Saturday, March 25, 1978
The wind tugged at his leather jacket and whistled against his helmet as Sirius steered the motorbike around the Potters' Quidditch pitch and toward the house, descending to land on the long driveway. They both slid off the motorbike, but Sirius shook his head when Mary began to head for the house.
"What?" she asked, frowning. "Aren't we going inside?"
He removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm. "Eventually," he said, grinning and admiring the way the motorbike gleamed in the sun. "But we're going to stay out here for a bit."
She pulled off her helmet and looked at him in confusion. "Why?"
"I'm going to teach you to drive the motorbike." He nodded at the helmet. "Put that back on."
The breeze lifted her curls as her face lit up with excitement. "Really? I've been bothering you to teach me for ages. What made you change your mind?"
He shrugged. "I dunno. Felt like it, I suppose. And I figure you can't be any worse than James, so I might as well give you a chance. It's not that hard, once you get the hang of it. Like riding a bike, except it goes really bloody fast and also flies." His eyes widened as a thought occurred to him. "Hang on, you have ridden a bike before, haven't you?" Now that he thought about it, he couldn't imagine Melanie being present or sober enough to teach a young Mary how to ride a bicycle, and he experienced a pang of sadness on her behalf.
"I know how to ride a bike," she said, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. "I know what you're thinking. Melanie wasn't the one who taught me. It was Lily."
"Really? That's fucking adorable, Macdonald."
She grinned and shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. "Yeah. The summer after first year. She spent a whole afternoon teaching me down at this park by her house. Snape laughed at me when I fell off and skinned my knee, so I shouted at him and told him to suck my arse."
"Course you did," Sirius said, picturing twelve-year-old Mary with her knees bloody and her eyes blazing. He resisted a sudden urge to hug her, and instead tweaked one of her curls. "I'd expect nothing less."
"Yeah, well, after that Lily realized that Snape and I were never going to get along, so she stopped inviting him to join us when I visited her," she said as she batted his hand away from her hair.
"Anyway, put your helmet on and get your arse back on that motorbike," Sirius said. He watched her climb on, then took a moment to admire how sexy she looked astride it.
"Are you staring at my arse?" she asked, her voice muffled by the helmet.
"Shh, don't ask questions. Now, make sure you listen, because James didn't and that's why he fell over after about two seconds."
He explained the basic steps she would take to work the motorbike, repeating them several times until he was satisfied she felt confident. When she started the motorbike and drove it slowly down the driveway, she wavered once or twice but didn't fall. He instructed her to repeat the action, adding in more advanced directions each time. When she executed a perfect turn and brought the motorbike smoothly back up the driveway, Sirius cheered and gestured for her to stop.
"That was good, right?" she asked, putting out the kickstand and balancing her foot against the ground.
"That was brilliant," Sirius said, beaming with pride. "Now budge up. I'm getting on." He jammed his helmet back onto his head and swung his leg over the motorbike, taking off into the air. He circled the grounds twice, savoring the distinct pleasure of flying with Mary pressed up against his body. When he grew tired of flying he landed the motorbike near the edge of the Quidditch pitch, then parked it and led Mary into the woods beyond.
"Where are we going?" Mary asked.
The helmet had flattened her curls so that they stuck to her head and flared out at the bottom. Sirius reached out and fluffed them, amused.
"Just in here a bit so I can snog you without anyone spotting us."
He came to a stop beside a little stream that trickled over glistening rocks and fallen limbs. They sat down on a large rock, and he pulled her to him and kissed her. She was slightly sweaty from the helmet, and it mingled with the scent of her Sleekeazy's, but Sirius didn't mind. Soon her curls returned to their usual shape with the help of the breeze and the tousling motion of his hands.
"I can't believe Prongs is going to propose," he said, leaning back against the flat rock and turning his face up to the sun.
"I know. It's mad, but it also feels like the right move for them." She fished in his pocket and drew out his pack of cigarettes, selecting one for herself before handing him one.
"It does, doesn't it?" He studied her face through the haze of his cigarette smoke, noticing the slight crease between her eyebrows she got when she was worried. A question formed on his lips, but he pushed it aside, because if he wasn't willing to talk about his feelings while sober, it was unfair to expect anything different from Mary.
"Mum and Dad made me invite you today," he said after they had smoked in silence for a few minutes.
"Oh, that's nice," she said, shoving his shoulder. "They made you? I can just go on home, then. I don't want your pity invite."
"That's not what I meant. Obviously I want to see you. It's just, inviting you over for a bloody family dinner feels a bit too relationshippy for my taste."
