Infinity Times Infinity

Tomato and thyme weaved through the warm summer air. 

There was a cadence to the atmosphere: the way butter sizzled and bread crisped, how garlic and sweet onion simmered in undertones beneath the tomato as to not overwhelm the ambiance every herb had created in its waltz. The smell wasn’t aggressive but it was there, bold enough that it lingered no matter how many windows you opened. Not that you minded anyway, the smell of your father’s tomato bisque was always welcomed. 

You stretched, groaning as the stiffness in your body slowly dissipated with every muscle movement. Ahira stirred at the movement and coiled in the steadily cooling recess of where you had slept. 

“Are we waking up now?” she asked quietly. 

“Yep.” The bones in your back popped with a satisfying sound and you nearly melted back into your bed if it weren’t for the hunger pooling in your stomach. “Fancy some nosh?” 

Ahira nodded and you picked her up, wrapping her over your shoulders like an odd statement piece. It wouldn’t be long before having her constantly wrapped around you would begin to annoy you. Luckily it was only the middle of June and the heat was still reasonable, come July however… now that would be another story. 

After a quick change of clothing to accommodate the growing summer weather of Yorkshire, you made your way downstairs to the kitchen where the smell of tomato grew stronger. You walked into the kitchen blindly, hands rubbing the last traces of sleep off your face. 

“Not that I’m complaining — you know I love your tomato bisque, but it’s almost summertime and —” your words were cut short once you stopped the incessant eye rubbing and your vision slowly trickled back. You blinked once, twice, three times yet the figure wasn’t going away. “Dad, why is there a convicted murderer sitting at our table?” 

“A what?” He asked as he turned to look at you, dish towel in hand; it seemed as though you had caught him in the middle of washing the dishes the old–fashioned way. His eyes followed yours until they landed on the man in question: Sirius Black. “Oh.” 

The aforementioned man sat there, half-eaten cheese toastie in hand. “Wrongfully convicted murderer by the way.” 

“Yes, er —” your father said, an awkward smile daubing his features. “What Sirius said: wrongfully convicted.” 

Your brows creased as your confusion only continued to grow. You weren’t somehow still asleep were you? You must be, your brain wasn’t the type to dream up scenarios as hilarious as these. Maybe you could pitch the idea to some muggle producer and get some kind of percentage from it. You blinked out of your torpor when you realized you hadn’t said a thing. 

“Right, wrongfully convicted. Sorry.” 

Sirius did not linger on the matter and opted instead to return to the bowl of soup in front of him. You gave your dad an inquisitive look but all that did was make him grow nervous; he must be blaming himself for being forgetful, which you understood. You tended to be very forgetful when there was a lot on your mind as well. 

He scratched the back of his neck. “It sort of slipped my mind,” he said. 

“It’s okay,” you said empathetically. “Sort of pushed all of the Sirius Black stuff to the back of my mind after all of Hogwarts learned of our lycanthropy.” 

“I’ll explain everything to you when you’re ready,” your father said earnestly. You understood that this was a lot for one person to explain and knew you couldn’t push him for answers until he was ready. 

“So that’s what you meant when you said you’d ‘help him settle’ the other day,” you said, realization dawning on you. You turned back to Sirius, seeing as he was still in the room and you wanted him to feel acknowledged. You knew you would’ve appreciated the gesture yourself. “Are you going to be staying with us, then?” 

The prison–worn wizard choked at the question and his eyes darted over to Remus who was casually resting against the countertop. Sirius made no move to speak. 

“What are you looking at me for? Of course, you are.” He then turned to look at you. “He’ll be staying with us for some time while the trial is underway.” 

“Oh, alright.” At that exact moment, your stomach decided to make an entrance and growled. You felt your face grow warm. “Nearly forgot what I came down for.” 

You didn’t even have to move to get yourself a bowl. The moment you were done speaking a bowl of the amazing smelling soup was in your hands. You smirked until you realized you were missing something incredibly important. 

“Where are my cheesy toasties?” 

“Give me a tick you glutton,” your father teased while heating the pan with a lazy flick of his wand. You tried to sneak a bit of the cheese he had sliced on the cutting board but he shooed you away before you could. “Go sit down, they’ll be ready soon.” 

You pouted before walking away with the bowl and made your way toward the table — the one that seated four people comfortably, six if you didn’t mind knocking elbows every once in a while. Not wanting to make either of you feel uncomfortable, you took the seat diagonal to Sirius’; the seating arrangement left you with enough space to study him a bit without being too obvious. The only other times you had seen him was when he was in the induced coma and the quick glance before he had gone. 

Even with such little time, you wondered why it was that his scent felt so familiar to you. Traces of fiery cinnamon, wet leather, and bourbon vanilla, all of which smelled dull and subdued, like antiques left to collect dust on an old shelf. You wondered if isolation did that to a person’s psyche. The lack of human interaction, vulnerability, and constant attack of the mind must’ve hindered his essence in some odd way that you couldn’t explain. Unease settled deeply in your stomach. 

The plate of toasties clattered softly against the wooden table and you used that distraction to look up while you grab one. You furtively stole a glance at that moment to study the man but found that he had already beaten you to it. His tired grey eyes were already on you and analyzing your features. Your eyes locked a second later and he quickly looked away. You, however, continued to study him, hoping to understand something of the reticent man. 

