final farewells & mere til we meet agains
The day after the Netherfield Ball, a letter was delivered to Longbourn in the early hours of the morning. Only Marlene was awake at that hour, lounging in her nightdress on the dewy grass near the edge of the house, revelling in the autumn mist and contemplating all she had learned on the previous evening. Remus had certainly been odd last night as they were returning home, though not necessarily upset as if he and Mr. Black had fallen out — he had the air of someone holding their breath in anticipation. He was somewhat dazed and distracted, though not unhappy; Marlene caught him smiling privately to himself on more than one occasion as he helped Lily scrub the stain out of her gown and ready for bed. Marlene couldn’t exactly fathom what had happened between him and Mr. Black on that back porch, but it certainly couldn’t have been bad, could it? Marlene could differentiate an introspective silence from a moody one when it came to Remus any day, and this oddness was no doubt the former. She wondered if she should broach the subject with him first, or if things would work out on their own. Would he be happy to hear that his sister was different in the same way he was, or would he be angry she exposed him?
Marlene was stirred from her ruminations by the arrival of the aforementioned postman, who bore a thick, creamy white envelope from Netherfield Park that Marlene gratefully accepted. It was addressed to the Lupin family as a whole, but Marlene could not resist opening it: inside were three sheets of elegant, hot pressed paper with texts of various length and script. The longest was for Lily, well-covered in cramped, barely legible scribblings; the next was decently lengthed as well and addressed to Marlene herself, written in an elegant, flowing hand; and the shortest was for Remus, nothing more than a few lines of practical, even print, and an extravagant signature at the bottom. Take care until we meet again, Sirius O. Black. Marlene felt her stomach twist unpleasantly. Slipping the other two letters back into the envelope, Marlene carefully selected her own and perched on the stone railing surrounding Longbourn, the cold of it seeping through the cotton of her dress and into the skin of her thighs.
My dearest Marlene, it read in Dorcas’s graceful, swooping lettering, Though it pains me greatly to say this, James, Sirius, and I have left Hertfordshire and I can’t see us returning in the near future.
Marlene sucked in a sharp breath at the words, grip on the parchment tightening.
I’m afraid I can’t tell you the details, my beloved friend. I’ve been forbidden. It’s quite personal, you see. In any case, we’ve all been called back: first to Derbyshire, and perhaps all the way to Paris if the situation requires it. We all miss Regulus a great deal and desire him back with us. I was told not to divulge the exact urgency of our departure, but please know I would not leave you for anything less. James and Sirius are going to say differently, but believe me, this is all beyond our control. Please do not tell the others what I have said here. I do not have a permanent address, so this may be our last correspondence for some time. Please remember what I told you last evening; I still mean every word.
— Sincerely Yours, Dorcas Meadowes.
Marlene read it through three times without delay, still not entirely understanding. Heart pounding, she wasted no time in racing to Lily and Remus’s room, waking both of them by the sound of her footsteps pattering on the creaky floorboards. Her mind was buzzing with the letter’s contents still as she shoved the envelope into a drowsy Lily’s hands to sort out — Remus was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Lennie?” he mumbled. “Wha’s goin’ on?”
Marlene watched Lily’s face go pale as she skimmed the contents of her letter, turning the page over to find even more writing on the back side. When she finally finished reading, she looked up at Marlene with wide, unhappy eyes. “Marlene, is this true?” she asked immediately, impressively alert for someone who’d just woken up.
Marlene shrugged dejectedly. “What did it say?”
Wordlessly, Lily passed the letter along, reaching back into the envelope to extract Remus’s.
Lily’s letter began with several paragraphs of Mr. Potter thanking each of the Lupins for their attendance at his ball and offering kind, if vague, compliments about their manners and company. After fulfilling his proper hostly duties, Mr. Potter went on to say, Although we are disappointed to have to part with you all and the lovely countryside, business brings us back to London right away. We apologise for the abrupt leave, although we were glad to have one final hurrah in your fine presence at the ball last night. We sincerely enjoyed our stay here, and hope to come again. I still have claim to the property of Netherfield Park for several more months, so please know any member of the Lupin family is welcome to stop by if they desire the space. Mr. R. Lupin may read and borrow from our library as much as he likes! A thousand thank yous to you, Miss Evans, for your warm welcome and kind friendship during our time in Hertfordshire. We will never forget you. Best Wishes, James F. Potter.
