A/N: Week #5 prompt: "A story set in London"

Confession time: I've never been to London. Unless some kind soul out there pays for a plane ticket and lodging, the chances of that happening are pretty slim. I was hesitant to write about modern London because I was afraid that I'd end up making the story completely awkward because I misunderstood how Oyster cards work, or something. So you get this story, which is set in 2nd century Londinium. 122 CE, specifically. (That's the year that Hadrian visited Britannia.)

This week's story ended up being a little late. Work, home life, and the thrill of research are all a little responsible, but FFN glitches added another day. You would not believe what I had to do to get this to post. Thank Merlin for some of the writers' groups I follow. There is an amazing website that helps you calculate travel times from one place in the Roman Empire to another. Also... I debated whether or not to make this Regency London, or Romano-Celtic Londinium. For those that saw this on FB or tumblr- Regency London is coming. Chapter 18.

Temple of Isis

Londinium, 5th year of the reign of Hadrianus Augustus

Living in Londinium had been interesting. With the way that Lavender and Parvati had carried on, one would have assumed that Hermione was being sent to some tiny, remote, tidewater town, but Londinium was a bustling, thriving city—perhaps not quite as cosmopolitan as Alexandria, but few cities were.

As a priestess of Isis, Hermione's days were filled with obligations and duties, but she had her days off, just like any priestess, and she enjoyed watching dramatic plays and watching wrestling like anyone else. When she knew a ship had come in from Egypt, she would hurry to the docks to see if Lavender or Parvati had sent her anything. Her sisters in Isis sent her scrolls filled with gossip, but they also sent her treats from home: small jars of perfume, bolts of cotton, new scrolls copied in a careful hand from the Library.

"Salve, Sacerdos," the Harbour Master greeted her politely. Hermione nodded back.

"Salve, Portum Dominum," Hermione replied. She tried not to fidget. Priestesses of Isis do not fidget, whispered a voice that sounded disturbingly like the High Priestess of the Iseum. "Has the boat from Alexandria arrived?"

The Harbour Master pulled a scroll out of his robes and looked it over carefully. He frowned and hummed to himself as he carefully made his way down the list.

"Just this morning," the Harbour Master said at last. He frowned at Hermione over his scroll. "The Heart of Isis is berthed in dock 27. They have paid their harbour fees and are free to unload their cargo."

"Gratias tibi ago, Portum Dominum," Hermione said gratefully. The Harbour Master smiled at that.

"Libet," he assured her. "Vale, Sacerdos."

"Vale," Hermione called over her shoulder as she hurried toward the dock that had been assigned to the Heart of Isis.

It was a pleasure and a relief to hear the rise and fall of Coptic and Greek as the mariners bantered back and forth. Occasionally, a phrase or two of Hebrew drifted to Hermione and she hurried even faster.

"Good day, Heart of Isis," Hermione called out in Coptic.

"It is a good day when we are blessed with a servant of Isis," one of the mariners replied in the same language with a deep bow. "How can this one serve the temple of Isis?"

"There should be a package from the temple in Alexandria," Hermione explained.

"Hermione!" A cheerful voice called her name.

Surprised, Hermione turned around. Moving across the deck of the ship was Cedric, one of the junior priests of the Serapeum in Alexandria. She could only assume that he had come to the Serapeum in Londinium, but she couldn't guess as to why.

"Cedric," Hermione greeted him with the polite bow of a priestess of Isis to a priest of Serapis.

As the worship of Isis and Serapis were closely linked in Alexandria, Hermione was used to seeing Cedric about her own temple's complex. Often he would enter the public areas of the Iseum with messages from the Serapeum's High Priest. There had even been one or two joint festivals where she had participated in rituals with Cedric. He was friendly, polite, and kind to others.

"I had hoped to run into you, but not quite so quickly," he told her with a bright artless smile.

"Do you bring news of Alexandria?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"I do, but it will keep," Cedric assured her. "I've got the things that Lavender and Parvati sent you, including about 6 feet of scroll."

Hermione laughed at that. Both Lavender and Parvati had probably recorded every piece of tittle-tattle that had occurred within a thousand cubits of Alexandria.

"Well come with me then, and I will show you to Londinium's Serapeum. It is close by the Iseum, of course," Hermione added as she moved aside so that Cedric could clamber down from the ship.