She exhaled a long stream of smoke, then turned to him, arching her brows. "We are in a relationship, you know."
"I know. But not in the same way that Prongs and Evans are. We don't hold hands and go on romantic bloody picnics, and I'm not going to drain half my Gringotts vault to give you a diamond ring the size of Bertram Aubrey's head."
"Three fucking carats. That's ridiculous." She took a drag on her cigarette and exhaled, then grinned and leaned closer. "Will you show it to me?"
He smirked. "Show what to you?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Black, the ring." She rolled her eyes and grinned. "Do you know where he's hiding it?"
"Wrapped up in a pair of my pants," Sirius said without cracking a smile. "Because he says she would never look there."
Mary threw back her head and laughed; the sunlight caught her dark, glossy curls.
"That's the smartest thing I've heard James say in a while, actually." She got to her feet, dusting dirt from her trousers. "Alright. Let's see this ring the size of Bertram Aubrey's head that's hidden in a pair of your pants." Her nose wrinkled as she added, "They're clean pants, right?"
"Yes, they're clean pants, you weirdo." He pushed her hair out of her face and kissed her, tasting cigarette smoke and the fresh, clean taste of spring air, then led the way back to the Quidditch pitch. They left the motorbike where it was parked and strolled up to the house, enjoying the brisk air. When they reached the house, Sirius hustled her through the door and up the stairs before Fleamont and Euphemia had time to notice her presence.
"Are you not allowed to have girls in your room?" she asked, amused. "You'd think they would relax the rules now that you've moved out."
"Don't be stupid, the only real rule here is no Bludgers in the house, and we've broken that once or twice anyway. I just don't want them to make a big deal out of you being here. They'll want to ask you all sorts of questions, and I don't want to deal with that quite yet." He led her down a long hallway, pausing to scold a house elf that stared at them with wide, curious eyes.
"Sod off, Twinkletoes. Don't you know it's rude to stare?"
The elf murmured an apology and disappeared into the open door behind him.
"You're such a prat," Mary said, laughing. "What did that poor elf ever do to you?"
"He's always looking at me funny. Or, I dunno, maybe that's just how he looks. Either way, it annoys me." Sirius continued down the hallway, then pushed open a door and stepped into his old bedroom.
"What doesn't annoy you?" Mary said, following him into the room. "Also, is his name really Twinkletoes?"
Sirius grinned and began to rummage in his dresser drawer. "No, that's just what James calls him. I don't remember what his real name is. James has stupid nicknames for all the house elves."
"Don't they mind?" Mary asked as she walked around, taking in the posters on the wall and the framed photograph of Sirius and James that stood on the bedside table.
Sirius shrugged. "Nah, they love him." He pulled out the pair of pants and unwrapped them to remove the ring box hidden inside, then turned to face Mary.
"They'd probably love you too if you weren't such an arsehole," Mary said, setting down the framed photograph. "But I don't suppose you care."
"Not even a little bit." He opened the box and held it out to Mary, feeling a slight thrill and then immediately chiding himself for being so silly. "It's really fucking something, isn't it?"
Mary's eyes widened as she took the box and gazed in wonder at the ring.
"It's really fucking something," she agreed. "I feel like I shouldn't even be allowed to hold this. It probably cost more than my entire life." She kept her gaze fixed on the ring, then looked up, shaking her head in wonder. "How do you think she's going to react when she sees this thing?"
"She's going to shit her pants," Sirius said without hesitation. Then, when Mary giggled, he added, "In a good way, I mean."
She raised her eyebrows. "Is there a good way to shit your pants?"
"Oh, shut up." He tugged on a strand of her hair, then looked down at the ring, seized by a sudden whim. "Try it on."
She stared at him in surprise. "Why?"
"I dunno. I want to see how it looks on you," he said, taking the box and removing the ring.
"I'm not trying it on," she protested. "It's not my ring to try on."
"Oh, come on, Evans will never know. Don't make it weird, Macdonald. Give me your hand."
She heaved a grudging sigh and held out her hand. Grinning, he slid the ring onto her finger and looked up at her, her hand still clutched in his.
"Mary Veraminta Macdonald, would you do me the honor of sucking my arse?"
She snorted with laughter and shoved his shoulder. "You're an idiot." She held up her hand, turning it so that the ring caught the sunlight streaming through the window. "It does look rather nice on me, doesn't it? It makes me look like some posh bitch."
"It really does. Fucking hell, it's enormous. Walburga has a huge, gaudy engagement ring that's supposedly been handed down through ten generations of Blacks or something, and her diamond isn't even this big." He smiled wryly and added, "But her ring has the added bonus of a protective curse that makes Muggle fingers wither away and fall off, so I guess that makes up for the slightly smaller stone size."
