Hello everyone! I'm seriously considering changing my update schedule to biweekly instead of weekly - I have like... seventeen chapters written. At least eleven more than where you guys are at, anyway. It might even be in my best interest to publish faster, all things considered. So, you may look forward to another update this wednesday! I mean - whoever is reading this. I genuinely don't think it's more than maybe six. Hello to all six of you! Sound off, if you're alive, and the world hasn't killed you this 2020.

Enjoy the chapter! It's longer than the last one, I think.


My Family and Other Animals by Gerald Durrell

They say that the bond between James Potter and Sirius Black was unshakeable. They said that no other friendship had been as strong and everlasting as this. They said that this friendship had been the most enchanting one to grace the halls of Hogwarts.

James Potter glared at his best friend.

Sirius continued reading, oblivious.

Remus' eyes swivelled between them. "Sirius, is there any way you could go with James now?"

"Just a minute," said Sirius. "There's a big battle about to happen."

"We're going to lose time and I need to practice. Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw is right around the corner –"

"I am coming, just let this battle be done –"

"Any inspiring ways to conduct murder in there…?" asked James.

"For crying out loud, Potter –"

"Oh am I 'Potter,' now –"

"Yes you are you numpty –"

"Children," interjected Remus tiredly.

"I don't see what's so interesting about the book anyway," said Peter.

"Did you not hear what I say about a big battle?" demanded Sirius.

"There's much better ones she's written," Peter said thoughtlessly. "Her romances are really good."

Everyone turned to look at him.

"What did you say?" asked James, unable to keep the slow smile from spreading on his face.

Peter went pink. "Nothing."

"You said you liked her romances," said Sirius, grinning as well.

"You're reading her too!" said Peter desperately.

"Mine's about William the Conqueror!"

"Well –"

"Oh my god," said James. "You read romances."

"Historical romances," said Peter, his voice becoming almost shrill.

"Shut up, both of you," said Remus. "Peter's allowed to like –"

"Alright, mother –" began Sirius mockingly.

"You know, I don't know why you're making fun of me," said Peter. "I have all of them! You could read them and impress your girl."

Sirius opened his mouth, then shut it again. James started laughing.

"And which one do you recommend?" asked Sirius.

"The Spanish Bride," said Peter, with too little hesitation. "Or Arabella. But you like the historical ones, so."

"What else does she write?" asked James, almost curious.

"She writes regency love stories," said Peter, going pinker, but looking determined.

"We've known you for six years," said Sirius. "Why did you not say you were reading them?"

"Have you seen yourselves?" asked Peter, crossing his arms.

"Fair point," said James. "But we can't deal with this right now. I will lose my temper if we delay any more. Are you coming, Padfoot?"

"Alright," said Sirius. He tossed his book on the sofa, and paused. After thinking about it for a second longer, he stuffed it into his bag. "Let's go."

They stalked off. The common room was noisy at the moment, so Sirius was almost grateful to get away. He had volunteered (stupidly) to help James with some extra practice before the match. He was trying to break in a new broom, and he demanded more time with it.

"So, did she send a note back?" asked James, once they were out of earshot.

Sirius sighed. James was the only person he had told before writing the note. He hadn't agonised too much over it – he didn't know this girl, for one thing – but he certainly did not want everyone else knowing at once.

"No, but we haven't done another exchange yet," said Sirius. "I suppose she has to read it before responding, so she couldn't send it over instantly."

"How long does it take to write?"

Sirius stared at James. "Do you remember when you were trying to buy Evans a present for her fifteenth?" he asked.

James blinked. "Fine."

"You like this girl?"

James wasn't quite asking, but also kind of – asking. Sirius regarded him. James didn't often try to have heart to hearts – but it was easy to give him information matter-of-factly. He didn't react as much as he listened and sorted things out. Sirius had turned up at his home with nothing more than a suitcase and James hadn't reacted. He'd given Sirius ointment for the cut on his lip and the bruise near his eye, a room to stay in, and had spoken to his parents about it. James always asked directly, without fanfare.

"I don't know," said Sirius. "Bit early to tell. I don't know her."

He continued waiting for Sirius to say something more.

"I like her taste," said Sirius cautiously. "I like how she thinks – you should have read some of her notes in the murder book."

"And the battle book?"

Sirius was silent. He had a hard time explaining his reader. She had such a lot of thoughts in the corner – everyone's lying, she had written when the interviews started in the book. It's too convenient, she scribbled. How do their stories match up well enough for no one to be too suspicious, but not enough for anyone to come to a conclusive solution to the killer? It's too convenient. It's too convenient.

