A/N: Slower, slice of life type chapter. Things start picking up again soon, but after all these guys have been through it felt sorely needed.

It quickly became very apparent that, despite what a good teacher Sirius was, Remus was the one who took to teaching naturally. He would call out a spell and she'd cast it - well, the ones she knew at least. When he called out ones they hadn't yet gotten around to, she'd instead fix him with a baffled look and give a shrug, earning a laugh from both men. With Sirius, when he praised her efforts there was always a note of cynicism in the back of her mind that he'd formed much too high of an opinion of her anyway - he'd probably praise her if she accidentally turned him into a frog. But when Remus agreed with Sirius, doling out similar (if less excited) praise, it acted as confirmation that she really was doing well. After all, he'd have more of an idea of where her progress should be within the time frame they were looking at. She could see very easily why he was Harry's favourite teacher. Even just her mini display of her newfound abilities was giving her flashbacks to high school and her beloved music teacher - the only one who she hadn't despised by the time she turned sixteen and could drop out.

Yes, it felt much more like school with Remus giving the lessons. But of course, that might've had something to do with the fact that there were no breaks for impromptu makeout sessions with Remus around. Those had not been a feature in her proper school classes, either.

In any case, Remus' impromptu visit served to massively lift the spirits in the house. It was a break from the monotony that their days easily slipped into, pleasant company or no, and it offered a spark of hope to Heather that perhaps the wider Order wouldn't be as against her learning magic as she'd initially feared. On a deeper level, she knew it didn't matter too much as far as the immediate future was concerned. Whether the Order liked it or not, she knew full well that Sirius would continue to teach her the moment they all left anyway. There was too much riding on it for him not to, and...well, it was clear he'd had his fill of orders that he did not wish to follow. And who could blame him? The fact that they'd managed to coop him up in a house he hated so much was a miracle in itself. But if they didn't put up too much of a fight, it saved them from a whole lot of drama, which was in the best interests of everybody involved. Remus was known for being the level-headed one, if they had him on side it counted as a significant victory.

All in all, it made her dread the matter being brought to the Order just a little less. That was the plan - to sit them down around Christmas time, when everybody would be back and available, and explain to them that Sirius had been teaching her magic. Heather was dead-set on insisting it was her idea (it wasn't like he needed yet another way to incur the wrath of certain members), and Sirius was adamant that they should say it was his. The one thing they did agree on was that there would be no mention of Harry's involvement. They had no desire to throw him under the bus, nor look like they'd only started this venture in order to pander to him. Nothing good could come from it.

"He's fifteen and you allowed him to talk you into it?" She could already hear the members exclaiming.

Once the members who disagreed had been talked down, they could see about getting her a wand of her own on the Wizarding black market. Such a thought was thrilling. Yes, performing magic was a gift in itself - one she'd long since given up on desiring before all of this happened, but having a wand of her own would seal the deal. It'd make her feel like a real witch. Sure, it wasn't like Sirius put any restrictions on her using his. In fact, he often chastised her for asking if she could first, even for something as simple as lighting the stove or summoning an object from across the room. But not asking would've just felt presumptive. When she'd lived with Debbie, she had to ask before she even used one of the glasses in the kitchen to get some water. It seemed she'd been well-conditioned, if the habit had persisted this long.

It would be nice to not have to ask, and Sirius would undoubtedly be relieved at no longer having to repeat the phrase "stop asking, just take it". It was a gift to the both of them, really...and it filled Heather's dreams more often than she cared to admit. The only dream she had that had been rattling around in her head longer than that was the one of achieving musical stardom - and that one had always felt much more likely up until now.

A few days later, Heather squinted at the notepad in front of her, picking out the notes carefully on the piano and adjusting as needed. It had been some time since she wrote something entirely from scratch on a piano rather than a guitar, but it was a welcome change. A low day - a grey day, as she liked to call them - was seeping in, just at the corners of her mind. Not bad enough to have her retreating to bed in order to pretend the world didn't exist, but enough for her to know if she didn't fight it now, things would soon go that way.

