"So you've been looking rather giddy," Leila said one chilly morning. "Care to explain why?"

They were sitting on one of the benches in the Quidditch pitch. It was Sunday—the third or fourth Sunday since the classes started—and, having woken up uncharacteristically early, the two had decided to grab something quick and take a walk around the school grounds. In front of them players were zooming around on their brooms despite the early hour, creating blurry green stripes in the winter air. Alex looked up from her tea, grinning sheepishly.

"Is it that obvious?" she asked. Giddy, she supposed, might be one word for it. These days she seemed to oscillate between two extreme moods of elatedness and anxiety. The thought of her mother, her grandfather, and the whole business with her cousin, who had twice reminded her about his request, made her feel uneasy and lost. But then she would see him in the library again and everything would go away…

"Have you looked in the mirror lately? You're positively glowing," Leila, despite her dry tone, was half smiling.

"Right," Alex said, rolling her eyes. "That's not happening." She looked out the field, where one particular dot had just dived to the ground. Just when she thought he was going to crash, he pulled his broom up at the last second. Not one speck of the sand on the ground was disturbed. Leila scoffed.

"Classic Black," she said. "Trust him to pull out the old moves."

Alex looked sideways at her. "Is that bad?" she asked. Leila shrugged.

"Not when it's done well. I guess not," Leila conceded. "But—I don't know. I sometimes feel like he could do a whole lot better if he just let go and played. The Slytherin team's all about strategy. Which isn't such a bad thing, but look at Gryffindor—I admit, a bit too much showmanship, not enough sportsmanship, but every once in a while they're brilliant. What? I'm just saying as an objective Quidditch commentator," she added defensively to Alex's odd look.

"Right," Alex muttered, turning a piece of toast in her hand. "Right." One of the Beaters aimed a particularly odd-angled blow at the Seeker and Leila booed loudly.

"Is that the best you've got?" she shouted from the stands. "Honestly, I swear—Rabastan's been after Regulus' neck since the holidays." Leila gave her a sly look. "Wonder why."

"Leila," Alex said, frowning at her toast. "Can I ask you something?"

Leila knew the tone when she heard it. "I guess," she said. "Can't promise to keep it confidential, though."

"It's about Reg."

"Then confidentiality's a must, no?" Leila took a large bit from her egg-and-bacon sandwich that she'd somehow managed to create with muffins. "Our dear old Prince won't be pleased when I blab about his relationship to everyone in the house."

"There's not much to talk about, really," Alex said defensively. "It's just that—well—you said that he likes to be a bit traditional about Quidditch, and—I don't really know much about tradition in regards to—" Alex paused, wondering if the word she had in mind was actually a correct one. "Courting," she decided.

Leila groaned. "Oh, Merlin," she said. "It's too early in the morning for this kind of conversation."

"It's nothing like that!" By now Alex's cheeks were redder than the strawberry jam that Leila had put in the egg-and-bacon sandwich. "We haven't—it's nothing like that. It's just—you're the only person who may know anything about this that I can talk to."

"Besides the Prince, you mean," Leila said. "You can just ask him, you know. That's what relationships are for." Alex shook her head bemusedly.

"I don't know," she said.

"What exactly happened? And if he started to talk like he's from the fifteenth century—don't worry. I think Slughorn's got some sort of a cure for delusions and unnecessary politeness."

"I don't know exactly what happened," Alex said. "He just—gave me a necklace as a Christmas gift which was also a family heirloom and said that it was a promise of a promise of a proposal and that I had years and years to think about it and that we would graduate in more or less three years." All this was said in one breath, of course.

"That decides it," Leila said. "Slughorn. I think Regulus desperately needs a strong vial of Disillusion Illusion."

"Leila, come on."

"I'm serious. No one's ever pulled out 'promise before marriage' move since the nineteenth century. I mean, maybe there was one or two prudish virgins who wanted that sort of a thing." Leila tapped her chin contemplatively. "Rebecca wouldn't have minded getting it from Regulus, I suppose."

Alex felt her lips pout despite herself. "You don't need to mention her, you know," she said crossly. Leila grinned.

