Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

In the Unlikeliest Place

After the excitement that March began with, it wound up being a very boring month. Dueling Club lessons continued. Snape was in a better mood than Draco had ever witnessed. Between the length of his hair and the fact it wasn't greasy, Draco wasn't sure if the man teaching them dueling spells was in fact Professor Snape rather than an impostor. The Marauder's Map claimed the man was Severus Snape, so unless there was another one running around, Snape was simply in an unnaturally good mood.

"Maybe he accidentally drank an elixir of happiness or something," Harry suggested after a dueling lesson where Snape simply sighed and said nothing scathing.

"I doubt that," Hermione said. "He's not an idiot. If he did ingest anything, it wasn't on accident. Maybe he's simply in a better mood because he's no longer teaching dunderheads Potions?"

"Or he fell in love," Tom offered, before vanishing into thin air before anyone could reply.

Harry looked like he was going to be sick. "Who'd he fall in love with?"

Draco and Hermione exchanged looks before Draco said, "I doubt he did. I'm sure it's the fact he's teaching DADA."

As March melted into April, Harry organized the pretend invasion of Hogwarts. The first trial run was a disaster. Most of the group wound up in the Hospital Wing for spell damage. Madam Pomfrey glowered but didn't ask why they were all injured or worst after she made sure they'd not been dueling each other out of spite.

"That was a catastrophe," Harry grumbled, rubbing more burn paste into his burnt arm. "I thought we were better prepared. We're all going to die."

"You are not going to die," Tom proclaimed, ignoring the fact someone had singed off most of his hair on the left side. "They are children, not trained soldiers."

"We took Neville, Luna, and Ginny to the Ministry last summer," Hermione reminded Tom. Hermione had two black eyes thanks to a trick wand Ginny had had on her that was one of George and Fred's. Ginny promised to get a paste from them that'd clear the bruises up right away, as it was immune to the bruise paste Madam Pomfrey had tried.

"Yeah, and everyone wound up in hospital!" Harry wailed. "Neville's unconscious."

"People get hurt during wars," Hermione gently remarked Harry. "And Neville's not unconscious. He has a concussion. Madam Pomfrey has to watch him over night."

"Not whilst pretending to fight a war! No one was supposed to get hurt, yet here we are!" Harry shouted, waving his arms around the boy's dormitory.

"I'm not hurt," Draco offered, rising his hand.

"Yeah, how'd that happen?" Harry asked, panting from his outburst.

"Luck," Draco sighed, glancing at Tom and Hermione. They both looked at the floor, so Draco said what needed to be said. "Harry, you do realize that when it's time, people will die. People have already died in this battle between the world and Voldemort, but more will die. It's the nature of war. At least now we know what we have to work on: Shield Charms. We're all very good at those, so teaching them shouldn't be that hard. We can perfect those charms we found our first year when we were battling Quirrellmort."

"I swear to god I taught those last year," Harry grumbled, running both hands through his messy black hair.

After everyone was mostly healed (Tom still was partially bald), the group got together once more in the Room of Requirement (when Nott wasn't using it) and stood in the recreation of Hogwarts.

"Okay," Harry started, looking slightly ill. "Hopefully this well go better this time than last time. We've spent the past few weeks really working on various Shield Charms during Dueling Club. I know, a Shield Charm won't block an AK, but it'll block almost everything else. Our job is to protect, not kill. We're kids. We're just going to help out the adults. So, shield and dodge."

The group nodded in agreement. Harry assigned groups and everyone moved to begin. Draco and Tom (who knew the most advanced magic out of the entire group) played the roles of Death Eaters. They remained behind as everyone else moved into place.

"Just as hard as last time?"

"Keeping it real," Draco muttered, clutching his wand.

"Hermione should also be a Death Eater if we do this again. There will be more than two."

"True."

"Ready?"

"Yes."

Draco reached into his pocket and grabbed a fist full of the Purvian Dark Powder the twin's had gifted him for Christmas. Instantly the space before him went pitch black. He grabbed Tom's wrist and raised the Hand of Glory Tom had somehow nicked from Nott. (Lucius had not bought Draco the Hand of Glory this time around. Clearly Nott's father had, as Weasley mentioned Nott had one when Draco was trying to figure out how to see through the darkness.) The pair held their wands up and made their way through the dark, easily heading towards the corridor that would take them to the astronomy tower. They met the first group shortly after they got into the corridor. The group clearly could not see, as all the spells were aimed wide and missed both boys. Tom shot spells at the group (Neville, Hannah Abbot, and Ernie MacMillian), knocking Neville over and making Hannah's shoe laces tie together causing her trip and take Ernie with her.