Some kind of estranged expression crossed his own features in the few seconds you had to read him. There wasn’t much to go off of but there was enough to capture from a man who had twelve years too many all to himself. Something like regret or guilt marred most of his face as his eyebrows drew taut, eyes downcast and lips pressed tight. He had something on his mind but was rattled with too many thoughts that he had no clue where to start. He looked up to look at you again, his eyes not quite meeting yours. 

He pointed at his neck. “Cool snake.” 

His words surprised you, those weren’t the first words you were expecting him to say. Perhaps he did have one thought to start with. You appreciated the comment. 

“Thanks. Found her in a dingy old cellar,” you joked. Ahira did not appreciate it. 

Sirius attempted a genuine smile, which was kind of there if you looked at it hard enough. He continued to stare, amazed at the odd companion. “My mother would have shrieked if I had ever gone home with one of those wrapped around like a scarf.” 

You snorted at the thought. Having seen a few students shriek or gasp when Ahira poked her head out of your robes, you knew exactly how hilarious the sight could be. Happy at the thought, you gave him your own compliment. 

“Cool hair.” It reminded you of an 80s rock star who had partied a little too hard with how long and unruly it was. “Diggin’ the vibe.” 

The toastie fell onto the plate with a dense thud as his hands shot into his hair. He swivelled his body to look at your dad with a horrified expression. Had you said something wrong? 

“Remus, please tell me you still know how to cut hair.” 

“Oh, thank Merlin,” your father sighed as he kicked himself off the counter. “I’ve been wanting to fix that rat’s nest ever since you’d first been spotted.” 

“Imagine if my mother could see this mess now. She’d have thrown a proper fit and fallen dead.” 

“I remember the howler she sent you in fourth year.” Remus shook his head in fond remembrance. “When you let your hair grow past your earlobe? Oh, how scandalous.” 

Sirius gave a hearty laugh. “Bloody hell, that was a loud one. I don’t think my hearing’s ever been the same since then.” 

“Come off it. You’ve never been that great of a listener when someone tells you something – even before that howler.” 

“That’s absolute bollocks,” exclaimed Sirius as a smirk pulled at the corners of his lips. He picked up two thin bunches of hair from the top of his hair, mimicking the shape of dog (maybe cat?) ears. “You know I’m all ears.” 

The two burst into laughter soon after his comment and all you could do was watch them with intrigue. Some form of understanding flashed between the two you at least knew that much: there was some kind of inside joke you weren’t in on. Which you didn’t mind at all, not if it meant you could see your father this happy and untroubled. 

“I haven’t used any hair–cutting spells in a while. Best if I use the shears.” 

“That’s alright. Just as long as you don’t nick me.” 

Remus shrugged as he collected the necessary tools and guided the spindly man toward the hallway and down to the bathroom. 

“Make sure you finish all of your supper,” he said lightly. “We’ll be in the washroom if you need us. Alright?” 

“Alright.” 

And with that, you were alone. Well, not exactly alone, Ahira was still draped lazily around your shoulders. 

“So that’s the Sirius Black everyone was talking about all of this year?” 

“Yeah,” you said after a few quiet spoonfuls of soup. 

“He doesn’t look all that threatening.” 

“No, I suppose not. You should’ve seen how he tore the Lady’s painting, however.” You took a sip of water from your glass. “Looked as if a rabid animal had a go at it.” 

She was quiet for a few moments. “They said he wanted to kill that Potter boy, right? The one who nearly killed me.” 

“That’s what people had been left to believe. I don’t remember much because my father didn’t like talking about it. The two of them had lost those close to them in such a short amount of time if I remember correctly.” 

She hummed to herself for a few moments, granting peace between the two of you. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked. 

“Hmm?” 

“How are you taking all of this?” 

You sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it, Ahira.” 

If snakes could roll their eyes and shout in frustration, she probably would have expressed her great displeasure many times by now. 

“You have to at some point,” she nagged. “It isn’t healthy to bottle it all up and expect it to –” 

A faint knock thankfully ended your conversation. You hadn’t noticed when your father had approached earlier. Usually, you could pick up his scent in an instant but maybe you were too preoccupied with the conversation you were actively trying to avoid. Ahira excused herself, after steadying you with a look, and slinked off your shoulders before making her way into the living room. Your eyes slowly drew away from where she had once been up to your dad who stayed between the kitchen and the hallway; one foot in, one foot out. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” he blurted sincerely. “It’s just that with everything that happened – it all just happened so fast and I didn’t know the right time to tell you,” he continued through worried lips. They rolled between his teeth and twitched with every unsaid word he wanted to say. “I know we’ve gone through a lot recently and that upset’s not over yet, so this was just another stressor to add on top of our already piling tower of worries.” 

“I know. I get it,” you said without missing a beat. Remus sighed, your name on his lips. 

“I’m not going to discount your feelings, but having someone you barely know suddenly live in the same house as you is uprooting, especially after leaving school so suddenly. It’s a lot to ask for you to accept Sirius living here with us, it’s no longer going to be just the two of us… at least for a while,” Remus said tentatively as he took a seat in front of yours. “It’s a lot to ask, but will you be alright?” 

