TW: Brief, indirect references to suicide in conversation.

Also a bit of a lemon squeeze towards the end.

"Where's your girlfriend?" I ask Charlie when I walk into the kitchen in the morning.

"She's not—I don't have a girlfriend." He's pouring himself coffee.

"Do you just go around telling all the women you sleep with that you'd like to meet their parents or…?"

He groans. "Look. I'm not interested in talking about it, alright? Just—nothing. It's nothing."

"Fine." I grab a mug and set about making tea.

"Viggo's sleeping still?"

I nod.

He lets out an extended breath. "We should get to Snape this morning."

I nod.

"And we'll do your lessons when Viggo takes his nap."

I pour milk into my tea. And nod.

"Are you not talking to me?"

"I don't like talking to misogynists more than necessary."

He blinks. "I'm not a misogynist."

"Keep telling yourself that." I walk back to the room and I'm pretty sure I can hear him cursing as I go.

x

I throw Snape's door open without knocking, stomping and taking a seat in the chair in front of his desk.

"Ms. Riverstone." I imagine he thinks he sounds cheery.

"Professor."

"I understand you've taken up residence with Mr. Weasley?"

"Yes."

He stares at me without any emotion. "For the duration of your stay here, you are here to play a part, you understand?"

"Yeah," I say, shrugging. "I'm a Squib. I get it."

"I'm talking about your relationship with Mr. Weasley."

"What?"

"You and Mr. Weasley will need to feign a… romantic relationship. Starting now."

I laugh because honestly, that should be, like, the second square on Mary Sue Bingo. "There is no way—"

Snape hisses, standing. "Ms. Riverstone. As we speak, it is more than likely seven Death Eaters are on their way to kill you." I snap my mouth shut. "This… case, as Black likes to call it—" Snape's sneer indicates his disapproval—"has gotten started on shaky ground. We need to get it back on its due course."

"How does me pretending to tolerate Charlie help with its due course?" I emphasize his accent like a professional.

"What, exactly, were you planning on telling the witches and wizards who ask about your recent… move?"

I shrug. "Say that we wanted to be housemates." Snape raises an eyebrow. "Because we… enjoy… each other's company so much?"

Snape just stares.

"Okay, maybe that we discovered that we're cousins and want to get to know each other more."

He continues to stare.

"Jesus." I bury my face in my hands. "How about, I'm a dom and he's my sub?"

Snape contorts his mouth and weirdly enough, it looks like he's wrestling back a smile. After he gets control over his face, he says, "You and Mr. Weasley, after a tumultuous start, have fallen madly in love with one another. You have decided, in the manner of foolish young lovers, to move in together within days of doing so. Am I perfectly clear?"

"Perfectly. But let it be known." I hold up a finger and say it loudly. "I am not falling in love. With anyone. Not even you, Snape."

He looks like he's tasted a lime. "How reassuring."

I make to stand, but he gestures for me to sit back down. "Yes?"

He clears his throat and looks almost… nervous? "Ms. Taren informed me, on the day you disappeared, that you were querying her about wizarding methods of self… slaughter."

Right. That's when I thought this whole ordeal might be like Inception, only I don't realize I'm dreaming, and wasn't there the part where Leonardo DiCaprio convinces his wife that they need to off themselves… is what sets them free? I'd asked Annette about how wizards get it done, deciding to forgo the idea immediately when I considered Viggo. No way in hell am I leaving him motherless. Even in a phantasmagoria such as this.

"When you went missing, we considered you'd sought that… resolution."

We stare at one another for a minute. "Well, I didn't," I say. "Ta-da."

"I simply thought, perhaps, I'd caused another…" he coughs. "Due to my unfortunate choice in words that evening. When you came to me for help. And I, ah. May. Have overreacted. Upon meeting you once more."

"Are you apologizing, Snape?"

He narrows his eyes, then nods.

"Well, I'll accept your apology on one condition."

"What condition?" He's flexing his jaw.

I smile. "You know what I'm going to say, right?"

x

Dear Annette,

The Professor will meet you this Friday at 7:00pm in the entrance of La Mesa, the new tapas place downtown. He has informed me he will dine with you for no more than two hours. He refused to state he'd "seal the deal," so you're on your own with that.

Enjoy,

Greta

x

Charlie's version of spell class isn't as nerve-wracking as Snape's, but the results are the same. After about the tenth nothing that happens when I wave my wand and chant whatever he tells me too, he sucks in a long breath through his teeth. "How is Snape sure you're a witch?"

I shake my head. "I knocked the shit out of him with my wand."

Charlie leans back, tossing his own wand on the table. "Hmm."

