Two and a half summers passed.

The summer of 1974 was an especially hot one. Or so it felt to Alex, who opened her eyes to the dark rays of dawn covered in sweat. Her blanket had been kicked aside to the foot of her bed and the shirt she wore clung to her neck and chest. She stayed still, hoping that wind would blow from the window and cool her down. It did not happen.

The stillness of the dawn felt paradoxical given the nature of the conversation she had with her mother last night. Sophia Wilson had decided to quit her job at the local school, to Alex's much surprise. No, she had not grown attached to Mr. Whitman and realized that the best life she could lead was by his side, as Alex had jokingly asked. Instead, it was something deeper.

"I'm joining the Order," her mother had said, her face serious.

Alex had been working on her second helping of salad. "What order?" she asked.

"The Order of the Phoenix," her mother answered. Alex put down her fork.

She'd heard about the order, usually in a negative context. The discussions and dissent murmured in the Slytherin house had been growing stronger and louder in recent years. Daily Prophet became thicker and thicker with lists of names of people missing, apparently thriving on the new demand created by the incompetency of the Ministry to keep the order in check and the rampant violence inflicted by the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters. Most of her housemates who had enough interest about the issue knew about the Order—knew that Dumbledore was the leader, a counter-organization against the rebels of Death Eaters led by Voldemort—and saw it as the common enemy, never hesitating to hiss at Dumbledore during feasts and occasional dinners when he made appearance. The house was like a hive of bees, buzzing with activity and discussion and exchange of ideas that Alex knew the rest of the school would blanch at and run away from, and apparently she was one of the bees.

Or so they thought.

"It's getting worse," her mother was saying. "The Death Eaters—there were there when I graduated from Hogwarts. That was more than fifteen years ago. I'd hoped that they would quiet down eventually, but they're still there and getting even stronger and larger every week. I can no longer remain standing on the sidelines and waiting foolishly for it to end." Her mother looked at her earnestly. Alex didn't know what to say. In front of swirled the images of her mother, Rebecca, Leila, Avery, Mulciber, Snape, other housemates that she felt somehow responsible for defending.

"So you're going back?" Alex swallowed. "To the wizarding world?"

Her mother nodded grimly. Alex looked out the window.

"You know it's dangerous," she said almost casually.

"I know," her mother replied. "But I think it'll be even more dangerous not to fight back."

Alex rubbed her hand over her eyes. "Yeah," she said. "I guess you're right." They stayed in silence for a while.

"I've spoken to Professor Dumbledore," her mother said. "From September, I'll be working at Transfiguration Today as an editor."

Alex's eyes widened in surprise. "That's pretty lucky, isn't it?"

Her mother smiled thinly, as though remembering a not very fond memory. "I used to work there and they know me—but it is very lucky, yes."

Alex hesitated. "But are you okay with going back?"

Her mother smiled at her, a warm, genuine smile that for some reason left Alex more worried than before. "Of course," she said. "It's for the best."

So her mother was becoming a witch again—Alex didn't think that phrase even made much sense—and becoming a member of the Order. Nothing wrong with either of those things. She supposed that it would be a more worthwhile life for her mother, who, she knew, had been quite an excellent student at Hogwarts, being a prefect and all. Alex didn't know what made her give up that part of life and her mother never said. Just repeated that she wanted something different for Alex.

Her mother had already installed the Floo Network at their house, however small the fireplace might have been. And, although the shift was subtle, the house was slightly more organized, slightly more put-together. Alex supposed that it was not a bad change, especially seeing as they were going to have a guest. Her stomach churned.

