Night Flight
“I don’t know if it’s yours.”
Fiona had to actually cover her mouth to keep from screaming.
Poor Harry, man.
Fiona had been sitting on the porch, having a beer, when she saw Harry sprint down the sidewalk to where Mandy Milkovich had been waiting for her.
According to Lip’s gossip, Mandy dumped Harry the night before. Lip wouldn’t say why, but Fiona thought she put two and two together when Mandy said she was pregnant.
Mandy looked devastated, Harry looked shocked.
And then Harry was thrilled.
Fiona could see it on his face- Harry wanted that fucking baby. It was clear as anything. The way his eyes lit up and his shock shifted to absolute happiness?
Yeah, Harry wanted it.
Then Mandy broke that poor boy in half when she said it might not be his.
Fiona was on the edge of her seat while she watched Harry just drop Mandy’s hands and walk away. Harry didn’t answer her when she called out to him, all choked up from crying. Harry walked straight inside his house and Fiona thought she might have been able to hear the door lock.
She definitely heard when something heavy inside the house broke and Harry let out a sound of absolute misery.
That was such shit.
Even ignoring all the crap the boys said about Harry and Mandy, Fiona had seen the two of them often enough to know that Harry was obsessed with that girl. If Mandy Milkovich said jump, Harry Black would try and reach the sky for her.
And then that little bitch cheated on him and got knocked up with what might be someone’s baby?
Helllll no.
If Harry had cheated on her, Fiona could have dropped it. Harry was practically family; it would be shitty, but not Fiona’s problem.
But if some little slut thought she was going to cheat on Harry, break his heart, and just run off without any repercussions? Then she didn’t understand the fucking south side.
Fiona finished her beer, waited for Ian to get home to stay with the kids, and then she put on her boots, grabbed a bat, and went to find V.
If anyone was always down to beat some hoe ass, it was V.
Nobody was home at V’s so Fiona laid the baseball bat against her shoulder while she walked down to the Alibi.
Kevin was behind the bar when Fiona entered the bar with… with his foster kid behind the bar with him, washing glasses.
Veronica sat at the counter and Fiona went to sit beside her.
“Don’t judge us, if we leave her home then she cleans the entire fuckin’ house and tries to give Kevin ‘husband time’,” V said when Fiona gave Ethel a curious look.
“I didn’t say anything,” Fiona protested. She laid the bat against the bar on the floor and waited for Kevin to finish up with Kermit so she could get a quick drink.
“Whose ass are we kicking?” V asked immediately after seeing the bat. It was the Gallagher home defense bat, usually only used on Frank. V knew if Fiona took it from the house then someone was getting a beat down.
“Mandy Milkovich,” Fiona said. She tapped the counter for a shot of whatever V was having once Kevin was free. “Put it on my tab.”
“I’m not going to give you a tab if you go beating up Harry’s girl,” Kevin said even as he poured Fiona the shot. “Ethel, do we give free drinks to assholes who beat up your brother’s girlfriend?”
“Hey, quit that,” V said, snapping her fingers at Kevin. “Harry is not your kid. He is not Ethel’s brother. Jesus fuck, Kev. These kids are all fucking white.”
“So am I!” Kevin cried. He tossed his arm around Ethel’s shoulders and even if Fiona thought Kevin made a good dad, she wouldn’t say it because V was her best friend and V didn’t want kids.
Fiona had known Kevin since kindergarten, they were practically siblings. V didn’t move to the area until she started dating Kevin, but the two women hit it off immediately. Fiona could think whatever she wanted, but she always backed V.
“So, Ethel?” Kevin gave a sideways hug to the weird pilgrim girl they got straight from some sex cult. “Do we think Fiona should beat up Mandy?”
Ethel peered at Fiona with her creepy ass blue eyes.
“No, I don’t,” Ethel said firmly. “I think you’ll make Harry very sad.”
Fiona downed the shot of what turned out to be tequila and raised a brow at Kevin.
“Do we beat up the bitch that got probably knocked up by someone besides the kid that is definitely not your son?”
Fiona had Kevin’s complete attention then and she didn’t waste any time filling him in on how Mandy spread her legs for someone else and broke Harry’s heart.
“Fuuuuuck,” Kevin breathed once Fiona gave them the rundown. He poured Fiona another shot and even Ethel seemed shocked. Not V though, she knew how bitches in the neighborhood were.