I cross my legs. "It was probably a fluke, though."

"No. It's in you. Finding it. Is what you must do."

"Thank you, Yoda. Oh, by the way, Snape wants us to pretend to… like each other"- I grimace- "so people aren't confused by our new and abrupt living arrangements."

"Yeah, I know. I got a note this morning about that."

"You know." He nods. "Why didn't you say anything, then? Why'd you make me hear it from Dracula himself?"

"Because," he says slowly, "I thought you might murder me if I told you we're to act like lovers."

I give a half-nod. "Fair point."

There's awkward silence for far too many seconds, so I stand.

"Wait," he says. I cross my arms. "Why'd you call me a misogynist this morning?" I furrow my brow. "I mean, my mum. She's a powerful and incredible lady and she taught all of us to respect women."

I sit. God, this is exhausting already. "How many women have you slept with in the last six months? No, no, rhetorical question. Just think about it. And now consider how many of them were aware of your interests."

"My interests."

"Your primary interest of a sexual… encounter."

"I'm not going to apologize for liking sex."

I shake my head. "Not what I'm asking, dude. I don't care if you fuck three different women a day. It's no one's business but yours. And theirs. But the question is, are you misleading women into thinking there's something more?"

His mouth forms a soundless oh.

I put a hand on my head. "How is this new information to you? How is this not common sense?" I'm standing again. "And once again, I'm doing emotional labor for you."

"I don't know what emotional-"

"Books, remember?"

"I mean, I have books. I've read one already."

"Which one?" Oh, this is going to be good.

"Uh. Shite. I've forgotten the exact title. But it's by bell hooks."

My mouth drops open. "How-"

"My brother's best friend is a muggleborn witch. And a bit of an academic. I asked her to recommend some muggle books, like you said. She got so bloody excited. You should see the five-foot scroll she mailed in return, along with the nine books she insists are necessary reading."

I snap my mouth shut and put my hands over my eyes, laughing. "I can't believe you're reading bell hooks."

"I quite like it. She's a smart lady." He actually looks like he means it.

I close my eyes for a couple seconds. "Look, I'm not great at explaining things. But emotional labor is when women manage the emotions and emotional relationships of men." I sit back down. "Like, to use your, ah, activities as an example. You should have the emotional intelligence to be upfront with the women you engage with. I'm sure you thought you were sparing their feelings at the time, when they said things like, oh, I'd love for you to meet my parents. But it's always better to be up front with that stuff."

"And now you're doing the labor of explaining it to me."

"Yeah. You got it. Though I feel less bitter about it now that I know you're making an effort."

He's lost in thought for a bit, then blinks slowly. "My mother arranges all of my father's dinners with his mum."

I nod.

"And she listens to him when he's got long bloody lists of complaints about his colleagues. But he completely tunes her out when she talks about chores that need to be completed or deciding on gifts for the grandchildren… and my sister's always explaining everything to my youngest brother with his relationships. Last time I was there, she even had a chart…"

I lean over and pat his arm. "This is promising." I stand for, like, the tenth time this conversation. "I'll get started on dinner." Before I make it in the kitchen, I turn and say, "Hey, when you're done with the books, tell me a favorite quote or excerpt or something. We could talk about it."

He nods and smiles. "Certainly."

x

"You know, Sirius is old."

I glance up at Charlie from brushing Viggo's hair as he nurses. I've got breakfast on the table next to me, apple cinnamon tea, life's not bad, and now this idiot decides to speak.

"How old is he?"

Charlie shrugs. "Forty-something."

"That's not old."

"No, not in general. But I mean, for dating. For you."

I roll my eyes. "Who said anything about dating?"

He hands me a slip of parchment. "Boot brought this in today. And before you get mad at me for reading it, it was opened and unaddressed, yeah?"

I narrow my eyes, unscrolling the message.

Songbird,

Heard you've been calling yourself a prisoner. How about a little night on the town? I'll pick you up at six. Annette said she'd baby-sit- something about owing you? You'll have to tell me all about it at dinner.

Sirius

I literally can't stop smiling like a fool. When I look at Charlie again, he's frowning. "I'm not sure you should go, Greta."

"What? Of course I'm going."

"No, I mean. Our pretense doesn't set it up for people to be seeing you with Sirius. Romantically."

"For fuck's sake. I'm not going to make out with him in the middle of Town Square. It's a friendly dinner. Maybe you don't ever have dinner with a woman without the promise of fucking, but trust me, lots of people manage it."

Charlie leaves the room without a word.

x

Sirius shows up at ten after. "Bad news, pet," he says to me. He gives me a once-over. "Holy hell."