"You're joking," Mary said, laughing.
"Unfortunately I'm not," Sirius said, shaking his head.
He took another look at Mary in the ring, watching the diamond catch the light as she reached up to push a curl out of her face, and found himself unable to tear his gaze away.
"You look really good in that ring," he said, smirking and wrapping a hand around her waist.
She smiled and tangled her hand in his hair, then leaned in to kiss him.
"Hang on, let me take the ring off," she murmured a minute later.
"Nah, leave it on." He pressed his lips to hers again.
"I'm not doing that," she protested. "It's weird."
He laughed and twined his other arm around her waist. "We've done plenty of weirder things. Besides, Evans and Prongs will never know. Who's going to tell them?"
"I dunno, maybe Twinkletoes?"
He laughed again. "Fuck Twinkletoes." He covered her lips with his, letting everything fade away except the taste of her mouth and the gentle tug of her fingers in his hair.
"Padfoot?" a voice called from outside the bedroom.
Sirius sat up with a start, sending a pillow tumbling to the floor. Beside him Mary still drifted between sleep and wakefulness, her hair a dark cloud swirling against the mattress.
"Shit," he muttered, reaching under the blankets to prise the ring from her finger.
"Hmm?" Mary opened her eyes and blinked at him, a sleepy smile on her lips.
"I have to put the ring back," he said, glancing over his shoulder at the door. "Hand it over, Macdonald."
She slid off the ring and pressed it into his hand, giggling as he darted across the room to shove it back into the box. He succeeded in wrapping it in the pants, then stuffed it back into the drawer just as there was a knock at the door.
"Pads? Are you and Macdonald in there?"
Sirius and Mary exchanged amused looks as Sirius launched himself back into bed and pulled the covers over them.
"Hi, Prongs," he called, repressing a laugh when Mary started giggling again. "Come in if you like."
James opened the door and stepped into the room, looking unsurprised to find Sirius and Mary in bed.
"Hi. This is a nice start to our wholesome family dinner, but I suppose I shouldn't expect any less from you two." He grinned and ran a hand through his hair. "Did you show her the ring?"
Sirius nodded. "She was more interested in the pants it's wrapped in, though."
Mary flicked the side of his face. "You're an idiot. It's perfect, James. She's going to love it. It's exactly like Petunia's but bigger, isn't it?"
James smirked. "Sure is."
"Perfect," she repeated. "That's going to make her petty little heart so happy."
"Brilliant. You better keep your mouth shut, Macdonald." He started heading for the door. "Want to meet me in my room in a minute? I thought we might floo call Moony."
Sirius frowned. "Are you sure? He gets kind of weird when we floo call him."
James stopped beside the door and looked back over his shoulder. "I know, but I still think we should. See how last night went, you know?" He grinned and added, "Bring the ring. We'll have to hurry, because Evans is supposed to get here in about half an hour."
A few minutes later they were gathered around the fireplace in James's room, the ring box clutched in Sirius's hand.
"You do it, Padfoot," James said, handing him a tin of Floo Powder. "Get him to Floo us back, because last time both of us tried to do it at once our heads knocked together, and I don't fancy trying it with three people."
"He's going to be grumpy about it," Sirius said as he reached into the tin and emerged with a handful of powder. "Also, I don't think his mum likes me. She always looks a bit scared whenever I see her."
"I think she just looks like that all the time," James said. "Go on, Padfoot. I fucking hate Floo Powder."
"Oh, fine." Sirius knelt in front of the fireplace and tossed the Floo Powder into the flames, then shouted Remus's address and moved his head forward until the flames licked against his skin. He didn't mind the sensation as his head rushed through space and his body remained on the hearth in James's room. After a moment the motion stopped, and he opened his eyes to find himself in an airy sitting room full of plants and sunlight. A basket nearby overflowed with books, and next to it stood a chair occupied by a woman with Remus's sandy hair and a slight furrow between her brows.
"Mrs. Lupin?"
She looked at him, startled, and set down her book on the arm of her chair.
"Hello, Sirius," she said. Her voice was soft, and Sirius had to strain to hear over the gentle tickling flames. "How are you, love?"
"I'm fine." In the corner of the room he spotted movement, and watched with interest as a tall man strode in and out of view carrying a newspaper under his arm. In all the years Sirius had known Remus, he had only seen Lyall Lupin from afar. He had acquired an air of mystery in Sirius's mind, although in reality he was likely just an older version of Remus minus the scars and elbow patches. "How are you?"