Uneasily, Marlene slipped Dorcas’s letter into her pocket, pretending it had not existed at all. There was a sense of urgency in her letter completely absent from Mr. Potter’s, just as she had described there might be. There was certainly something bizarre going on, but if Dorcas did not want the others to know what she had said, it was best Marlene kept her letter hidden until she could decipher the gravity of the situation for herself.
Remus yawned loudly, not understanding his sisters’ sorrow. “What’s wrong? Who’s it from?”
Lily wordlessly passed him his letter, which only took a few seconds for him to read. He stared at both of them blankly. “I don’t understand.”
Marlene wrung her hands. “Well, what’s it say?”
“‘Dear R. Lupin, we’ve returned to the city. Hope to come again soon. Sorry about the way we left things,’” Remus read in a dull monotone. Marlene’s mouth fell open slightly. How could someone who’d gazed at Remus with the tenderness and desire of Mr. Black just the night previous write such a curt letter to him?
Remus laughed humourlessly, flipping over the page briefly and finding no other message. “What, I don’t even deserve full sentences now?”
Neither Marlene nor Lily knew what to say. Marlene nervously rubbed the fabric of her nightdress between two fingers, unable to conquer the sudden awkwardness. “So they didn’t tell you anything last night that might indicate their departure?”
Lily shook her head glumly, but the look of horror slowly dawning on Remus’s face implied differently. Marlene watched his eyes flit over the words again and again, but Mr. Black’s few short sentences revealed nothing more. Lily was still puzzling over Mr. Potter’s letter, mind already whirring with possible explanations for the Netherfield party’s sudden departure. “Goodness, I hope they’re all alright,” she murmured, gracious hand pressed to her chest. Remus merely glowered down at his mattress.
“Having a party without me?” came Mary’s cheerful voice from the hallway. “Merlin, but the hangover’s awful this time around…”
Mary plopped herself down on Lily’s bed at once, opening her mouth to emit another airy, agreeable comment, but dropped the routine at once when she caught sight of her siblings’ faces. “Oh dear, what’s happened? Remus darling, are you quite alright?”
Remus turned his sour expression on her. Mary’s eyes widened a bit. “I’m fine,” he spat. “Lily’s the one who should be upset — her boy’s run off to London.”
Mary directed her pitying gaze to Lily at once. “No, Lily, not James? To what end?” She shook her head, not waiting for a reply. “This doesn’t make any sense!”
Lily frowned at the attention. “I suppose it’s not really our business, though I can’t deny being a little hurt that—”
“I was so sure he liked you!”
“Oh, Mary, don’t. He never said that he—”
“There’s nothing in Potter’s letter to Lily that dissuades that notion,” Remus cut in bitterly. Abruptly, he threw off his blankets and began to tug on his shoes, throwing a jacket over his bedclothes. “I’m going for a walk.”
Marlene felt helpless. She thought desperately for a way to communicate to Mary and Lily that it wasn’t them he was angry at, but continually came up empty.
“Remus—” Lily tried, but it was too late. He was out the door in an instant, boots stomping down the hall, the front door slamming.
Mary caught Marlene’s eye for just a millisecond before returning her attention to Lily. “That’s a mystery for another day,” she decided. “Lily, love, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not—” Lily sighed, face finally betraying her true hurt. “It’s fine. I’m fine,” she insisted. “It’s only that I wish— I don’t know, I wish I knew what I did wrong. To leave without saying goodbye… There must’ve been something—”
Mary rubbed soothing circles into her sister’s back. “There’s nothing you did wrong, Lu, believe me. If Potter doesn’t see what a catch you are, then that’s his fault.”
“If that’s even the reason he left in the first place!” Marlene piped in helpfully, deeply troubled by her private knowledge. She moved herself to Lily’s bed, attempting to help console her.
“I’m…” Lily quickly swiped a hand under her eye, trying to brush away a tear so the others couldn’t see. “Oh, this is silly,” she snapped, visibly furious with herself.
“Lily, you mustn’t pretend to not have feelings just because you think being strong is the only thing that matters,” Mary chided gently. “It’s alright to feel things, you know, to be upset when your ‘friend’—” Here she shot Marlene another meaningful look, “—does something to hurt you.”
“Intentionally or otherwise!” added Marlene. Mary continued on as if she hadn’t spoken. “No one’s going to blame you for being disappointed, Lily, especially with so many eyes on you.”
Lily refused to meet her sister’s eye. In a small voice unbefitting one Lily Evans, she asked, “Are you disappointed, Mary?”