"I mean, he's basically stating his intentions—you know. 'This is not me sowing wild oats' or 'I promise to take care of you if and when something grievous happens.' Some girls won't mind getting that from a guy. Especially if he's a Black."

"Did Rosier ever say anything like that to you?"

Leila looked at her like she was crazy. "Of course not. We're just having fun. He knows that as well as I do." Alex looked skeptically at Leila's face. Recently Leila had been looking at Rosier rather differently; Alex couldn't tell how, but it felt like something had changed over the holidays. The two used to make a joke out of what a bother Rosier was and how much Leila had to tolerate him in their relationship. But now, it almost felt like it was the opposite; Leila was still dry whenever she talked to him, but it seemed to Alex that she'd developed some possessiveness toward Rosier that Alex had not seen before. But Alex decided that it wasn't a good time to bring this up.

"Stating his intentions," Alex mulled over the words. "That is rather out-of-place."

"Traditionally, if all the requirements were met, the guy—in this case, our incorrigible Mr. Black—would first approach the parents, state his interests and promise to not do anything that he can't be responsible for later. Then he would approach the girl—in this case, our blushing Miss Wilson—and state his interest and intentions clearly and promise to take care of her if anything happens. They would engage in—er—harmless flirtation for a period of time until they were both eligible for marriage. Proposal. Engagement. Marriage. Interminable boredom until the inevitable separation either through death or divorce." Leila took a big bite out of her sandwich. "It's kind of an insurance policy, I guess. The guy knows that the girl won't get taken by someone else. The girl knows that the boy won't just abandon her when something goes awry."

"When something goes awry," Alex said dubiously. Leila shrugged.

"You know. Pregnancy, most of the time. Sometimes slander to the maiden's honor. I told you, this is old stuff. No one bothers with it anymore. Not since contraception became legal and acceptable in polite society. Even my mom won't bother with this… courting business."

Alex sighed. "Right," she said. Now the Slytherin Seeker was rounding the players up in the air for some kind of instruction. Alex watched him with mixed emotion. Marriage. Wasn't this too early to think about marriage?

"Of course, back in those days people got married as soon as they came of age," Leila said casually. "That was another thing. The steps from flirtation to marriage took a lot less time than it does now." Alex nodded without conviction and Leila seemed to take pity on her.

"Don't worry too much about it," Leila said. "He's probably not expecting you to, you know, marry him or anything right after your birthdays. If anything else he's probably just being proper."

"Okay," Alex said quietly. Leila sighed.

"I mean, he's not demanding, you know, unreasonable things from you, is he?" Leila looked at her concernedly and Alex looked down at her now cold tea.

"No," Alex muttered. "I guess not." Alex wasn't sure what constituted as "unreasonable," but seeing as they hadn't even held hands, let alone—whatever it was that people did, she supposed that Regulus hadn't demanded anything unreasonable.

"Well, good," Leila said, resting against the bench. "Oi, you call that a save? I call it a twirl!" She shook her head in exasperation. "I swear, one of these days, I'm going to castrate every one of the male Slytherins in our school just so that I can get on the team. Oh, don't worry," Leila said drily. "I'll leave your precious Reg alone. After all, he's not a half-bad Seeker. Almost excellent, if he could spare two seconds to focus on the game instead of looking at our direction."

Alex felt herself blush again. "He's not looking at our direction," she said. Leila snorted.

"You're right. He's looking at your direction. Hey, just do me a favor—don't name your first child something ridiculous like Regulus, okay? I mean, I wouldn't mind being a godmother, but I don't want to be a godmother of a Regulus or a Sirius, y'know?"

Alex decided not to dignify this with an answer.

The way back to the castle was a little quieter. Leila decided that she would perfect her eavesdropping skills by hiding behind the Quidditch equipment closet to listen to the discussions on various strategies that the Slytherin Quidditch team planned to use this season and Alex decided to take this opportunity to make a clandestine visit to the Transfiguration professor's office.

Professor McGonagall was all business despite her evident surprise at Alex's unexpected visit.

