Hey, Remus!

Maria had been working at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes for a while now, long enough to become disturbingly immune to whatever chaos Fred and George were brewing on any given day. Long enough to build a tolerance to trick wands that screamed when you picked them up, to Pygmy Puffs randomly launching themselves into her hair, and to potions labeled "Definitely Not Poison, Probably."
Long enough to get dangerous ideas. And this particular idea? It had been brewing for weeks.
"You have to prank him," Fred had insisted one evening as they closed up shop.
George had nodded solemnly.
"It's your duty. A rite of passage, really."
Maria had snorted.
"Remus Lupin isn't exactly the pranking type, you know."
Fred had gasped in mock outrage.
"Mary."
George shook his head.
"Mary, Mary, Mary."
"Do you even know who you're living with? "Mr. Moony. One of the creators of the Marauder's Map," Fred said dramatically, throwing an arm over her shoulders.
"A man who spent his formative years perfecting the art of mischief," George added.
"And yet," Fred continued, "he's been tragically under-pranked."
"Terribly, shamefully so. And you," George said, pointing at her, "must be the one to fix this."
Maria had rolled her eyes at their theatrics, but the idea had rooted itself deep. Of course she knew about his teenage antics with Sirius, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew, but Remus wasn't showing that side of him. He had grown out of it... But.. Had he?
Now, standing in Grimmauld Place's dimly lit kitchen, it was finally happening. She told herself it was harmless fun. That Remus deserved to laugh more. That it wasn't just because she wanted to see what he looked like when he wasn't weighed down by the war. That it wasn't just because she missed that twinkle in his eyes.
The prank itself was simple but effective: a modified version of the twins' Voice-Changer Charm, discreetly slipped into his evening tea. A delayed activation, of course. Just enough to lull him into a false sense of security.
She sat across from him at the kitchen table, watching as he sniffed his tea with mild suspicion. When Remus, ever the devoted and somewhat unsuspecting soul, reached for his cup, Maria's heart pounded with a blend of mischief and tender anticipation. She watched as he brought the cup to his lips. For a brief, agonizing moment, nothing happened, but then, almost instantaneously, his eyes widened and he blinked furiously. His normally deep, gravelly tone shifted, emerging in a series of unexpectedly high, lilting notes.

"Mary," he said slowly, his voice now a light, almost comical soprano that made him sound as if he'd been cheerfully singing a lullaby rather than simply greeting her, "what did you do?"
His tone was slow and patient, though his expression was one of bewildered amusement. Maria's eyes widened with a mix of innocence and triumphant glee.
"What? Can't a woman simply make her beloved a cup of tea?" she replied, her voice bright with playful defiance. She watched, biting her lip to keep a grin from breaking through entirely.
Remus sniffed, took a cautious sip, and immediately choked, his eyes squinting as if trying to reconcile the unexpected flavor with his own taste.
"Why," he finally managed, his voice now several octaves higher than usual and laced with mock indignation, "does my tea taste like blueberries and betrayal?"
Maria burst into peals of laughter, the sound mingling with the distant clamor of the ever-present background hum of the ongoing war.
"I suppose the twins have finally made me a master prankster!" she exclaimed, her laughter light and genuine. She couldn't help but relish the image of the normally composed, even brooding, Remus now momentarily transformed into a ridiculous, high-pitched version of himself.
Remus, though momentarily caught off guard, could not help but let a small, wry smile play at the corners of his lips. He shook his head slowly.
"You do realize what you've done, don't you?" he said, the playful glint in his eyes betraying his mock sternness.
Maria's smirk widened.
"Yes. I made you sound like a soprano. And I will never regret it," she declared with playful certainty.
His lips twitched, and his golden eyes shone with amused affection.
"Oh, Mary," he murmured, half exasperated and half enchanted by her irreverent humor, "if only you knew how utterly impossible you are sometimes."
She teased back, a mischievous glint lighting her eyes,
"Maybe that's why you love me, Remus. I dare say it's the only thing that keeps your broody heart from turning completely to stone."
For a moment, they simply stood there, the laughter from earlier fading into a comfortable silence. The absurdity of the prank, the lightness of the moment amidst the backdrop of war, made them feel as if they had carved out a small pocket of happiness just for themselves. Remus reached out and pulled her close, his voice low and affectionate.