Regulus would never ask directly, but he had hinted once or twice that he was curious to see Alex's home. To that Alex never gave a clear reply, preferring to remain ambiguous. She'd never told him that her mother could probably never imagine a more unpleasant houseguest than a Black. Then third year came, when he, contrary to every expectation, began to take Muggle Studies along with Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmacy and Ancient Runes (even McGonagall dissuaded students from taking more than two electives and he had already chosen three without Muggle Studies) and, either fascinated or horrified—a bit of both, Alex wagered—he asked her directly if he could come to where she lived and experience what Muggle life was like (he didn't mean to imply that she was a Muggle, of course, he hastily added). Alex knew that such a direct request from him usually meant that he wanted it very much and found it harder to say no despite her mother's reservations about the boy. So she had asked her mother and, to her surprise, she said yes. Alex wrote him first thing the break began.

But could it be that her mother had had an ulterior motive? Alex didn't want to consider such a possibility, and felt it was a horrible thing of her to even think of. But—why did she say yes so willingly? Alex couldn't understand, and, lying on the bed as the dawn left its trail across the sky, she felt an uncomfortable clench in the gut. This visit couldn't turn out well. She hoped her feeling was wrong.

"When is he coming? Five, right?" The question stopped Alex on her track. She had been pacing around the livingroom for the last half hour, staring out the window, whipping her head around to check the clock, and acting as though everything was fine. She didn't want to show her mother that she was uneasy about Regulus and her mother being together, or that she was worried about anything going astray. Unfortunately, her body wasn't so willful.

"Five," she answered, peering out the window. Her mother sighed.

"Alex, it's only five fifteen. You don't need to be worried. Although I did expect his mother to teach him better manners," her mother added lightly and Alex clenched and unclenched her fists restlessly.

"He's never late," Alex said, almost apologetically. And it was true—whenever they planned to go to Hogsmeade together, he arrived on time, right on the dot. In fact, she had seen him get up at four to make it to the five o'clock Quidditch practice—he had made Seeker his second year and had kept the position since—while every other player was asleep until five fifteen. He was so practical that sometimes he asked Alex to meet him in front of the library at five thirty-eight or some similar time—for Merlin's sake.

No, Regulus Black did not do late. All the more reason to worry.

"The Floo doesn't hold people up or something, does it?" Alex asked, feeling foolish—Regulus would have taken that into account and then some if that was the case.

"No," her mother replied. "The traffic's sometimes busy, but the longest hold-up in history was five minutes. That was during the initial stages of development."

"Okay," Alex answered. "But Regulus would've known that if there was going to be the—"

A loud rumble came from the fireplace and Alex stood still, staring intently at the fireplace. Her mother had a mild look of surprise on her face, watching blandly from the armchair. A flame of green fire flashed suddenly before quickly extinguishing and in its place stood Regulus, coughing slightly.

"Watch your head," Alex said automatically.

"Hullo," he said, stepping out of the fireplace after dusting himself. "So sorry I'm late, I had—er—a bit of family matter to attend to, again, I'm so sorry." The last words were directed at Sophia Wilson who had meanwhile stood up silently from her chair. "Ms. Wilson, I'm so glad to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you from Alex."

Sophia Wilson shook the proffered hand. "Regulus," she said, her voice not altogether cold. "I've heard a lot about you as well. Welcome to our home." Alex noticed the slight emphasis on our but decided not to comment.

"Thank you for having me. I know that you don't like visitors." Regulus's voice was polite enough, but Alex noted the unnecessary second sentence. She did tell him that her mother preferred to be left alone and that they lived quite secluded in their small town but it seemed odd that Regulus should mention it with such a—formal tone.

Sophia Wilson answered this with a slight smile but didn't answer further.

"House!" Alex blurted out. The two looked oddly at her.

"Show Regulus the house," Alex said defensively. "I shall do that, shan't I? So this is the living room—" Regulus made the motion to retrieve his small bag from the fireplace and Alex stood, torn.

"You can leave your bag here, Regulus," Sophia Wilson said. "It would be fine."

Alex felt her face color as she felt Regulus's curious gaze at her direction. "Mom—"

Fortunately—or unfortunately—Regulus caught on quickly. "Alright," he said, dropping the bag quietly next to the sofa.

"Mom, really, he can use my room—" Alex began again.