Fiona didn’t exclude herself from that list either.
The first sign of Steve cheating on her and what did Fiona do? Run off to dance at the club and wound up fucking her neighbor. It had been worth it, but it was a bitch to cover the bite he left on her neck when Steve returned with a perfectly reasonable explanation about who Candace was and why she texted him that she missed him.
The guilt Fiona felt when Steve went with her to Remus’ cookout the night before didn’t exactly keep Fiona from watching every time Remus’ arms flexed in the white t shirt he had been wearing.
And that was because Fiona was a bitch just like every other girl in the south side. If Steve had a sister that wanted to beat Fiona’s ass for it, then that was just the way it worked.
“Ethel, why don’t you go with them?” Kevin suggested, causing all three women to give him skeptical looks. Kevin was a dipshit, but even he had to know better than that.
“No, listen!” Kevin said quickly. “If Fiona gets busted, CPS gets involved. If Ethel takes the fall then what’s CPS going to do? Put her in foster care?”
Fiona was wrong. Kevin was a shit dad who just offered up his kid for an alibi to assault, but damn if he didn’t have a decent idea every once in a while.
Veronica swiped a bottle of flavored vodka for the two of them to share on their way to the Milkovich house. Fiona offered Ethel a drink, but the girl said it was a sin to drink.
Maybe it was, but who gave a fuck?
“Isn’t Mandy with child?” Ethel asked nervously while they walked. “You could hurt the baby if you hurt her.”
“She’s probably getting a fuckin’ abortion anyway,” V scoffed. “Hood girls don’t keep their happy accidents.”
“Harry would try if it was his,” Fiona told her. “You should have seen his face, V. He was so fucking happy before she said it might not be his.”
“Dumbass,” V said with a roll of her eyes. “We’re doing him two favors then. The last thing that kid needs is a kid of his own.”
“I love my son,” Ethel said quietly, reminding Fiona that the poor girl was a parent herself. It was sick, the cult she came from. It was even sicker that CPS split her and her baby up, as if Ethel wasn’t obviously the victim who got knocked up by a grown man at thirteen and had his baby at fourteen.
“You sure you don’t want a drink?” Fiona offered her. When Ethel shook her head, Fiona took another drink. “More for me, I guess.”
Fiona was tipsy when they made it to Mandy’s and she was giggling even when she screamed from the sidewalk.
“MAAAANDY, COME OUT, COME OUT, WHEREVER YOU AAAARE!”
Either Mandy would show her face and take what she had to know would be coming or they would have to hunt her down and Mandy would be both a whore and a pussy.
Mandy was south side though, just as much as Fiona was. When she peeked her out at the window of the door, it only took a few seconds before she stepped out on the porch with Mickey just behind her.
“The fuck you want, Gallagher?” Mickey yelled. His hand was on his waistband and Fiona knew he had a piece on him.
“She cheated on Harry,” Fiona said. She swung the bat at her side as she walked toward the porch. “You know that’s some bullshit.”
Mandy started to step down to Fiona but Mickey put a hand on her shoulder and kept her from moving. Mandy just curled her lip up at Fiona as if she didn’t know that she fucked up big time.
“Mandy didn’t fuckin’ cheat on him,” Mickey scoffed. “Get the fuck out of here before I come off this porch.”
“Yeah?” Fiona smacked the bat in her hand and saw V subtly removing her earrings from just beside her. “So she’s not knocked up with no clue who the daddy is?”
“Shut the fuck up!” Mandy screamed. If Mickey wasn’t holding her back, then Fiona would have been in the clear because that girl looked ready to start swinging. Legally, all that mattered was who swung first. Technically, all that mattered was who hit hardest. And Fiona had seven years on Mandy Milkovich.
“Is it your business?” Mickey asked. “No. Fuck off.”
“Harry’s one of us,” Fiona said. “And I’m not leaving until Mandy gets her skanky ass down here.”
“Mhmm,” V agreed.
Fiona was a little bit impressed when Ethel very slowly stepped up to stand on Fiona’s other side. Either the girl wasn’t as much of a Bible thumper as she claimed or… fuck, for all Fiona knew the girl had a crush on Harry.
Ethel could get in fucking line though. That British boy had charmed half the damn neighborhood with his eyes, accent, and ass.