Mary’s whole body paused. “What?”
“I don’t know,” Lily continued timidly, pulling at the hem of her nightgown. “I know it was important to you, and surely the best thing for me… And it would’ve saved our family completely, you and Lennie and Remus could’ve gone off and done whatever you liked, and everything would’ve been so easy—”
Mary’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh,” she breathed out. “Oh, Lily, I never meant to—” She trailed off there, gazing at Lily with wide, horrified eyes.
Marlene felt just as awful. “Did we tease you too much?” she fretted. “Oh, Lily, of course we only want you to be happy.”
“Yes,” Mary joined in, “of course. We had no intention of—”
“You don’t owe us—”
“We never would’ve—”
“It’s not our place to—”
“You’ll find better than Potter, darling,” Mary finished, squeezing her sister’s wrist. “And when it’s right, you’ll know it.”
“You’re not the only thing standing between this family and oblivion, Lily,” chimed in Marlene. “You should marry for love!”
“Yes,” continued Mary, “Someone who doesn’t leave you wondering what you’ve done wrong or lead you on.”
“Whatever his reasons may be!”
Once again, both Lily and Mary ignored Marlene’s feeble attempts at devil’s advocate. “Mark my words, Lu, love,” said the latter, “You should not settle for any man less perfect than you are.”
Not knowing what else to do, the two pulled Lily into a tight hug. Mary shot Marlene another significant look over Lily’s shoulder, this one meaning Let’s discuss this later. Marlene nodded back, pressing her face into Lily’s hair affectionately.
“Love you, Lily.”
“Love you!”
Lily laughed, still sniffling a bit. She swiped a hand under her eye, reaching around to hug her sisters back. “Thank you, you two. I love you both. I’m…” She sighed. “I’ll be fine. Our family will be fine. We’ll find another way through this.”
All three held onto each other fast. At least they were still together. That was all that really mattered.
“I’ll fetch breakfast for you, shall I?” Mary said after a moment, attempting to affect her previous cheerfulness. “You’ll have forgotten about that silly boy in no time.”
With that, she popped to her feet, winking at the two of them before striding out of the room. Marlene made to follow her, standing and smoothing out her nightgown, but Lily caught her arm, her expression pinning Marlene in place.
“Lu?”
“Stay for a moment,” whispered Lily. Marlene complied.
“You might be the only one who’d understand,” she said quietly. “Can you promise not to tell the others?”
Marlene felt a wave of worry wash through her gut. She was no stranger to secrets. “Yes, of course,” she replied. “What is it?”
“She means well, but…” Lily sighed again. “Mary’s wrong. There is no one better than James. And even though I don’t particularly want to marry him, now I can’t imagine wanting to marry anyone else. It’s only that I knew it could’ve turned in to something more one day. I fear…”
Marlene sat herself down on the bed beside Lily again, not sure how to comfort her. Lily was close to tears again, vulnerable in a way she seemed to want to hide from Mary. Still, her words rushed out of her powerfully, spoken as if she’d kept them locked inside for far too long already.
“I fear that I will never marry. And even though I know it doesn’t matter and I know it won’t damn us or save us and I know I don’t need a man to take care of me, somehow I’m still—” Lily hid a sob behind her hand. Marlene felt her heart break clean in two. “I’m still lonely. I love my family more than anything, but I’m still lonely, how am I still lonely?”
Lily turned at once and wept into Marlene’s shoulder, as alien to her nature as if she’d sprouted wings and begun to float about the room. Marlene felt paralysed with sorrow at her sister’s admission, her burden identical to the one Marlene had suffered under just a few months previous, before she’d met Dorcas. The fear that love would never come.
“Thank you," Lily mumbled once she’d calmed down a bit, wiping her face on the sleeve of her nightgown. She squeezed Marlene's hand where it rested on her shoulder.
Marlene felt utterly helpless. “For what?” she asked incredulously, brimming with shame at her inability to help her sister. Lily merely smiled at her. Small and sad, but still a smile.
“For listening,” she replied simply. “And for understanding, at least a little.”
Marlene nodded dumbly. She would always listen. It was what she did best. Lily was the problem-solver; Mary the schemer; even Remus was decent for advice in a pinch. But Marlene? Marlene was there to console. She didn’t think of herself as particularly clever or creative or strong, not like Mary or Remus or Lily or Hope or Lyall, but still she knew she was kind. Kindness was the only well within her that never truly dried up. So she listened and sat with her, let her cry on her shoulder. So she promised to keep Lily’s fears and her secrets, and Remus’s, and Dorcas’s, and anyone else who asked for her confidence.