"And drive you out of your own room? Nonsense," Regulus said, giving her his most winning smile, making her feel like a stranger. "I feel attached to the sofa already."

"And this is my room," Alex swallowed, feeling unexpectedly nervous as Regulus climbed up after her into the attic. He had been mostly silent during the entire tour, occasionally nodding or saying "Ah," but keeping the questions that he had to himself. Alex had seen him reach out to touch something or read the titles of the books in the library several times, as though he were an astronaut seeing the moon for the first time. Suddenly her room, which was cozy by herself, felt cramped; Regulus had to duck as he peered out the window, and Alex realized that Regulus had gotten taller over the summer—now a little taller than her. She sat on a chair defensively, feeling protective of her room and her smaller stature.

"Huh," was all he said. Alex raised her eyebrow as Regulus looked around slowly, reading the titles on the bookshelf, picking up an old snow globe from a trip her mother and she had taken when she couldn't have been six years old. His eyebrow quirked up as he held out a photo frame.

"Is this you?" he asked and Alex felt herself flush.

"I was five!" she said defensively, lunging for the photo. Unfortunately, Regulus was faster.

"You certainly look like a five-year-old," Regulus said, observing the photograph while managing to deflect her attempts to retrieve it. "Are you dressed up as a pumpkin?"

"It was a school event!"

Regulus laughed. "I don't see you dressing up for Quidditch games," he said.

"Don't be ridiculous, green and silver doesn't even go with pumpkin." She finally succeeded in wrangling the frame from his hands. She sat down on her bed, huffing slightly.

"The picture didn't move," Regulus said casually.

"'Course not, it's Muggle photograph."

Regulus nodded. "I know it's a Muggle photograph—I just never actually saw one before."

Alex gave him an ironic smile.

"Welcome to my home," she said.

Her mother had insisted that they take a walk outside before dinner and, despite Alex's protests that she'd help (she wasn't sure how helpful Regulus would be in the kitchen but, judging from his anecdotes about his childhood, she guessed 'very little' to be the answer), they found themselves on a rather pleasant stroll through town. Alex had not noticed at first that Regulus had managed to put on Muggle clothing—her own attire she was too used to to notice—and was surprised to find that he had dressed himself rather decently.

"Nicked some from Sirius's closet," was Regulus's practical answer as they went down the main street. "No idea how he got them—to be honest, I would rather not know—but I doubt he'll be missing them anytime soon."

"Gone away again?" Mrs. Black's disliking of her eldest son's choice of friends was not an unknown subject amongst the Slytherins—or Hogwarts, in general, as the Marauders became more and more popular and more and more listeners conveniently found their spots closer to where they could hear them talking—and Alex knew that every summer could not go by unless Mrs. Black and her son had a "conversation" about his summer plans, where he would demand to go to the Potter's and his mother would list the virtues of a good pureblood breeding and the dangers of bloodtraitor families—especially the rich ones.

"Yup." The p popped loudly on Regulus's mouth, an uncharacteristic sound.

"Reg, what happened to your face?" Alex asked almost nonchalantly. Regulus looked at her in surprise.

"Is there something on my face?"

"There's a cut—here," she pointed at her own left cheekbone. Regulus dabbed on his and found bits of dried blood on his fingers. He shook his head.

"It's nothing," he said.

"Family matter?" she quoted his earlier excuse for coming late.

Regulus emitted something like a sharp exhale that could have been a laughter but wasn't. "Mother wasn't pleased about us leaving on the same day. Purely coincidental, of course, and she didn't mean to, but—well, her condition's been getting worse." Mrs. Black suffered from what Rebecca called "minor colds" and what Leila called "maniac episodes." Alex did not entirely understand their allusion, but, as far as she could tell, Regulus didn't come out unscratched from any of them. She squeezed his shoulder slightly and he accepted it with a stoic face.

"What's that?" he asked, perhaps hoping to get onto a different topic, pointing at a large billboard sign.