He had been floored by her thoughts at times, coming from a history of reading. He could feel the number of murders she had read with every note she wrote. Even with The Conqueror – she knew the narrative tension of a story so well, she could pre-empt history even when she did not know it. At times, he felt her thoughts weaving through the text. He felt her contemplate when she wrote stuff like, we're at the beginning of a war right now, and it seems that there is not much to do but prepare yourself for classes. It is a wonder there is so much glory to write about, when there are so many sensible things to do during a crisis which are not at all glorious. How did someone summarise something like that?

"I dunno how to explain it," said Sirius finally.

James look at him, hard. "S'alright," he said. "Let's play some Quidditch."


June had collapsed all over her desk during charms. She touched the sheet of paper in her hand again, and abruptly turned away from it again.

The offending paper in question seemed to be a note.

Dear Reader (read the note),

Ha, is that not cheesy? Unfortunately, can't help it, I'm trying to be as charming as possible so I don't scare you off. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you seem shy.

I didn't want to say anything too dramatic, just that I really liked this last book. Romance is good and all – but you know, boys like murder more. Not that – not that I intend to do any murder. In any case, thank you. I hope the next book is even better. I'm not much of a reader, my mother will be impressed that you are able to have me reading. Of course, then she will be angry that it's all Muggle literature. And then she might want to have you poisoned for making me read Muggle literature about murders, of all things.

A little unfair that you know who I am but I don't know you.

Best,

S

June's eye caught the sign-off once again, and she felt like tearing her own hair out.

After so much waffling, she had selected what to give him next – her copy of My Family and Other Animals was a change in tone, certainly – but she had picked. She had decided. She had done the brave thing. And now he had written her a note.

Her nerves were shot. She didn't know if she could give him a note and a book. That was a lot.

"Hey, didn't you sit behind me?"

She looked up to find Sarah standing by her.

"Um – I – erm –"

Sarah sighed. "Warren, why the fuck have you taken the girl's seat?" she addressed the boy behind them.

June chewed the inside of her cheek. "It's – it's alright – I mean –"

"Her name isn't written on it!" said Warren.

"Whatever," said Sarah. She turned to June. "You don't mind me sitting next to you, do you? I'm a better deskmate than Warren. He might get his drool over your notebooks."

"You know what Freegood –"

"Shut up, Warren, I'm talking to someone."

June went red. And she nodded, even though she was horrified. Sirius Black knew this Sarah Freegood as well, didn't he? Oh god –

She stuffed her letter from him away.

"I'm Sarah Freegood."

"I know," mumbled June. "June Williams."

"I know, too," said Sarah shortly.

"You do?" asked June, surprised.

"We have nearly all the same classes. I think you don't have Arthimancy. We've had the same classes for years."

"Oh," said June.

"How'd you know me?"

"Um."

Sarah wasn't… unnoticeable, like June. She didn't have dirty blonde hair – she had red hair. Not the same red as Lily's, which was darker. It was lighter and less pretty, something carroty. It stood out. That meant sitting next to her would have June stand out.

Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Hey, Williams?"

Oh, god –

Sirius Black was approaching their desk. "You're in this class?"

"What's the matter with you, Black?" asked Sarah. "She's in all your classes, you know."

"She is?" he asked, confused.

"She's in Gryffindor!" exploded Sarah.

"What?" asked Sirius. "You are?"

June nodded mutely.

"I thought you were a Hufflepuff," he said. "Huh."

"You really are amazing, Black," said Sarah.

"Thank you!" he said with a grin. "You see Williams, Freegood has now taken a hatred to me because she doesn't want to admit how physically attracti-"

"Oh ha, ha, -"

"Um!" June exclaimed. "We have class!"

"Oh, right," said Sirius. "Turn away, Freegood, I have to tell Williams something." Sarah rolled her eyes again, but she turned to her notebook. He leaned close to her, and June flinched involuntarily. He smelled musky. "I got a new book."

"Oh?" asked June desperately.

He held up her copy of The Conqueror.

"It's good."

"What's it about?"

"William the Conqeror."

"Um."

"Dunno how accurate it is, of course, but it's good."

Sarah glanced up. "Heyer is usually accurate," she said. "Particularly her Regency stuff."

"Amazing," said Sirius. "Fuck – Flitwick's here."

June sank into her chair, her head hitting her desk.