"Miss Wilson, come in," she said after recognizing the face through the creak of her door. Alex entered without a response. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.

"What can I do for you today?" McGonagall asked, indicating with her hand that Alex should sit. Alex, on the other hand, found it difficult to move from her spot. She felt rooted to McGonagall's carpet, looking uneasily around her without particularly seeing anything.

"Professor," she said, her voice strange, "can we be overheard?"

McGonagall frowned. "Not unless someone found a reason to do so," she said. "What is it, Miss Wilson?"

Alex let out a harsh breath. "It's about my mom," she said quietly. McGonagall scrutinized her face for a long while and Alex stood in her spot, trying to keep her fingers from fidgeting so nervously.

"Have a seat. Have a biscuit," she said, indicating at a chair in front of her again and a tin box. Alex took the seat quietly.

"I need to contact her," Alex said, trying not to sound desperate. "I wrote her a letter a few weeks ago, but she hasn't responded back to me. Normally I wouldn't think too much about it, but the content of the letter was important and—" Alex paused. "She would have written back if she'd seen it. I know it. She told me to come to you if there was something urgent that I needed to tell her."

McGonagall sighed. "Your mother—I'm afraid that simply sending her an owl would not be an option, Miss Wilson. Revealing her location could not only put her in danger, but others involved in the… affair, as well."

Alex blinked rapidly. "I know that," she muttered.

"May I ask what you need to tell her?" McGongall's voice was unexpectedly gentle. "I may try to convey some kind of message to her if it is truly urgent." Alex hesitated, unsure how to exactly say it.

"Her father's dying," she said, without much conviction. "Her dad—my grandfather—he's dying. Ben told me. And apparently he needs something from her—bone marrow transplant. Theirs wasn't a match." By now the skin around her nails were a henpecked mess. "I don't know what to do," she said quietly.

McGonagall was listening silently. "Your grandfather's at St. Mungo's, I presume?" she asked without any preamble.

"I don't know," Alex said. "Ben didn't tell me much except to tell my mom."

"Normally I would agree with you and say that Sophia needs to be informed of this," McGonagall said. "But I'm afraid that this is a rather… exceptional time. She cannot be disturbed during this mission. The entire western Europe—" McGonagall suddenly stopped.

"You've said too much," Alex said. It wasn't a question and McGonagall merely sighed.

"Do not think that I do not understand your situation, Alex," she said gently. "I know Augustus and Clara personally. And I also knew your mother when she was still a student at Hogwarts."

"Well," Alex said drily. "Now I know what my grandparents' names are."

McGonagall reached for the tin can and took a biscuit from the container. She held it out to Alex, who didn't feel rebellious enough to refuse it. She let it rest on her palm.

"I can't contact your mother," McGonagall said, "but I can give you advice and make certain arrangements for you." Alex looked at her skeptically.

"Your mother has not seen her parents in almost seventeen years," McGonagall said. Alex didn't say anything.

"Half of her life, she hasn't seen them," McGonagall continued. "But Sophia Wilson isn't heartless. And she would want her daughter to know her grandparents. See how much you make her proud." Alex looked away, trying to hid the stinging in her eyes.

"You think I should visit them," Alex said, trying to bring her shaking voice under control.

"I think you want to," McGonagall said gently.

"I don't know what I want," Alex muttered, trying to dab at the corners of her eyes discreetly. McGonagall seemed suddenly preoccupied with the roll of parchments on the side of her desk.

"But I guess I have no other choice," Alex said matter-of-factly after a while. "If my mom can't make it, that means that the only person who may be a match is me." And, as she was learning, she wasn't quite spiteful enough to let a man die when she could have done something.

"I don't know about the procedures for leaving school grounds," Alex said. "Do you need the parent's permission? I can't really do anything about that right now."

"All you need to do is fill out the form," McGonagall said. "Stating your destination, cause of absence, and permission from professors, if you are missing any of your classes. If it is acceptable with Mr. Wilson, however, I would advise not leaving until next weekend. The term has only just started, and it would be inadvisable to miss any of your classes."