"Oh, I'm fine." She frowned and studied a bit of torn skin next to her thumbnail. "I'm not sure Remus will be up to talking."
Something flickered in her expression that made Sirius nervous.
"Bad?" he asked.
She bit her lip and nodded. When she moved her head, the sunlight illuminated dark circles under her eyes.
"We just want to say hello. We thought he could Floo us back at James's house from his bedroom so he wouldn't have to come downstairs? We won't keep him long, but James has something to show him that I think will cheer him up."
She worried at her cuticle as she mulled this over. Sirius decided James had been right — she wasn't afraid of him, she was just a little afraid of everything.
"Come on," he urged, because she looked like she wanted to refuse. "If he complains, tell him I'll show up there to annoy him until he Floos us back. I won't really," he added when her eyes widened in alarm. "Tell him to put a blanket on the floor and a pillow underneath him. It'll make him feel better."
Mrs. Lupin sighed and stood up. "Alright. I'll tell him."
Sirius smiled. "Thanks, Mrs. Lupin. Tell him I'll see his handsome face in a minute — make sure you say those exact words, it's very important."
A weak smile turned up the corners of her lips. "Alright," she repeated. "Goodbye, Sirius."
"Bye." He pulled his head from the fire and returned to James's bedroom in a rush of swirling gray ash.
"Is he going to Floo us back?" James asked.
Sirius brushed a bit of ash from his shoulder and nodded.
James grimaced, noticing the tightness in Sirius's face. "Was it a bad transformation?"
Sirius recalled the sorrow in Mrs. Lupin's face and frowned. "Seems like it."
Mary brushed more ash from Sirius's hair and sighed. "Poor Remus."
"It'll be good for him to see us," James said. "And the ring will cheer him up."
They fell silent, and after a minute Remus's face appeared in the fire. The strange light of the green flames threw his scars into sharp relief, and he sported new scratches across the bridge of his nose and along the entire right side of his face. He had propped his head up on a pillow, and the dark circles under his eyes looked bruised.
"Hi," he said, his voice hoarse.
"Hi Moony," Sirius said, sitting cross-legged in front of the fire. "Nice of you to join us."
"I didn't have much choice, did I?" he said with the hint of a wry smile.
"Hey, Remus." Mary sat down behind Sirius and began to play with his hair. Sirius knew it gave her something to focus on when she was nervous or stressed, but he enjoyed it all the same. "How are you?"
Remus raised his head up off the pillow a couple of inches to shoot her a disdainful look. Sirius snorted with laughter and turned around to look at Mary, grimacing as his hair pulled free from her grip.
"Stupid question, Macdonald."
"Don't be rude to Mary," Remus said, heaving a sigh as he settled his head back on his pillow. "I have a feeling it wasn't her idea to make me use Floo Powder when I feel like I'm about to be sick."
"Nah, that was me," James said, plopping down beside Sirius. "I wanted to show you something and I couldn't wait."
"You two didn't get more tattoos, did you?" Remus asked, wincing.
"How'd you know?" James asked, grinning.
"Yeah, we both got 'I heart Remus Lupin' on our right arse cheeks," Sirius added. "Want to see?"
"Fuck no. Didn't I just tell you I felt like I might be sick?" Remus said, laughing weakly.
"I wonder what would happen if you were sick during a Floo call," Sirius mused, tapping his fingers against the side of his face. "Would it stay in the fireplace, or would it sort of follow you back home?"
"Ugh, shut up, Black," Mary said, combing her fingers through his hair and beginning another braid. "You're not helping."
"Anyway, the real thing I want to show you is much nicer than Padfoot's arse," James said.
"Impossible. There's nothing nicer," Sirius said.
James ignored him and opened the box, then held it up the fire for Remus to see.
"Bloody hell, Prongs," Remus said, picking his head up from the pillow to get a better view of the ring. "You really bought a ring?" His eyes widened. "Is it just the Floo Powder, or is that diamond bigger than Padfoot's ego?"
"Oi! Just because you're ill doesn't mean you get to insult me," Sirius said, grinning in spite of his feigned indignance.
Remus grinned back at him. "But it makes me feel better."
"Please, keep making fun of him, Remus," Mary said, giving Sirius's hair a gentle tug. "You look like you could use some cheering up , and it brings me joy."
"It's three carats, Moony," James said, a conspiratorial note to his voice. "It's a bit much, but I figured, if I'm going to do it, might as well do it right."
"Fuck." Remus gazed at it for another moment, then lifted his eyes up to look at James. "I'm really happy for you, Prongs. I know I don't look very happy, but that's because smiling takes energy, and I don't have a lot of energy to spare. And I wasted a lot of energy dragging my arse across the room to Floo call you tossers, because some prat wanted to show me a bloody huge ring."