"That, my dear Reg," Alex said, grinning. "Is a movie theater." It felt odd to be the one doing all the explaining—no, it felt odd that Regulus should even ask questions. Regulus Black was mostly silent during classes and spoke whenever he had to answer a question. He never even confirmed an instruction with a professor and it was rare that he would stay behind to ask about anything; very rarely would he ask Alex to leave by herself so that he could ask Professor Binns something. It was always Alex who asked what something meant or why something other was that way, and Regulus always answered—without condescension but indeed with curiosity, as though it seemed inconceivable to him that anyone could even exist who did not already know what everyone knew.

Regulus's eyes widened slightly, only very slightly. "You mean one of those moving pictures that goes on for hours?" he asked.

"With sound," Alex said with a dry flourish. Regulus stood still on the street and stared at the building like a dog that encountered a new person for the first time and couldn't decide whether to bark at the person or not.

"We could go there some other time," Alex said, trying to sound reassuring for some reason. Regulus nodded. "I don't know what's good, though—"

"Alex!" a high voice called from across the street and Alex felt herself stiffen despite the three-year-long gap since she had last heard the voice. A pretty girl of fourteen waved excitedly, her long hair blowing gently in the summer breeze. The dress she wore showed off her slim, long legs and arms and her face seemed unmarred by the sun. Alex wondered, not for the first time, how Nancy Crawford could always look like she just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Next to her stood several girls that Alex recognized from primary, looking far too curious and enthusiastic to make her feel comfortable.

"Friends?" Regulus asked in a low voice next to her.

"Eh," Alex said. "Imagine that she's Potter and I'm Severus. Makes sense?"

Regulus's eyebrows slowly went up. "Oh," he said simply.

"There was one time when I turned her hair pink," Alex recalled; it was the only time Nancy's hair was anything less than perfect. She'd accused Alex, of course, saying that somehow the town's oddball had managed to do it, but no adult could conceive how a child could turn Nancy's thick, shiny locks into bristly pink. The group of girls in question were now crossing the street toward them and Alex sighed, wondering what kind of atrocities the girl would spit her way today. They had not spoken since she'd left for Hogwarts—and for a reason.

"It's been such a long time!" Nancy exclaimed when she reached where they were standing, hugging Alex tightly. Surprised, Alex merely stood there, her eyes wide in alarm, looking for Regulus. He was observing the girls carefully at a distance, as though he was afraid to go near them. Alex wondered if his aloofness was due to their being Muggles or their being girls. Neither of the reasons pleased her particularly.

"Yeah," she managed to stutter out. A whiff of perfume hit her nose and Alex felt her nose twitch involuntarily. "Hi, hi, hello," she said, looking at the girls behind Nancy. The muttered out their hellos, though not as enthusiastically as the gang leader, who seemed to be sizing her up and finding the results somewhat displeasing.

"We were so devastated when we heard that you were going to a different school," Nancy said. "Didn't think your mum could afford it, and all—"

"Right." The initial shock of the strong perfume and aggressive hug had worn out and Alex could now look around more clearly. "You haven't changed a bit," she said sincerely.

Nancy smiled a dazzling smile. "Oh, I've grown quite a bit," she said, and the girls behind her giggled. Alex stifled an inward groan. People two blocks away from them could probably see Nancy Crawford's rather well endowed assets and Alex had no intention to acknowledge the fact, whether in front of or without Regulus, who was now looking at Nancy curiously.

Alex rolled her eyes inwardly. Apparently Regulus was no better than any other fourteen-year-old.

"So?" Nancy said, eyeing Regulus suggestively.

Alex raised her eyebrows blandly. "So what?" she asked, playing dumb.

"Is he a friend from your school?" a girl next to Nancy asked, Susan Taylor, and another girl snickered.