Unsure of how to feel about the sudden new addition you made sure to display open body language. You knew this was a big deal, for the past thirteen years, it had only ever been you and your dad. A third person felt like such a drastic change to your living situation… but it felt like a good change oddly enough. Your mother had built this to house more than just two people. After all, if you could home a basilisk, why couldn’t you house a wizard? 

“You’re the adult here, Dad. You do what you think is best.” 

He tutted softly and shook his head. 

“Your input is just as important when it comes to my decisions, especially if they directly affect you,” he said adamantly. “If having Sirius here makes you uncomfortable you can tell me.” 

You thought about it for a second and found that there was no reason for you to dictate whether Sirius should stay with the two of you or not. You would only be sixteen this year and your father thirty–four. Arguably age should not influence judgment, but he’s known Sirius for much longer (albeit not having seen him for the past twelve years for being incarcerated in Wizarding Britain’s most harrowing prison). Social interactions, especially with those considered closest to someone who experienced isolation for so long, are vital for recovery. Sirius’ best bet for recuperating was to be here where he could interact with someone he knew. The fact that your dad wanted to make sure you felt safe was more than enough reason to trust his judgment. 

“I appreciate you asking how I would feel about this, but please trust me when I say that it’s okay.” You smiled and placed your hand over his, patting it reassuringly. “Yes, it’ll feel weird having someone else besides us but he’s your friend, isn’t he? I think he needs you now more than ever – both of you need each other.” 

He exhaled a relieved sigh. “When did you get so clever?” 

“What do you mean when? I’ve always been clever, excuse you.” 

“Right, right. Sorry.” 

The two of you fell into a quiet fit of laughter; it was the first time you’d laughed since you’d come back home besides smiling and showing amusement. Finally, some weight was easing off your shoulders and you could tell the same was happening for your dad. 

The rattle of a doorknob and footsteps sounded from somewhere outside in the hall. 

“Remus? Where did you run off to? Blimey, I can’t see a thing.” A second later a resounding thud echoed from the hallway. “Fuck — Shit — sorry, forgot your kid’s here.” 

“Don't worry,” you said as Sirius finally made his way into the kitchen. “It’s not like I’m still a tot or something. I won’t parrot you.” 

You noticed, as Sirius pulled the curtains of hair away from his face, that his eyes were downcast and his brows were furrowed like earlier. However just before you could analyze it any further, traces of any kind of melancholy disappeared the moment his face was completely visible. You were about to say something when your father beat you to it. 

“Oh, look at you, you’ve gone and bruised your face.” 

“I’ve just gone and smacked myself not even a minute ago, how can you tell?” 

Remus, not so sneakily, glanced at you with an affectionate smile. “I’m a dad, I can tell when something’s going to bruise.” 

You feigned offense at the same time as when Sirius pouted. “Hey.” 

“Worry not, I’ve got a balm somewhere. I’ve just got to find it.” Remus slipped his hand away from your own as he stood. “Go wait in the bathroom, I’ll be right with you.” 

Sirius huffed but did as he was told. “Yes, Mum.” 

Your dad watched as he walked away before turning back to look at you. 

“Do you remember packing the balm?” 

“The one Snape —” He put a finger up to his lips and you immediately lowered your voice even though you were curious about the motion. “That one?” 

He nodded and you raised an eyebrow. Your expressed curiosity was not answered. 

“Brown and brass suitcase, next to Sir Conan Doyle,” you said once you realized you weren’t going to get an answer. 

He ruffled your hair. “Lovely, thank you.” 

You knew better than to ask in the case that your father, like Snape, would rather keep such a matter private. It was obvious in both their verbal and physical mannerisms that there was more than what they let on. Knowing that your father and Snape had a complicated history and discovering now that your father had once been close friends with Sirius Black way back when made a few things click into place. 

So instead you said nothing as he walked through the doorway and instead went back to the last of your bisque. You smiled the moment the spoon touched your lips, the contents still warm. Your gratitude fell on absent ears but the sentiment was all the same; ever observant your father was. 

You scraped the last bits of tomato stuck on the bowl with the last bite of your toastie before heading to the sink to wash it. A warm sensation trickled from above your head, making you look up from your soapy hands. 

Golden light poured from the window above the sink, painting the room around you and soaking into your skin. The kitchen simmered with it almost as if it had been encased in liquid amber. After placing the bowl out to dry, you watched as sunlight lit the young wheat stalks growing outside. They were still green, sadly, which meant that the sea of golden wheat was not yet a commodity. Come August, however, they would be ready to harvest. 

Shadows flitted around the kitchen, the sudden movement made you turn around to look around to find the source, unsure as to what could’ve caused it. With your back toward the window, you noticed the shadow wasn’t caused by something inside. You turned heel to see out the window again and only then caught a glimpse of a figure way out in the distance flying across the sky. 

Your feet moved quickly, hands moving up to push the screen door away before you could collide with it. Feet bare and attuned with the feeling of dirt beneath them, you ran down the porch’s steps and out to the open field without any plight watching the winged creature soar through the sky. 

You couldn’t believe it. 

“No bloody way,” you whispered before you were filled with a sense of great relief. 

You looked up into the sky and saw the grey hippogriff still there, circling the sky above you and diving a few times to catch momentum. You threw your arms up and smiled as a wild and carefree emotion tugged at the corners of your lips; your face hurt from how much you were smiling.  

“Buckbeak!” 