"Of course," Cedric agreed. He reached up and took a large bundle from one of the mariners who passed it down. He looked up at the gentleman who had greeted Hermione so politely. "I'll send some novitiates from the temple for the rest."

"As you will, Priest," the man said with a nod.

"I thought you would never leave Alexandria," Hermione commented as they walked together.

Cedric shrugged. "I didn't have a choice."

Hermione's eyebrows rose at that. "Is this a punishment, then?"

"No." Cedric shook his head. "It was important news, and the High Priest wanted to be certain that his messenger would be heeded."

"What news?" Hermione asked and her stomach flipped nervously.

"Hadrian is coming to Britannia," Cedric explained.

"The Emperor?" Hermione's voice rose to a squeak.

Cedric nodded. "I have orders for the Serapeum here to solicit funds for repairs." He paused and frowned slightly. "Was it badly damaged during the rebellion?"

"No," Hermione replied. "It could use with a coat of whitewash and perhaps a new mosaic."

"Good," Cedric said with a grin of relief. "The High Priest worried that the High Priest of Londinium's Serapeum might be downplaying the damage."

"I don't think so," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Not unless it's within the inner sanctum."

"It's good to see you, Hermione," Cedric said when she stopped outside the Serapeum. "We will have to have dinner while I'm here."

"I will speak to the High Priestess," Hermione said. "We will throw you a welcome feast."

"I thank you," Cedric murmured. He bowed to her and then handed over the large bundle. When she took it he grinned at her. Leaning forward, he kissed each cheek. "Those are from Lavender and Parvati. They miss you terribly, you know."

"So they say in their scrolls," Hermione laughed. "Thank you, Cedric."

"My pleasure, Priestess of Isis." Cedric bowed again.

Visitors to the Temple of Isis in Londinium were common. Worshippers from all over Britannia made the trek so that they could pray and make offerings to the Queen of Heaven. Hermione had no problem admitting that very few of those worshippers were from the Roman legions. The military of Rome preferred to worship Sol Invictus or Mithra.

Therefore it was with some surprise that Hermione noted a Centurion wandering around the public part of the temple looking slightly lost and confused. Hermione studied him for a moment. He was tall and lean with numerous battle scars littering his visible flesh.

"Can I help you?" Hermione asked.

The Centurion spun on his heel, his flashing eyes finding Hermione almost immediately. He gaze roved over Hermione for a moment. She could see the moment when he realized that she was a priestess of the temple. He relaxed slightly, and nodded to her.

"I… how do I leave an offering?" He asked.

Hermione blinked at that. "Are you a follower of Isis?"

"My mother was," he explained. He sighed and ran a hand over his short hair. "She made an offering for me when I first joined the legion, and she continued to make offerings for me until… last fall."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Hermione murmured. She smiled sympathetically at the Centurion. "The Queen of Heaven looks after all her children. I'm certain that she will guide your mother to the Underworld, and that she will watch over you on your mother's behalf."

"Thank you," the Centurion replied.

"Would you like to leave an offering?" Hermione asked.

"Erm, yeah. Lupines were Mater's favourite flowers. I, erm, I brought an arrangement. Is that okay?" The Centurion moved over to a small bundled in the corner and carefully picked up a wreath of lupines.

"Those are lovely," Hermione said with a soft smile. "I'm sure our Lady would approve."

"Thank you." The Centurion ducked his head and flushed. Hermione patted him on the arm.

"Come along, I'll show you the way to the public altar." Hermione moved forward and walked down the hall. "Is there anything in particular that is troubling you? Anything that you are hoping that She can help you with?"

"The Emperor is coming to Britannia," The Centurion admitted after hesitating for a moment. "He will not be happy about the rebellions of the last couple of years. I worry that… I worry that he will be displeased."

"Ah," Hermione sighed and made a grimace. "We, too, are worried about Hadrian's visit. We are going to probably repaint the temple, update the mosaics, and make some new clothing for our Lady."

"The legion is similar," The Centurion said. "We've got new recruits digging new latrines, and we're repairing all the forts."

"Just through here." Hermione gestured with practiced ease.

Cradling Her son in Her arms, Isis sat on Her throne, her calm, peaceful gaze looking out over the room. The priestesses had dressed Her in brilliant blue that day, with gold adorning Her marble wrists and brow. The Centurion laid the wreath on Her altar and then knelt in quiet prayer. Hermione found made a small bow of supplication toward the figure and then moved back toward the entry way to allow the Centurion space to honour his mother's memory.