She gripped Lily’s hand back, hoping it was enough, praying it made a difference. “Of course,” she told Lily, heart pounding in her ears, “Of course. I’m always here.” And she meant it.
—
Remus didn’t know where his feet were taking him until he was there: a familiar grassy knoll in a familiar park garden with a familiar tightness coiled around his shoulders and chest. The scene looked misty and alien in the early morning light but still Remus found his way to the spot where he first felt Sirius’s lips against his own purely on instinct, and he sat down in the dewy grass at once, not caring that the liquid was seeping into his clothes. The ground was harder than he remembered it being the previous time, more unforgiving. There were piles of browning leaves scattered all around the park and a crisp chill in the air; Hertfordshire was growing colder in preparation for the coming season. Maybe it wasn’t so different after all, only he didn’t notice the chill when Sirius was beside him. It didn’t matter. He was alone now, and he was cold.
Remus no longer doubted that Sirius wanted him — that much was made clear by the way he kissed him the evening previous, so desperate, taking everything Remus was willing to give. He had held Remus like a bird with a broken wing, had danced with him, had cradled him. There was something deep down inside Sirius that wanted Remus, there had to be, at least in some form, at least physically. Remus could be fairly sure of that, because he felt it too: the sparks alighting in his gut every time their arms brushed or their eyes locked. The sort of thing that made him feel giddy and stupid. He knew Sirius felt it too.
It was only that he didn’t know if Sirius fancied him, if he wanted to learn Remus’s most deeply buried secrets, if he wanted to work and eat and fall asleep next to him, if he wanted to one day get so used to the mundanity of being with Remus each moment that it felt like they’d spent an eternity by one another’s side and were destined for an eternity more. That was what Remus wanted most of all. To get so familiar with the slopes and curves of Sirius’s face and the sound of his laugh and the feel of his hands that it hardly made his heart ache anymore. What a luxury it would be. To know Sirius.
And yet, it was hardly what Sirius wanted, was it? Sirius had kissed him and liked it and run away scared, or else he realised he didn’t like Remus at all and it was a mistake. Had he only been confused and hurried off back to London to pretend it never happened? Had Remus made him realize he wanted men, only he didn’t want Remus? Or else, did he really fancy Remus but was purposefully choosing to abandon him because of what staying might entail for them both? None of the options were exactly favourable.
Despite all Remus’s hopes, the facts were plainly there. They had kissed, Remus had admitted to having such feelings before, Sirius had expressed regret, and then Sirius had left, possibly never to return. Regardless of the reasoning behind it, Sirius’s message was clear enough. Whatever peculiarity had occurred between them, it was over now, and Remus was meant to pretend it never happened at all. He was meant to pick himself up and carry on, go about his day in a tragically Sirius-less existence. As furious as Remus felt with the man at the moment, that reality seemed fairly bleak.
—
The rest of autumn continued in much the same, dreary way. Remus devoured books from Netherfield’s library by the handful, and was often gloomily distracted; Mary was a frequent guest at the Fortescue’s next door, usual high spirits slightly dulled by her siblings’ thinly veiled despair; Marlene put in endless hours on Longbourn’s old piano, playing wistful melodies that lingered long in the air and depressed all those on the grounds; and Lily, against all odds, befriended the sombre soldier who approached her back at the Netherfield Ball. Remus vaguely disliked him, though not for reasons he could put into words; the more often Lily invited him over for tea or to sit by their fire, the longer Remus spent away from Longbourn, down at the duckpound or picking his way through Netherfield Park’s extensive gardens. He became deeply fascinated with the section of the library concerned with old English legends, the exploits of King Arthur, of knighthood, of intrigue. Remus had always loved such books in his youth, though he never had access to a selection as grand as this. He filled his days with the adventures, becoming so deeply invested he occasionally forgot to eat or return to Longbourn before dark. There was something intoxicating about the danger and passion of those times, something that had drawn him in even as a child, and now somewhat succeeded in distracting him from his present malaise.
Remus only breached the subject of Lily’s new companion once, while cooking dinner with Mary.
“So,” he began quietly. “Mr. Snape’s been over quite a bit lately. Lily seems to think he’s very funny.” He raised both eyebrows, a silent question. Mary hummed in response, contemplatively stirring the pot of stew.