"Thank you, Mary," he said softly, "for reminding me that there's still laughter and hope in this chaotic world."
Maria's heart swelled with warmth.
"You're my ray of sunshine. Even when your tea tastes like betrayal," he quipped, and they shared another burst of laughter that echoed like music between them.
In that moment, amid the gentle pranks and playful banter, the troubles of their daily battles, the war outside, the perils of their magical world, the ever-looming specter of danger, seemed to recede, if only for a little while. Their shared mischief was a rebellion against despair, a promise that even in the darkest times, love and laughter could still flourish.
And as they resumed their day together, Maria with a newfound spring in her step and Remus still chuckling softly at the lingering effects of the charm, they both knew that these moments of light were worth every risk. In the midst of chaos, they had each other, and that was the most potent magic of all.
The next morning, Maria woke up feeling... off. Not bad, necessarily, just peculiarly light, as if the weight of the night had been lifted in an unexpected way. Blinking against the soft light that filtered through the curtains, she sat up slowly, and then she noticed something even more bewildering: her hair was hovering. Not merely a few stray locks, but her entire head of hair was suspended about three full inches above her head, as if crowned by a ghostly halo.
She gasped and sat up straighter, her heart pounding with a mixture of shock and disbelief. And then, as if in reply, her floating hair whispered in a soft, eerie tone, "Mary... you forgot to double-knot your shoelaces yesterday..." The disembodied voice sent a chill through her, and before she could register the full absurdity of it, she screamed.
From the doorway of their shared bedroom, Remus, who had been quietly gathering his things, doubled over with laughter. His hearty, genuine laugh, so uncharacteristic of his usually reserved demeanor, echoed through Grimmauld Place, filling the quiet morning with warmth and mischief. Maria spun around, her hair swishing dramatically in slow-motion as if it were part of a surreal film sequence, and glared at him.
"What did you do?!" she demanded, half-annoyed, half-amused.
Leaning casually against the doorframe, Remus's eyes sparkled with mischief and a knowing smile played at the corners of his mouth.
"Oh, just a simple charm," he said, his tone light. "It only activates when you least expect it. A little reminder of all the tiny, insignificant things you've forgotten."
Maria's eye twitched, and a smirk broke through despite her frustration.
"You turned my hair into a passive-aggressive ghost? Really?" she teased, her tone both incredulous and delighted.
Remus pressed a hand dramatically to his heart.
"I would never," he declared, though his voice was laced with playful irony, as he left the room.
Her floating hair bobbed as if it were pondering its next words. Then it continued in a quiet, mocking tone:
"Mary, you left the sugar out last night..."
"LUPIN!" Maria snapped, storming off toward the kitchen with a determined glare, her mind set on finding Remus and delivering a scathing hex. But as she rounded the corner, she caught sight of his stupid, beautiful, and utterly smug face, his arms folded in that signature way he held himself when he was amused. In that moment, all her anger dissolved into uncontrollable laughter. She doubled over, laughing so hard that she had to sit down, her earlier indignation transformed into pure, infectious mirth.
Remus, unable to resist teasing her further, leaned over her chair.
"You do realize who you're messing with, right?" he said with a twinkle in his eyes.
Maria, still giggling and wiping tears from her eyes, scoffed,
"Please. You're Remus Lupin. Too responsible to pull off a proper prank." Even as she said it, she knew his smirk was the first warning that she'd challenged a master prankster.
As the day wore on, Maria's initial victory began to settle into a new, unexpected reality. The next morning, she awoke to discover that her hair now permanently floated, swaying gently like a delicate, ethereal halo above her head. Every time she moved, it drifted with a lazy, underwater grace. And, much to her further dismay, it whispered in soft, teasing phrases:
"Maryyyyy... you forgot to double-knot your shoelaces" or "That tea you made was slightly too strong." The little quips, laced with a familiarity that only Remus could muster, both irked and amused her.
Later that night, Maria caught herself thinking. The war was still there. Its shadows pressed against the walls of Grimmauld Place, a constant reminder of the chaos lurking beyond the flicker of candlelight. Yet, in that old, intimate room, far from the battlefields and the pain of loss, she found a fragile sanctuary, a momentary reprieve from the unyielding darkness outside.