Just as Hermione got back to the entry way, she heard the slap of leather sandals against the floor. She turned to find the Centurion hurrying after her.

"Wait," he called. When he approached her, his cheeks were slightly flushed, making his scars stand out against his skin.

"Yes?" Hermione asked.

"I was… are you allowed to… do you want to have dinner?" The Centurion stumbled over his words and then flushed even darker.

"I am allowed to take lovers, if that is what you were asking," Hermione replied calmly. The Centurion spluttered and averted his gaze. "There are certain days that our Lady requires us to fast and to remain celibate so that we can focus on our worship of Her. I can get you a liturgical calendar if you would like."

"That isn't necessary," he rushed to assure her. Then he paused and frowned. "I mean, it isn't as though I wouldn't want to—but I just met you and… Mithra help me," he groaned. Hermione laughed and patted his arm.

"Let us begin with dinner, then?" Hermione suggested.

"Yes," The Centurion replied with a grateful look. "Erm, this is going to seem odd, but… what's your name?"

"Hermione," she replied with a smile. "And yours?"

"Remus." The Centurion answered with his own shy smile.

"Very well, Remus. My next rest day is Saturni. Does that work with your schedule?" Hermione asked.

"Saturni," Remus agreed. "I have second vigil so I'll come for you at Septima?"

"That's perfect." Hermione smiled at the Centurion. "I look forward to it."

Dies Saturni dawned bright and clear, which seemed to be a positive sign for the coming evening and Remus' date with the priestess of Isis. Hermione. The golden bronze of her skin reminded him of the Mediterranean and home. There was a slight accent to her Latin that made him wonder which corner of the Empire had been her home. He knew his own Latin still held hints of his childhood on the Rhine.

Here in Londinium, all citizens of Rome blended together from the far-flung edges of her empire. He had soldiers in his century that had come from Cyrenaica, Aegyptia, Cappadocia, Hispania, Germania, Thracia, and Italia. It made for several options for dinner. There was a small tavern run by a couple from Lusitania. They were well-known for their savoury walnut tart, and their lentils served with fresh, crusty bread.

Nerves made Remus' stomach flip throughout most of the day. His soldiers noticed, but they were too smart to say anything about it. The one time one of them had tried to tease Remus about his love life; he had made them run until they puked. No one could say his lads were stupid—they'd learned their lesson.

Finally, second vigil was over. Remus went to the baths and rushed through them—completely skipping the soaking pools this once. He combed through his hair and straightened his tunic. It would have to be good enough. It wasn't as though Hermione didn't know that he was a Centurion.

That evening seemed to be under a magical auspice. The weather was perfect for strolling through the city. The tavern that Remus had picked out hadn't been too crowded, and the alewife outdid herself with her special of the day, which were soft-boiled eggs in a pine-nut sauce.

"So what is your role at the Iseum?" Remus asked curiously.

"I'm the temple librarian," Hermione replied. "I'm in charge of the scriptorium, and it is my duty to record the annals of the temple."

"That must be nice," Remus said thoughtfully, "to be surrounded by all those scrolls—all that knowledge."

"I enjoy it," Hermione agreed. She smiled at him. "What about you? I know that you're a Centurion, but that's easy for anyone to see. Why did you join the legion?"

"Oh, that's a boring story," Remus blurted out. Hermione laughed.

"It doesn't seem to be," she countered. She tilted her head and watched him for a moment. "If it is too upsetting, you needn't speak of it. I know that not everyone's story is a happy one."

Remus sighed and shook his head. "It was… I was a boy and foolish."

"A lover?" Hermione asked.

Remus nodded. "He was lovely and charming," he sighed with remembered fondness. "A wild boy filled with a zest for life and too much courage than was good for him."

"But?" Hermione quirked a brow at him.

"A patrician," Remus confessed with a grimace.

"Ah." Hermione nodded. "His Pater didn't approve?"

"His Mater, really. His Pater didn't argue though," Remus explained. "She had me beaten and thrown onto a galley. The captain of the galley knew her reputation and took pity on me. The next port we docked in, he dragged me to the army recruitment centre and helped me sign up. He probably saved my life."

"A less scrupulous man would have sold you off as a slave," Hermione muttered half to herself.

"I believe that was her hope," Remus said.