"Death Eaters wouldn't use those kinds of spells!" Neville shouted into the darkness as Draco and Tom moved out of the black cloud.

"Fine," Tom said, turning and shooting a spell Draco didn't recognized till he heard Neville yelp.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Death Eaters wouldn't stop for pleasantries," Hannah shouted.

"She's correct," Draco said, tugging on Tom's wrist and stashing the Hand of Glory in his pocket.

They met a group of students (two of the groups of three) before they reached the Astronomy tower and dueled for real. Draco was amazed at the skills Weasley and Zabini had picked up in the since the last time they'd done this trail run. By the time Tom and Draco had gotten away, Draco was winded and had boils on the right side of his face.

"Weasley?"

"No. Zabini," Draco panted as he and Tom made a break for the stairs.

They didn't meet anyone else till after they were upstairs. At the top Harry was lying on the floor and tossing is wand up and down. He looked over as Draco and Tom burst onto the roof.

"Hey, nice boils. Don't those hurt?"

"Yes," Draco ground out.

Harry sat up and clutched his hand. "Well, talk, talk, talk, talk. Confess your plan."

"I'm going to kill you," Tom lazily said.

"Blah, blah, blah, blah. Fine, whatever."

"Die."

Harry made a death sound and fell over. Draco glared at the pair of boys before he turned and headed back down the stairs to meet the next group. While only Harry, Hermione, Tom, Ginny, and Neville actually knew what was really going on during these trail runs and how close to the truth they were, no one else did so they'd set up the groups like they were "patrolling." During these patrols they had to go unnoticed, as the hallways were filled with adults these days more than ever before. Part of these trial runs were to make sure the group members could move stealthily and knew the good hiding spots.

Draco spotted Ginny's hair and followed her. She led him on a wild goose chase that ended with him pinned to the wall, then tied up on the floor in a dusty room he'd never seen before.

"Does this room actually exist?" he asked, while Ginny sat on his back to keep him down.

"Yeah. I found it during one of the searches of the castle Harry sent me on," Finnigan replied. "Figured if we pick off Death Eaters instead of taking them all on is the best way to deal with them."

"Good thinking. Can I get up?"

"No. I like you here," Ginny said while Thomas made a noise Draco wasn't sure how to interpret.

"Where are the others?" Draco asked, trying not to notice the fact his hair was likely filled with dust. At least the side of his face with the boils on it wasn't being pressed into the ground.

"Waiting for Tom," Luna said dreamily. "I know you wanted us in groups of three, but with only two Death Eaters, it didn't make any sense."

"True. Good thinking," Draco said.

"GOT HIM!" came a shouted voice out of Luna's ear.

"They've gotten Tom," Luna said needlessly.

"What the hell was that?" Draco asked.

"Two-way earrings," Luna said, skipping out of the room.

Ginny removed herself and Thomas jerked Draco to his feet and marched him out of the room. They met Tom and his capturers in yet another room Draco hadn't known about. Tom was grumpily tied to a chair.

"I see they tied you up as well," Tom drawled, looking as if he was ready to kill someone.

The group that had cornered Tom was worse off than the group that had gotten Draco. They all looked just as grumpy as Tom, except Harry who was lying on the floor playing dead.

"I thought he killed you on the tower," Ginny said, staring at Harry, whose tongue was hanging out the side of his mouth.

"He did. But no one can see me dead up there," Harry pointed out before he went back to playing dead.

"Get up," Hermione said, kicking Harry in the side. Her hair was bushier than normal and she had a streak of blue on her cheek for some reason. "We're all here."

Harry leaped to his feet and looked between everyone. He rubbed his hands together and said, "Well, this went better. Tom can you put Draco's face right?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Anyone else get hit with a spell they don't know how to fix or someone who can fix it for them?"

There was a chorus of nos. While everyone looked a little worse for wear, they were all walking, standing, and operational. Unlike the last time.

"Cool. Okay. I think this time went a lot better. I want to do it once more before I let any of you out in the actual halls with actual teachers and adults wandering around. Sound good?"

"Yes," Zabini agreed.

"Best leave in small groups. It's almost curfew."

It took almost a half hour for everyone to leave. Harry was bouncing on his heels the whole time.