I'd decided on a sweet turquoise sundress I found on our recent shopping spree, one that reached my knees but left a significant amount of exposed cleavage. I wasn't sure if it was fitting for our dinner, but judging from his reaction, it's, perhaps, more than fitting.

He sighs, leaning to kiss my forehead. "You look beautiful."

"What's the bad news?"

"Can't go out. Snivellus discovered our plans and has decided we can't be seen and risk your… betrothal with little Moose."

I groan and turn towards the kitchen. "Charlie! You told on us?"

"We're just trying to keep you safe," he says back, his voice terse.

I roll my eyes. Sirius is giving me a curious smile. "So now what?" I ask.

"Take away." He holds up a bad of something that smells amazing. "Ramen," he explains.

"Oh, god, thank you. Yes. Let's go in here. We'll have some privacy." Charlie's leaning on the kitchen opening. I give him a glare as I pull Sirius in my bedroom.

x

Sirius tranfigures the bed and a number of other objects until we have a cozy set-up of a whitetable-clothed, candlelit dinner.

I immediately pester him with questions. He tells me all about his Hogwarts adventures with his mates when he was a kid. He tells me about what it's like to be a wizard bounty hunter (being stalked by caramounts in the Banshee Desert! Having to wade through starlit muck in the Isle of Chess!). Finally, he looks up at me, a relaxed smile on his face.

"Tell me one of your stories."

"I told you," I say to him. "They're mostly boring. I'd much rather hear yours."

"Please, Greta." He grabs my hand. "Please." He makes a begging face.

I groan. "What do you want to hear?"

Sirius looks around, thinking. "Hmm. Tell me about that song your mum used to sing."

I laugh. "That's nothing. It's just a song."

"I'd like to hear about it."

"Well, she just used to sing it when I was in bed. A lullaby. The lyrics are about a little girl who's collecting apples, then dropping them. Makes no sense, really."

"Did your mum sing a lot?"

I nod. "Yeah, she was a folk healer. She'd heal people with her voice. That's what our little community believed, anyway. I mean, I know it sounds crazy-"

"It doesn't." His hand tightens on mine.

I pause, staring at his hand, then pull mine away. "You're just fishing for information for your case, aren't you?"

He raises his eyebrows. "We're having a conversation, Greta."

"Don't bullshit me, Sirius."

He sighs. "Right. I was just wondering if any sort of singing magic-"

"There's no magic, Sirius. She was a muggle. Trust me. All I said just now is the Mexican curandera shit that runs in my family. Not magic."

He looks puzzled. "Cun-"

"Curandera. It means a healer. A shaman. Whatever."

Sirius raises an eyebrow. "Alright, Songbird."

"Don't call me that." I stand. "This date is over."

"Greta," he says. "Hold on. Before you walk off, there's something I need to tell you."

His tone is rather somber. I sit, crossing my arms. "What?"

He puts a hand on his head, wringing his hair back, then letting it fall. "The American Aurors found the body of Daniel Ramirez this morning. Or, rather, what was left of it."

I bite my lips. "Shit."

"It's not your fault."

"Well, if I hadn't called him, he'd be alive, right? That's a pretty clear correlation to me."

He looks me right in the eyes for a few moments. "You're a good person."

"You don't know me."

"I know enough. I do my homework, remember. Bounty hunter." He taps his head. "Margareta. Lovely name. Thirty years old. Mexican descent. Fiona Yamira, mother. Father, unknown, except for the surname Riverstone. You taught yourself how to play the piano when you were only eleven. People you grew up with said when you sing, it made their hearts slip onto the outside. Or maybe your voice just went that deep, naturally."

I'm livid. But I'm also crying. "I'm muggleborn, Sirius. If I'm even a witch at all."

"Your mother is a muggle, yes. But as for your father-"

"He's a muggle, too. Trust me."

Sirius gives me a sad smile.

"What else do you know about me?"

"You were accepted into Juilliard. Top muggle music school, or so my references say. But you declined, even with that enormous scholarship they offered you. You got a culinary education, worked some in restaurants. Married. While you were pregnant, your husband died in mysterious circumstances-"

"He was murdered," I say angrily.

"That he was." Sirius sips his wine. "And you're here now, brought into the wizarding world virtually overnight. We're not even sure how. But you've only known about us from books, yeah?"

I wipe my eyes. "Snape told you I'm batshit, huh?"

"You're not mad."

I look at him. "I'm not sure I believe you're real. Regardless of whether you are or aren't, how is that not mad?" I stand and grab his hand, pulling him up close to me. "I would've never kissed you the other night if I thought you were real. Or done this." I grab his hand, slipping it into my dress, under the cup of a bra.