It was a side effect of sobriety. Whether it was because she no longer had quick and easy access to a welcome, dream-like haze the moment she started to feel less than stellar, or something more literal to do with the way the pills had fucked up her already subpar brain chemistry, leaving her to deal with the after-effects until it levelled out a bit more, the effect was the same. Snape's withdrawal cure had been a life-saver in terms of the more physical symptoms, but it seemed it left the psychological ones in her hands. It was a better deal than she could've hoped for, though, so she could hardly complain. If not for him, she'd probably still be in bed, wracked by shivers, cold sweats, and nausea.

The silver lining was music. Music was always the silver lining. It had been there for her even before she'd found drugs. It was a healthier coping mechanism, and certainly a more productive one. As long as she could still enjoy her music, she could still fight. She knew she was in for a bad bout of it when the joy was even sucked out of that.

Of course, now she had another silver lining. She had Sirius. This time last year, if she went through a shitty period, she went through it alone. But Sirius could not cure it, and the last thing she wanted to do was put this on him - especially not with how good his own mood had been, with Remus' impromptu visit. She didn't want to go through this in front of Remus either, for that matter. Not just because of embarrassment, but because of any implications it might have. How could she prove herself capable of handling herself in this world if a low mood could put her out of commission for days on end, triggered by nothing but her own damn brain? It was the last thing any of them needed - not Sirius, not the Order, and certainly not Harry.

So while Sirius and Remus laughed and reminisced in the kitchen, she retreated to the sitting room, and to the piano. As long as she was busy, she wasn't thinking. As long as she wasn't thinking, she'd be fine.

The piece she was working on was the one she'd begun to write over the course of the night she'd spent on Sirius' bedroom floor. It had started off simply - more of a little tune than anything else, a high-pitched melody that floated upwards and downwards on the piano keys, inspired by this strange magical world she'd found herself catapulted into. Then she'd found some old dusty tomes in the Black family library about Hogwarts and its history, featuring moving photographs and paintings of the school itself and its founders, and the more she read, the more of this strange little song came to her. It was taking on a life of its own, and she was just rushing to keep up with documenting it, and it was a thrilling feeling. Artists of any kind dreamed to have a project that seized them by the shoulders and dragged them in - when they got into that flow state of just adding more and more. It made the days when the whole thing felt like pulling teeth completely worth it.

On the grey days, everything was like pulling teeth - getting out of bed, forcing down a meal, even just breathing. Hell, existing in general. When it got like that, she even worried that her musical mojo would never return and she would be doomed to an existence of playing other peoples' songs for bored crowds. So this? This was ecstasy in comparison. So wrapped up in her own personal heaven, she didn't even notice Sirius in the doorway until she looked up and her eyes met his.

"Fuck," she jumped, a few clanking notes on the piano emphasising her surprise.

"I have that effect on women," he teased, entering the room properly "That was very good. What is it?"

"I'm not sure yet," she replied "I started it the night that...well, that night. It's taken on a life of its own since."

"A sign of a true musician."

"Since when were you so well versed in music?"

"I've been known to wail out a few Led Zeppelin songs here and there."

"You'll have to show me that sometime."

"Only if I ever need to kill any semblance of passion between us."

"Sirius Black admitting to being bad at something? I must check the sky for pigs."

"I'm bad at plenty of things," he shrugged "Being ugly, for one. Being boring. Taking anything seriously, according to McGonagall back in the day."

Heather smiled at him fondly, feeling the edges of the blues beginning to lose their sharpness just a little. It was hard not to smile with him around.

"I'm writing it for Harry," she said as he came to hover beside the piano stool.

"A list of things I'm bad at?"

"The song," she snorted "It's not like I can get him anything for Christmas, and this is our first one as a…"

"Family?" He supplied softly, squeezing her shoulder.

"Yeah, that," she nodded slowly.

"Well, I can always put your name on the gifts from me."