Not that Fiona checked out his ass, she wasn’t a nasty fuck like god damned Kash, but she heard Ian and Lip mention it before.
Ian said it more than Lip, but Lip looked more than Ian.
“Fuck it,” Mandy sighed. She uncrossed her arms, fisted her hands at her sides, and jerked out of Mickey’s grasp to take the three steps down the stairs.
Fiona pulled the bat back and was ready to fucking swing on that bitch when Mickey shouted.
“HEY! NO!” Mickey jumped from the top of the stairs to the bottom and shoved Mandy behind him. He pointed the barrel of his pissy little .45 at Fiona’s face. “You’re hittin’ my sister over my dead fuckin’ body.”
Fiona took a step closer and held the bat in position.
“Do it then,” she taunted him. “Either you kill me or I’m putting that whore in the hospital.”
Mickey pulled the barrel back, Fiona tightened her grip on the bat.
“I didn’t fucking cheat on Harry!” Mandy yelled, pushing her way between Fiona and Mickey. She was crying again, like that was going to keep Fiona from curb stomping her ass.
“Yeah?” Fiona didn’t look away from the gun being aimed over Mandy’s shoulder at her, but she did curl her lip up in a look of hate. “Fucking alien abduction then?”
“No,” Mandy sneered right back. She folded her arms across her stomach and looked down.
“Mandy, you don’t gotta say shit,” Mickey said.
“Harry thinks I’m a fucking whore,” Mandy told her brother. She turned back to Fiona and there was something fucked up about the look in her eyes. It was a mix between stubborn pride, humiliation, and just fucking pain.
“I didn’t cheat on him,” Mandy told Fiona, dropping her voice to something just louder than a whisper. “Terry- Terry gets drunk sometimes, like blackout drunk… he just… he fucking thinks I’m my mom.”
Fiona stared at Mandy while she tried to—
“Oh, fuck.” Fiona dropped the bat to the ground and felt her liquor trying to climb back up her throat.
It wasn’t uncommon in the hood. People didn’t talk about it, girls didn’t turn them in, but it had happened to every one of them.
Fiona herself had been on a date when she was sixteen and the fucker didn’t take no for an answer. When she returned home and had been crying on the porch about it, little Lip had taken the pick axe from the garage and stuck it in that fucker’s knee.
And Frank was a lot of things, but Fiona could at least be grateful that he never once laid a hand on her or Debbie in that kind of way.
“Don’t tell Harry,” Mandy begged Fiona in a whisper. “Please. I’d rather him think I’m a whore than- than… just don’t fucking tell him.”
“Yeah, okay,” Fiona agreed. That wasn’t the kind of shit any of them shared. Fiona might have told the whole Alibi about Mandy being a knocked up slut, but she wouldn’t go broadcasting the sick shit Terry was doing to his daughter.
“I’m sorry,” Fiona told her, meaning it. “If you need help getting the money…”
Mandy still had her arms crossed tightly and she nodded without looking Fiona in the eyes.
Veronica made a similar apology while Fiona picked the bat up and turned to leave.
“Who is Terry?” Ethel asked when the three of them were down the block and Mickey had ushered Mandy back inside the house.
Fiona and Veronica exchanged looks that said more than any words could.
Then Veronica, who claimed to never have wanted to be a parent, put her arm around Ethel’s shoulders and pulled her close to her side.
“Terry is Mandy’s dad, honey.”
Fiona sat outside that night for a long time, thinking about Mandy and Harry and the fucked up situation they were in.
It was damned if they do, damned if they don’t.
If Harry wanted to keep the baby, they couldn’t know if it was his until it would be too late for Mandy to abort. And Mandy having to give birth to her dad’s baby was just too fucking sick to imagine.
Mandy would have to abort it and Harry would have to get over it. It was crap for Harry, but Fiona couldn’t see any way around it.
Or, she didn’t, until it hit midnight and Remus wandered out the front door.
“Hey,” Remus said, none of his usual charm in his tone. The poor guy seemed exhausted, probably losing his shit right along with Harry.
“Hey,” Fiona said back, just as tired. Fiona held up the vodka she still had at the same time Remus held up a thickly rolled joint.
“Great minds, I suppose,” Remus said. He climbed on the ledge of his porch and Fiona couldn’t even appreciate the way his muscles flexed under his tank top as he jumped from porch to porch.