He looked at you after having done another flip and swooped down with all the grace and elegance a hippogriff had. The strength of his flapping wings made your hair whip and twist around you causing it to lash your face. You pushed your hair back and watched as he landed a few feet ahead of you, a few of his feathers were displaced in some parts. 

Buckbeak looked at you before he preened his feathers. You waited until he was done before curtsying, he bowed back and you made your way over to smooth out a few feathers he hadn’t quite put back into place. 

“Let’s go build you a nest, yeah?” 

|| ⬫ ⬨ ⬫ ☾ ⬫ ⬨ ⬫ || 

It was dark by the time you finished arranging a new nest for Buckbeak. 

From what you recalled in your Care of Magical Creatures class, as well as a few of Hagrid’s ramblings, was that hippogriffs needed nests. And seeing as there were no known nor abandoned nests in the vicinity, you assured Buckbeak you’d help him build one. 

The two of you wandered about looking for the perfect place to start building. It took a few possible sites before finding what he deemed the ‘perfect place.’ That place being a large aperture you found inside a cliffside. It was easily accessible by foot which made it more manageable for you to clean out debris and move in sticks, twigs, and whatever else Buckbeak wanted. To no one's surprise, he had been quite picky about what kind of materials he wanted to use to build it, being a hippogriff and all. Thankfully, however, you were able to find everything you needed along the coast or in the forest. 

When he fashioned that last stick, he circled his nest a few times, sniffed it, then plopped himself in the center of it. When he did not move, you took it as a good sign and kneeled in front of him. 

“All good by your standards, Buck?” 

He rubbed his beak against your face in a display of gratitude and you returned the gesture before saying your goodbyes and making your way back up the winding trail. Rather than head home, you found yourself walking toward the edge of the woods. It had been a while since you last saw your mum and a visit was long overdue. 

She was buried in a small clearing someways inside the wooded area beside the cottage. Your father showed you her burial spot once you were old enough to understand what had happened and why she was so far out of sight. It had been her birthday that day and you were so happy to see her that patches of flowers sprouted all around her headstone. Your father was so touched by the accidental show of magic that he left them be, pruning them every time they needed to and keeping them alive and well when he could. 

You found yourself talking to her anytime anything of significance happened: high marks, school drama, advice seeking (this usually relied on your own reflection), or what–ifs. You tried not to cling to the past, which in all honesty felt like there wasn’t much to hold on to, save from the excerpts she had written in her journals. On your way there, you conjured a small bunch of red and orange tropical milkweeds and baby’s breath. You weren’t sure if they were her favorite but she had mentioned them a few times in a certain journal detailing her adventures in the North American country of Mexico. She had drawn a sketch and magicked the plant to pop out of the book when you’d get to that specific part; they looked pretty regardless so she’d probably appreciate them. 

You hummed to yourself, the bouquet swinging carefully by your side. You were close, you could tell, and you were ready to walk out of the foliage when a voice made you stop. 

Someone was already there. 

You stayed stock–still, like a predator listening for its prey, waiting for your nose to recognize the smell. It was familiar but dampened… you knew why you recognized it, you had smelled it just earlier in the day. Knowing the person wasn’t a threat, you walked a little closer until they were in your line of sight. His neatly trimmed black hair and pale skin were unmistakable now that you could see him. 

Sirius sat in front of your mother’s grave, talking to her headstone. 

The sight itself was beautifully tragic, like stumbling upon an interaction you knew was meant to stay between two people. You were most definitely intruding but the curiosity was driving you insane; surely this meant Sirius knew your mum. 

He sat cross–legged, his shoulders hunched and hands locked at his fingers. Resting in front of her grave sat a bouquet of statice and purple hyacinths. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you earlier. It seems Azkaban doesn’t allow visits to dear old friends,” he said with an awkward chuckle. “I brought you statices, I remembered how they were your favorite… they also mean remembrance in that flowery language you loved so much, right?” 

He remained quiet for a moment before sighing. 

“I’m sorry that I broke our promise. I didn’t take care of them as you asked — I didn’t keep them safe,” he said through strained sobs. “They managed to do so all by themselves, thankfully. People keep misplacing their trust in me, I’m not reliable.” He tugged at his fingers in frustration. “I’m reckless and brash and all those things my mother always told me… she was right.” 

“Was your mum really that mean?” 

He jumped to his feet and shouted in the process. You were lucky he didn’t have his wand on hand, that probably could’ve gone terribly wrong. 

“Oh, it’s you,” he sighed in relief, the tension in his shoulders melting. “What are you doing out so late?” 

“I can ask you the same thing…” you said, raising a brow in the process. “I was helping Buckbeak make a new nest for himself.” 

Sirius dragged a hand down his tired face. 

“Right, I forgot I told him I would help him with that,” he muttered to himself. “I got preoccupied with something — er, someone actually.” 

“Someone?” Your eyes flitted between Sirius and your mother’s grave. “You were talking with my mother… did you know her?” 

“Of course. She was a part of Remus’ life so naturally she was in mine,” he hummed thoughtfully, picking at his nails. “We weren’t the best of mates, but I’d like to say we knew each other pretty well or as well as a war allowed people to be.” 

Your stomach prickled with concern. The last Sirius had known of the world was war–torn, tiring, and deeply mistrusting. Death, injuries, uneasiness, and paranoia… that was no way to live at that age. His eyes flitted to the forgotten bunch of flowers in your hand. 

