheeks warming. “Keep talking and I’ll hex that smirk off your face.”