"I think we can do this," Harry burst out as they walked back toward Gryffindor Tower. "And you know, not wind up dead."

"That is the goal," Tom drawled, rolling his eyes. "But, I think you are right. They will not be warriors, but I do not fear for their lives if they must face a group of blood thirsty Death Eaters. Miss Weasley's plan was rather clever. She used her hair to distract you from what you were doing and trapped you."

"She do that to you too?"

"No."

"He didn't go very quietly or easily," Hermione remarked, trying to smooth her hair and making an annoyed noise when she found herself caked in white dust. "What the hell did you do to my hair?"

"Plasterboard spell," Tom said, looking a little sheepish. "I've never done it on hair before. Clearly your hair didn't really want to be drywall."

"You tried to transfigure my hair into plasterboard?"

Tom shrugged and attempted to hide behind Harry, which did nothing as Harry was almost a foot shorter than Tom.

"What would have happened if it'd worked?" Hermione shirked.

"You'd have plasterboard hair?"

"TOM!"

Severus was drunk. He should go back home, but for some unfathomable reason he was still sitting on the sofa with Sirius Black's head in his lap.

Why was Black's head in his lap?

"It was hilarious," Black giggled, pressing his nose into Severus' thigh.

Why was Black's nose in his thigh?

Wait, why was Severus' hand in Black's hair?

"All those little globes with monsters," Black snickered. "And the rocks. Rocks are great."

"Rocks?" Severus asked.

Black barked out a laugh. Black laughed with his whole body. He always had. Not that Severus would ever admit (while sober) he watched Black when they were at school. It was hard not to watch Black. He took up the whole Great Hall with his laughing, shiny hair, and perfect nose.

Bastard.

"That's how I knew I loved Remus," Black whispered, somehow snaking his arm around Severus' waist and pushing his whole face into Severus' belly.

This ought to disturb him on some degree, but the alcohol made him rather numb to whatever Black was doing.

"It was like this, only I was high and he was sober instead of drunk," Black proclaimed into the softness that came with age to Severus' midsection.

Not that anyone other than Black would know this information, as no one had hugged, touched, or gotten close enough to him in years to realize he was no longer a thin, gangly human being. His professor robes hid everything other than his height.

And his hair.

"He's always sober," Black complained. "And, well, why am I talking in complete sentences?"

"No idea."

Black rolled away from Severus' stomach and grabbed the bottle of fire whiskey he'd dropped at some point. He pouted, staring at the empty bottle.

"All gone," he lamented.

"Surely you've got other bottles?"

"No. Narcissa caught onto me," Black complained, dropping the bottle. "Knows I figured the spells out."

"You drank most of that bottle," Severus realized, looking at the empty glass he was still holding. He got about three glasses before he felt like he ought to stop, being drunk wasn't professorial.

Or really something he did.

Especially since the Dark Bat returned.

Snake. He was more a snake than a bat. Severus was a bat. He knew the students told each other he looked like a bat flapping around in his robes.

Black burst out laughing.

"Batman! Batman! Na, na, na, naaaaaaaaaa, naaaaaa Baaaaaaaatmannnnnn!"

"What?"

"Batman! Batman! Addy called you Batman! Never really knew why, but if you wear those flappy robes, then sure, you'd look like bat. A cute bat."

"A cute bat?"

Black laughed, rolling back towards Severus. Severus was unable to focus his eyes right, as there were suddenly two Blacks.

"I'm drunk."

"Not as drunk as me," Black bragged cheerily. "I'm a happy drunk."

"Of course you are," Severus grumbled.

"Always figured you'd be grumpy," Black giggled. "You're fine."

"I'm glad."

Severus honestly did not remember the last time he was drunk. Likely after the Dark Lord returned, well, after he'd recovered from his meeting with the newly bodied Dark Snake-thing.

"What did he do?"

Severus startled, looking down into his lap to find Black facing him with bright, slightly unfocused eyes.

There was still two of him.

"You're drunk."

"I should go home."

"Naw. You're the best pillow," Black slurred, pressing his face into Severus' stomach.

"I am not a pillow. I am a human being."

"Yeah. Sure."

Black sounded sleepy.

Black wasn't going to fall asleep, was he?

"Bobl," Black muttered, which might have been probably.

Why was his hand back in Black's hair?

"No, don't stop," Black whined when he went to remove his hand. "Hair. Like."

