A/N: Hey, guys! As always, this took longer than I planned. Don't think it is what you expected, probably, but I think it was a nice addition to the whole story, provided us all with some closure I avoided completely when I should have addressed it.

Thanks so much to everyone who favourited and followed last chapter: raggydolls, Z123bird, mchurch1992, Psycho-Jellybean, Loza-Pop, JARN. It means a lot to me, your support.

Also, thanks for mchurch1992 for your lovely review! It was really nice to know you read the whole of it in two hours, and hope you enjoy this chapter! 3

Chapter 29: Nepenthe.

Chapter 29:

All the excitement over being home for the summer died the second my father opened the door to our home. Suddenly, the overwhelmingly painful realisation that two members of our family were permanently gone was too much to ignore. The manor felt hollow and grey. I was, for the first time in my seventeen years of age, aware of how big the place really was.

My parents, my sister and I stood at the entrance, looking at the big staircase a few paces away from us, our steps echoing in the silence as we stepped into the marble floor. I couldn't remember the last time this house had been this quiet. The door to our outmost right opened, the kitchen, and Glitter hurried towards us.

"Welcome home, Master Potter." Glitter exclaimed, happily looking up at my father.

"Thank you, Glitter." My father nodded, hand going down and tapping Glitter's head once.

Delilah gasped softly before beginning to cry. My mother looked down at her and started crying as well. I blinked, suddenly lost. Instead of consoling her youngest daughter, however, my mother pressed a hand to her mouth and walked away, up the staircase, footsteps bordering on running. My father sighed. He leaned down and kissed Delilah's forehead. She didn't stop crying. I didn't think she even noticed.

"How are you, Meredith?" my father asked me.

It occurred to me then this was the first time the two of us really saw each other after the accident. He had visited me once in the hospital and then had proceeded to send me letters almost every day. But that had been it.

"I'm okay," I said, suddenly bitter.

"Do you want to talk about—"

"Daddy," I interrupted, putting my arm around my sister's shoulders. Ari and Chris weren't here to comfort us anymore, so I guessed it was my job now. "I'm okay, honestly. Go help mum."

My father nodded, kissing my forehead once before climbing up the stairs. I sighed and began walking as well, basically dragging Delilah, who was now completely attached to my side, arms tightly wound around my waist. Instead of going upstairs, however, I turned left and began walking down the hallway, going for the closest living room.

The ground floor living room was the biggest one in the house. It was Delilah's favourite, because it looked like the Gryffindor Common Room with its big chimney and maroon furniture. I walked her towards the love seat by the chimney and slowly sat her down. She didn't seem to notice much, too busy wiping the snot away from her mouth. Guilt overcame me. I hadn't bothered to check on her at all. I'd been too busy with my own problems.

"Delilah?" I asked softly. "Honey, do you want anything?"

Delilah just shook her head, wiping at her face with surprising force, cheeks turning rosy. I softly grabbed her hands, rubbing them for comfort.

"I yelled at—" she hiccupped. "At Chris because he—he was bugging me! I didn't—I didn't mean what I said, Meredith, but I was mean and he got mad." She sobbed hard.

"Oh, honey," I began.

Delilah looked up at me suddenly, eyes smaller than usual.

"No," she interrupted. "I never got to apologize. He—he—he died!"

I remained quiet, not knowing what to say. I knew my brother hadn't been mad at her. We fought all the time and we made up just as quickly. But this time she didn't get a chance to. Delilah let out another sob, laying her head on my lap as she lied across the sofa, her knees pressed to her chest. My fingers ran through her dark hair soothingly, hoping the gesture would help her with her grief. It must have, because after a few minutes she stopped crying, sobs turned to soft sniffs, cheeks dried.

"Delilah?" I started, pushing her hair away from her face. "Christian loved you so much, you know he did. So did Ariadne. And I know it hurt you that you didn't get to apologise, but he knew you loved him just as much. He wasn't mad." I assured her.

"I just wish I could see them once more." My little sister whispered, her left hand squeezing my thigh so hard her fingers dug into my skin over the thin fabric of my stockings.

I bit my lip, feeling my eyes water at her words. I wished the same. I wished I could have spent more time with them that day, the past year. I wished I could have hugged them and told them how much I truly loved them. Mostly, I wished they were alive.