Curled up beside Remus, she let the warmth of his presence wash over her. The low murmur of the fire mingled with the soft sighs of the old house settling into its nighttime rhythm, and for a few precious moments, the weight of the world lifted just a little. Maria rested her head against his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart, a silent promise that he was still here, still fighting, still loving. Remus's lips brushed her temple.
"You know this means war, don't you?" He said, his tone a teasing mix of mock-seriousness and genuine amusement, a playful reminder that even amidst the chaos outside, they still found mischief to be their shared battleground.
Maria grinned as she snuggled closer, her smile warm and mischievous.
"Bring it on, Wolfie," she replied, her voice light and laced with playful defiance. "But don't think I'm going to let you off easy this time."
Remus's eyes sparkled with that familiar, roguish glint.
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," he teased, reaching out to tousle a stray lock of hair from her face. "I'm counting on you to keep me on my toes, and maybe even out-prank me."
She laughed, the sound bright and carefree, a brief moment of levity that defied the grim realities outside.
Maria's grin widened mischievously as she nestled closer to Remus.
"You're on, then. But remember, if you try anything too sneaky, I might just send that photograph of you with the Butterbeer foam mustache to the entire Order."
Remus's eyes widened in mock horror, a flush creeping up his cheeks.
"You wouldn't dare."
She laughed, the sound bright and carefree.
"Oh, I would. So, consider yourself warned, Lupin."
He chuckled, shaking his head.
"Alright, truce. For now."
In that moment, amidst the soft glow of the dying firelight and the quiet hum of Grimmauld Place settling down for the night, their banter wove a protective bubble around them, a tiny, defiant rebellion against the harshness of the world beyond. Even if their "war" was just a string of pranks and teasing jabs, it was enough to remind them that love — and laughter — could still prevail.
He shook his head, a playful chuckle escaping him as he pulled her into a gentle embrace.
"Deal. But be warned, Miss Scamander... I've got a few tricks up my sleeve that even you won't see coming."
Maria's grin widened mischievously as she nestled closer to Remus. For a long moment, time seemed to slow. The crackling of the fire, the distant hum of a troubled world, and the softness of his embrace all conspired to create a haven where nothing else mattered. In that fragile silence, they spoke without words, a communion of hearts battered by loss and hope.
Maria closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as if to memorize every detail of this perfect imperfection. She thought of all the days when the war had seemed too heavy to bear, of the nights filled with fear and longing. But now, here in the glow of the dying fire, she found solace. Her love for Remus was a quiet, constant flame amidst the storm, a light that refused to be snuffed out, however briefly.
Remus shifted, his hand gently stroking the back of her neck.
"I sometimes wonder," he confessed in a low whisper, "if these moments, these small victories of laughter and love, are enough to carry us through the dark times." His voice wavered for an instant, betraying the fear he rarely admitted. "I'm not sure how I'd survive the day if I lost you."
Maria lifted her head slightly, her eyes meeting his. In those deep, knowing eyes, she saw the weight of every unsaid goodbye, every tear shed in the silence.
"You won't have to find out," she said firmly, though her voice trembled with both conviction and vulnerability. "Because we're together now, and even if the world outside is crumbling, we have each other. And that's worth more than any victory or triumph in the war."
A small smile played on Remus's lips as he pressed his forehead against hers.
"I love you, Mary. I love you more than I ever thought possible, even in a world that seems determined to break us apart."
A smiled lightened her face as she squeezed his hand, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I love you too, Remus. And I promise, no matter what happens, I'll keep fighting, both for you and for us."
In that moment, amid the fading light and the encroaching darkness beyond the windows, they made a silent vow. They would face the war, the uncertainty, and the heartbreak together. Their love, fragile yet unyielding, was their rebellion against a world steeped in sorrow.
Outside, the night grew deeper, but in their little room, laughter and whispered promises mingled with the dying embers of the fire. It was not a perfect world, nothing ever was, but it was theirs. And as they clung to each other, they knew that even if the darkness came, they would light it with their love.
The weekend went by and the morning sun cast a warm glow over Diagon Alley as Maria apparated in front of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the vibrant storefront already bustling with eager customers. Pushing open the door, she was greeted by the familiar cacophony of laughter, distant bangs, and the occasional puff of colorful smoke.