He closes his eyes. "Songbird…" Despite the reluctance in his voice, he proceeds to pinch my nipple.

I press myself up against him. "Why don't you help me forget about it? All about the myriad of ways my life sucks right now?"

He kneads at my breast and I moan into his ear. Instantly, his hands are at my hips, lifting me onto the dresser. "I can't take advantage of you like that. But…" he kisses at my neck and I arch myself closer to him. "I suppose I could let you take advantage of me. Just a bit. To help you, as you say."

"Take advantage of you? In that precarious state you're in?"

"Exactly," he chuckles. He runs his hands down my body, then up my thighs, under my dress. "Is this alright?"

"I need a little more than that."

His hand finds my underwear, shoving it to the side, running up and down.. oh fucking God. "That good?" he asks.

I can't respond. My head is thrown back against the mirror. I moan as he flicks me with his fingers. I shriek when he slips a finger inside me. And before I know it, I rock on him, screaming, my legs curling around his.

He kisses me soft when I stop. When he pulls back, he looks guilty. "Fuck. I probably shouldn't have done that."

"I won't tell anyone," I say, shaking my head. Breathless.

"It's not that," he sighs. "I- uh, fuck. I need to tell you something."

"What is it," I say, pulling my dress down to cover my legs.

He closes his eyes for a moment. "Well, there's this witch I'm a bit in love with."

"You're in a relationship?"

"No. Not anymore."

"Well, that's okay then."

He whips his gaze on me. "It is?"

I shrug. "Yeah. No offense, but I'm not looking for anything other than a distraction right now."

Sirius shrugs. "Yeah, but you could get that anywhere, Songbird. In fact, I've half a mind to say our Moose has a crush on you."

I scoff. "He's just trying to get into my pants. Or was, at least."

Sirius laughs. "You just said that's all you wanted."

"Well, not with him."

"And why not? He's a striking young man." Sirius' eyes twinkle.

I scoff. "He's… he's infuriating. He speaks before he thinks and just when I think he might be decent person, he proves me wrong. He's great with Viggo, but, like, turns seven shades of red and goes out of his way to not look whenever I breastfeed as though he's never seen a naked woman before. Every fucking time." I jump off the dresser, smoothing my skirt. "And he eats too much. It's absurd how much food I have to make when I cook."

Sirius is staring at me with a queer, amused look like he's got a secret. "Do me a favor?"

"Hmm?"

"Take it just a bit easier on Moose. Now, I don't want you to tiptoe around him. When he fucks up, you keep on yelling at him like you do. But he's had a difficult six months or so. Just- remember that. Is all."

I nod. "I'll see what I can do."

x

Annette returns an already-sleeping Viggo at about nine. After I get him in his crib, I make a cup of tea, investigating the general feeling of heartache in my gut.

"Guess the first spell I really need to teach you is a bloody muffliato," Charlie grumbles behind me. "Think my family in England heard that romp with Black."

I stare at my tea. "It wasn't a romp. It was just a hand job. Not that it's any of your business."

There's a long pause. "He's head over heels with Luna Lovegood, you know."

Now I turn to face him. "Really? With Luna?" I pause. "I can kinda see that, actually."

He narrows his eyes. "You mean you don't care?"

"Why should I?" I ask.

He stares at me for a moment. "Just thought you were a long-term commitment kind of girl."

I roll my eyes. "Why? Because I was married?" The reminder of Luke makes my heart feel like it's ripped into several pieces. I sigh, closing my eyes, fighting tears.

When I open them again, Charlie's giving me a puzzled look. "What's the matter?"

I shrug. "Nothing." I turn to my tea.

"Doesn't look like nothing."

"I shouldn't have fooled around with Sirius."

He's silent for so long, I wonder if he's left. Finally, he says, "I didn't mean to judge you. I was just surprised-"

"It's not you, Charlie," I say, exasperated. "I just haven't done anything. With anyone, not even my own hand, since before my husband got himself killed. Alright?" God, I'm fucking crying again.

Charlie's hand is on my shoulder. "Do you need anything? I have calming droughts. Firewhisky. I could hold you, if you want. Without… expecting anything, I mean. Only if you want, or are comfortable…"

I turn and am greeted with bright red cheeks. "Thank you for the offers. I think I just need to be alone, though."

He nods and turns.

"Before you go," I say. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry for being a bitch to you. You know, for the times you didn't deserve it."

He gives me a half smile. "Those one or two times, eh?"

I laugh, wiping my eyes. "Yeah."

This fic got its first review! Wooh! Thanks, Mari Wollsch!