“Anyway, you came over here to talk to her, right?” he asked as he began to get up. “I’ll get out of your hair, don’t worry about me –” 

“Actually,” you said hurriedly. Sirius immediately stopped his movements and so did you as your own voice surprised you. “I was wondering if you’d like to maybe stay with me…?” 

“Stay?” he repeated, dumbfounded. 

“Yeah. I usually come to her for advice on something but that usually consists of me sitting here for hours until I come up with my own advice,” you said truthfully. “And no offense to my mum but she’s dead and six feet under the ground.” 

Sirius blinked for a quiet moment, chuckling once he recognized your language; it wasn’t one of hurt or grieving. You had made your peace. 

“Sounds a bit harsh to say doesn’t it?” 

You shrugged nonchalantly. “She’s been gone a long time.” 

“It has been a long time hasn’t it?” 

The two of you say nothing for a moment, silence simmering quietly with the noise of rustling leaves in the summer breeze and the crashing waves against the cliffside. There were so many things you wanted to ask Sirius: he was one of your father’s oldest friends, knew your mother, and knew you when you were barely aware of your surroundings. But all the things you wanted to ask him didn’t matter right now. 

“You sure you want my advice?” he asked incredulously, pointing at himself as a statement. “I don’t think anything I say can be helpful. If there was anyone people went to ask for advice, it certainly wasn’t me – they usually went to Remus.” 

His words from earlier still bothered you. His tired words, you remembered, had been harsh and belittling. A mother shouldn’t instill that kind of rhetoric in their child, no matter their age. How long had he been repeating those sentiments in his head? Since she had told him for the very first time? Those twelve years he had been in Azkaban? Longer perhaps? 

“I don’t know your mother, but she’s wrong you know.” You looked down at the ground, unsure if you wanted to look him in the eye. When no response came, you continued. “I heard you earlier when you said that your mum was right. She’s not, by the way. No one deserves to hear those kinds of words – especially if it came from their parents.” 

You only ever had one parent and the two of you knew he wasn’t perfect, but he was sure as all hell doing his best. That, for you, was perfect enough – but to hear that not only did Sirius have both of his parents but that his own mother disparaged him enough to second guess himself… that’s never okay. Far from it. 

A heavy weight fell over your head, dipping it a bit and taking you by surprise. You looked up but were met with some messy strands covering your view. 

“You heard that did you?” he asked quietly without anger or hostility. 

“I didn’t mean to,” you apologized, fixing your hair to see Sirius. “I know it’s not my place to tell you this. I didn’t know you then, you could have been a brat for all I know, but trust me when I say that no one deserves to hear their parents tell them that.” 

Sirius’ eyes darted across your face. “Merlin, where were you when I was your age?” 

You didn’t want to think about how young he was so you opted for diverting the heaviness with humor. 

“Well, half of me was in my dad’s bollock–” 

Sirius snorted before breaking into obnoxious cackling, his entire body shaking with laughter. You couldn’t help but laugh with him too. That was until you remembered why you were here in the first place. He took a seat where had once sat and you settled in front of him, legs crossed and tucked beneath the other. 

“Where to begin…” you tested cautiously. Sirius responded with a barely noticeable nod, encouraging you to continue. “I’m just worried, you know?” You rubbed your face, upset at your lack of surety. “I’ve known my friends and classmates for years and I’m afraid that it will all change because I’m a werewolf.” 

The two of you are quiet for a few moments. 

“But change can be good right?” he said tentatively. You peered from in between your fingers. Sirius smiled. “I mean, take your father and our old friend group for example, we all accepted your dad as he was and even became animagi for him so that his full moons could be a little more manageable.” 

You perked up at the new bit of information. “You… became animagi for him? Really?” 

“Of course!” 

You leaned forward even though there was no one there who could overhear. “What’s your animagi form?” 

Sirius’ eyebrows nearly shot through his hairline as he jumped back in mock offense. 

“You mean you don’t remember? You loved it when I would transform into a dog!” 

“I did?” you spluttered for a second. “Wait, you can transform into a dog?” 

“Well, you were only a baby back then. I suppose you wouldn’t remember much.” He smiled sadly, guilt straining his lips. “Every time I turned into a dog, you would burst into a fit of giggles and shine like – like – oh, what did your mum call them? Fire – no, light… lightning bugs!” 

He snapped his fingers excitedly, grateful for being able to remember. 

“On one of her trips to the States, she said she witnessed these little flying creatures known by muggles as lightning bugs that glowed so curiously. She always told us of her travels whenever she came back from them. We were so fascinated by the creatures that she showed us what they looked like with some simple charms and transfiguration.” 

You watched with immense curiosity. 

“You loved chasing them around.” He froze for a moment, memory striking him once more. It didn’t take long for you to recognize that look in his eyes any time he remembered something. “Actually, that was my nickname for you.” 

“What was?” 

“Bug.” He smiled. 

“Bug?” 

“Yeah. You were so tiny, y’know? Like a bug.” 

You playfully pushed him away from you, merely making him rock as he laughed. 

“Can I –?” you wanted to ask, unsure if the question was appropriate. Although you knew the differences between animagi and werewolves, you had never met someone who could willingly turn into an animal. Well, besides Tonks’ metamorphmagus abilities, you were sure even she couldn’t completely transform into one. “Is it rude to ask?” 

