-Road of Life-
Author: lone astronomer
Disclaimer: Everything property of J. K. Rowling, Warner bros., and whoever else has a piece of the pie.
Summary: James comes home from his date late, appearance made by Sirius for the first time in too long, and Ally teases James.
-Five B-
Clara is Curious
Harry was long asleep, midnight was long gone, and Clara was quite bored. She was also in the midst of wondering if she should have given the Minister a curfew, because, truth be told, she really had no desire to spend the remainder of the next morning at the Potter household. It was with this boredom in her mind that she went exploring.
The kitchen, bathroom, and living room she'd been through already. They were quite nondescript, as was Harry's bedroom, in which the only object of any real interest was the growing, talking painting on his dresser. As Clara found out, most of the house was nondescript, if not particularly modest. There were exceptions- a dining room she'd not looked in on before with a high vaulted ceiling and a marble floor, which James obviously didn't use often, and a good-sized office with nearly an entire wall of windows. There was also a guest bedroom, well-appointed if somewhat formal. Clara thought it might have originally been from James' old dorm room at Hogwarts, though she'd not been in Gryffindor. She shook her head and closed the door to the room behind her.
Logically, this left one last door to be opened, and Clara stood before it, unsure. She bit her lip and rocked back on her heels, old habits which she'd never quite gotten rid of. To snoop or not to snoop… She finally couldn't bear to stand there any longer, and one of Clara's hands grasped the knob seemingly of its own accord. She was standing inside before she knew what she was doing.
Clara didn't quite know what she'd expected, standing out there in front of the doorway to a different realm. Perhaps somehow she'd expected simplicity, a no-nonsense decorative theme and some musty old curtains. Maybe even in some twisted dream she'd imagined a wall of trophies, a whip or a knife or some sign of sadomasochistic tendencies, or used condoms strewn haphazardly about the room, some sign denying the celibacy everyone saw in James. Either way, the master bedroom at the Minister's house was not what she'd been thinking of.
It was quite large and tastefully decorated, that much was certain. Along the north wall sat a fireplace, burning cheerfully with magical flames and providing the rest of the dim light. Opposite that there were more of the bay windows Clara had admired about James' office. Between the two was a long table with a single chair standing dutifully at its side, topped by an ink bottle and phoenix-feather quill and a few rolls of parchment. On the far wall stood a wardrobe, huge and nearly intimidating, or it would have been had Clara not remembered at that moment that the only thing in it was probably black robes, black robes, and more black robes. To the left of it was the bed, dark mahogany in color and adorned with wooden gargoyles on each of the four posters. The bedclothes were dark maroon velvet, arranged perfectly. Clara suspected that under the comforter every sheet was hospital-cornered into perfection. Even in its richness, the room seemed somehow very sterile.
She took another step forward, eyebrows raising in surprise at the soft feel of the carpet under her feet. Whatever anyone might say about politicians, the Minister has taste.
Clara closed the rest of the distance between her and the table without really thinking about it. It was almost as if something had drawn her there. The parchment on the table beckoned to her, screaming at her, begged her to read it. She knew she shouldn't. She knew that if she read it there was no turning back, that she'd know things about James that she never wanted to think about, but she couldn't stop herself. She read it anyway.
And as she finished, and the single tear spattered onto the table beside the crinkled paper, Clara picked up the quill. Without a single shake, her handwriting graced the page in perfect imitation of James' own unusual script. There was a muffled thunk as she shoved the quill back into its holder a little harder than was necessary, and it nearly fell over. Reaching over to steady it, her hand knocked something else in the darkness.
Frowning, Clara lit her wand to get a better look. Is there nothing there? All she could see behind the ink bottle was- well, nothing. As in, a lacking of something. But she'd felt something… hadn't she?
"Revealio," she whispered. There was a sharp tingling sensation in her arm as her magic broke through a privacy ward-
Clara's breath left her in a rush. Oh, no. Standing on the Minister's desk was the framed photograph she'd never hoped to see.
There was a quiet pop in the living room of the Potter household around two in the morning. The vague shimmering of sparks disappeared rather quickly, leaving the room as dark as it had been before James appeared. A slight breeze whispered through the room and James shivered a bit with the cold, wondering why on Earth Clara had left the window open that late- or, rather, early.