James laughed. "Well, that's quite rude of him."
Remus raised his eyebrows. "Have you told Pete yet?"
Sirius and James looked at each other, then burst into laughter.
"Fuck," James said, casting a helpless look down at the ring. "I forgot to tell Pete."
"That's alright," Remus said. He shifted position and winced before resettling his head on the pillow. "You can show him Monday before the rest of us get there for your birthday."
James shot Remus a dubious look. "You sure you'll be okay to come Monday? No offense, but you look a bit rough."
"I'll be fine." He stifled a yawn, muttering under his breath as the movement opened the cut on his cheek.
"You sure?" James persisted. "Because if not—"
"I said I'll be fine, Prongs," Remus repeated, his voice rising.
"You heard the man," Sirius said. "He'll be fine. Moony, I look forward to getting drunk with you."
Remus grinned. "Me too."
"I'm going to buy you a drink, Remus," Mary said, securing Sirius's hair with a hair tie and scooting over to sit beside Sirius. "Wait, hang on, is that Lily?"
Sirius strained his ears and heard faint chatter from downstairs. "I think it is."
"Moony, you'd better go," James said, snapping the ring box shut and stuffing it into Sirius's hand. "Put this back in the hiding spot, will you?"
"Bye, Moony," Sirius said as he got to his feet.
"Feel better," Mary added.
"Come on, Macdonald," Sirius said, grabbing her hand and tugging her along until they reached his bedroom. He stuffed the ring box inside the discarded pants and shoved it into the drawer, then reached for Mary and pulled her close.
"What was that for?" she asked when he released her a minute later, tousle-haired and gasping for breath.
"Dunno," he said, shrugging. "I feel bad for Moony and needed a distraction. Plus, I can't stop thinking about how good you looked wearing that ring."
She ignored his last comment and ran a hand through his hair to make it smooth and tidy again. "Remus makes you feel feelings, doesn't he? I'm surprised you stay friends with him."
"It's quite rude of him, isn't it? I only stay friends with him so I don't have to feel guilty about stealing his chocolate. That, and he's very funny sometimes."
"I love Remus," Mary said, wrapping her arm around Sirius and leaning against him."I'd stay friends with him even without the chocolate and the funny comments. He's just such a good sport, you know? I mean, he has to be, to put up with you all the time."
Sirius grinned and blew a lock of her hair out of his face. "Yeah, he's alright."
Mary pulled away and faced him, a grin spreading across her face. "He loves you too, Black."
Sirius scowled. "I never said—"
"Yeah, you did." She studied him for a moment, wearing that knowing grin that drove him mad, before beckoning to him and heading for the door. "Come on. Let's go have a nice, wholesome family dinner."
The dinner dishes had been cleared away and a plate of biscuits now sat in the center of the table. Sirius reached for a biscuit and stole a glance at Mary. She sat beside him, their legs just brushing under the table, and although they had sat this way hundreds of times, it gave him a feeling of deep contentment to sit beside her here at the Potter's table. He had caught Fleamont and Euphemia exchanging knowing smiles several times. Each time he had glared at them, yet underneath his surly expression he didn't really mind. When Fleamont had made some snarky comment and Euphemia had told him not to be such an arsehole, Mary had leaned over to Sirius and whispered, "I kind of love your parents." Sirius had responded with his usual, "Yeah, they're alright," but Mary's smile told him she knew exactly what he meant. It was embarrassing, really, because what sort of sentimental sod would take so much meaning from such a simple comment? It was the simplicity that affected him – her casual use of the word 'parents' without stumbling or dancing around it, her acknowledgement of his feelings without explicitly pointing them out. This particular sort of tact was one of the things about Mary that made him, well, think she was alright.
"Want to play a round of Exploding Snap?" Fleamont suggested.
"Yeah, but let's move to the sitting room and light the fire." James rubbed his hand up and down Lily's arm. "Evans looks cold."
"I'm fine," she protested. "We don't have to move just for me."
"No, I think a fire would be nice," Euphemia agreed. "You lot go ahead. Sirius and I will be in with some drinks in a minute."
"Just ask Twinkletoes to bring us drinks," Sirius said, sliding out of his seat and attempting to make his escape. Euphemia had that little glint in her eye that usually meant she wanted to ask him questions about his personal life and his feelings and other topics he would rather not discuss.
"Twinkletoes is busy remaking your bed," she said, raising her eyebrows. "Which is odd, because he changed the sheets and made up that bed this morning. Come and help me get drinks, Sirius."