“Not at all,” he said with an exuberant grin. 

In the blink of an eye, Sirius was no longer there and instead replaced by a large, well–groomed, black dog. 

A sharp inhale stunted you briefly. “That’s brilliant!” 

The dog barked playfully as he frolicked around you. He bumped his nose against your arm and jumped back, his front legs outstretched and his hind pointed up to the sky where his tail wagged excitedly. You laughed and raised a hand in his direction, he made his way toward it and you scratched at the spot between his ears. It didn’t take long before the two of you started roughhousing. 

When the energy settled, the two of you sat back down in front of her grave. Sirius, still in his dog form, laid his head softly against your lap as your fingers carted through the soft dark fur. 

“I feel like some memories are resurfacing,” you said absentmindedly. Sirius whined in response. 

A light blue orb floated out of the woods from the cottage’s direction and settled in front of the two of you. Your father’s voice sounded: 

“It’s dark. Come back inside you two.” 

Sirius returned to his normal, human state and couldn’t help but snort. “He does know we’re the same age, right?” 

You shrugged. “It comes with fatherhood I suppose.” 

“Yeah, yeah. We best not keep him waiting then.” Sirius stood up and smirked. “Last one there is a minging old dog.” 

Before you could even register it, the black dog dashed into the woods. You shouted, chasing after him as the slightly cool summer night air rushed across your skin. 

“Hey! Not fair!” 

|| ⬫ ⬨ ⬫ ☾ ⬫ ⬨ ⬫ ||

A letter from the twins arrived early Saturday morning. 

They said they were going to come over for supper accompanied by a Weasley staple casserole, which thankfully eased some of your apprehension. Mrs. Weasley’s casseroles were to die for, perhaps this was a good tell of how tonight’s visit would go. You made your way inside and showed your father the letter. 

“They’re coming over tonight.” 

“Yes, Mr. Weasley made a short floo just before Spidge came with the letter.” 

“Mrs. Weasley is bringing a casserole.” 

“Casserole?” Remus was heartened at the mention of food. “Suppose I should make some Yorkshire pudding and glazed carrots to go with it. How’s that sound?” 

“Sounds good. And for dessert?” 

“Dessert?” he chuckled. 

“Yeah,” you said as if it were obvious. “Dessert is a must.” 

“Sounds like I’ll need some help,” he said as he eyed the quiet man staring out the window. “Sirius, would you like to help me make the dessert?” 

Sirius snapped out of his torpor and turned at the mention of his name. 

“Dessert? I know I was in Azkaban for twelve years, but isn’t it a little too early for dessert? Or have the times changed?” 

“No, but the times should have.” You shook your head as if saddened by the idea. “Dessert should be an all-day sort of thing.” 

“Now wait a minute –” 

“Doesn’t sound too terrible. You’ve got a wonderful head on your shoulders, Miny Moony.” 

You playfully curtsied at the compliment. “Why thank you, Señor Padfoot.” 

Your dad rolled his eyes with a soft chuckle. “I bought some strawberries when I went into town the other day,” he said as he took a few things out of the fridge. “What should I make?” 

“Strawberries?” you asked excitedly. “Can we make Eton Mess?” 

Sirius furrowed his brows. “Who’s Eton Mess?” 

“You don’t know what Eton Mess is?” Your jaw nearly dropped but caught yourself. “It’s a popular summer dessert.” 

“Oh, is it muggle?” He asked and you nodded. He then turned to Remus. “You know how to bake?” 

“Well, Eton Mess isn’t exactly a bakeable good, but I’ve had to learn in order to keep this munchkin’s sweet tooth satiated.” Remus patted your head, making your hair get all messy. 

“Although you’ve burned your fair share of pastries,” you teased. “Don’t forget we still have to bake the merengue.” 

“Right, and I only burnt them when I was first learning how to,” he said with a blush. “The instructions weren’t very clear.” 

Sirius chuckled softly. “You never really were good at following instructions. It’s why you were rubbish at Potions.” 

You knew he wasn’t all that great, but to be rubbish? 

“Was he really that bad?” you asked curiously. 

“Oh, yeah,” Sirius said with an exaggerated gesture. “He was a right genius he was. Top marks on all but Potions.” 

Your father dragged his hands down his face in an exasperated motion. “Alright, alright. Enough about my rubbish Potions marks. Let's get to fixing the house about, we’re expecting company.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes and vacated the kitchen. You knew a few housekeeping spells but decided against using them to occupy your thoughts. The more you cleaned, the less time you’d have to think about the Weasleys coming over and your inevitable talk with the twins. So you grabbed a dustpan and a regular old broom and began sweeping the floors. 

There was no need to clean the kitchen, but you snuck in under the guise of doing so to steal a few strawberries… only to get shooed out by your dad. Mrs. Kernup always had the best strawberries; large, juicy, and just the right amount of sweetness. You were surprised she wasn’t secretly a witch who was somehow enchanting her fields to yield the perfect crops. 

The Yorkshire puddings had just come out of the oven a few minutes shy of five in the evening and were placed under a stasis charm when your father raised his head, almost as if sniffing the air. A soft ringing resonated in the back of your own head similar to that of a muggle’s doorbell. Someone must have triggered the wards. 

“They’re here,” he said simply. “Let’s go greet them.” 