"Oh please," she said. "As if that could snag that." Alex felt her face heat up and, next to her, Regulus started oddly, as though the idea caught him by surprise. This motion brought a more pronounced bout of snickers and Alex rolled her eyes this time, trying not to show that the comment stung.

"Nancy, meet Regulus Black. I'm sure you two get on swimmingly," Alex said, pushing Regulus on his back more forcefully than she needed to. Nancy offered her hand and Regulus shook it dumbly.

"Nancy Crawford, lovely to meet you," she said, her eyes never leaving his face.

Regulus cleared his throat. "A pleasure," he replied, but didn't say anything further.

"So, Regulus," Nancy began. "May I call you Regulus? It sounds very… foreign," a half-embarrassed face with a step forward and Alex resisted the urge to turn her hair into another bright color—rainbow, perhaps.

"I'm British," Regulus said succinctly. "Regulus is fine."

Nancy's eyes lit up. "You are?" Another step closer. Regulus took an involuntary step back and Alex held back a snicker of her own. Poor Regulus, feeling the full charm of the town's belle. "And where are you from? London? You have the accent."

"I—" Regulus began, his eyes now frantically trying to catch Alex's, but Alex merely quirked her eyebrow. She was not going to get involved with Nancy Crawford—not even for Regulus. Really, he shouldn't have stared so much anyway.

"Do you play sports?" Susan asked and a flash of annoyance flashed across Nancy's face before it smoothed itself into another dazzling smile.

"I couldn't help but notice…" she trailed off, bringing a hand to Regulus's upper arm and leaving a trail with her forefinger. Regulus flinched away and Nancy pouted, as though that was the most adorable thing that she'd ever seen.

"We should—" she began, but—

"Oi!" a voice shouted from down the street. "What do you think you're doing?" All of their heads whipped to the direction and Alex failed to stifle a groan this time. This could not be happening. One of her dreaded nightmares was now fulfilling itself. She didn't want Regulus to meet her former classmates—she didn't want them to have anything to do with who she was now, or Regulus, or even her mother. But now they were, squeezing their way into her life, and it had to be the day Regulus came to town. She bit her lip. Next to her Regulus stirred, sensing trouble.

"That's my girlfriend, you fucking shithead." Tom Ramsay was exactly as Alex remembered—tall, lovely eyes, and the most terrible grin one could see on the most angelic face. She might have once had a thing for him—no, that was, she was eight and he was easily the handsomest boy in the entire school. But he never gave her a thought and that was that. As she got older she'd heard rumors—the girls he kissed, the things he would do after school in the alleyway—but they were just rumors, or so Alex would rather believe. But now Alex could swear that she smelled cigarette as he drew closer with a couple of other guys—also from primary, Alex noticed glumly, and there was one or two that she didn't recognize, but it didn't matter now.

Regulus, unfortunately, knew none of the local teenager politics. "I beg your pardon?" he asked politely, altogether far too politely, and Alex could see him beginning to reach into his pocket out of habit. She grabbed his hand without thinking to stop him and Regulus, instantly aware of their surroundings, straightened and smiled at Ramsay.

"I regret causing a misunderstanding," he said, "but it was your girlfriend who approached me. Take better care of her next time." He turned around to go, pulling Alex with him. Unfortunately, Ramsay noticed her for the first time.

"Wilson?" he said incredulously. Alex smiled painfully as Regulus stopped beside her.

"Ramsay," she said levelly, looking around at the group. The girls had distanced themselves from the scene a bit, but Nancy found her place next to Ramsay, smirking. Ramsay advanced on them, his cronies in tow. Regulus sighed.

"It is you," Ramsay said slowly, looking up and down at her with an appreciative gaze that Alex made her want to sink into the ground and possibly never come up. "Blimey, I thought you were dead, or something."

"Certainly a better alternative to this," Nancy said sweetly, giving her a disparaging glance. Regulus raised a disbelieving eyebrow and looked at Alex, who avoided his gaze.

"Quite alive," Alex said, a humorless smile on her face.