He sighed and leaned close to Mary. "Meet you in there," he grumbled before following Euphemia into the kitchen.
"Alright, let's get it over with," he said, pulling several bottles of Butterbeer from the refrigerator.
"Get what over with?" She stood with her face in a cabinet, examining a selection of wine glasses. "Do you think it's an elf-made wine sort of night, or are we good with Butterbeer?"
"It's always a wine sort of night," Sirius said, Summoning a bottle from the liquor cupboard. "Unless of course I've drank all the wine and you haven't had time to restock yet."
"Well, looks like we're in luck." Euphemia gestured at the full bottle in front of Sirius, then pointed her wand at the cabinet and levitated several wine glasses onto the counter. "I like Mary."
Sirius sighed and sat down at the breakfast nook. "Yeah, she's alright."
She laughed. "I'm not surprised you're in love with her. She's kind of perfect for you. Actually, she's a lot like you, except I don't think she'd ever dream of wiping her greasy hands on my sofa."
"I never said I was in love with her," Sirius muttered into his lap.
"No, you didn't," she agreed. "But I can just tell. Just like I can tell James is in love with Lily."
Sirius looked up at her and grinned. "That's because he tells us how much he loves her about every five minutes."
"Well, he's different from you," she said, shrugging. "He doesn't mind talking about his feelings. Actually, he doesn't mind talking about most things. That boy has far too much to say sometimes." She fell silent, a fond smile forming on her lips as James's voice drifted out to them from the living room.
"Anyway, I like Mary because she's a lot like you, but she also seems very no-nonsense, if you know what I mean," she continued.
"And I'm all nonsense," Sirius said, laughing.
"You do have nonsense tendencies, yes. But we love you, nonsense and all."
She touched his shoulder, a quick, gentle squeeze, and even after years of Euphemia's maternal gestures, the physical affection still took him by surprise. Sometimes he tried to imagine Walburga touching his shoulder this way, hugging him, asking prying questions about his girlfriend before a friendly game of Exploding Snap – he couldn't even fathom it. Now in the flickering kitchen light with Euphemia's Celestina Warbeck album crooning in the background, he tried to hear Walburga's voice in his head saying "We love you, nonsense and all." The thought almost made him laugh – except it was a mirthless laugh, the sort of laugh that replaces more complicated and heavy reactions.
"Mum," he began, choking a bit on the word, because even after almost two years it still tripped him up once in a while. Sometimes he found himself mentally bracing for a gentle rebuff: We're not your parents, Sirius, or You can call us Euphemia and Fleamont. On rare occasions he heard a voice in his mind that he knew was not Euphemia's, but rather belonged to a manifestation of his own insecurities and fears, telling him that Walburga and Orion were the only parents he would ever have, that he had lost the right to have parents when he had run away from Grimmauld Place. For the most part, though, he had learned to silence these doubts, and he did so now, focusing on Euphemia's unassuming smile.
"Mum," he repeated, his voice stronger now, "just because I'm not like James…" He drummed his fingers against the counter as he groped for the words. "Just because I don't talk about my feelings all the time…" He cleared his throat and stared down at the counter. Why in Merlin's name was this so difficult? People did it all the bloody time. It should be simple. The words were there, locked away in his head, yet the thought of speaking them aloud made his stomach twist. He took a breath and tried again. "That doesn't mean…"
Fucking hell. His eyes were locked onto a tiny scratch in the counter as the words rattled around in his head. It was no good. Fucking hell.
He felt a light touch on his arm and looked up to see Euphemia smiling at him.
"I know," she said, her hand resting on his arm for another moment before she pulled it away. "We all do. Now carry a few of these wine glasses, will you? They always seem to get broken when we levitate them."
Hours later, Exploding Snap cards littered the coffee table in front of the fire, and everyone but Sirius and Mary had gone off to bed. At first Euphemia had objected to Lily sleeping in James's bedroom, but she had relented when James pointed out that they spent every night together in the dormitory. She hadn't meant it to begin with, Sirius knew — she let James (and Sirius, when he was there) do pretty much whatever he liked, and was only putting up a show to tease him.
Now Sirius and Mary had squeezed onto a sofa that had been dragged close to the fire. An empty wine bottle and two glasses sat among the scattered cards, and Sirius was the sleepy sort of drunk that made climbing the stairs to go to bed feel like an impossible feat.
"I love your parents," Mary said for the second time that evening. Her head rested on Sirius's shoulder, and a piece of her hair tickled his neck, but he didn't bother moving it – his limbs were too loose and heavy. He draped his arm around Mary's shoulders and pulled her closer, watching the fire dwindle down to embers.
