l'osservatore della bellezza | wolfstar

those moments that we hold

"Your house is too colourful."

Potter sipped his wine. "Or maybe you're just boring, darling."

Peter couldn't find it in himself to argue. Besides, it was true that against the crimsons and golds of the drawing room, his beige apparel did seem rather bland.

There was a certain chaos in Potter's home that Peter both enjoyed and abhorred. Walking into the place was a peculiar experience, every time.

From the outside it seemed to be a fairly standard overly-wealthy household, with pale yellow walls and large windows. Behind that calm facade, however, lay a disarray of wallpaper, trinkets, and one too many chairs (Potter was adamant that all the seats were necessary, and if you were as lazy as him, it would probably not be that difficult to believe).

"When are they arriving?"

"Whenever they've finished shagging, obviously."

Peter knew that Lupin and Black weren't quite at the shagging stage yet, but by the way Lupin talked about him, the outcome was inevitable.

Of course, he couldn't know himself whether Black was as attractive as Lupin proclaimed, since Peter still had not met Sirius Black.

(Yes, I know what you're thinking. 'How could that be? We're so far into this story already!' And to that I tell you, I have no idea. Please bugger off.)

Anyway, today was the day. Peter was finally going to meet the man Lupin refused to shut up about.

...hopefully. They were already over half an hour late.

Potter sighed, leaning further down into his dark blue divan. "Remind me to tell them to come an hour earlier than expected, next time."

"Don't worry, I shan't forget, although I must say this is rather like Lupin."

"And also Sirius. What have we done?"

"This was a dreadful mis- "

The door was opened and a... very short man man stood before them, breathing heavily.

"Afternoon ladies, apologies for the tardiness, it won't happen again," said (presumably) Sirius Black, sauntering into the room.

Lupin came in behind him, grinning at Peter. "How long did that take?"

He checked the clock on the wall. "Oh, only about, say, thirty-seven minutes?"

"Disappointing, I could do worse."

"You had better not," Potter muttered, scowling in a good-natured way.

Black smirked. "Don't count on that."

As Black and Lupin sat down very close together on the sofa, and Potter started to bicker with them ("Thanks to you the cakes are cold!" "Oh no!"), Peter turned his attention to the new man there.

Well, he was definitely attractive. Almost untouchably so, and if it weren't for the warmth of his expression, Black would look very detached indeed.

From an artistic perspective, although Peter was the least artistic being on Earth, Black was certainly fascinating. There was a weird juxtaposition between the physical coldness of his features and the passion of his hand gestures, which was fascinating to study.

"Pettigrew. Pettigrew? Pettigrew."

He started. "Y-yes?"

"Do you want a bloody bread roll or not?"

"Is that even a question?" He took three rolls and slathered them in butter.

"That's a lot of bread."