“He’s…” She paused, tapping the wooden spoon on the rim. “I think it will be good for her,” Mary finished finally. “He’s not perfect, certainly. No James, but who is? Rotten luck, that Lily has. Falling for the sweetest fellow in all of England on her first go and then getting her heart broken.” She shook her head sadly. “He won’t be easy to get over. But this Snape bloke makes her laugh, so what’s the harm? It’ll help take her mind off things. Not that Snape is the one — I certainly hope nothing happens there — but hopefully she’ll have forgotten about Potter in a month or two, and all will be well.”
Remus nodded, slicing basil and letting the aroma wash over him. “Marlene seems to like him,” he commented absently. Mary smiled. “Don’t be fooled, brother,” she teased. “Lily and Marlene could grow fond of any rock or blade of grass on Earth, and people are no different. They’re too unassuming for their own good. It’s up to people like us,” she prodded him in the side, “the cynics of the world, to protect them from harm. I’m very discriminating about these things, and Mr. Snape’s surely not the worst man Lily could have set her sights on. He certainly seems to like her, at least.”
Remus nodded again, more emphatically this time, recalling a day when Lily had invited Snape over for tea and he had brought her a squashed clump of weeds from outside he had mistaken for flowers. It was stupid but sort of sweet, and it had made Lily smile, so who was Remus to judge? Anything to divert her mind from events of late.
It was complicated, Lily’s situation. Remus felt just as confused and hurt himself, but at least what happened with Sirius transpired in the dark, in secret. It would never be able to amount to much anyway, so it was Remus’s own fault for letting his hopes run away with him. But Lily had been forced to interact with Mr. Potter out in the open, for all the neighbours to gossip about: everyone wanted to know what was going on between the rich gentleman from London and Meryton’s own Lily Evans. Most everyone assumed they would marry, that it would only be a matter of weeks before a proposal, when Mr. Potter up and left back to London. There was a certain degree of public shame for Lily in this matter, and in her own heart; Lily was strong and willful and brilliant, but she was still a woman, and most couldn’t see past that. Though their mother or father never mentioned it and surely did not blame her for not marrying, Remus could tell Lily felt disappointed by nothing coming of Mr. Potter’s interest in her, even heartbroken. More than anything, she had valued their friendship, but you could not eat friendship for dinner or use it to stoke your fires. (This was Remus’s impression of the occasionally sensational view Lily had towards familial obligation.)
Many young men in town regarded Lily as somewhat of a scorned woman; Snape was a traveling soldier and dirt-poor no less, but he hardly seemed to care she was the supposed victim of such an altercation. In fact, he seemed glad to be rid of Mr. Potter and indeed never brought his presence in Hertfordshire up at all.
—
It could not be denied: the tombstone was ugly. It featured the depiction of a weeping angel, the Black family crest, and an overly frilly and poetic inscription stating some bollocks about what a fine husband, father, and man Orion Black was. Sirius wanted to kick it, to vandalize it, to in some way leave an imprint on the cool stone, to have his own memory tied into what everyone who happened past the cemetery thought of the man, to not be forgotten. Death smoothed away even the worst cracks in someone’s character, because no one wanted to scorn a corpse, no matter how badly the corpse had scorned others. Lines blurred and offenses went unremembered without fail, and Sirius couldn’t bear the thought of time washing from history the sting on his cheek from Orion’s palm or the lonely nights passed in sleepless terror. Orion Black was hardly a man at all. He was a monster.
And yet, Sirius couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t bring himself to do much of anything since he heard the news. Words grew muddled in his mouth like mounds of molasses and he often found he had nothing to say anyway. Before him was a slab of stone, and beneath it lay his father in a wooden box. A lifeless object, not too different from the box itself, except for the fact that it would one day rot and turn to nothing, sink back into the soil. The only proof Orion Black had lived at all was the tombstone in front of him and Sirius himself. He carried the weight of his father’s life on his shoulders every day, in the words he said when he was angry and the way his body and mind entirely shut down when he was frightened. Orion was at rest beneath six feet of earth and yet here Sirius stood still, paralyzed as if Orion’s own hands were wrapped around his neck. Sirius wasn’t there the day they lowered his father into the ground. All he knew was one day he was there in Pemberley, ignoring Sirius’s letters, and the next he was gone, no longer a creature of this Earth. It would be a lot for anyone to process.
“Shit grave,” said a voice from behind him, but Sirius could not tear his gaze away from the tombstone for long enough to greet his brother, even after all this time. His body felt so numb he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to respond at all, but he felt his head nod stiffly in acknowledgment.
