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── IN WHICH THEY EXPLORE THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS
. . .
IT BECAME EVIDENT that year at university would much be the same as the last because they were once more sat in Albus's office awaiting his arrival much too earlier and they were all lounging around on the plush deep green couches with their never ending cushions, coffee stains and black burn marks of Regulus being too carefree with his cigarettes.
Sirius was balanced on the edge of the couch, as straight-edged as usual, all angular lines with his suit jacket folded over the side where an ink pot sat, dipping his fountain pen in every now and then to keep writing in Latin. Peter, in his god-awful rugby top that he never ironed and pressed trousers was drinking his coffee with the speed of a man threatened with its removal and eloquence of a giraffe all whilst tapping his wand against his thigh and somehow, Regulus's cigarette smoke was offering him a world of offence because every time the man spoke he would grimace before replying as normal as always.
James and Juliette sat side by side on the sofa to the left, legs folded and silent as James briefly scoured over the previously set translation work and Juliette smoked a Virginia Slim over a well-read copy of Ovior's The Wraith, pointing out his mistakes.
It was the first of November, and the campus was blooming in shades of orange and yellow, save for the evergreen fur the centre of the courtyard of the Monserra building. The sky a moody grey and just beyond the campus buildings sat the snowy caps of the mountains, an indication of the wintery temperature outside. Sirius's car sat just outside the courtyard, through the heightened brick archway, cherry red and engine still warm from picking up Juliette and James from their shared flat in the ever growing town surrounding the Hogwarts institutions.
"You need an aorist attributive here, not the future." Juliette murmured, her shoulder brushing against James' in a smear of navy blue cashmere. "Here." Sirius looked up from his Latin, eyes glancing over.
"Yeah. Thanks." James nodded. "Sirius?" His friend nodded, reaching over and passing the bottle of ink. There was a scribble, an adjustment made before it was returned and the door was pushed open.
"Good morning." Albus said, placing down his wand and the leather file and smiled, briefly. His hair was a shock more white than it usually was and his suit complete by a deep purple velvet blazer "James, the mountain tea?" He asked, wise face looking between the group, the shock of white-silver beard somehow longer than before the week holiday. "Ah, is that the translation I was promised?"
"Yes." James nodded, standing up and reaching over Peter to pass it to their Professor before straightening the cream knit tennis jumper before disappearing into the adjoining room of Albus' office, in which a small kitchen sat, there was the sound of water running as the kettle was filled and a murmured spell that allowed heat to the gas stove.