Her first instinct was to ask how that would look, but she was hit with a wave of realisation that Harry would know about them by then. At the latest, he'd know when he came back from Hogwarts for Christmas - that would be well before the exchanging of gifts. Still, the big question of how he might react loomed. If he wasn't happy about the developments that had occurred in his absence, giving him a gift signed by the both of them would only add salt to the wound.

That, and her pride didn't like the idea much, either.

"I couldn't ask that."

"You didn't ask it."

"Sirius."

"Heather."

She snorted, shaking her head "I want to do this. It might not be much, but I've never written a song for a person before. Hopefully he'll appreciate the gesture."

"He will."

Sirius' words bolstered her confidence. He knew Harry well - certainly better than her - and if he thought Harry would hate the idea, she was sure he'd tell her. The matter settled, Sirius turned his attention to her notebooks strewn about the coffee table.

"What are these?"

"A bit of everything," she turned away from the piano to watch him "Lyrics, random thoughts, words that sounded nice, vision boards."

"Vision board?" He echoed, brow furrowed "Like divination?"

"A bit more embarrassing than that," she rubbed the back of her neck "You collect things that represent your goals and your dreams - words, photographs, the like, and make a sort of collage from them. It's meant to motivate you...Help manifest your goals. That sort of thing."

The concept may have been embarrassing, but there was nothing in there she was worried about him seeing. It was almost like a scrapbook of sorts - just a convenient place to host cut-outs from magazines that interested her. Certain guitars, sold out shows, that sort of thing. It had always been very career-centric, because that was her life. It wasn't like it was filled with wedding dresses and baby names.

"Does it work?" He asked doubtfully, scrutinising the front page - Slash, holding her dream guitar "And is he part of the dream?"

"Ask me in five years time - no, ten," she laughed and shook her head "And no, he's not. I was always more of an Axl Rose girl."

"I'll give you my opinion on that when I understand what it means."

"Another time."

"I'll hold you to that."

Silence prevailed then, with Heather spending most of it looking down at her hands and picking off nail polish from the edges of her nails.

"Are you alright?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You never look at people when you're feeling like crap," he answered bluntly "Why don't you answer?"

"It's nothing. Nothing, really...nothing yet. The blues are just...welling up. There's not even a reason - there's nothing bothering me. I just feel...shitty. It happens."

"It does. There doesn't have to be a reason," he said knowingly, and she'd never been more grateful to have somebody who knew full well what it felt like "And it'll pass."

"It will," she agreed.

"Come here," he sighed, extending an arm.

"What about Remus?"

"Napping. And anyway, what would he do? Spray us with cold water?"

Conceding his point, Heather took the hand he offered and allowed him to pull her towards the sofa. He budged up a little to give her space to sit, and she settled into his arms. A rush of warm contentment swept over her at the closeness. It didn't erase the heavy feeling fighting to overtake her, but it certainly provided something to balance it out. It was nice. With Remus here, they'd had to be a bit more careful about physical displays of affection. Sirius, true to form, was slightly less cautious than she was. She wasn't even sure if it was on purpose or not, but she didn't mind. Remus was his friend, after all - he had more reason to care about him catching on. And Remus seemed the sort to keep his mouth shut on the matter anyway. There'd be no need to chase after him and beg him not to say anything should he see anything, or even suspect anything, as there had been with the twins.

"I'm sorry," she murmured listlessly.

"Don't apologise."

"You shouldn't have to do this."

"You shouldn't have to feel this," he countered easily "And anyway, how often have you done this for me?"

She curled up against him on the sofa, leaning against him as his fingers threaded through her hair. It was soothing. Maybe he was right when he compared her to a cat all that time ago.

"I can think of worse ways to pass my time," he added softly.

Heather gave a half-hearted huff of laughter, pressing her lips against his collarbone in thanks.

Time crawled by then, but she just let it. He was right - there were certainly worse ways to pass time. Just sitting here, being with him, forgetting about the world outside. It was a better remedy to what ailed her than drugs. She wondered if the withdrawals would be similar. The addictiveness certainly was. The motion of his long, elegant fingers smoothing through her tresses never ceased, and soon she felt herself drifting into the land halfway between wakefulness and sleep.