“How’s Harry?” Fiona asked when Remus sat right beside her on their porch bench.
“Miserable,” Remus said. He lit the joint and took two hits before he traded it for Fiona’s bottle of booze. “Apparently Mandy is pregnant.”
Fiona hummed while she inhaled.
“And it might not be Harry’s.”
“That’s what I heard,” Fiona said after she blew out a cloud of smoke.
Remus always had the best fucking weed. It was like the second best thing about having him as a neighbor.
“I don’t suppose I could convince you or your sister to go beat the hell out of her, could I?” Remus asked with a wry smile after they swapped back vices. “I could fly in one of my mates’ daughters or sisters, but as you’re here…”
“Been there, tried that,” Fiona admitted. She stared down in the vodka bottle and sighed. “Leave that poor girl alone, alright?”
It was bad enough what she had going on at home. And if she didn’t want to tell Harry then she was going to have someone that Fiona thought might be the only person to love that girl hating her instead. When she went for an abortion, who the hell would be there to hold her hand?
As pissed as Fiona had been at Mandy only a couple of hours ago, Fiona didn’t think there was a more pitiable person within fifty miles.
Unless it was Harry, who had his heartbroken, his girl knocked up, and… fuck… everything was a mess.
“Poor girl?” Remus asked. He stared at Fiona, just as pissed on Harry’s behalf as Fiona had been earlier. “You can’t be serious. Harry is miserable, Fiona. He loves her. And she—”
“Was raped by her father.”
Remus’ jaw actually snapped shut and his complaint about Mandy died immediately. Fiona turned just in time to watch a mixture of emotions play across Remus’ face all too clearly—
Shock.
Disgust.
Horror.
And then anger.
Remus always gave off a real sexy ‘I can be dangerous if I want to be’ kind of vibe. Fiona just didn’t realize that it didn’t take a very hard push for Remus to give off a ‘I will fucking slaughter a city of people and sleep in their blood’ vibe.
It wasn’t just dangerous-sexy, it was feral, deranged, fury and Fiona was soaked.
*****
“Go home, Fiona,” Remus called over his shoulder.
“Oh, hell no. If you’re killing Terry Milkovich, you want backup,” Fiona said. She was jogging to keep up with Remus’ quick stride.
Remus didn’t want or need backup. Remus had a small piece in his pocket, his wand up his sleeve.
If some sick son of a bitch thought that he could- could… It made Remus sick to even think about it.
Mandy was a girl, a child.
Remus felt truly terrible. He had spent the entire evening berating Mandy for cheating on Harry. Remus also spent time silently berating Harry for getting himself in a position where his girlfriend was pregnant and there was even a question of paternity.
Not that Remus said as much to Harry. Remus only offered a silencing charm so Harry could cry without shame in his room while Remus offered the shoulder for Harry to cry on.
Harry had mentioned positively insane something about ‘his baby’ and Remus closed his eyes and just stroked his hair comfortingly. While there was a question of if Harry had fathered the child, there was none in Remus’ mind that it was a pregnancy best ended quickly.
Especially if the other potential father was Mandy’s own father.
“Remus, wait!” Fiona actually jumped and landed on Remus’ back with one arm locked around his neck in a chokehold. Remus absently flicked her forward, only caring enough to ensure she didn’t get injured on the landing.
Fiona then stuck her arms out as if she would physically stop Remus from walking toward his destination.
“You can’t just fucking storm in there and kill him!” Fiona hissed. “You need a plan, dumbass.”
“I have a plan,” Remus said with a calm that didn’t match the fire boiling in his veins. He pushed Fiona’s arms off his chest. “I’m going to storm in there and kill him.”
Remus was going to cut his cock off, stuff it up his arse, then chop off his fingers and shove them down his throat until his eyes bulged, his brain stopped working, and Remus would crush his throat beneath his foot.
That was Remus’ plan.
It was a good plan.
It had worked before.
“Sca’ you ‘member Maude? That girl from the orphanage? ‘Usband died last year?”
“I do. Why?”
“I heard it on the vine when I was standin’ on the corner, Charles, from Peckham, ‘e attacked ‘er. Annabelle says she’s messed up real bad. Put ‘er in the hospital, she might not leave.”
Remus earned his second tick that night. They found Charles in pieces under a bridge, poor bastard had been identified by the tattoos on his knuckles that Remus forgot to peel off him.
