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In the days that followed, once the sun fell behind the Highland hills and the girls' dormitory was illuminated only by the glow of candlelight, conversations between the seventh years drew less surface-level and deeper than the fathom rumored to be hidden beneath the Blake Lake. The homey little dormitory wasn't an uncomfortable place by any means, though it wasn't the seventh years' usual choice for lounging—by by their third night spent lying across the girls' beds or swinging around to their records, James had proclaimed the boys would be staying, and of course his disciples bade his every word, and so the boys stayed.
"Remus," Piper said without so much as looking back at him, keeping her eyes angled down to the game on the floor, "you know by now you ought not to smoke in here."
He glared at her back, the tip of his wand less than an inch away from his cigarette when she'd stopped him. He tucked the fag into the back pocket of his trousers and lumbered over to join the staggered circle of seventh years.
Their layout was usual and comfortable by then: Piper and Marlene kept to the former's bed, Marlene's arm hooked around the bedpost and Piper sitting on the edge with her knees drawn to her chest. At their feet was Mary, in the same spot on the floor where she could usually be spotted bent over her homework. Across the circle from Piper was Lily's bed, hosting Sirius, James, and Lily herself in a neat little row. Remus took the open spot on Piper's bed, and Peter joined Mary on the floor.
Altogether, it was an uneven little ring of mates, sitting in an imperfect circle around an unfair game of Exploding Snaps. The match was between Mary and Peter, and a rather tense one at that—hexes had been threatened, mothers had been cursed, friendships had begun to waver. Piper was losing faith, by this point, that the Marauders could ever continue on together if Peter lost the battle raging on.
And the dramatics had begun even without the help of a bottle of Firewhiskey. Those were reserved for post-Quidditch—be it practice or matches. Other than the special occasions, alcohol was not imbibed by the seventh years, contrary to their carousal reputation. Really, it was the Hufflepuffs that spent the majority of their evenings hosting parties and such.
Hours had passed before the game of Exploding Snap came to any sort of head, and the sun was long gone by then. Piper had initially been uninterested in the match, but once the theatrics had begun, she'd grown fonder.
"Oh, get on it," she moaned of Peter after a particularly nasty play. "Mary, that was your chance."
"If you don't win this, Pete," Sirius threatened, peering over Peter's head at the board, "you've got to sleep in the common room tonight."
"That's harsh," Piper said nicely. "But, Mary, if you don't win, same goes."
"Somebody's sleeping in the common room tonight," Marlene sang, and though Piper had only minutes ago told Remus not to smoke, she drew a long suck from her own cigarette. "Won't be me, though."