"Right," Alex said, thinking that only McGonagall would think about classes at times like this.

"You may take the floo in my office," McGonagall said, "and make sure to notify the people at the other end that you'll be coming." She handed Alex a small slip of parchment that had the necessary information. Alex squinted at it.

"It's already signed," she said.

"Well, your parent cannot sign it at the moment, can she?" McGonagall said stiffly. "I authorize the visit. Off you go—and make sure to return it three days in advance."

Finding Ben was not a difficult task; after all, they did go to the same school and ate meals in the same place. What Alex did find difficult was approaching him and she wondered, for the hundredth time, if Ben had approached her with the same amount of anxiety and trepidation that she was currently feeling on Wednesday evening. McGonagall had given her a three-day notice deadline and she was already late. If she didn't do it this week, however, it meant that she would have to wait another week. Alex didn't think that her nerves could hold out that long.

The dining hall was crowded as usual, and there were signs of the approaching Valentine day in the table decorations and silverware; there were even heart-shaped cookies as dessert already offered on one side of the tables. Alex tried to inconspicuously look around the hall from the entrance door. Lingering would make people notice her and regard her with suspicion. A Slytherin lurking by the doorway was never a welcoming sight. Thankfully, Ben was rather noticeable with his lanky form and messy hair and Alex took a deep breath before walking toward the Ravenclaw table.

She stood behind Ben's bench, unsure exactly what the best form of greeting would be. She didn't suppose that Ben would appreciate Leila-esque grunt or Regulus' slight nod. Everyone was staring oddly at her and even his friends behind him had gone quiet. Slowly, Ben turned around to see what the fuss was about, frowning.

The frown didn't vanish when he saw who it was.

"Yes?" His voice was brusque.

"My mom can't make it, she's too busy with work," the words rushed out of her mouth before she could properly think over what she was saying. Thankfully, the excuse that she'd crafted carefully inside her head tumbled out instead of something that she would regret saying. "I tried writing to her a couple of times, but she didn't answer, which means that she's a bit busy. So you shouldn't take it as an offense that she didn't write back."

Ben's frown, if possible, deepened further. "How's that supposed to help us?" Alex tried not to show how much his reaction hurt her.

"I'll go," she said quietly. "I looked it up—if mine's not a match, it means that my mom's is probably not a match, either. And if it is, then mom doesn't have to be there at all—you can just use mine." Ben was looking at her with an odd expression on his face and Alex decided to forge on without paying attention to it.

"I talked to McGonagall, and she said that I had to alert whoever I'm meeting with because I'll be traveling by floo. You didn't tell me where I'm supposed to go."

"St. Mungo's," Ben said automatically. "Second floor. Diseases ward. There's a witch by the reception area. I'll write them to let them know."

"It's fine. I can do it."

"No," Ben said. "That floor's a bit—peculiar about visitors. Contagious diseases and all. I'll write them so that they'll know and I'll go with you to the hospital."

Alex looked at him oddly. "I can manage to travel by floo, thanks."

"Well—this is sort of important. And I want to visit Granddad anyway. When are you leaving?"

"Saturday morning, I guess," Alex said. "After brunch."

"Confirm with McGonagall," Ben said, "and I'll meet you in front of the Great Hall by eleven. Sounds good?" Alex wasn't sure why Ben was suddenly taking over the entire event and arranging things as if it had been his idea from the beginning, but Alex shrugged and left to the Slytherin table without a further word. It didn't escape her notice that Ben did not show any appreciation for the entire endeavor once.

Regulus took one look at her face and pushed a platter of rolls at her direction.

"Thanks, but I'm not that hungry," Alex said, pushing it back to its original place. Regulus shrugged.

"I told you, he's a prat. Don't mind what he says." Alex nodded.

"So you're leaving this weekend?" he asked. Alex rubbed her eyes tiredly.

"I think so," Alex answered. She began to unenthusiastically grab some things from nearby, and, not taking her eyes off her plate, asked almost casually, "Reg, can you—can you cover for me for today's meeting?"