"I'm pretty sure they love you, too." He recalled his conversation with Euphemia and the way Fleamont had chuckled at Mary's approach to reading the Daily Prophet: Why would I ruin a perfectly good day by reading a bunch of depressing rubbish?
"Do they?" she asked, surprised. "Did they say that?"
"Sort of, but I can just tell." He adjusted his leg, stretching out his feet so they rested just in front of the fire.
"The same way we can just tell when you love someone?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Shut up," he muttered, poking her waist. "But yeah, I guess that's what I mean."
They lapsed into silence, listening to the soft sound of the dying fire and the faint notes of the David Bowie album Euphemia had switched to when Sirius complained that Celestina Warbeck made him want to die. Sirius wanted a cigarette but couldn't muster the energy to move.
"Macdonald? Are you okay about everything?" The words tumbled out of his mouth before he realized he was going to speak. He wanted to take it back, push the question back inside his mind where it couldn't disrupt the quiet coziness of their evening, but it was too late.
Mary tensed against him. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean. Everything that's going on. Joining the Order, and risking our lives, and maybe having to kill someone, and putting everything else on hold." His hand rested on her thigh, and after he finished speaking she lay her hand over his and left it there for a few moments before pulling it away to brush a stray curl out of her face. "It's fucking huge, but we haven't talked about it."
"That's because we don't usually talk about our feelings, Black. You especially don't talk about your feelings." She draped her leg over his and nestled closer to him.
"I know. I'm just the right sort of drunk, I suppose." He hesitated, watching the fire and gathering his courage. "And I think you're more worried about it than you're letting on, and you always listen to me complain about whatever the fuck I'm on about, so you could talk to me about this, if you like. Or you can tell me to sod off. Either way."
She laughed softly, then trailed her hand up to Sirius's chest to rest just above the scar that lurked below his t-shirt. Her breath tickled his neck.
"I wasn't sure at first if I wanted to join," she whispered. "I was afraid. I'm still afraid, to be honest."
"Don't be," Sirius said, tightening his grip on her shoulder. "I won't let anything happen to you. I know I've said it before, and maybe you thought I was just being dramatic, but I would die before I let someone hurt you. And I wouldn't hesitate to kill for you, if I had to."
"I'm not scared of something happening to me," Mary said. Her voice was faint, as though each word cost her an effort. "I know you wouldn't let anything happen to me, and I know I'd do an alright job of protecting myself. But that's what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid of what I might have to do, what I might be willing to do. I'm afraid of how we might change or what we might become if we do this."
At first, Sirius couldn't speak. He had wondered the same things — how could he not? But he had never had the courage to think about any of that in the light of day, instead only allowing the thoughts to creep into his consciousness in the fluid time between wakefulness and sleep, when his brain was too fuzzy to examine anything properly. Now Mary had laid it all out, and he didn't know how to even begin to process it all.
"Fuck," he said finally, because what else was there to say? "Fuck, Macdonald, you're really going to get all moral and philosophical on me?"
She sighed. "I'm sorry. I just, well, you did ask. I did decide to join. I, er…" Her hand tensed on his chest. "I talked to Peter about it."
"Fuck, Macdonald," he repeated. "You talked to Pete before you talked to me?" It surprised him how much this bothered him. Of course she would talk to Peter. Why would she talk to Sirius, when he balked at even the briefest conversation about feelings? It shouldn't matter — it didn't matter. And yet, it did.
"Does that bother you?"
"Of course not." Fuck yes it does.
"It's not that I prefer talking to Peter over talking to you." Her hand drifted up to comb through his hair. "I just didn't want to tell you I had doubts about joining because I didn't want to, I dunno, let you down."
"How the fuck would you let me down?" His voice came out sharp and accusatory, which wasn't what he'd intended at all. Her confession left an uncomfortable weight in the pit of his stomach. After a moment's consideration, he realized it was guilt.
"Because you think I'm brave and willing to risk everything for the cause just like you, but really I'm afraid and full of doubt and second-guessing every decision." She moved her hand down to slip under his t-shirt so she could trace the scar on his chest. Some of the tension left his body as she repeated the familiar motion over and over again. "And I didn't mind talking to Peter about it because, well…"
"Because Peter's scared, too."
She sighed. "Yeah." There was so much weariness and defeat in her tone that it almost broke Sirius's heart.
"Macdonald, you are brave."
"How can you say that, when I've thought about leaving the rest of you to fight while I work at the cafe or get some entry-level Ministry job?" Her hand found his again and she clung to him, her grip urgent and desperate.
