Carve Me Open / r.l. + s.b. /

Just You, Me, and Our Imaginations

"My mum has an aerobics class once a week," Peter said. "Six or seven of her friends from Church pile into the living room at noon on Sunday for the fitness program that airs. I get to sit back and enjoy the view of eight, gorgeous women bending and hopping to the television."

Sirius smirked, "Thought you said only six or seven women visited?"

Peter yelled, assaulting Sirius with half-hearted blows. James frowned at the thought of his father dancing in something so tight and... revealing. "How do his balls stay in there?"

"He's got really good records," Peter beamed, dutifully changing the subject lest Mrs. Lupin overhears their obscenities. "D'ya hear their latest release?"

Remus grinned, "Mum came back from the Vinyl store about a week ago. Have you heard it?"

"No, I wanted to wait for you."

"No fucking way. I wanted to wait for you!"

James and Sirius shared a look, astonished and fascinated by the interaction. James was grateful for their closeness; he knew his friendship with Sirius could be... exclusive at times. They could effortlessly create third and fourth wheels. They had an inside joke, a vacation story, or a talk about the Potter's spring break trip together that shut the world out some days. They'd pull pranks on each other at times, leaving the others to watch. Some days they'd simply go out to the pitch and fly, not to practice, but because the world appeared to be closing in on them.

They'd all felt that way—not impartial to the shrinking world around them.

James' heart swelled as he realized that Remus and Peter had found someone in whom they could depend, even if it was some eccentric Muggle musician he'd never heard of before. Peter deserved to have a companion, and Remus deserved to have someone who didn't break his heart into a million pieces on a weekly basis.

For a while, Peter and Remus explored with music, knowing every word to every song they heard on the radio. James and Sirius couldn't figure out how a giant plastic box only need another little plastic box to be placed inside of it, and suddenly music erupted. It wasn't simply a single song. One of the little boxes included twenty tracks! You could change the volume, the intensity, and whatever else you wanted! Muggles were quite ingenious. It took a few tries to persuade Sirius; he seemed leery of approaching something so... intimidating. But hadn't Walburger, the evil witch of the west, taught Sirius to detest everything with Muggle ties?

Dinner was simple enough — at least at the beginning. Mrs. Lupin had prepared a Sunday roast for the boys and Lyall, who had the opportunity to take the weekend off as a reward. The boys and Mrs. Lupin were enjoying each other's company talking to one other.

"Lyall doesn't tell me much about magic," Hope admitted, her fingers tucked into her palm to form a weak fist around her napkin. Her eyes ran over Lyall's distracted figure, measuring his impending reactions and temperament. When he seemed much more interested in reading The Daily Prophet, she continued. "What is it like? Your classes?"

"Divination is my personal favorite," Sirius said, lying. Remus looked down at his plate, trying not to draw his father's scrutiny to himself. Trying to butter up my mum? "Our first year was devoted to dream journaling and the study of the moon phases."

Lyall's torso tensed, and the Daily Prophet shook as his grasp on the paper became exceedingly firm. Remus didn't peer over his shoulder since he didn't want to give the false impression of nervousness. Nonetheless, the subsequent chat that took place between the children and his mother served to provide a cushion between Lyall and his son. The man couldn't bring himself to look in Remus' way. Anywhere but Remus.