Alex couldn't see Regulus' face, but she could surmise that it would contain nothing of approval. "It doesn't really make a good impression to suddenly stop attending," he said neutrally.

"Well, I wasn't even aware of what they were about when I was dragged there," Alex said, trying to sound also neutral.

"I admit, I do think Rabastan made a hasty decision," Regulus said, sighing, "but since you are already in, it can only hurt you not to go."

"They're watching me," Alex quoted Leila's words. Regulus didn't answer.

"You know that I have little interest in the cause," Alex said casually. Regulus was silent for a while.

"Yes," he said quietly. "I suppose that I do know that." They ate in silence.

"I'll tell them that you wish to focus on your studies at the moment," Regulus said after a while. "And hint that it may be better for us to have people with more academic goals for the future."

Alex's eyes narrowed. "Reg—"

"It's not a permanent solution," Regulus muttered, casually glancing over their shoulders and around them. "I know that. But it buys you some time to plan something out. The meeting's in two hours, Alex." There was reproach in his voice.

"I didn't know how to bring it up," Alex said, looking down at her fork. Next to her, Regulus sighed.

"Sorry," she muttered. "And thank you."

"Don't mention it," Regulus muttered quietly.

The Disease Ward of St Mungo's Hospital was oddly cheerful. The walls were neatly and freshly renovated with buttercup wallpaper where butterflies took their daily flight from flower to flower. The benches in the waiting room with their colorful pillows and plush cushions looked almost inviting. But before Alex could make a remark about any of this, Ben managed to dust his cloak promptly before going to the receptionist desk.

The witch behind the counter did not look surprised to see him.

"Hullo, Ben," she said. "If you could wait just a moment. Nurse Kelly will be with you."

"Alright," Ben said. He found a place to sit in the waiting room. He looked almost at home. Alex shifted her weight nervously, trying to hide her anxiety. She'd slept less than three hours the night before, and barely managed to keep her breakfast from coming back up. Her stomach hurt.

"Ben!" A bright voice came from the doorway and Alex turned around painfully. A pretty witch was smiling brightly at Ben, flashing her teeth. They seemed far too white to be natural, and Alex observed the red lipstick on her lips with some curiosity. Didn't nurses have a policy about excessive makeup?

From Ben's face, however, Alex supposed that he didn't mind one bit.

"Hi, Janie," he said, standing up. His hand went automatically to his hair and Alex felt her eyebrows raise automatically. Boys. "How have you been?"

"Good," Janie said, again flashing him that dazzling smile. Alex noted with some amusement that Janie was endowed in all departments, not just in her smile. "Your grandparents have missed you, though."

"Oh," Ben laughed awkwardly. "I'm sure you've kept them company."

"I did," Janie replied, "but you weren't here."

Alex knew that she was inexperienced and completely awkward when it came to social interactions between boys and girls, but even she could tell where this was going.

"Hi," she said obtrusively, sticking her hand out. "Alex Wilson. Could you tell me exactly what I need to do?"

Janie's eyes widened. "Oh, you're—" evidently she was struggling to find a right word to describe who Alex was in front of Alex. Alex slowly let out a long breath. She knew that this was going to happen, but—Nurse Kelly wasn't even family. Or blood relative.

Ben brusquely intervened. "Yeah. This is her. I don't think Grandpa needs to see her, do you?"

Janie's eyes grew even wider, if that was even possible. "I—well, I suppose not, but—"

Ben's eyes narrowed. "But what?"

Janie now looked uncomfortable. "Well, your grandmother has been saying—"

"Grandma is scared and unstable and in no condition to make these judgements," Ben said forcefully, and Alex was reminded just for a moment Charles Wilson's expression when she met him for the first and only time before her first train ride to Hogwarts: You are not part of the family anymore. You made a choice thirteen years ago. You don't have a nephew. I do not have a niece.

Alex swallowed down a lump of hurt pride and loneliness and held her head high.

"Excuse me, but I have a Charms essay that is due on Monday," she lied tartly. She'd finished all her homework beforehand just in case things took longer than anticipated. Not that Ben would have ever cared about it even if he knew. "If you don't mind, I'd like to get on with things."