You nodded, wringing your fingers to help ease the growing nerves. Remus noticed and placed a careful hand on your shoulder. 

“Don’t worry too much. If they have anything mean to say to you about your lycanthropy we can hex their knickers to flatulate every time they take a seat.” 

“Or we can put itching powder in them,” Sirius said with a gleeful glint in his eyes. “It was all the craze when we were at school.” 

You snorted at the thought, it was child’s humor but you thanked them for the idea nonetheless. 

“It’s not that I’m worried that they’ll say something mean per se,” you tried to explain as you slipped on a pair of trainers to follow your father out the door. Sirius trailed close behind. “I guess I’m just worried for the sake of it. Having people learn hidden things about you is always nerve–wracking.” 

“Yes, yes. That much is true,” your dad said with a very knowing look. In all honesty, he was the best person to talk to about these sorts of things. He had gone through something similar when his own friends learned about his condition. “But them knowing will be for the better. You wouldn’t have to hide from them anymore.” 

Sirius nodded. “And don’t think the worst just yet.” 

You remembered the words Sirius had told you the other night. 

“Besides, I’m sure they won’t think differently of you,” Remus said as he placed a hand on your shoulder. 

“Why’s that?” 

Remus looked up and you followed his gaze. Four distant figures approached; two of them waved excitedly. You waved back. 

“They’ve got right parents.” 

You look up at him then return your attention to the family of redheads with a smile on your face. 

“Fred! George!” 

The two shouted your name and ran past their parents to make their way over to you. Fred reached you first and scooped you up in a tight hug. Orange zest and cinnamon pummelled your senses. 

“You’re just as bright as ever.” 

You chuckled. “And you’re just as tall as ever.” 

“Alright, quit hogging her,” said George as he pushed Fred away. “It’s my turn. Hello there!” 

“Hi,” you said shyly as he let you go. 

You watched as Mr. Weasley extended a hand to greet your dad. 

“Remus, it’s good to see you’re doing well,” he said good–naturedly. 

“As well as anyone can be.” He shook his hand in return, then addressed Mrs. Weasley by lowering his head to kiss her cheek in a warm hello. 

Mrs. Weasley immediately handed the casserole to her husband and pulled Remus into a hug. 

When she got to greet Sirius she hesitated for a second before embracing him all the same. Sirius stood still, unsure of what to do before he tentatively wrapped his arms around her. Mrs. Weasley pulled away carefully and studied him for a moment. Mother’s intuition you supposed. 

“Oh, look at you. You’re all sticks and bones,” she tutted softly. “We’ve got to fix that. Luckily, I brought more than enough for a good second helping. How’s that sound?” 

He opened his mouth as if to say something but quickly shut it and smiled. “Sounds lovely.” 

“Alright.” She clapped her hands cheerfully. “Well, the pie got cold on our way here.” 

“The oven should still be warm. We can pop it in for a few.” 

The adult’s chatter continued and you could feel the anxious feeling coming back, knotting and rolling inside your stomach. It wasn’t as bad as before now that they were there smiling and acting all the same as if nothing had happened. 

But the need to talk was still eminent and therefore so were your worries. You tugged at your father’s robes. 

“We’re going to go to the shore. I want to show them Buckbeak’s new nest that I helped build.” 

Which was true, you did want to show them his new place. It just didn’t feel right telling the adults why you wanted to be alone with them even if they knew; the Weasleys were there for a reason after all. 

Remus smiled softly. “I’ll call you when everything’s ready.” 

“Don’t stay out too long,” Sirius said teasingly, his smile growing broader. “There might not be enough Eton Mess if you three take too long!” 

As the adults made their way to the house, you tugged the twins’ sleeves, nudging them to follow, as you made your way down to the coast. 

“Eton Mess?” asked Fred as the three of you walked through the winding trail. 

“It’s a dessert,” you explained simply. “It’s fruity, sweet, and incredibly delicious.” 

George walked in exaggerated steps, kicking pebbles here and there. “Sounds appetizing, but who calls a dessert a mess?” 

“Well, it kind of looks like a mess, but I promise you it won’t taste like one.” 

“Hmm, consider my interests piqued.” 

The wind was still a bit warm but was cooling with every few minutes now that the sun was settling closer to the horizon. The air smelled of salt and seafoam, the particles were already beginning to settle into your hair, stiffening it just slightly. 

After the three of you found Buckbeak’s nest and gave him some attention, you all walked back to the small beach and settled on a fallen tree trunk. It was quiet for a bit, no one knowing how to approach the subject. Soon the quiet ceased. 

“How have you been?” George asked tentatively. 

“I’ve been okay,” you said, which wasn’t exactly true but wasn’t really a lie either. “Just stressed. Worried.” 

“You can talk to us, you know,” assured Fred. He scooted a little closer. “That’s why we’re here.” 

You reached out and grabbed his hand, fiddling with it casually while collecting your thoughts. He watched you do so with a smile and warmth bloomed in your chest when your hand slipped inside his, his fingers carefully flexing around yours. George leaned against you, his weight a very welcomed distraction. A smile cracked through. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” 

“It’s not like I was hiding it from just the two of you. No one knew except for Dumbledore and the professors,” you said with a sigh. “But I was afraid. Afraid I would lose the two of you.” 