"Just because you've thought about it doesn't mean you're not brave." He wasn't going to look at their clasped hands, because then he would have to acknowledge that they were the sort of sentimental couple that held hands. "The shit you've been through with your mum, and everything else, people calling you names and threatening you because of your blood status – and you just fucking show up every day like none of it matters, like none of it bothers you? Macdonald, you're one of the bravest people I know, and I have so much fucking respect for you."
Her hand stilled on his chest. "You do?" She whispered the words into his neck, but he managed to hear.
"Of course I do. You think I haven't thought about all that stuff? I have. I just don't let myself think about it too much, because if I do I'm worried I'll back out. Fuck, I'm terrified I'm going to meet Regulus during some mission or battle or whatever, and it's going to be him or me. I don't know what I'd do in that situation. I don't know what the right thing to do would be, or if there even is a right thing." He sighed, stirring her curls as the air left his nostrils.
"Do you think you could do it? To Regulus, I mean?" She didn't specify what it was, but she didn't have to. They both knew.
"I dunno. Sometimes I think I could, because I hate Reg. I hate who he's become and what he stands for, and I hate that I did nothing to stop him from becoming what he is now. But I also…" His voice broke. Mary squeezed his hand, and after a moment he went on. "I still fucking love him, and sometimes I think, maybe there's still a chance for him, a chance for us…"
He gazed into the fire and wished he'd never spoken. This was too much, it was all too much, and the wine hadn't been even close to enough alcohol to prepare him for all these fucking feelings.
"I dunno," he said finally, hoping Mary couldn't hear how choked his voice was. "I really don't know what I'd do. Hopefully I'll never have to find out."
"Fuck, Black."
He laughed. He couldn't help it. Sometimes, fuck really was the only appropriate response.
"I know," he said. "It's a lot."
"It really is." She returned to trailing her fingers along his scar. "How the fuck are we supposed to handle any of it? And still do fucking Herbology homework?"
"Well… you can copy my Herbology homework," he offered.
She laughed. It was a weak laugh, barely audible, but it made Sirius feel better.
"Thanks, Black. Now that's sorted, I can probably just figure the rest out on my own."
He tried to laugh, too, but all he could manage was a tiny smile. "Glad I could help."
They both lapsed into silence, lost in their own thoughts as they struggled to find some semblance of a solution that would provide comfort, or hope, – hell, Sirius would settle for a sliver of reassurance.
"Okay, here's what I think," he said when the silence became unbearable. "And this is all pulled straight from my arse, so feel free to ignore it."
"Alright," she said, her voice hushed and sleepy.
"We don't know what the fuck any of this is going to be like, or what it's going to mean for us, or how we're going to handle it, right?"
"Right."
"Well, I don't see how we're going to figure any of that out until we're actually doing it, so I figure we should just give up on trying to figure it out. Just accept that we'll figure it out as it comes, and leave it at that."
Mary laughed – a dry, mirthless laugh this time. "That's your plan?"
He toyed with a lock of her hair. "I'm not finished yet. I also think we're going to have to count on each other to keep ourselves from becoming someone we don't like."
Her thumb ran up and down his hand, the barest brush against his skin.
"What do you mean?"
He sighed. It made perfect sense in his head, but now that he was speaking it aloud, it seemed convoluted and vague and incredibly unhelpful.
"I mean, we're both afraid we might have to do things that will change us, and we're afraid we won't like the changes. And I know you, Macdonald, and you know me. So I can make sure you don't become someone you don't recognize, and you can do the same for me. And if you notice me starting to slip, you can give me a reminder. And I can do it for you. Because we can't control what happens to us or the things we'll have to do to get through this, but we can control how we respond to it." He took a deep breath, and as the air entered his lungs the words in his head became clearer. "And I'm not going to let you become someone you don't like or recognize, because I like the person you are now too much to risk losing her." He closed his eyes as her hand slid back up to play with his hair. "Does that make any sense?"
"It does, actually. It makes perfect sense." There was a tremble of emotion in her voice, but Sirius also detected a hint of hope. He took that as a good sign. "So we'll just get each other through this, no matter what?" she went on.
"No matter what," he repeated.
She sighed, her shoulders rising and falling against his chest, and then she gave his fingers another squeeze.
"Thanks, Black. It's not a solution, exactly, and it's not perfect by any means, but I suppose it's the best we've got."
"Looks that way."
"Then I guess it'll have to do." She tilted her head up to kiss him, then buried her face in his chest. He wrapped his other arm around her and they clung together, anchoring each other to a tenuous sense of self as every outside force threatened to erase it or morph it into something unrecognizable.
No matter what, he repeated as he pulled her closer and kissed her wild curls. No matter what.