At the thought of her, James frowned slightly, looking around the room for any trace. Not finding any, he set out for Harry's bedroom to bid the boy goodnight, though his son wouldn't hear him.
Suddenly there she was, curled up against the wall in Harry's room, unmoving. Even in the disabling lack of light he could see that she held a frame in each hand and that she was not, in fact, sleeping, but staring with wide open eyes back and forth between the two of them, between the sleeping girl with the fiery hair and the happy, gurgling baby in her mother's arms. Now where would she have gotten that?
"Did you have a good night?" Clara asked him quietly, completely nonplussed and managing not to sound bitter.
James swallowed the report he'd been prepared to give and instead told the truth. "Not especially. That Green woman wouldn't let me leave."
Clara raised her eyes and eyebrows in one motion.
James shook his head. "No, but don't think she takes being refused lightly, either."
His friend nodded. "I should go."
"Wait," James said after an awkward pause in which Clara attempted to bring herself to her feet. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up beside him. "I'm sorry I was so late. Look, you don't have to leave, you can sleep here if you want…"
Clara raised her eyebrows again.
James looked completely exasperated with her. "I have a spare room, you know… Honestly, I'm not a hormone-crazed teenager anymore!"
She finally grinned tiredly. "See you in the morning, then." And she was asleep in the spare bed before James even had a chance to ask where she'd gotten that photograph.
"Hullo, Sirius."
He looked up, a bit startled to see her there, then smiled. "Morning, Sunshine. I thought you quit?"
Ally nodded, smiling and perhaps a bit too happy for someone who had just quit her job. "Came to visit you, what'd you think?"
Sirius gave her the patented 'I-don't-believe-you-for-a-second' look. "And this has absolutely nothing to do with a certain werewolf who's on lunchbreak as of five minutes from now?"
She shook her head innocently. "No."
Sirius just regarded her somewhat disinterestedly.
Ally scowled at his ability to make her 'fess up and flopped into the chair in front of his desk. "I'm here to talk to James, actually," she said. A lock of blonde hair, beginning to show traces of gray which its owner would one day begin coloring, fell into her face and Allya blew it out of the way distractedly.
Her friend nodded. "Any special reason?"
"Bad vibes." She shrugged. "There's no more bad blood between you two, is there?"
Sirius blanched. "Not really. Why do you ask?"
"Aforementioned bad vibes. How's your father-in-law?"
"A bit lonely, but he'll survive." Mioré's mother had died a long while back, and her father still lived in Scotland at their old estate.
"Good to know. But I have to go now," Ally excused herself, glancing at her watch. "Come over for dinner?"
Sirius shook his head. "No can do. Men's night out, remember?"
Ally put her palm to her forehead. "I can't believe I forgot!" She gave him a teasing, admonishing look. "You boys behave yourselves this time, hear me? I want to hear no stories of Muggles turned toads or any such nonsense. Got it?"
Sirius held a hand up to his heart. "On my honor."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
* * *
"You look tired."
The voice startled James out of his semi-conscious reverie, and he turned his head to look at the door. "There's a reason for that." He took another sip of his coffee, trying to wake himself up.
Allya grinned. "Anything juicy?" She flopped into his chair.
James laughed. "Not that kind of juicy."
A twinkle worked its way into Allya's blue eyes. "Heard you had a hot date last night."
He snorted. "Been talking to Clara?" He raised his mug to his lips.
The twinkle turned into a spark. "I was talking about Clara."
James spat out the coffee all over his desk and began coughing furiously. "Care to explain that?" he asked.
"Not really," Allya answered, calling, "Come in!" over her shoulder.
A woman with sandy brown hair a bit younger than the two inside the office opened the door, confused. Someone had called, 'come in,' before she'd had the chance to knock. "James, I-" Her eyes fell on the werewolf. "Sorry, Minister. If you're busy, I can come back later."
"Actually," Allya said, jumping up, "I was just leaving. Talk to you later, James." She put the emphasis on his first name and grinned slyly, winking in his general direction. "Bye, Clara."
Clara watched as Lupin swished out the door, royal blue cloak sliding over the marble tiles like magic- which it might have been. She turned her eyes to James. "Did I miss something?"
"No," James said, looking at her with his eyes open for a change. "But I think I might have."
END PART 5B