Ben looked like he had several things he wanted to growl at her direction but Janie seemed rather relieved at having been relieved of the responsibility to make a decision.

"Follow me," Janie said, and Alex walked stiffly behind her. Ben followed a few paces behind, looking sulky.

"It won't be a terribly long procedure," Janie said assuringly. "I'm afraid that you'll have to disrobe, but it won't be for more than ten minutes, tops. And the results actually come in in less than two hours—amazing, isn't it? If it comes out as a match, then we'll need a bigger sample, but that shouldn't take long at all. You'll go back to Hogwarts before dinner."

"Alright," Alex said tonelessly.

"It won't hurt, if that's what you're worried about," Janie said. Alex didn't say anything.

Ben huffed obtrusively from behind them. "What about me?" he asked.

"You can go to their room," Janie said gently. "They're waiting for you."

Without any reply Ben left for the way they came. Janie took several turns as the corridors became narrower and Alex supposed that they were now in the non-residential part of the hospital.

"He's not usually like this," Janie said after a while. "He's just a bit worried, that's all." Alex debated for several seconds whether she should say anything.

"Ben's actually really sweet, if you get to know him," Janie kept on going. "When he first came here—"

"When he first came here, he didn't dismiss his grandmother and actually had enough manners to say thanks," Alex said dully. "I'm sure he did."

The look in Janie's eyes was pity. Alex looked the other way.

"Here we go," Janie said cheerfully when they entered a small room. There was a small bed in the corner, and a couple of quills floating about that seemed to be constantly scribbling something, and a set of gowns.

"You can leave your bag there—get changed into these gowns. I'll be right back." Janie left and Alex took the hospital gown between her fingers. It felt cool and clean. Her fingers were shaking. Alex wasn't sure why.

"There we go," Janie entered, pushing a cart with several silver equipments that Alex was sure would hurt against her skin, at least a little. Alex nodded to no one in particular.

"What's going to happen," Janie said cheerfully, "is that you're going to need to lie down on your back—yes, just like that—and there's a bit of a slit along the spine—and I'm going to partially anesthetize the area around your back and pelvic bone—it's a bit like a stunning spell," Janie assured her when Alex looked back at her in alarm. "It's just so that it doesn't hurt. You'll stay on this bed until it wears off—you'll get a potion to help you."

Alex began to wonder if all medical procedures were this casual.

The extraction, just like Janie predicted, didn't hurt much. Alex asked Janie to bring her bag to the bedside table so that Alex could do something while she waited for the spell to wear off. Pushing her torso off the bed using her arms, Alex leaned against the wall while Janie cleaned up the equipments and left the room. There wasn't even silence; the walls were thin and Alex could hear the noise coming from outside the room. Wheels scratching the floor. People talking about things that she couldn't understand.

She looked down at the Defense against the Dark Arts textbook in her hand. She didn't feel much like reading. Or doing homework. She wondered what her mother would say. Alex didn't know, it had been so long since she'd properly talked with her mom…

The noise from the outside grew louder and louder. Alex wondered if she should go out to see what was going on. There was a stern voice that reminded her of McGongall. Then a boy's voice, sounding both annoyed and a bit contrite. Again the stern voice. The voices grew closer and closer.

"Benjamin, do stop fretting. A young man oughtn't fret so much."

"Grandma—"

"I am perfectly capable of walking on my own, so why do you insist on holding my arm every second to stop me?" The conversation was now so clear that Alex could even hear the scratch in her voice. "I told you to look after your grandfather."

Ben muttered something petulantly.

The door opened and Alex stared owlishly at the people in the doorway. The light inside the room had been darker than she thought.

Sophia Wilson's mother was as smaller than Alex expected. Sophia Wilson had always been on the taller side, and her mother had always seemed strong to her. Her grandmother was thinner. And smaller. But Alex imagined that she could see something of her mother in the round jawline of the woman that stood before her. Something of warmth in the wrinkles around her eyes. Then Alex remembered that warmth and kindness were rare and far between.