When she next took a step towards wakefulness, it was at the sound of Remus' voice. But she was so comfortable, and Sirius made no move to shift, so she stayed there, eyes closed.

"Am I interrupting?"

"That was a quick nap," Sirius said in greeting, carefully leaving his question unanswered.

"The ironic thing about sleep deprivation - when you finally can sleep, you find you can't."

Sirius made a noise of rueful agreement.

"So, when did this start?"

She heard the creak of the other sofa opposite them as Remus sat down on it.

"When we were told to keep an eye on her in that muggle club, I imagine," Sirius answered quietly.

"I can't help but agree," Remus sighed, even though it wasn't quite the actual answer he'd been seeking.

"How long have you known?" Sirius asked curiously.

"When I first got back, I poked my head round your door to see if you were awake. You weren't alone."

"Ah."

There was no bashfulness in Sirius' voice. Then, after a moment of thought, he added.

"That wasn't quite what it looked like. We really were only sleeping."

"Sirius Black taking things slowly? I never thought I'd see the day," he teased with a quiet laugh "I'm glad to see you're being responsible."

"Thanks, mum."

"If I was your mother, I'd be lecturing you on her blood status."

Sirius gave a huff of laughter "Finding new ways to disappoint my parents even when they're dead and buried. I'm truly living the dream."

"How are you going to tell Harry?"

"With my fingers crossed and a protective charm placed firmly on the crown jewels."

Remus made a noise that suggested he didn't blame Sirius for this.

"Don't say anything to anybody," Sirius sighed "I know you can keep a secret, but if word gets back to Harry before we get a chance to tell him...I can't imagine it'd end well."

"It won't start well, no matter how you tell him," Remus replied "But I think it'll end well. Once he gets used to the idea, he might even be happy about it."

Sirius gave a non-committal hum. Maybe he didn't agree, or maybe he just didn't want to discuss it. Perhaps both. Heather could see his point. Was it even worth discussing? Talking about it wouldn't change it. Harry would accept it, or he wouldn't. They'd need to wait to find out which reaction they were going to get before they could think about how they might deal with it. What was the point of drafting out fifty-three disaster plans if he was ecstatic about the news? And similarly, why get excited over how thrilled he might be only to be met with abject rejection and disgust? It would be an exercise in wasting energy at absolute best.

"Is Harry's reaction the only one you're worried about?"

"The only one I care about," Sirius said "The others will have their opinions, and they have every right to them. But I won't have their judgement. I know it makes her nervous, but she doesn't show it...how they might react, what they might say. Anybody would think we were doing something wrong."

"Not something wrong," Remus countered gently "I think they're just worried you're being irresponsible."

"Irresponsible," Sirius echoed with a derisive huff - so loudly that Heather had to pretend to stir.

He waited until she showed no signs of waking before he continued, voice forcibly lowered.

"I lived in a cell half the size of this room for twelve years, Remus. Now that I'm out and able to live my life again, I plan on really living it. Not cowering in the corner and worrying about what might go wrong. The others - Molly, Kingsley, even Dumbledore at times - they decide that I'm irresponsible, and then decide how my actions make me so, whatever I do. They don't look objectively. I'm not going to deny myself a good life, with a good woman, in order to seek out the approval of people who have no wish to give it."

"A good life with a good woman?" Remus repeated "That sounds rather serious."

"I didn't mean it like that," Sirius sighed listlessly "I'm serious about her - of course. But I'm not...Oh, you know what I mean."

"You're not looking at wedding venues just yet," Remus supplied.

"Exactly," Sirius replied "You understand, though?"

"I do. I think you've a very good point. If it comes down to it, I'll fight your corner."

"That's what we do, isn't it?" Happiness was swiftly returning to Sirius' voice "...Is it really so surprising?"

"You and Heather?"

She felt Sirius nod.

"Before we met her, I'd have called the idea absurd. You would have, too. But after getting to know her?...No, I suppose it was rather inevitable."

Sirius chuckled softly "If there's a word to sum it up, that's it."