"Maybe, maybe they'll come back!" Delilah gasped, turning her face towards me. "As ghosts, maybe they'll come back." She repeated, eyes shining with hope.

I had entertained the idea myself, during my hospital stay when I had nothing to do but stare up at a stone ceiling. I had been more than hoping for them to just pop up one-day, big smiles on their faces, saying something about how I couldn't really think I'd get rid of them that easily; Chris would wink at me, Ari would comment on my hair, and it'd be like nothing had changed. They hadn't, though. I wasn't surprised, Death was an adventure all on its own and I knew that, given the chance to choose, Christian and Ariadne Potter wouldn't have chosen to stay frozen in time forever, not human, not dead either.

I still yearned for them. Delilah was clearly still badly distressed over them so unexpectedly not being here anymore. I didn't want her to be in pain. Or my mum. Or my dad. I just wanted them to all be happy once more.

"Maybe they will," I lied, glancing down at my baby sister with a newfound need to protect her at all costs.

The sky was clear, blue sky so bright and clear it hurt my eyes if I looked up at it too long. The grass beneath my feet shone with residue of the morning dew and it crunched slightly every time my shoes touched it. It wasn't cold, or hot, just the right temperature that I could do with a light, long sleeved chiffon black blouse, a black pencil skirt, and my black summer cloak. I knew I'd come here eventually, but I always imagined it'd be raining, cold and grey. Not this happy-go-lucky climate that did not match my mood at all. Nobody was around, at least not as far as I could tell. Letting a deep breath out through my mouth, I took two steps forward.

The gravestone was still new enough that it looked polished, instead of the dull coarse stone of the ones surrounding it. My eyes didn't even glance over Gideon's grave, which was probably incredibly disrespecting. I couldn't help it, though, I couldn't look away from the words Fabian Ignatius Prewett. I couldn't remember when I fell to the ground, all I knew was that suddenly, my knees were rough against the ground and tiny pebbles were digging into my left hand. It felt like the world was spinning around me.

"I got you flowers…" I said after a while, feeling stupid as I held up the bouquet of daisies. "I don't know if you like daisies, but they were the only ones that didn't look half-dead in the cemetery shop. Now I know to bring my own next time I come."

I was met by silence, not that I expected any better, but it was a heavy silence, a profound silence, like it held meaning. Suddenly, I didn't feel so alone.

"I know—I know I haven't been great, Fabian." I continued. "I could have visited months ago… I just felt—I felt guilty. I was planning on breaking up with you, grabbing your heart and tearing it in two." The laugh that left my lips was half-desperate. "I guess you beat me to the punch, huh?"

Again, my words met silence. But in my mind, I could almost hear his own laugh at my lame joke. My chest panged. The breeze brushed my hair away from my neck and cheeks, I closed my eyes. For a second, it was almost like his touch was the one brushing my hair away, not the cool wind of early summer. I was going insane, I guessed, but I didn't mind. Fabian was long gone, but I could still sense a smidge of his magic, I knew exactly where his body was from the way his wand still emitted a soft ember of power. He was gone, but he was here. I had never missed someone this much.

"I loved you, Fabian, truly. Love you." I corrected myself. Even if I could never see him again if I lived, I still loved him. "But… I—I love him more." I finally admitted, having some trouble getting the words out.

I had loved Fabian Prewett. I wouldn't have been able to picture a life with him and be so very happy about it if I hadn't. But Sirius Black had wormed his way back into my heart with a ferociousness I hadn't anticipated. It was the reason I had written that break-up letter, oh-so-long-ago. It was the reason I had been half-there in our Hogsmeade visits when Sirius and Marlene were together. It was the reason I had hesitated to tell him I loved him. Because I knew it wasn't fair to Fabian, devoting himself to someone who was only half in love with him. No, that's not right, I thought. And it wasn't. I had been in love with Fabian, there was no 'half', but it was still different, even if I had no words to explain it. Sirius was just so much more.

"I never cheated on you. I was ready, you know, to—to marry you and be Mrs. Meredith Prewett. Honest, I was… until every chat I had with him started to feel like I was being unfaithful to you." I continued apologizing, picking at the grass. "And I hope you can forgive me for that. I never thought you would be gone before I could explain this to you. He's just… he's a part of me, Fabian. And I wish with all my heart that you had been able to meet the person who was to you, what Sirius is to me."

