No one greets me when I reenter the house. I close the door quietly and sneak to my room – this new record player will work best coupled with the element of surprise. I've nearly made it to my room when, alas, I'm caught red handed.

"Yelling back only makes it worse, you know."

Regulus, apparently having heard my reentrance, has popped his head out his door. I turn, shrugging my new merchandise to my chest, and reply, "I don't think bottling it in will make it any better, though."

"For Christ's sake Sirius, you're just a year short of seventeen," he steps forwards. The door creaks loudly while falling into the room. "Would it kill you to just roll over for another couple months?"

"I'm not like you Regulus. Sometimes I wish I was – beliefs and all," my tone harshens, and Regulus shifts uncomfortably back. "but, all things considered, I like having my own opinions and stuff."

"You think I don't have those, too?"

"Of course I do," I nod, "I think you keep those to yourself though, so no one has anything to hang over your head."

He crosses his arms, and I can feel the air tense when he says, "And what if my own opinions are worse than Mum and Dad's?"

"They very well could be. But," I shrug, ignoring the atmosphere, "I've known you all your life. You may be a dick, but there's a part of you that's a decent person, too. However small it may be."

He laughs dryly. "And you've been an idiot since I can remember, you know."

"Have not," I sniff. Then I say, more quietly, "We haven't talked like this in ages, you know."

"Not since you were sorted into Gryffindor."

"Exactly," I snap my fingers, grinning. That we may never speak like this again hangs ominously, a fact we both think but we dare not utter.

"I don't think Mum will actually send you to Durmstrang," he maintains careful eye contact while speaking, "keep your head down. Get to James' as soon as you can. I doubt she wants to explain your sudden disappearance to her Pureblood friends."

"She loves her gossip, but can't stand being the center of it," I mutter.

"She may be a hypocrite, but she's not all bad."

"Yeah, well you're nearly a Death Eater yourself."

Instantly, I regret my words. His jaw clamps shut, shadow falling over his previously animated face. His expression barely moves when he says, "I'm going to pretend like this conversation never happened, and I sure as hell don't want to know what's in that bag. I suggest you take my advice. But I doubt that'll ever happen."

"Regulus – "

"Goodnight, Sirius," his face softens for a second before he steps back in his room. The door creak is shorter and sharp when he slams it shut.

I'm too tired to set up the record player that night, but I get right to it the next day. The instruction manual proves entirely useless, and even after I've managed to assemble the thing I can't make it work. Finally, I find the outlet the manual's talking about – and, I must say, I'm baffled as to how it got in our house– and after plugging it in it doesn't take me much longer to get the record playing. I turn the volume up, but no one comes storming up the steps. I guess my mum figures if she ignores my antics, they'll go away.

Unfortunately for her, the music's actually good. Nora's circled tracks on the back of the record for me, which I assume to be her favorites; I listen through all the songs, and excluding a track or two her recommendations are spot on. The album ends, and I flip it to start again. By the second time it's finished it's no longer interesting enough to capture my singular attention, but I restart the album for background noise while I do other things.

Eventually, I decide to buy another record. I can't keep listening to the same thing over and over again, after all. As a bonus, the day's nearly over. I may be able to catch Nora at the end of her shift – which'd buy me a few hours out of the house.

I don't announce my departure while leaving. No one asks where I'm going, or chases me out the door, so I figure I'm allowed to go out. Finding my way back to the music store is tough, but I've got plenty of time to spare. The city grows darker and darker while I'm ambling around. When I reach the store only the last remnants of sunlight linger; streetlamps are starting to flick on, and the work crowd is thinning.

The bell jingles again when I walk in. The store's empty now, save Nora and another worker.

"Back already?" she says, smirking. She looks somewhat surprised to see me, but not as shocked as I'd thought she'd be.

"I had nothing better to do," I excuse myself with a grin. "It's boring as hell at my house."

"Poor baby," she mock pouts.

"I'll introduce you to my mum if you'd like. I'm sure she'd have a thing or two to say about you."

"I'll pass, thanks," she grimaces. "So, you here to shop, or just for the company?"

"A bit of both," I amble back to the records section I previously browsed. "The Led Zeppelin shit definitely served its purpose."

"Which was?"

"Annoying my parents."

"Ah. We know our shit, us Muggles."

I cast a nervous glance at her coworker.

She follows my gaze and smirks. "What? You think he's gonna tell on us?"

"You never know…"

"Not if you've never been a Muggle, you don't," she shakes her head, "as for the rest of us, well, the wizard jargon's completely rubbish."

"I'll trust your judgment on this on, seeing as it hasn't failed me yet. Which leads me to a transition point," I inhale in anticipation of the impending shit storm, "I actually kind of liked the music."

She quirks an eyebrow. "Kind of?"

I laugh, shaking my head. "Alright, it was great. You got any other recommendations?"

"Well if you liked Zeppelin, I guess I can trust you with some Hendrix."

She rummages through the racks, though searching takes less time than it did yesterday. The record seemingly attracts her hand; her fingers skim maybe three other albums before darting towards this one. She holds it towards me, almost religiously.

I take it from her and look it over. "Has anyone ever spelled Jimi like that?"

"I mean, apparently Jimi Hendrix did. He also overdosed on drugs though, so I wouldn't trust everything he's come up with. But his music's phenomenal."

"Overdosed?" I glance up, baffled.

Her eyes go hugely round. "Oh Christ. You really are clueless, aren't you?"

"What?"

Rather than answer my question, Nora takes my record to the register. While she's ringing me up, I ask, "So, you want to hang out after this?"

"Actually, I've already got plans."

"Ouch," I wince. "Whatever then."

She looks up at me, smirking again, "I'm kidding. Didn't I say if I had plans, anyways, you could tag along?"

"No, no, I don't want to intrude," I pretend to be hurt, waving my hands, "I'll make sure to schedule an appointment next time."

"For Christ's sake, Sirius, I'm just hanging out with my foster siblings. Just give me another ten minutes, I've got to close up the shop."

I wait around, hanging off the countertop, while Nora and her coworker bustle around the shop. The lights go off, and she ushers me out the back door. She locks it shut and tosses the keys to the other guy before turning back to me.

"So, tell me, how many Muggles have you met before?"