Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I make no claims to ownership.
May second was a sunlit day with a cool breeze blowing over the grounds and nary a cloud in the sky. Many families flocked to the school for the annual memorial in honor of those who had fallen both during the war and at the Final Battle. Sirius, who had no overt connection to the war, wandered around looking for entertainment and trying to avoid the grieving and somber families. Remembering that Dylan had said he would studying in the library, Sirius had just begun to head there when he ran into a boy too young to be a Hogwarts student.
"I'm Hugo Weasley," the boy announced. "Can I look at your brain?"
Sirius gave a slow blink. "Eh?"
"Well, I never had anything to measure brainwaves, but now that we're at Hogwarts I can use magic and I just found a spell in a nursing book, and I've always wondered if the 'Black Madness' is real, so I was hoping you'd let me watch you sleep?"
Hugo said all of this very fast and almost in one breath, so it took Sirius a moment to decipher his words. He came to the conclusion that James' cousin was the mad one.
"Um, no," Sirius said, backing away. "Sorry. Um…"
"It won't hurt!" Hugo promised, waving his wand for emphasis. Sparks shot out of the end, which did not reassure Sirius at all.
"You're not old enough to have a wand," Sirius said, although his voice lifted in a questioning tone at the end.
"Oh, this is my dad's wand. I switched it for a fake one," Hugo confided.
"Okay… Uh, I think my grandmother is looking for me."
Judging himself to be a safe distance away, Sirius turned and walked in the opposite direction from the library. His grandmother was visiting the castle, and although she hadn't mentioned any obligation for Carina and Sirius to meet her, he decided he was bored enough to seek her out. He found her having commandeered an empty classroom.
"Did you steal potions ingredients?" he asked curiously.
Claire Black lifted her glasses, which had fogged up from the fumes, and squinted toward him. "Sirius, dear? Is that you?"
"Yes, Grandma." He closed the door behind him and padded toward her. "What are you making?"
She glanced at the bubbling cauldron. "A Calming Drought for Mr. Potter. You know how he gets nervous before speeches."
Sirius had not been aware of that. James was always confident anytime he spoke to an audience, and Sirius had thought Harry would be the same.
"Here, let me do that," Sirius said, taking the stirring rod from her. His grandmother might have been on the younger side by wizarding standards, being only seventy-two, but she had been weak ever since giving birth to his father. Sometimes Sirius heard his father and his aunt Elara murmuring to each other about how long Claire had left to live.
"You're a good boy," she praised, moving out of the way for him.
His lips twitched. "I'm a Black," he pointed out.
"And you're rewriting the name," said Claire. "I was very worried, when you said you wanted to be in Slytherin, but now I'm proud of you. You've done well, Sirius."
He ducked his head, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. Claire smiled and wrapped an arm around him, leaning in to give some quiet advice on how to best make the potion.
Halfway through the service, Teddy's hand found Victoire's own. She squeezed his hand gently and gave him a soft smile that he didn't notice. Victoire wasn't hurt by it, though. This was a trying day for him, especially after losing his grandmother. All he had left was Harry's family, and although he considered Harry and Ginny his parents, it was very different to say "Harry" and "Aunt Ginny" than "Dad" and "Mum".
"Come on, let's go to the kitchens," she whispered into his ear.
At last Teddy turned to look at her. He searched her eyes for something, and must have found it, for he gave a slow nod and rose to follow her out of the large tent.
The castle was almost empty, with most people attending the memorial, and they reached the kitchens unimpeded. Victoire pretended not to see him quietly asking one of the house-elves to bake her a birthday cake. She fingered the necklace he had just given her, making him smile when he noticed the movement.
In record time, a house-elf was setting a small cake in front of them. It was done so fast that Victoire thought the elves must have used magic, but when she took a bite, it was almost as good as the cakes Harry made.
"Thank you, Bluebell," Teddy told the elf. "This is very good."
The elf beamed and went off before Victoire could say the same.
They ate in companionable silence until Teddy commented, "I like that you actually eat-"
"If you finish that with 'unlike most girls,' I will skewer you with this fork," Victoire said idly.
He let out a whimper that she thought might have been real and slumped in his seat like a chastised child. Taking pity on him, Victoire let him have the last bite of her own cake. That is the mark of true love, she thought, watching Teddy savor the chocolate.
AN: I came up with the elf's name because I'm craving ice cream but I don't have any. It's a sad day.
AN2: Also I must warn you that I won't be updating for a few days, hence why I posted this so quickly.