Remus wouldn’t forget to peel any tattoos off of Terry Milkovich.
“Don’t follow me,” Remus warned Fiona when he was just outside the Milkovich house. Remus stopped long enough to pull a cigarette from the smashed pack in his pocket and lit it.
Fiona only stood silently next to Remus while he watched the house and smoked his cigarette.
Single story, two doors, roughly seven windows. Remus tilted his head to the side and spotted band posters in the first two windows- likely Mandy and Mickey’s bedrooms.
On the opposite side of the house, second room on the right past the front door, was an obnoxious confederate flag.
Remus was willing to bet all the plants in his closet that it was Terry Milkovich’s bedroom.
Only one window to that bedroom, it didn’t look to have any type of master bath attached. Remus could go through the bedroom windows, block the door. Thought that ran the risk of waking Terry with the noise and giving him a chance to scream and attract witnesses.
Going through the door, preventing Terry from leaving through the window, and killing him quickly and quietly was Remus’ best plan. If Remus was caught sneaking through the door, he could always play it off that he was there to confront Mandy about the pregnancy. The only problem with that plan was that the body would be found - there was no avoiding that - but Remus would prefer that the body be found than Remus have to modify the memory of Mandy or kill another of her family members.
Despite her fertile womb, Remus had been rather fond of Harry’s girlfriend. Mandy was a sweet girl and had an endearing amount of vulnerability beneath her hard exterior, a likeness to Harry that didn’t go unnoticed by Remus. Remus didn’t relish hurting her, even emotionally, he would have to ensure that someone else found the body.
It seemed unlikely for it to be Mickey Milkovich’s first dead body.
“Stay out here,” Remus told Fiona after he was sure of his plan. Remus flicked his cigarette butt far away from where they stood and he touched the small gun he had owned for ten years in his pocket.
It had been a habit to carry it on him since moving to the neighborhood. If Remus was unable to pull his wand, he would pull his gun.
Remus had never been so accepted by the wizarding world that he had forgotten his roots.
“You’re going to want backup,” Fiona said. “They’re rough, Remus, I’m not fucking around.”
Remus turned and pulled his gun from his pocket so Fiona could see it.
“Do I look worried to you?” Remus asked her calmly. “Stay. Whistle twice if you hear someone coming.”
Remus didn’t need a lookout, but he did need Fiona to stay outside.
The front door was locked so flimsily that it only took Remus a moment to twist the knob hard, shoving with his shoulder, and break the locks. He paused just inside the front door to listen for sounds of anyone awake.
It killed Remus to not use magic to assist him. It would have made it all so simple. But Harry - bless his heart - was too famous to risk it. If anyone looked into the death of Harry Potter’s girlfriend’s father and found a trace of magic then it would be Remus and Harry both that would be under scrutiny.
The werewolf and the Boy-Who-Was-Expelled.
No, it was best to do it the muggle way. That didn’t mean that Remus was unable to utilize his more useful side-effects of lycanthropy to assist himself.
Remus heard one set of deep snores from the bedroom on the west side of the house, Mickey’s if he had to guess. There were softer sounds of someone sleeping more restlessly in the other bedroom on the west side of the house with a heart that beat just a touch too quickly, as Nymphadora’s had before the procedure to terminate.
Mandy, clearly.
Remus very desperately wanted to cast just one spell, a quick test of paternity for his own peace of mind, but he would have to wait until Mandy was no longer home.
Harry’s safety came first.
The heavy sound of snoring from the east side of the house led Remus to the bedroom he wanted. The door was unlocked and Remus was able to slip inside unhindered.
Remus stood just inside the bedroom door and curled his upper lip up in a sneer of absolute disgust at the man before him.
Terry Milkovich was a disgusting specimen of the human race, objectively. Remus could find no redeeming quality in the man that looked haggard and unkempt even in his sleep.
And if the room matched the man then Remus could assume that Terry Milkovich was an alcoholic, drug-addicted, gun-loving, racist.
As creative and cruel as Remus wished he could be, it was best to simply convict the man, sentence him to death, and leave. At best, Remus could make it look like a suicide. At worst, then Chicago’s finest would at least be terribly confused by the murder that would hopefully be chalked up to a drug dispute.
