“Your name,” Sirius demanded.
“Lupin,” the other boy said almost casually, lifting the fag cradled between long, bony fingers to his lips again and blowing the smoke directly into Sirius’ face.
“I already gave him the sheet music for the set, Black.” Lily interrupted from behind him, sensing the palpable tension swirling in the smoke-filled, musky room.
“You better be a damn good bass player, then” Sirius shot back, eyeing the rugged-looking bass guitar leaning against the same wall Lupin was practically plastered to.
Lupin snorted and looked around the room playfully.
“I think I’m all you’ve got, Black.”
(Full sketch) Scene from my 1970s Band Au, which I’m also illustrating myself!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