Well, fine. He was drunk.

Why was he drunk?

Oh. Yes. Black had gotten him drunk. He wasn't entirely sure why. He'd been stopping by Black's more and more. While his first visit had had a reason, his other visits had no real reason other than he liked the company of another person his own age who wasn't a Death Eater.

He'd always been drawn to Black, ever since that first ride on the Hogwarts Express. He knew instantly the boy was a pureblood from one of the old ancient families, one as old as the family his mother had once belonged. From the cut of his robes to his hair, the boy oozed pureblood royalty. The other was likely a pureblood, or a rich Muggleborn, but Severus didn't care. The royal pureblood smiled.

With his whole body.

And all Severus could do was stare.

He shook his head before the boys took notice of his stare and hurried to speak to Lily, hoping to make whatever had gone wrong right and wound up getting into a verbal spat with James Potter. He later figured out he'd insulted the idiot (rightly so), which likely had led to the years of bullying.

Severus looked down and stared at the sleeping Black in his lap, his long, white fingers buried in those shiny, inky black locks he had been oh so jealous over throughout their school years. Black was never awkward, never pimply, never gangly. He was always…the picture of perfection. Severus knew Blacks weren't born prefect. Regulus Black, who looked so like his brother and nothing like him, went through an awkward phase in his fourth year. He was all gangly limbs, nose too big for his face, and pimples all over his forehead. Severus secretly figured the family had used magic to spruce the kid up over the summer, as he returned for his fifth year with non-greasy hair, perfect skin, and two inches taller.

His hair still held no candle to his elder brother, though. The only family member who had as nice hair was tragically Bellatrix, who wasn't vain enough to do anything with her hair to highlight the fact she had illustrious locks.

Why was he sitting here thinking about hair? He was so tired. He ought to go back to his rooms at Hogwarts. Those were nice. Kinda cold, but he liked the cold.

It was really dark.

Oh, he'd closed his eyes.

He should push Black to the floor and leave.

He did not seem to be doing this. He was still seated on the couch. He let his head fall back.

It was late, much too late to be making social calls, but Remus had to drop his reports from the werewolf front, so he figured he would see how Sirius was faring. Remus knew the man didn't sleep unless he was in a drunken stupor, which thanks to Narcissa limiting the amount of alcohol in the house didn't happen often, so more often than not Sirius didn't sleep.

Sirius was not fond of alcohol, mostly due to the hangover he was left with the morning after. Up until the…breakup, Sirius never drank in excess.

"He was often drunk. At least he was a happy drunk for the most part," Tom had proclaimed when Remus had gotten the nerve to ask him how Sirius had been after he'd moved into the flat after Sirius had been found innocent. "Azkaban sorted that addiction out for him, so you won't have to worry about him going through withdrawal on you."

Narcissa, with so much ease Remus was jealous, had asked him about the alcohol shortly after the boys had gone back to school to begin their fourth year.

"Bottles keep going missing," she confided as if she was talking about the rain. "Has he always been this way?"

"No," Remus admitted as they watched the train vanish around the corner and Sirius turned to head back towards where they were standing. "He didn't like alcohol when we were at school."

Narcissa hummed.

He hadn't heard anything about it or noticed Sirius hungover or drunk. Then again, he hadn't seen much of him that first year he was out of jail. This Christmas, he did note the drinks tray in the sitting room lacked the usual assortment of hard liquor. And each time Sirius went to refill his glass, Narcissa glared until he finally stopped refilling it and sat in the corner with a cup of tea. She flicked her wand at the tray and gave Sirius a look of triumph, which made Sirius slump and stare into the depth of his teacup till he decided to float Tom and Harry to bed.

Clearly, Narcissa's method of keeping booze from Sirius was not working.

Or Severus had brought it with him.

Remus stared, with his mouth hanging open, at the pair on the couch that cost more than the flat he lived in. Severus was snoring loudly, head tipped back to rest on the back of the couch. His long, slim fingers were buried in Sirius' hair, holding on with a possessive touch. Sirius was facing away from the doorway, his face pressed into Severus and an arm wrapped around Severus' waist.

Remus felt his stomach turn and he gripped the doorway.

There was an empty bottle on the floor and an empty glass tilted precariously in Severus' free hand.

"Oh no," whined a voice from Remus' knees.

"Dobby?"

"Oh no. Mistress Narcissa is going to be angry," the little elf moaned. "Not supposed to let Master Black drink more than a glass. How did he break the spell? Mistress be putting a powerful spell on the tray."