"And you never spoke to him again?" Hermione asked.

"No," Remus admitted.

"Are you still in love with him?" Hermione asked.

Remus sighed and leaned back in his seat. "You don't ask the easy questions, do you? I think a part of me will always love him. He was my first love—you don't really forget that, do you?"

"No you don't," Hermione agreed with a slightly sad smile.

"You too?" Remus asked. When Hermione shrugged he poked her. "Come on, tell me. You made me confess all my dark secrets. It's your turn."

"My mother was a priestess of Isis, and my father was the librarian at Alexandria," Hermione began slowly. Remus gave her a warm smile and took one of her hands in his. "I had a charmed childhood, really. I played in the Iseum with the other children of the priestesses. My father took me with him into the scriptorium and had me learn with the other scribes. No one ever told me no, and I was given endless hugs and pats for being such a sweet child."

"But," Remus prompted her when she paused. Sadness flickered over Hermione's face and she gave him a weak smile.

"He had come to visit the governor of Alexandria who was, I think, some sort of distant cousin. I was friends with the governor's son, and I met him at a feast. He was… he was beautiful. All golden lines and dark curls and brooding eyes. Very enticing to a maiden," Hermione confided with a laugh for her younger self.

"What happened?" Remus asked her gently.

"I didn't know it, but he was already heartbroken. He'd lost his one, true love, and he was trying to console himself by sleeping his way through Aegyptia," Hermione sighed. "He was perfectly honest and truthful about what he wanted. He wasn't the sort to lie or misrepresent himself," Hermione rushed to assure him.

"You fell in love with him," Remus guessed.

"Of course I did," Hermione agreed. "If you had met him, all thoughts of your boyhood lover would be a distant memory."

"You left Alexandria because of him?" Remus asked with a frown.

Hermione shrugged. "I thought perhaps I should see more of the empire, and it seemed best for me if I travelled for a while."

"And now?" Remus pressed. Hermione turned her hand palm up and threaded her fingers with his.

"Now, I think that there is a certain Centurion in Londinium who makes me very glad that I chose to leave Alexandria," Hermione whispered with a light flush on her cheeks.

"That's good." Remus smirked at her. "There is a certain priestess of Isis that makes me very glad that I was sent to Londinium."

With soft laughter, and softer smiles, Hermione led Remus back toward the temple. She rented several rooms in a large building near the temple. They traded kisses in the moonlight until they parted with swollen lips and whispered promises to meet again.

"Centurion!" One of Remus' soldiers stopped in front of him panting for breath. "It's the Emperor, sir! He's come!"

They had been expecting Hadrian's arrival for months. Everything was as good as they might make it. If Hadrian was displeased… there was naught they could do now.

"Very well." Remus nodded to his lieutenants, who ran off to muster the century. He tugged at his armour, shifting it slightly, and ran a hand over his head.

Waiting at the front of his century was never Remus' favourite thing to do. One waited for what felt like hours as whoever it was slowly made their way toward you. Remus watched Hadrian stop and speak to several soldiers.

The world seemed to slide away from Remus when he noticed the entourage following along behind Hadrian. Standing there with a vaguely bored air was the reason that Remus was a Centurion. Even turned mostly away from Remus, he could recognize the patrician profile of Sirius Nigreus Stellatina. Everything seemed to freeze as Sirius turned toward him.

At first, Remus thought that his time as a soldier for Rome had perhaps scarred him too greatly for Sirius to recognize him. Maybe Sirius would walk right past him and Remus would be able to breathe again.

The exact moment that Sirius recognised him was immediately apparent. Subtlety had never been Sirius' strong suit. His grey eyes widened in shock and he stared at Remus for the count of ten. Remus stared back at him. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, but his training kept him completely still and at attention. He darted a glance to the Emperor who, thank Mithra, was nodding and speaking to one of the Generals that trailed along after him.

It wasn't until after Hadrian had left with his entourage following that Remus was able to breathe again. Twenty years had passed since the last time he had seen Sirius Nigreus Stellatina. Back then, Remus had been young and lithe and had only had a few scars from the time he'd been mauled by a wolf when his father had dragged him along on a trip to Germania. Now… now he was old and grey and covered in scars, even if Hermione—

Remus froze. Hermione. Even if Sirius wanted to, which Remus knew was utterly ridiculous, but even Sirius was interested in something… there was Hermione to consider. He had been carefully courting her for months. They didn't have an understanding—they were still feeling each other out. Remus doubted that their relationship would survive a fuck for old times' sake.