Fred and George were behind the counter, animatedly demonstrating a Skiving Snackbox to a group of wide-eyed students. Spotting Maria, they exchanged a glance before breaking into identical grins.
"Well, well, if it isn't our resident prankster," Fred called out, waving her over.
George leaned in, feigning a whisper to the students.
"Careful, folks. This one here took on a Marauder and lived to tell the tale."
The students giggled, looking at Maria with newfound admiration.
As the crowd dispersed, Fred and George approached her, their expressions a mix of pride and mischief.
"Survived a Marauder's prank, did you?" Fred began, raising an eyebrow.
"You're family now, love," George finished, clapping her on the back with a hearty pat.
Maria laughed, shaking her head.
"Oh, come on. It wasn't that bad."
Fred smirked.
"Not that bad? Word around the Alley is that your hair's taken on a life of its own."
George nodded sagely.
"We've had three customers this morning asking for the 'Scamander Special': floating, whispering locks. Seems you've started a trend."
Maria rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips.
"Great. Just what I needed."
Fred leaned closer, his tone conspiratorial.
"So, what's next? Planning a counter-prank? Need any... supplies?"
George waggled his eyebrows.
"We've got Extendable Ears, Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, you name it."
Maria considered for a moment, then grinned.
"Actually, I might have an idea. But I'll need something... special."
The twins exchanged another of their trademark glances, eyes gleaming.
"Oh, we like the sound of that," Fred said, rubbing his hands together.
"Welcome to the family, Mary," George added, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "Let's make some magic."
As they delved into planning, the shop buzzed around them, but in that corner, a new alliance was forming, one that promised laughter, mischief, and a bond stronger than any prank.
In the midst of the ongoing war, a lighthearted prank war blossomed between Maria and Remus, offering them brief respites of joy. After Remus's clever enchantment on her hair, Maria was determined to even the score.
In the dimly lit kitchen of Grimmauld Place, the Order of the Phoenix gathered for another solemn meeting. The atmosphere was heavy with the weight of their discussions, each member deeply engrossed in the strategies being laid out.
Remus sat at the far end of the table, his expression serious as he listened intently. Unbeknownst to him, Maria had slipped a tiny, enchanted device — courtesy of Fred and George — into his pocket earlier that day. The device was designed to emit a gentle, tickling sensation at random intervals, targeting the ribs.
As the meeting progressed, Remus suddenly felt a light tickle along his side. He straightened, subtly shifting in his seat, attributing it to his robes. Moments later, the sensation returned, more insistent this time. He fought the urge to squirm, maintaining his composed demeanor. Across the table, Maria kept her gaze fixed on the speaker, though a mischievous glint danced in her eyes.
The tickling persisted, and Remus clenched his jaw, determined not to react. He cast a discreet glance toward Maria, who met his eyes with an innocent expression, though he could see the barely contained amusement lurking beneath. As Kingsley Shacklebolt outlined the next steps for their operations, Remus felt the tickling migrate to his other side. He suppressed a twitch, his legendary self-control being put to the ultimate test.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the meeting adjourned. Members began to disperse, discussing plans among themselves.
When everyone was already gone, Remus and Maria returned to their shared quarters in Grimmauld Place. The tension from the evening's discussions lingered, but beneath it was the unspoken understanding of their ongoing prank war.
As Maria settled onto their bed, a mischievous glint in her eye, Remus approached with a determined expression.
"You thought you could get away with that little stunt during the meeting, did you?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.
Maria feigned innocence, a playful smile tugging at her lips.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Without warning, Remus lunged, his fingers dancing along her sides. Maria shrieked with laughter, squirming beneath his touch.
"Remus! No! Stop!" she gasped between giggles.
He grinned, continuing his relentless assault.
"Consider this payback for your little device."
Tears of laughter streamed down Maria's face as she tried to catch her breath.
"Okay! Okay! I surrender!"
Satisfied, Remus ceased his tickling, pulling her into a warm embrace. They remained there, holding each other, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten.
"Truce?" Maria whispered, her head resting against his chest.
Remus chuckled softly.
"For now."
In the midst of war, their love provided a sanctuary, a reminder of the light that still existed in their lives.