"I'm afraid they weren't drinking from the tray, Dobby."

The tray was clearly untouched, and the bottle on the floor was something Narcissa would never buy, as it wasn't top shelf.

Dobby wrung his hands. "I was cleaning the oven. I thought Master was in bed."

"He clearly is not," came another voice, this one from behind them on the stairs. "And I'm sure Severus brought that bottle. It's too cheap for Cissa, Dobby. Can't stop people bringing him whiskey."

Remus turned to find Regulus Black standing behind him, looking causal dressed in all black Muggle clothing. His hair was wind tossed and his cheeks were pink. He looked at Remus, with something in his gray eyes that Remus didn't like.

"Severus has been dropping by to socialize with Sirius," Regulus offered, shrugging his shoulders. "No idea why. Sirius is just excited to have a friend again."

Remus' heart shriveled.

Regulus gave him another look before he turned to Dobby. "Don't punish yourself. I'll explain to Narcissa what happened."

Dobby did not look as if he was going to follow this order, but he vanished with a loud crack. Regulus shook his head and sighed, moving to stand next to Remus in the doorway.

"They are a pair."

"That they are," Remus quietly agreed.

"He'll never move on till you let him go," Regulus said.

"Is this moving on?"

"No. This is two lonely people latching onto one another," Regulus sighed. "I'm as shocked as you, but it makes sense."

"How does it make sense? I'm kind and civil to Severus and he sneers at me and is rather rude."

"You're not lonely. You weren't stuck in a job you hate, surrounded by reminders of your failures," Regulus softly said. "After the last war, you had a job you loved, and were paid rather well for it. And then there's the fact that you are a great teacher. You were born to be a professor. Severus, not so much."

"Sirius loves being an Auror."

"He's not an Auror. He's a poster boy," Regulus laughed without humor. "He pushes paperwork, deals with the Ministry like the head of a department would do if he were so inclined. He smiles, pretends to be doing great work, but all he is really doing is place holding. They needed someone to head the department and didn't want to give up any of the active Aurors they've got. So, enter Sirius Black."

"Narcissa thought it'd give him something to do," Remus realized.

"Yeah. Get him out of the house. Dumbledore agreed and didn't have anything for him to do for the Order."

"Unlike you."

"Unlike me, who is young, fit, and able. Sirius…he's…"

"Yes."

Remus knew what Regulus was trying to say: Sirius was damaged. He'd never pass the qualifications trials to become an active Auror. He might be physically fit once more, but he wasn't mentally.

"Moody told me that after you two broke up, Sirius actually flunked the mental tests they give Aurors periodically. And while he was never drunk whilst on duty, he did show up a few times rather hungover after Addy and I went missing."

"He forgot to take a hangover potion?"

Regulus glanced at Remus darkly. "Those only work if you're not an alcoholic."

Remus startled.

"He's…he has a problem. And he shouldn't have any alcohol at all, but as we both know he's a stubborn bastard. He refuses to let it conquer him, so he keeps drinking and trying to limit himself. I guess if Severus is going to keep bringing his own liquor, someone ought to tell him."

"Oh?"

"Sirius is genetically faulty. Insanity runs in our blood. Addiction, not so much, but you must understand, Sirius is terrified of being insane, of turning in our mother, or worse Bellatrix. Bellatrix knows she mental and loves it. Mother, Mother thought she was perfectly sane and everyone else was at fault. Sirius likely knew he was loosing his hold on his sanity, of his mental stability, and was scared back before he went to Azkaban. Easiest mind numbing substance to get a hold of?"

"Liquor."

"Yup. No one would question a young man buying booze. Buying massive amounts of Dreamless Sleep? Yes. Also, back in the 70s, Mind Healing was only getting started, really. We still do not know much about the mind, but when Sirius really needed help at first, there was no real support in the wizarding world."

"He has support now, though, right?"

"Yeah. I'll send an owl to his Healer. Tell her we're worried."

"I'm sorry."

Regulus gave him a look which made Remus feel two feet tall and said, "Dora's in the kitchen. She knows you're supposed to drop off reports and is waiting. Best go see her."

Regulus turned on his heel and stalked up the next fight of stairs. Taking one last look at the drunken pair on the couch, Remus hung his head and slunk off towards the kitchen. Dora was seated at the wooden tabled, being served hot chocolate by Dobby. She hurried to her feet when Remus entered, almost knocking the hot chocolate over and sending her chair flying into Dobby.