No one said anything much for a while.

"Hello," Alex said quietly. "You must be Clara Wilson."

"And you," her grandmother said, "must be Alex."

"You're not supposed to be here," Ben said.

"Hush, Benjamin," Clara Wilson said. Alex grinned despite herself at Ben, who, despite the disgruntled expression on his face, remained silent.

"You were very brave to come here today, Alex," her grandmother said seriously.

What happened next, Alex wasn't sure.

It started with a sniffle. The sniffle came from her nose. Before long it felt like tears were coming out of both her eyes and nose. Her cheeks felt hot. Clara had put her arm around her shoulders and was patting her head lightly as if Alex were a small lost puppy shivering in cold. A sharp click of the door lock told Alex that Ben had left, but she didn't care about Ben—not when her grandmother was gently rocking her back and forth and murmuring in her ear like a lullaby that everything was fine and all was going to be well. She smelled like apples and fresh clover and dabbed at Alex's face every once in a while with lace handkerchief that she'd produced out of nowhere and Alex couldn't understand how she lived for fifteen years without once getting to know her.

"I'm sorry, dear," Clara Wilson said. "I wanted to come and see you, but it wasn't just my choice."

"Mom's dad didn't like it," Alex asked.

"That," her grandmother sighed. "And your mother couldn't forgive him, either. They're so alike, from their looks to everything else." She peered at Alex's face. "You don't look much like your mother," she observed. Alex frowned between her brows and Clara Wilson laughed.

"Have you met my dad?" she asked, still sniffling.

"I did, once," Clara said. "Your mother brought him to family dinner."

"It didn't go well," Alex asked again without much doubt. Clara sighed.

"I thought he was a fine young man. He was rather reticent, but really, is that such a bad thing these days? Of course, Augustus disliked him immediately."

"Because he was a Slytherin."

"That, and—oh, I see your mother hasn't told you much," Clara looked down sadly at her and Alex felt her lips pout despite herself.

"I can't help it," she muttered. Clara rubbed her shoulders comfortingly.

"Sometimes it's better not to know," her grandmother said gently. "You'll find out the answers in your own time. That is often more than enough for us." Alex looked down at her hands but didn't say anything. She couldn't agree—she'd spent years not knowing. How bad could things be—

"But that's enough about the past," her grandmother said cheerily. "Let's talk about you. How's school? Is there someone special in your life?"

Something in her face must've given way, because her grandmother was looking down at Alex with crinkled eyes. Alex felt a smile creep up her face despite herself.

"Maybe. I don't know. It's in an odd stage right now," she said.

"What's his name?" Clara asked indulgently.

"Reg—Regulus. Regulus Black." Alex did not miss the way her grandmother's eyebrows traveled up her forehead skeptically.

"Regulus Black," she repeated slowly, as though repeating the name would somehow change the air the nam "Black" brought with itself. "Well. What's Regulus like?"

"He's—" Alex paused and wondered exactly what words would successfully defend Regulus against his name. Nice? Was Regulus nice? She supposed he could be nice, but it wasn't his usual style. Funny—Regulus Black didn't do funny. Funny was reserved for Sirius. Regulus did dead-serious irony.

"Reg is… Reg." Alex smiled hesitantly at her grandmother. "He's one of a kind."

"Well," Clara Wilson said. "If that young man is treating you properly."

Alex smiled wryly. "He's definitely that," she said. "Proper. He likes things to go properly and put everything in order. I mean, you'd think that a boy would be a bit messy, but—not Reg. And he looks after his family even though he's the youngest person in that house. He likes reading and Quidditch. Not much else. Except for owls. And chocolate. He has this tiny owl that he rescued when he was eleven, and—" Alex looked away, suddenly aware of the fact that she said too much. But Clara Wilson was looking at her with the crinkle in her eyes again and Alex felt like she could tell her everything, everything and more.

"He sees me for what I am and he'll have me," she said quietly. "Isn't it so odd?"

Clara Wilson was about to say something when there was a knock on the door. Janie opened the door without waiting for an answer.

"The results are in," she said.