"Remus?"

All at once, his throat went dry and his palms were sweaty. He might as well be a stripling youth once again. He rubbed his palms against his uniform and turned to face his past.

"Sirius," Remus replied.

"How did you… I thought you were dead," Sirius whispered. Remus grimaced.

"I suppose I should be. That was your Mater's plan, I believe," Remus said.

"But you're here," Sirius continued in a tone of wonder. He grinned at Remus. "You're here."

"Listen, Sirius, we should—" Remus began only to have Sirius interrupt him.

"Mater's dead," Sirius blurted out. He paused and grimaced. "Pater too, actually. I'm the paterfamilias. No one can tell me what I can and can't do, anymore."

"There's someone else." Remus flushed after getting the words out. Sirius grinned at him.

"Good," Sirius said with a little nod. "I'm glad. I mean, Jupiter's beard, it's been twenty years."

"It took me a long time to get over you," Remus said with a frown. "In fact, I don't know that I'll ever actually get over you."

"Yeah?" Sirius wrapped his cape about him a little tighter. "I'm kind of glad. I would have felt like a right idiot for mooning over you for so many years."

"Did you get married?" Remus asked curiously.

At this, Sirius grimaced. "No, I was an idiot about that. I spent so many years being angry about what I didn't have that I… I walked away from something I shouldn't have."

"That sounds… complicated," Remus said after a moment.

"It is… erm, was," Sirius agreed with a shrug. He shook his head and offered Remus a faint smile. "Would you care to join me for dinner?"

"Sirius," Remus protested. Sirius held up his hands in supplication.

"I'm not expecting anything more than dinner and conversation," Sirius told him. "I would love more than that, but you've made yourself very clear."

"I… dinner and conversation sounds great," Remus admitted.

No matter what else might happen in his life, Sirius would always be his first love. There was a small part of his heart that would always be a little raw and a little tender whenever Remus was faced with Sirius Nigreus Stellatina.

"Perfect," Sirius said with a nod.

The Iseum was usually a place of calm and peace for Hermione. She revelled in the gentle murmur of its day-to-day life. Hadrian's arrival in Londinium had altered all of that. The jangle of sistrums and the rise and fall of prayersong seemed to increase in pitch until Hermione was driven to the complete stillness of the scriptorium.

"Priestess, there is a patrician who would like to make a donation to the scriptorium," one of the novitiates murmured as she bowed deeply.

"The High Priestess usually—" Hermione paused only to stop herself. "No, wait. She is visiting with Hadrian at the governor's palace." She sighed. "Is Priestess Severina available?"

"No, Priestess," the novitiate said with a shake of her head. "Priestess Severina is not currently in the temple."

"Very well," Hermione huffed. She hated dealing with the donors and supporters of the temple.

The average temple goer who wanted to offer a jar of olive oil or a honeycomb was one thing. It was a simple donation. One could thank the person and offer to say a prayer or two on their behalf to their Lady. The large donors on the other hand, were a different matter. Upon occasion, the demands in return for a large donation almost made it worth it to go without. Patricians tended to be the worst of the lot.

The novitiate led the way out of the scriptorium and toward the unnamed donor. Hermione could only imagine that the person was kept in the public area of the temple, perhaps in one of the rooms the High Priestess used to greet guests such as the Priesthood of Serapis.

The smaller guest room had several low couches with nearby tables. Hermione spotted the patrician immediately, laying languidly on one of the couches, the small table in front of him holding a plate of flat bread and a cup of the local ale.

"Sirius," Hermione whispered.

The table wobbled precariously, but Sirius' quick reflexes kept the ale from spilling and the table from tipping. He jumped to his feet and stared at Hermione in shocked surprise. It was obvious that Sirius had not known of her presence in the Iseum of Londinium.

"Hermione."

"What are you doing here?" Hermione wanted to close her eyes and sink into the ground as soon as the words left her mouth.

"I'm traveling with Hadrian's retinue," Sirius explained. He gave her faint smile. "Every place we've stopped I've made donations to the local Iseum."

"That isn't necessary," Hermione muttered and averted her eyes.

"I made a mistake," Sirius confessed. He took a step forward. "Hermione, I—"

"Stop," Hermione commanded with an outstretched hand. "Just… stop. You made your decision."