Except I was pretty sure that person had been me. You're it, baby doll, I'm not going anywhere. How many times had he told me that? Countless, especially since we were always running around doing our own thing. Fabian had always been there, though, if not physically, then definitely in spirit. And I knew that, in a world where Sirius Black had never been born, he would have been mine.

"Please, know I'm truly, deeply sorry." I insisted, looking up at the engraved letters on the gravestone through tearful eyes. "I miss you terribly. Every day. I know it's been a while, but sometimes it still feels like it was yesterday." My fingertips followed the edge of the tall gravestone with feather-like touch. "I hope you're happy, wherever you are, and I hope you have no regrets and know that you were loved by many, and are now considered a hero, for whatever that's worth." I rolled my eyes at the end, feeling the tears finally slip out of the corner of my eyes. Leaning in, I pressed a fleeting kiss to his name, the stone cool against my hot lips. "I love you."

And with that, my last goodbye to Fabian was over. I stood up, making sure the bouquet of flowers was neatly pressed against his gravestone, right below his date of birth, and turned around, ready to leave. I jumped up, startled, when I came face to face with a young woman, older than me, with two young kids hanging to her skirt. She was pretty, short, and had bright carrot-red hair, with bright brown eyes that were currently narrowed slightly at me. The two boys, around seven to five years old respectively, had red hair just as vibrant. The youngest one was currently peering up at me from behind his mother's legs. The oldest one had become entertained by something to our right and was slowly but surely trying to sneak away without his mother noticing.

The woman and I just started at each other for a very uncomfortable minute. Until I realised I knew her. The realisation dawned on her at the same time. Her eyebrows rose and she seemed incredibly surprised to find me here.

"Meredith?" Molly Prewett asked.

I supposed she was Molly Weasley now, having married Arthur Weasley around eight years ago, who was, coincidentally, Sirius's third cousin, twice removed, or something similar like that. We pureblood families had large family trees, and at some point, the bloodlines just all blurred together. So, really, it was a surprise I even knew who was related to me immediately by blood, let alone who was related to my friends. Still, to me, Molly Weasley was Molly Prewett, being Fabian's favourite sister and all.

"Molly," I smiled, half-unsure whether I should address her as Mrs. Weasley.

"What are you doing here so early?" she asked me.

I could tell she wasn't mad, more like surprised. I supposed seven am in the morning was too early to come to a cemetery. But after my conversation with Delilah the day before, after spending the rest of the day consoling her and looking after her, after knocking on my mother's door constantly only to receive no answer, I hadn't been able to sleep all night. I'd considered finding Sirius, but he had gone out with the boys somewhere to celebrate the beginning of summer and I had no idea when he'd return. Or where he'd gone. All I had gotten was a quickly scribbled down note as notice. When four am had rolled around and I had been wide awake still, I'd sneaked out and into the manor. Only to find both James' and Sirius's bedrooms empty. I'd entertained the idea of visiting Lily or Marlene, but decided against it completely, so, I had come to the one person I knew wouldn't really mind what time it was.

"I wanted to say goodbye." I admitted.

"That's what funerals are for." Molly pointed out.

Suddenly, I was ten years old and my mother had caught me sneaking out of the house way past curfew, having been trying to go play with James. Molly wasn't accusing me, trying to make me feel guilty for not attending. She was reprimanding, in the only way a mother could be. My eyes stung. My cheeks burned.

"I—" I began and stopped once I realised I was looking for an excuse. "I wanted to go. But my parents wouldn't let me leave the castle, neither would Dumbledore. And I was still underage at the time."

It was the truth. But it didn't sound like it. I looked down, ashamed, left hand holding on to my right elbow. Truth was, I should have fought harder to go. But I was terrified of it, of facing his family, of having to look inside an opened casket and see his closed eyes, his calm features, and know I'd never hold him again. The idea had broken my heart. So, when my parents said no, when my Headmaster had said no, too, I hadn't pressed it.

"Have you eaten?" Molly asked me so suddenly, so kindly, I looked up.

"What?"