Remus saw a ridiculous and disgusting swastika carved on the top of the large dresser he lifted to place in front of the bedroom door. Muggles weren’t alone in it, but Remus forgot how often human beings tended to flaunt symbols they hardly understood to make themselves feel important.
As if showcasing a symbol once feared would give the lone individual some of the power that the symbol held.
Ridiculous.
It only took Remus a moment after that to find a loaded pistol on Terry’s nightstand. It had hollow points loaded, a reasonably loud blast, and it would have to do. Remus could use his own piece, it wasn’t as if it were registered to him, but then he would have to leave it behind and he was rather attached to it.
Remus always became sentimental over gifts from Mac. Mac was Remus’ first friend and the only one that had known him since childhood. Plus, Mac knew what Remus liked and had his own habit of setting aside guns for him just as Remus could barely spot a well-sharpened knife without wanting to obtain it for Mac.
The gun Remus had was taken during a robbery and Mac had snickered when he carved a full moon on the handle after removing the serial number. It made it terribly identifiable and Remus adored it.
Pushing away his own nostalgic thoughts, Remus checked the window in the room and found it had a small and corroded swivel lock. Remus unlocked it but waited to open it.
“You should have known that if your children were too attached to put you down like the dog you are, that someone else would,” Remus whispered as he knelt down beside the bed.
Remus quickly jerked the pillow from beneath Terry’s head and when the man’s eyes flew open, he didn’t even have time to scream before Remus held the pillow against the end of the barrel and shot him just between the eyes.
While Terry Milkovich wasted his final bit of oxygen, Remus used his shirt to clean the handle of the gun. Remus wrapped it in Terry’s right hand, the more calloused of the two, then took a wire coat hanger from the closet, and slipped right out the window.
It was hardly Remus’ best work, but it would keep Mandy Milkovich safe. Remus owed the man regardless, what kind of fool couldn’t pull off a simple home robbery without getting one of his accomplices shot?
Fiona ran to Remus while he quickly used the hanger to relock the latch on Terry’s window. It would be best if the police found him in a locked room, the gun in his hand, and no witnesses to call it anything aside from a suicide.
There was Fiona, but Remus could remove the memory if he needed to. She seemed unlikely to give him up either way, judging by the way her heart raced with something more than only fear.
“Done,” Remus said calmly after the window was locked once more. He dropped the hanger in the nearest sewage drain and smirked in amusement at Fiona’s shocked face. “Did you doubt me, love?” he teased her.
“You actually killed him?” Fiona asked.
“I did.”
Fiona shuddered beneath the street lamp and Remus regretted that he didn’t bring a jacket he could offer her. All at once, Miss Tall, Brunette, and Trashy-Enough-to-be-Addictive straightened up and held her hand out.
“Give me your gun,” Fiona ordered. When Remus’ only response was to quirk an amused brow at her, she rolled her eyes. “Where do you think the cops are going to go first? You live with Harry, everyone knows that Harry and Mandy are together. I’ll keep the gun at my place until it all blows over.”
“Fiona, this is touching,” Remus said too seriously to be genuine. “Did you fall in love with me? I knew that third orgasm had been overkill.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Fiona said with her hand still out. “I just don’t want Harry to go to foster care when your dumb ass is arrested.”
“No evidence makes it difficult to prosecute,” Remus quoted. “Besides, I used his gun and left it there. But speaking of evidence…” Remus held his hands out to show the fine spray of blood that misted them.
“I could use a shower,” Remus said. “Join me?”
Fiona licked her lips and Remus was certain he could see her pupils dilate.
“You just killed a man and you’re already trying to get laid?” Fiona asked as they both began walking back to their homes.
“It’s called a celebration,” Remus said. “People have them when disgusting bits of human waste are eliminated, you see.”
Fiona laughed with an impressively minimal amount of hysteria to her tone.
“I can’t,” she said, with definite regret in her voice. “Steve’s at my place.”
Remus lightly placed his hand on her lower back and then just as casually slid it down to her arse when she made no move to pull away.
“So we shower at my place,” Remus said in a low and suggestive tone.
Fiona looked up at Remus and he could see the indecision in her face. It only lasted for a moment before she nodded her agreement.
While the Milkovich siblings slept, unaware of what they would discover when they woke, Remus walked Fiona back to his house.
“So,” Remus said conversationally, “how serious are things between you and the boyfriend?”