"I'm happy for you, Sirius, for what it's worth. I'm sure everybody else will be, too. Given time. And if not…"

"Fuck them," Sirius murmured.

Heather had to fight to repress a smile, hearing him echo the words she'd once spoken to him.

"Not exactly how I'd put it, but more or less."

"Now the only important question is when will you and Nymphadora adopt the same attitude?"

Remus gave a long-suffering sigh.

After that, there was no more talk. None that she heard before she fell back asleep, anyway. It would be a lie if she pretended not to feel guilty over the fact that she'd essentially eavesdropped on a private conversation. It hadn't been meant for her ears. But there had been no good time to pretend to wake up, and Sirius had seemed happy enough to have the conversation.

He wanted to live freely, in every sense of the word. Treating this whole thing like some big sordid secret was probably just yet another restriction he was keen to rid himself of. Nobody could blame him for that. And on a more personal level, it was heartwarming to hear him profess how seriously he felt about what was blossoming between the two of them.

She never doubted it - not seriously, despite what the anxious voice in her head tried to insist, masking itself as self-preservation - but hearing him say it to his close friend, and not just to her, gave her more evidence to present to that voice to prove it was full of shit.

For the first time in a long time, she couldn't help but feel like things would turn out well after all.

A knock sounded on her bedroom door and Heather instantly knew it was Remus. When Sirius knocked, it had a tendency to sound like the police were trying to smash the door down.

"Come in."

He ducked into the room, and her mind was already mentally preparing herself for a Molly-esque rant. His visit was coming to an end, and soon he'd be sent off back into the wider world on official Order business - if there was ever a time for him to approach her for a serious talk (or Sirius talk, as the case may be), it would be now. But it seemed she'd misjudged him. Instead, he merely smiled and sat at the foot of her bed.

"Sirius' birthday is coming up in a few weeks. The third of November. I thought you might like to know."

"Shit," she sighed "I won't be able to get him anything."

Even if she could write to Scott and not feel absurdly cheeky for asking him to take time and energy away from his duties to the Order in order to send him shopping for a present for her boyfriend (a term she was still wrapping her head around), she wouldn't have been able to reimburse him for anything he got. Last she checked, she'd be lucky if she had a tenner in the bank.

"He won't mind," Remus reassured "Sirius was never much inclined towards the materialistic."

"I'm glad to hear it, I'm all out of Lamborghinis to gift away," she said.

"Motorbikes are much more his speed anyway. I suppose you haven't got any of them lying around either?"

"I'm afraid I gave my last one to Harry, just to firmly establish myself as the cool older sister. In case he misses the train again one year."

"Functional gifts are often the best," he chuckled "I'm leaving again today. It'll be a wonder if I can return again before Christmas. No doubt by the time I'm back, your magical prowess will rival Hermione's."

Heather snorted. And she'd thought Sirius was the flatterer.

"In all seriousness though, Heather, you are doing well. Sirius...might get a bit over-enthusiastic at times, and there'll certainly be no expectation for you to become a soldier in this war, but it's admirable that you're even taking steps to learn how to defend yourself in the face of such danger. We couldn't have hoped that much alone, nevermind more."

She'd be lying if she pretended not to be touched by his words. When she thought of her endeavours to learn magic, it was always somewhere between a secret act of rebellion (like teenagers messing around with knives or matches when the adults' backs were turned), and a way of clinging to a small amount of what she'd given up in deciding not to attend Hogwarts. She'd never dared hoped that the Order wouldn't try to put an end to it, nevermind support it. To hear Remus outright praise her for it was almost more than she could handle.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, nodding slowly "If it's the only way I can contribute, then I want to do it."

"It's more than enough. Just keep it up - but don't push yourself too hard. Nobody expects you to be casting a Patronus by Christmas."

The look they exchanged told her that Sirius had broached the topic with him. She was somewhat relieved that Remus didn't seem to share the very high expectations.

"Is that a challenge?" She joked.

Remus looked at her for a long moment, no small amount of amusement on his face "Maybe you're more like Sirius than we all thought."

That, she took as a very high compliment indeed.