"We'd better hurry, Alex," Regulus said loudly, pulling on her hand again. She realized that he hadn't let it go yet and tried to pull her hand free, but Regulus's grasp was stronger than she thought. "Or we'd be late."

"Who's that?" Ramsay said, nodding toward Regulus.

"None of your business," Regulus snapped. "Go your own way and we'll go ours." He started to pull Alex again, but Ramsay stepped in front of him.

"I don't know who you think you are," he drawled, "but here we apologize when you make a move on someone else's girl." He shoved Regulus on the shoulder. Ramsay was bigger than Regulus, Alex realized with a sinking feeling. She didn't know how good Regulus was at physical confrontation; he'd certainly grown up from the incident in the owlery during first year, but she doubted that he could handle Ramsay, the terrorizing bully, without a wand.

Unfortunately, Regulus now seemed genuinely irritated. "Clearly her own boyfriend wasn't enough," he taunted. "I can't apologize for that, now, can I?" Nancy was smiling—her eyes shined—enjoying the fact that two boys were apparently fighting over her, Next to Ramsay someone sniggered and Ramsay's nostrils flared.

"Listen, arsehole," he whispered. "I don't care if you go to some fancy boarding school, you and your pretty little face can either leave now or—"

"Or what," Regulus said, his face deadpan.

"Reg," Alex muttered, her voice low. "We should probably leave. Now." She tugged at his hand but he didn't budge.

"Listen to your girlfriend, Reggie-poo," Ramsay grinned. "Maybe if you're a good boy, the whore might even suck you off."

"Aw, I don't think he knew, Tommy" Nancy crooned, laughing. "Our dear Alex is probably even easier than her dear old mom—" Regulus's eyes flared.

What happened next was something that Alex would rather not remember. Regulus lunged—quite artfully, she had to admit—at Ramsay, who was surprised at this unexpected attack and was quickly backed against the wall. Most of them stood shocked as the pretty little face landed the first punch on the nose. Alex heard something crack and winced internally. This couldn't turn out well.

If Regulus had speed, Ramsay had experience—and considerablely more weight. The situation was quickly reversed and his fist connected with Regulus's eye, who feinted left but didn't manage to avoid the blow completely. Ramsay grabbed for Regulus's neck, who in turn used the smaller distance between them to jab at Ramsay's stomach, but not before another blow came. The boys had created a small circle around them and even girls peered from behind, looking grossly fascinated. Ramsay let out an animalistic, feral growl and Regulus was visibly panting. People on the street had mysteriously disappeared, having sensed trouble, and observed safely from behind the window glass panels. Alex stood there, horrified. Her body refused to move—she should have known what to do, she was supposed to be smarter, wiser than she used to be, but she stood there, transfixed, torn, utterly confused, stupefied by old memories resurfacing, memories that she hadn't visited in a while, memories that she would rather not get back to. Another blow came and there was a sharp intake of breath.

"What's going on here?" A loud, calm voice broke her reverie and Alex had never been so glad to hear that voice. Mr. Whitman made his way through the small circle, looking as neat and normal as ever. It had been a while since Alex had talked to Mr. Whitman face to face, only occasionally running into him at stores whenever she was running an errand. He hadn't changed much, Alex realized. The lines at the corner of his eyes may have deepened, and Alex could see silver streaks in his brown hair, but he was still the annoying man who had far too much presence in her mother's life.

And she had never been so relieved to see him.

"Mr. Whitman," Nancy began immediately in a whiny voice. "Ramsay didn't do anything—"

"I'm sure he didn't," Mr. Whitman said distractedly before placing himself between the fighting pair. "Break it up, you two. The fight's over."

"Don't. Touch. Me." Regulus hissed, his gaze dark on Mr. Whitman's face. He tried to shake his hands off his shoulders, but Mr. Whitman was persistent. His nose was bloody.

Ramsay was more familiar with the routine and straightened immediately. "Good evening, Mr. Whitman," he said. Mr. Whitman ignored him.