"I knew the moment I left Alexandria," Sirius continued doggedly. He ran a hand over his face. "But even if I hadn't known then… Hermione, he's here. He's here and he's moved on. Found someone else."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Hermione replied. "But… Sirius, I'm not certain what that has to do with me."

"Hermione," Sirius sighed. He shook his head and a bitter laugh escaped him. "Have you ever felt as though you're just…? I don't know… doing it all wrong? I've been in love with two people in my life, and I can't be with either one of them."

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione demanded incredulously.

He had been the one to leave. Their relationship had only ever been casual. They had agreed beforehand that it wouldn't be forever. Hermione had known going in that Sirius had nothing to give her beyond the pleasure of the moment. It had been her own fault that she had fallen for him anyway. Alexandria had gone from being her home to being filled with memories that made her chest ache and her breath catch in her throat.

"I know!" Sirius burst out. "I know what I said, but I was wrong. I love you."

"Hermione? The novitiate said that you were in here?" Remus called out as he entered the room. He paused in the doorway. "Sirius?"

"Remus?" Sirius' voice rose in agitation. He looked between them. "Fucking hell."

"What?" Remus turned to Hermione. "What's going on?"

"Apparently a farce," Hermione muttered with a scowl. "I suppose that makes me the meretrix and you the miles gloriosus. Should I be offended on my Lady's behalf?"

"What?" Remus turned to Sirius who had sunk down to sit on his couch and had put his face in his hands. "Sirius, why are you here?"

"I always donate to the local Iseum, wherever I am," Sirius explained through his fingers.

"Because of me, apparently," Hermione added with a roll of her eyes.

"So you two are seeing one another," Sirius said with a bright, patently-false smile. "Because of course you are."

"She's beautiful and intelligent and is willing to listen to me drone on about Pythagoras," Remus retorted. He gestured to Hermione. "Why wouldn't I want to be her lover?"

"Remus is kind and sweet, and he's willing to argue with me about the Empire's policies," Hermione replied with a fond smile for Remus.

"But what about me?" Sirius demanded.

"What about you?" Remus countered. He crossed his arms over his chest and quirked an eyebrow at Sirius.

"You can't just leave me out!" Sirius protested. "It's… it's not fair or something."

"The Empire is hardly ever fair," Hermione replied with a snort.

"But—I love you both!" Sirius reminded them.

"And we love you," Hermione admitted with a shrug.

"Well! Don't you think we could, I don't know, work something out?" Sirius demanded.

"Like what?" Remus asked with a confused frown.

"Some kind of… you let me date you both, too, sort of a… thing," Sirius trailed off helplessly. "I don't know. I just… I found you both again, and I don't want to walk away again."

"You didn't exactly walk away from me," Remus reminded him. "Your mother tried to have me sold into slavery."

"I need to try," Sirius confessed. He turned to Hermione. "Can we try?"

"I…," Hermione trailed off and stood there thinking about what Sirius was suggesting. Could they try to fit Sirius into the broken cracks they both had? Would it even work? Was it possible?

In Alexandria, there had been a priestess who had three regular lovers and she seemed to manage just fine. It probably helped that one of them was in the navy and one of them was a sea-merchant so they were gone from Alexandria for months at a time. Still… the idea wasn't too farfetched. Priestesses would often have more than one lover. Hermione had never really attempted it because the scriptorium took so much of her attention.

"Hermione," Remus murmured and took her fingers between his. "If you're willing…"

"I am not unwilling," she said slowly. "It's just that… it's you and it's Sirius. He and you… how can I compete with that?"

"That was twenty years ago," Remus scoffed. "We were little more than children. He doesn't even know who I am anymore. But you… he knows exactly who you are, and he loves you."

"Doesn't matter," Sirius argued from his couch. "Could be forty years. You could be riddled with arthritis and flatulence, and I'd still love you, you fathead."

Startled laughter burst forth from Remus and Hermione.

"When he's so smooth and urbane like that… how can we resist?" Hermione asked between spates of giggles.

"How indeed?" Remus rolled his eyes.

"Is that a yes?" Sirius demanded. "That's a yes, right?"

"Yes, you fathead. It's a yes," Remus replied. He turned to Hermione. "Right?"

"Yes," Hermione agreed. She turned to Sirius and smiled. "It's a yes."