Sarah was smiling to herself, and June didn't want to ask why. "Books out!" announced Flitwick in his squeaky voice. "And copy down these notes!"

June groaned as she took her notebook out. She was so caught in her own misery that she almost forgot to protect her handwriting from showing. She knew Sarah had had a very small glance at her handwriting when Sirius had shown it to her, but June didn't want to take any chances. Sarah seemed a little suspicious of the way she was hiding her notebook with her arm, but she didn't say anything particular.

"You read Georgette Heyer?" asked Sarah, her voice expressionless. She was bent over her notebook and scribbling.

June started. "No," she said.

"Oh," said Sarah. "Pity. Good books."

"Is it?" asked June, scrambling for a way to end this conversation.

"Of course," said Sarah. "I'd be surprised if I saw you – or anyone else, for that matter – carrying one around here, of course. No one in Hogwarts reads them."

"Right," said June, her brows knitting together. Sarah was looking at her meaningfully. Just as June was about to open her mouth to ask her what she meant, Flitwick's squeak was heard: "No talking, please!"


June paced inside her dormitory. Left, from one side of her bed. Right, to the other. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left, right, left, right, left.

Thud.

She'd hit her foot on the bed. Now her toe was throbbing.

She fell on her bed and screamed into the sheets. She was surrounded by crumpled balls of paper, so everything was double muffled. She flicked her wand, and all the sheets of paper burned themselves without leaving any ash on her sheets.

She turned and faced the canopy of the bed.

She had been trying to compose a note. Variations of Dear Sirius, Dear Black, Dear Asshole had been discarded. Unable to settle on what to call him, she had tried to move on and write the next few lines, but got stuck after she wrote I think. Then, she tried writing, I hate you, and that didn't work either. She attempted to write the graphic and gory ways in which she would like to wring his neck, but even she could not fool herself long enough to go through with that.

She sighed.

She was going to go to the library, she decided. She was going to work on her homework, for crying out loud. She didn't have time to write letters to boys.

At once, she gathered her things and headed off. She had wanted to practice some transfiguration today, or McGonagall was really going to have her head. She was going to strenuously think of anything but him. Anything.

He was sitting at her table again.

June almost wanted to abandon him and disappear, but he looked up and smiled angelically. "Oh, Williams! I was hoping you'd be here."

She wished the earth would open and swallow her.

"Hi," she said.

"How are you?"

"Um – I was just going to practice some transfiguration, that's all."

"McGonagall loaded us all up with those animal transfiguration spells, didn't she?"

June put one foot behind the other. "Were you practicing, too?"

"Oh, no," said Black, like he found the idea laughable. "I don't practice for Transfiguration. You know, I thought you'd be a year younger."

June frowned. "Okay?"

"Why are you still standing, by the way?"

So the earth hadn't opened to swallow her whole. The bitch.

Without any options, June sat down. She saw him return to his book. "Why were you – um, why were you hoping I'd be here?" she asked.

"No reason," he said. "You listen to whatever the fuck I say."

"Oh." She blinked. "Anything on your mind?"

He regarded her, snapping his book shut. It was her book, she noticed with a sinking feeling. "Okay, fine. I wanted to ask your opinion on something," he said sheepishly.

She raised her eyebrows.

"Is it strange if I sent the girl a note? Would it freak her out?"

She had had enough of this.

"Look, can I – can I ask you something first?" she said. "Why me? Why are you telling – well, me – anything?"

He looked momentarily surprised. "That's the first time I've heard you speak that much."

She shrunk in herself.

"It's good, Williams, it's good," he said reassured her. "Look, honestly, I'd rather you than anyone else. Can't have the world knowing Sirius Black is nervous over a girl. And you're good at listening."

She blinked again. "Alright," she sighed. She didn't care a hoot for his arrogance, but the last part seemed true enough.

"Alright?"

She nodded.

"So – is it weird that I sent her a note? What if she doesn't write one back?"

"Um – are you worried?"

"A little," he admitted. "I told myself she won't have written one in the next book anyway, but I'd be a little crushed if she didn't send one in the one after this one. And I'm nearly done with the book, but I keep delaying finishing it."

"Maybe – maybe she's shy?" June said.

"I guess," he said.

"I'm sure – I'm sure, She'll – erm – write something back," said June.

"I hope so. I don't care if it's her opinion on the book itself. It'll be nice to hear."

"She will," promised June. "She will."


Do review! I read them again and again when I need cheering up.