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Remus is thirteen. Three whole years younger than Sirius.

Sirius knows this because he asked, Kreacher forgotten in the early, burning morning sun. Remus tells him this is his first time in France, and that the red-haired man is his uncle (Sirius asked that, too). His father is away on business, and after some wriggling, Remus says his surname is Lupin.

Sirius looks at him a while longer, wondering out loud why Mother didn't know the Lupins were staying over at the house by the sea. Remus stares at him, then snuffs, and says, a Black.

'What of it?' Sirius asks, wondering why this wounds him somehow.

Remus looks at him again, then says, 'It's just me. Mum's not feeling well, so she's sent me to live with Aunt Ellie for a while.'

'For how long?' Sirius asks, aware that he's prying.

'Four weeks in all. The week after next is my last here.'

It starts to bother him on the Friday after that, how much he actually thinks about Remus. It's ridiculous, really, because he's only seen him three times, and the southern part of France is quite big, so why is he suddenly worried that he won't see him again before he leaves in a fortnight?

He mulls over this at dinner, and then asks Mother why they're not having the Lupins over when she says he's being too quiet. Mother narrows her eyes and then says, in a cutting voice, 'Their son married a Muggle. Their family line isn't pure, and we are not going to associate ourselves with such filth.'

'I didn't know.'

Father lowers The Evening Prophet and regards Sirius with clear grey eyes. 'We've not told you because we cannot afford to have you insult members of the Ministry.'

Sirius feels hollow. 'I wouldn't –'

'You did when we were visiting your grandmother,' Mother says primly. 'A boy ran into you, and you demanded he apologise to a Black. He didn't know of you, of course – just another uneducated, blundering Mudblood – and you told him exactly what you thought of him.'

'That's what I'm meant to do, isn't it?' Sirius asks, raising an eyebrow and wondering why he should defend himself.

'Not in the open, Sirius,' Father reminded him, and Sirius feels incompetent and useless. 'Appearances are everything.'

'Of course,' Sirius says again. 'I will not disappoint you again, Father.'

Father levels him with a stare. 'Eat your dinner.'

Sirius does.

'That boy,' Sirius later says, when Regulus is lying on his bed, studying Éluard (he remembers having once memorised L'amoureuse only to annoy Monsieur Gagnon: elle a la forme de mes mains, elle a la couleur de mes yeux).

Regulus looks up, his eyes clear and focused. He thinks for a moment, and then says, 'Restaurant?'

When Sirius nods, Regulus laughs. 'A Lupin. How wonderful.'

Translations
- L'amoureuse: a poem by Paul Éluard. Not particularly sure about the translation of the title - I'm leaning towards "amoureu": a word that indicates a secretive or illicit sexual relationship.
- Elle a la forme de mes mains, elle a la couleur de mes yeux: she has the shape of my hands, she has the colour of my eyes.