"Wotcher, Remus," she greeted, a large smile painting her features.

"Nymphadora," Remus greeted, not looking at her.

He heard her sigh as he opened a drawer in the dresser for Order things and placed his reports inside.

"Who is it?"

"Pardon?" Remus asked, glancing at Dora as he shut the drawer. Dobby silently picked up the chair and scurried off.

"I've shot down all your reasons for not starting something with me, so all I got now is that you're in love with someone else. Who is it?"

Remus turned, glancing at Dora with her mosey brown hair too close to Remus's hair color these days. "No one."

"Remus—"

"Good night, Nymphadora."

"Mum told me you used to have a thing with Sirius."

Remus cringed. "That was a long time ago."

"Really?" Dora challenged, coming round the table and standing in the way of any exit Remus could make. "Why were you upstairs?"

"I wished to check on him."

"You never see him. When he was at St Mungo's you never went to see him, you never come here to see him either, and your daughter and Addy told me you chase him off as quickly as possible when he comes to see you."

Remus jerked backward, running into the dresser. It lurched behind him, making a loud racket as it hit the wall.

"Atlanta warned me," Dora went on, getting in his face. "She warned me not to fall in love with you because of the fact Sirius was still in love with you, but then went on and told me that you chased him off all the time. And I watched. Sirius is still in love with you, but you want nothing to do with him, so who the hell is in my way?"

Remus blinked, "I've told you—"

"You're a werewolf, you're too old, you're too damaged, you're too poor. I've heard it all, shot those down, and am at the point I don't care. So what you're a werewolf, so what if you're older than me—"

"I was a teenager when you were born," Remus reminded her.

"So what?"

"It's improper."

Dora snorted, backing away.

"It's not," Dora stated. "If you're not in love with Sirius, then what is the problem with getting to know me better? With dating me? I don't see a lot of people beating down your door."

"I told you—"

"Tell me something new."

Remus pushed his back into the dresser, feeling the knobs pressing uncomfortably into his spine.

"What is holding you back? Honestly. What is it, because those excuses you keep giving me are weak."

She glared at him while he opened and closed his mouth a few times. She looked honestly disappointed in him when he failed to answer.

"You do know if I could stop loving you I would, but this happened."

Without even speaking, she shot her Patronus out of the tip of her wand and Remus found himself looking at a werewolf. He gasped, backing into the dresser further to the point he heard it creak and crack.

"Pretty sure that's you," Dora spat. "Do you know what this means?"

Remus stared at the woman before him, wondering how he'd gotten into this mess in the first place. He had always seen himself as unloveable till Sirius had shown him that he was lovable to someone other than his parents. Parents had to love you, Remus believed until he'd witnessed how Circe Hilderbatch did not love her youngest daughter. He loved his parents even more for loving him despite the fact he was a werewolf.

Remus honestly did not believe Sirius really loved him, after he'd said all those horrible things. After realizing that parents could be horrible to children and not love them unconditionally, Remus believed it further.

He had fallen out of love with Sirius.

Yet…

"Expecto Patronum," Remus whispered, thinking about his happiest memories with his daughter.

Instead of a great, big shaggy dog, something else burst out of the tip of his wand. Dora let out a chocked sounding laugh and fell backward, collapsing on the floor. The animal rested on the table and looked between the pair before vanishing in wisps of smoke along with the werewolf.

"Now what have you got to say for yourself?" Dora challenged, rising onto her elbows and giving him a strange look that was a combination of a challenge and fear.

Remus slid down the dresser, taking a few loose knobs with him, staring at the spot where the penguin had stood. He knew that had been Dora's Patronus before she'd fallen in love with him. He stared at Dora with wide eyes.

"How about we start with dinner?" he asked in a somewhat squeaky voice.

Dora got to her feet, dusted her hands off, tripped over her robes and ran into the table, then said, "That sounds brilliant. Tomorrow night, seven, I know a place in Muggle Glasgow. It's this wee little Indian restaurant."

"You've had a reservation for months, haven't you?"

"Not saying. You know where I'm talking about, though?"

"Yes."

"Good. The owner was hoping you'd come to your senses."

With that last word, Dora walked out the kitchen door.

"You better tell Sirius," Regulus said from the doorway. Remus looked over at him, wondering how long he'd been there. "You owe him that."