"Go home. All of you," he merely said, still holding on to Regulus.

"But—" Nancy began.

"Now," he repeated authoritatively and, to Alex's surprise and distaste, they all dispersed, one by one, Ramsay giving Regulus a threatening glare when he thought Mr. Whitman wasn't looking.

Regulus merely spat on the curbside.

"Mr. Whitman, I—" Alex began but he waved her off.

"It's alright, Alex," he said. "People who fight with Thomas Ramsay rarely start the fight itself." He examined Regulus's nose. "You'd better get that treated, young man."

Regulus didn't answer. Mr. Whitman sighed.

"Sophia told me that she was going to have a friend of yours come over," Mr. Whitman said to Alex. "But if I were you, I'd avoid the evening. You know how they can get." Alex nodded, feeling grateful and guilty. The man she officially labeled as the biggest threat to her family happiness had just gotten them out of a tight spot. She cleared her throat.

"I—thanks, Mr. Whitman," she said. He nodded awkwardly and waved before quickly departing. She turned to Regulus, who had been watching the entire exchange silently.

"Reg, I'm sorry—" she began, but Regulus cut her off.

"What are you, mental?"

The question threw her off guard. Regulus rarely used expletives, and one as casual as this was almost unheard of from his mouth. Alex stared at him in shock, but he seemed too enraged to care.

"You—" he began, but, evidently far too gone and lost for words, let out a frustrated sound that sounded almost like a growl. "You're Alexandra Wilson, the best student at Defense Against Dark Arts in our year—"

Alex looked around nervously. People were still in the shops and the faces weren't pressed against the window now, but someone could hear. "Regulus, you might want to keep your voice down—"

"You could make the Quidditch team if everyone else wasn't being such a git about girls!" he shouted. "And Merlin forbid that you ever lose a game of chess to anyone."

"Reg—" Alex began, now beginning to feel embarrassed.

"Stand up for yourself every once in a while!" Regulus's voice, if possible, grew even louder. "You're better than they could ever be, so why are you acting like you owe them something?"

Her eyes stung, but Alex turned her head, looking away. "Reg, that's enough," she said. Her quite words seemed to subdue Regulus—or perhaps he had simply vented enough—and Regulus also looked away, still looking slightly excitable.

"I'm sorry, it's not my business to interfere," he said stiffly and they slowly began to make their way home, an implicit understanding between them that whatever tour of the town was over for the day.

"It's a small town," Alex said, looking at the ground. "My mom appeared out of nowhere with me in tow without a father, and, well, they didn't really like that."

"Alex, they called you a—" Regulus stopped, apparently unable to repeat their words. He visibly struggled, his footsteps louder than usual. "Even about your mother, they—"

"It's like you said, isn't it?" Alex said, her voice falsely bright. "They're not worth it."

Regulus looked at her strangely. "Is that what Sophia Wilson taught you? To keep your head down?" Alex looked up to find Regulus looking her in that strange chastising, pitying way and her lips thinned.

"Don't look at me like that," she said, her voice sharper than she'd intended. Regulus sighed, a long, slow exhale of breath, but he didn't say anything anymore.

"Think my mom's had enough, anyhow," Alex muttered, feeling vaguely apologetic, as if she had to make excuses up for their situation and behavior. "She said she's going back to the wizarding world—will start working for Transfiguration Today this fall. I don't know what made her change her mind, but—" she cleared her throat. "Hopefully it'll be fine."

Regulus didn't say anything. In fact, they remained silent their entire way back to her house and, whenever Alex pointed something out to show him, he merely nodded or sounded a monosyllabic answer. He was still frowning when they reached the doorstep, his brows furrowed, apparently deep in thought. Alex could hear the smell of tomato and chicken coming from the kitchen. She sighed. She wasn't really in the mood to explain anything now.

"Hi mom, we're home," she said casually. Her mother turned around and saw her. Both of them.