“You shouldn’t have been,” said Fred, his voice had trailed off near the end. “You weren’t going to.” 

“And how was I supposed to know?” Your voice felt broken as a sob threatened to break through. “How was I supposed to know that you wouldn’t just up and forget about me? Feel disgusted by me? Did you see how students reacted when they learned about me?” 

You hadn’t meant to, but your feet grew a mind of their own at the moment and made you stand up, your hand slipping out of Fred’s as you started pacing. You continued nonetheless with your ramble. 

“They made me feel like a freak attraction – like some kind of fucking disease!” 

One of the twins said your name but you shook your head. 

“And don’t say they didn’t because I heard them. So I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you that I’m a werewolf — that I’m some kind of monster people are afraid of because that’s what happens when people know.” You stopped pacing and looked at the two of them. “That’s what happens. People are cruel sometimes, and so am I. I was so ready to leave the second word got out, I blocked you guys out and didn’t even try to listen… I’m sorry.”

Fred was the first to say something and stood up as well. “It was quite cruel of you, you know. You almost left without saying goodbye.” You looked up to meet his eyes, but you couldn’t quite do it. You looked behind him and saw George nod in agreement with his brother. “But you don’t have to apologize.” 

“I know, I know —” 

Fred shushed you. “Can I say something?” 

You nodded. 

“We were terrified when Harry ran into the Great Hall saying that you and Professor Lupin were leaving. Solaris then came up to the Gryffindor table and told us that you had left letters.” He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I was furious when we ran down the corridors to catch you before you could depart. I was angry with you, with everyone, but I was most angry with myself because I kept wondering what I had done for you to think I could ever hate you enough to make you leave.” 

George had also made his way to where the two of you stood. He patted his twin’s shoulder as he got closer. “We could never think of you as a monster. We’ve been friends since the train ride to Hogwarts and have been inseparable since. Who hurt you enough to think we would abandon you the moment we found out what you are?” 

George’s voice was so incredibly soft and caring that you almost broke then and there. There was no one specifically to have treated you in such a way, but you had seen how cruel and unforgiving the world was to your father. He couldn’t keep a stable job for more than a few months for fear that they would find out about his lycanthropy. He was constantly trying his best to shield you from the cruelties of the world, but even then his back wasn’t big enough to shield you from everything the world had to throw at you. And so you had caught glimpses. 

“The world is a cruel place,” you whispered. 

It was quiet for a second, no one said anything. Not until you heard a whisper so low you thought you were hearing things. 

“But the world is also beautiful.” 

You looked up and saw the twins both looking at you with what you could tell was genuine care. A smile adorned their freckled faces causing their cheeks to dimple. You weren’t quite sure who had said it, but you were certain it was George. 

“It sure is,” said Fred, his eyes never leaving yours. 

You felt your face grow warm, making you the first to look away. You were a bit tired of how easily the twins made you feel, but then again you enjoyed it. It gave you another reason to believe why you were different from the supposed ghastly werewolves everyone was so afraid of. You could feel it flutter in your chest and stomach. 

Merlin, how you loved this feeling. 

You sighed tiredly and chuckled. There was nothing particularly funny but after talking with them, the stress melted off your shoulders. Fred and George gave each other quizzical looks before you motioned for the three of you to take a seat again on the lone trunk. 

“You know, I’m quite curious how you lot didn’t figure it out sooner than this.” 

“What can we tell you, love?” Fred mused as he knocked on his own head. “Our brains don’t function much when you’re around —” Fred tried to stop himself, but it was too late. George gave him a shut the fuck up look, and you turned to look at Fred with a funny face. Just as quickly, Fred saved himself. “Your thickheadedness blocks our own amazing ability to think. Sorry to tell you that.” 

You rolled your eyes and caught a glimpse of George dragging a hand down his face. He seemed to prepare his thoughts inside his head to keep himself from blabbering like Fred had seconds prior. 

“To be honest with you, we thought you were having Ginny problems —” George hissed quietly as he realized his slip–up. Just like his brother, he seemed to have not thought it through thoroughly enough. He looked up at you and caught the same look of confusion you had given Fred. “I mean girl problems — your menstrual cycle. I thought you had a severe case of period cramps and whatnot. That would’ve excused your absences and tardiness at certain times of the month. That was easier to piece together rather than the idea of you being a werewolf honestly.” 

You couldn’t hold in your laughter this time and even surprised yourself with a few snorts as you tried to take in breaths of air. You doubled over in laughter and the boys couldn’t control the embarrassed looks they shared, their faces practically glowing with heat. Once your laughter had settled down you reached for their hair and ruffled it till it looked as if their hair hadn’t been combed for days. They gave shrill screams of annoyance until they managed to do the same to you. 

It was nice… much more than nice, but you couldn’t find a better word for it at the moment. The two of them were by your side and you couldn’t be happier. You somehow hadn’t managed to lose them after having learned about your secret and that was all you could’ve wished for. The three of you spent another twenty minutes or so there. Mostly just you answering their questions about lycanthropy and trying your best not to roll your eyes out of existence at their ridiculous beliefs of werewolves. 

A light blue orb appeared, your father’s voice: “Supper’s ready now.” 

Then Sirius cut in: “And I’m eating all the dessert.” 

You snorted and faced the twins once the orb dissipated into the air. 

“C’mon, I’ll race you, slowpokes.”