“Shit father.”
Regulus hummed a noise of assent. His cane made a squelching sound in the muddy grass as he took his place beside Sirius. “I got your letter,” he said. “He sent it along after all.” Sirius could sense he was studying the grave as well, thinking of what — or rather, who — was housed beneath it. “Imagine that.”
Sirius still couldn’t move. “How was France?” he asked tonelessly, voice faint.
Regulus shrugged. “Didn’t fix me. Unsurprisingly.”
“You don’t need fixing,” Sirius reprimanded sharply, a knee-jerk reaction.
Regulus gently elbowed him in the side, smiling slightly. “There you are,” he said. “I was wondering when the real Sirius would come out.”
At once, Sirius felt his eyes well up with tears, a long-awaited release after so many hours of tense travel, after so many weeks of missing Regulus, after so many years of despising the man in the ground. He wrapped his arms around his brother, buried his face in his shoulder, and wept; Regulus was so thin and so pale after whatever they’d done to him in Paris, but now Sirius was with him again and he would take him away from this place and drive off the bags from under his eyes and make sure he was alright, really, truly alright. They’d never send him away again, never force them apart, because Orion was gone and Sirius would not let Walburga have power over them for one moment longer. Regulus said nothing, merely held him through his grief, and when Sirius’s tears dried up, he led his little brother away from the cemetery and back to their friends, nervously waiting by the ornate iron gates confining the dead to their final resting place.
Dorcas let out a little yelp when she first saw Regulus emerge from the graveyard, wasting no time in pressing a tender hand to his cheek and pulling him into a quick hug. Regulus was just as pleased to see her.
“Dorcas!” he cried out affectionately, “How’ve you—”
When he caught sight of James, timidly wringing his hands in Dorcas’s shadow, his words cut off at once, a quiet noise escaping his mouth that sounded a bit like all the wind had been knocked from his body. For one silent, bizarre moment, James and Regulus just stared at each other. Sirius had known things’d been tense between them for some time, though he’d no idea why, but James and Regulus had always had soft spots for each other and after so long apart, Sirius had expected more of a—
And then Regulus was burrowing into James’s body, James’s arms locked firmly around the smaller man, and neither seemed to care that Regulus had abandoned his cane beside Dorcas. Regulus’s face was crushed into James’s neck with the force of their embrace and James’s hands had come up to the back of Regulus’s head, winding themselves into his curls. Dorcas and Sirius were quite invisible to them.
Sirius regarded his brother and best friend with a surge of impossible fondness. How often was it that the two people you cared about most in the world found it within themselves to become best friends too?
“I missed you,” James was choking out, tears spilling from his eyes. “God Almighty, I missed you so much.”
Regulus finally pulled back a bit, still gazing into James’s eyes like he was the only other person in the world.
Dorcas politely cleared her throat. Both men seemed to come back to themselves at precisely that moment, James’s hands dropping away and Regulus taking a measured step back. (Both neglected to look at or address the other for the duration of the following conversation.)
“How was Paris?” Dorcas inquired, picking up Regulus’s discarded cane and brushing it off before returning it to its owner. “How are you?”
All four declined to comment on their current whereabouts or the circumstances behind their reunion. “I’m much the same,” Regulus replied, doing his best to smile at her. “Only better: I’ve very recently come into quite a sum of inheritance money.”
This shocked a wet laugh out of Sirius. He scrubbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his coat. “Too right you are, little brother,” he declared, bravado returning bit by bit. “What say you all to the idea we tie up any loose ends with this whole ‘deceased father’ business, collect what we’re owed, and then mosey on back down to Hertfordshire?” Regulus looked mildly interested, and Sirius finally cracked a smile. “I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet, Reg.”
“As do I!” Dorcas piped up.
James said nothing, off in his own little world, wearing a peculiar, deliriously happy expression as he stared at the floor and rumpled his hair still further.
“So does James, though he’s going through a bit of shock at the moment, I suppose,” Sirius supplied helpfully. “But the people there are something else.”
“And they’ll love you!” added Dorcas, patting Regulus’s arm like a proud mother. “I mean, just adore.”
Regulus wrinkled his nose in disbelief, but Sirius could recognize the telltale signs of a small, mischievous smile tugging at the edges of his brother’s lips. Regulus shrugged, purposefully nonchalant.
“Whatever you say,” he replied simply. “I’ve certainly got nothing better to do.”