"What happened?" was her first response. Alex merely motioned Regulus to follow her, but Sophia Wilson followed them, looking more perturbed than Alex thought she would be. She thought her mother would find some dim pleasure in seeing his face marred. She led them to the bathroom and took out some antiseptic and ointments.

"Sit," she said to Regulus, who sat on the bathtub wordlessly. Alex dabbed at his face with a wet towel and he winced.

"Alex, what happened?" her mother asked again, her voice stern, but it was Regulus who answered.

"We ran into some of her classmates from her school," he said conversationally. "I don't recall hearing about them, Alex; you rarely tell me about—what do you call it again?—primary school."

"It was Nancy and Ramsay and the entire gang," Alex sighed, trying to wash the towel. Her mother brushed past her and Alex looked up, startled, as she pointed her wand at Regulus. Alex opened her mouth to say something, but Sophia Wilson merely tapped on his nose. Regulus didn't wince this time, but a crease appeared between his brows and his fists clenched.

"Episkey—should be pretty familiar to a Seeker, right?" her mother said.

"Yes, ma'am," he muttered, looking down. Alex didn't know which was stranger, the sight of her mother using her wand or Regulus's actual politeness. Sophia Wilson regarded him carefully.

"I suppose I'l have to tell your parents about this," she said. Regulus looked up.

"No," he said. "They have enough to think about as it is, Ms. Wilson. They don't need to know."

Her mother's lips twisted into something that wasn't quite a smile. "But surely, they would want to know that their son was hit by a Muggle boy. Especially one that is not the best of its kind."

"I started it," Regulus muttered.

Sophia Wilsons' eyebrow raised. "Then I'm certain that they'll be proud of you," she said snidely, and Alex didn't almost recognize the expression on her mother's face.

"That's enough," she snapped, feeling her eyes sting again. "Mom, you don't even know what happened, and you're being unfair—Regulus was just trying to help—"

"Help? And his way of helping was to start a fistfight?" Her mother's voice grew higher. "Doesn't it surprise you, Alex, that it hasn't been even an hour since he's arrived and he's already picked a fight with a Muggle?"

"Then do you think that Alex should just stand whatever vile words that boy throws her way?" Regulus's voice was just as sharp. "If he'd been another pureblood wizard I wouldn't have let it go."

"Perhaps not, but you would've chosen violence as the last resort had that been the case,"Sophia Wilson answered. Regulus's eyes flashed and Alex felt her anxiety rise. This just felt like another fight that she couldn't intervene but a fight that she was still dragged into and she just felt too tired.

"Mom, you're arguing with my friend. My friend," she emphasized, silently adding, who's twenty years younger than you. "And Reg, thank you for defending me—" her mother snorted— "but you can't get angry over things like that this easily. This isn't your fight." Regulus's lips were tightly closed and Alex felt helpless standing between them. She couldn't please anyone either way—couldn't one of them relent and understand?

"It won't happen again," Alex said, and it felt like she was trying to convince herself. "I promise." Without further argument, Sophia Wilson left—but not before giving Regulus a withering glance. Regulus remained seated stoically, looking as expressionless as he did whenever he had to share a compartment on a train with the rest of the Slytherin house.

Alex sighed and dabbed antiseptic on the cuts on his face with a cotton ball. The scratch he'd gotten back home was the biggest by far, but there were several minor wounds that Sophia Wilson hadn't tended to. Regulus was silent.

"I don't think you'll need a band-aid," Alex decided after examining his face. "I hope it heals quickly, though. Can't really explain to your mother where you got them." Regulus nodded.

"I'm sorry, Reg," Alex said sadly. "It was a lousy way to start your stay."

"Perhaps I should leave," Regulus said finally, his voice thicker than usual. "I think I've overstayed my welcome already."

Alex felt panic rise within her, knowing there was truth in his words. "No, no, don't be silly," Alex said, not wanting to see the look that she must have in her eyes. "You're welcome here. Of course you are."