"Have you had breakfast yet?" she repeated with a soft smile, before looking sharply at her eldest son with a frown. "I see you, Bill, come back here."

The seven-year-old, Bill, jumped up slightly, before rising from the ground, where he'd been playing with a snail and some rocks right in front of a gravestone, and giving his mother a benevolent, innocent smile. Molly didn't fall for it. Bill walked back to us. My face involuntarily split into a wide smile at the whole scene.

"No, I haven't eaten." I answered Molly's question.

"Good." She returned my smile, offering her hand to the littlest one of the kids present. The boy, Charlie, I remembered, took it quickly. "My husband is waiting back home for breakfast; my parents are coming. You're invited to come, if you'd like."

"Oh, no! I could never—I mean, you're here to be with your brothers, I couldn't take that time away from you." I shook my head vigorously.

"None-sense. I come here twice a week. I'm sure they won't miss me if I cut my visit short." She shrugged like it wasn't that big of a deal. I wasn't so certain. "Fabian loved you, Meredith. He wouldn't forgive me if I let you go back home troubled. Now, come."

I had no choice but to follow her and her younger son back to the cemetery gates, Bill running around behind us but surely following.

The Burrow, the homestead for the Weasley-Prewett union, was a lovely, if humble, home. The house was… well, it was half-chaotic, half-organised. It was filled with warm colours and soft fabrics. It was slightly cluttered, with big, soapy pans filling up the white, kitchen sink, eggs already frying up in the stove, beans cooking to near boiling on a deep, large pan that could surely feed more than those present. In the living room, where we stood inside the large, old chimney, dusting remaining soot off our clothes and the children's robes with our wands, I could see soft-looking sofas with fluffy cushions and multi-coloured throws haphazardly placed across the width of said sofas and chairs. Some, but not a lot of, children's toys were scattered around the chimney. It was a stark contrast from my home, from the pristine minimalistic luxury I was accustomed to. It made me feel at peace.

Even as the whole house erupted into noises and chatter the second we stepped into the living room, the whole atmosphere was the sort of happy that was so strong it hurt. A baby was crying, Percival Weasley, I remembered, having been present at his christening. His father, Arthur, had him balanced against his waist, trying to feed him some sort of vegetable mixture that had an orange-green hue to it. The breakfast purée looked as tasty as Brussels sprouts, so really, I couldn't blame poor Percy for not wanting to eat it.

"Oh, Molly! You're back earlier than I figured you would," Arthur commented casually, completely relaxed over the fact that, yes, his eleven-month-old son was absolutely refusing food. I was no mother, but, surely, breakfast was an important meal at any age, right?

"I ran into Meredith at the cemetery." Molly explained, moving over to kiss her husband on the cheek.

Without flourish, she lifted her youngest son from her husband's hold and kissed him smack on the forehead. Like it was magic, Percy stopped crying and began cooing happily. I was stunned. Arthur didn't seem surprised at his wife's incredible skills, for he simply smiled contently, ruffled Bill's hair as the young boy ran past him on his way outside, and turned to me with an easy-going air about him.

"Meredith! How are you doing?"

"I'm okay," I nodded, feeling my cheeks ache from the wide smile that split my face in two. "What about you? I think the last time we saw each other was little Percy's christening."

The bubbly happiness that had been threatening to overtake me died out the second I said those words. Because little Percy's christening was the last time Fabian and I saw each other, two and a half weeks before he died. It was the last time I kissed him, without knowing it would be the last. There was a beat of silence that turned awkward and bitter-sweet in a second. Arthur Weasley looked like he didn't know what to say or where to look.

"Did Mum and Dad tell you when they're coming?" Molly intervened, saving the day.

"Oh, yes." Arthur nodded, seemingly relieved. "They'll be coming at half-past."

We moved on to the kitchen, which was in clear view from the living room but still was a room all on its own. I sat by the large, wooden table. Mostly because that was what Arthur and Molly did, even if I thought Molly would have continued the cooking. As nice as Arthur was, I couldn't really picture him knowing how to cook. She placed Percy in a high chair and helped little Charlie into a slightly comfier, clearly child-proofed chair. We partook in conversation for a while, but really I was more interested in little Charlie. Not that Molly and Arthur weren't interesting and amazing people, but little Charlie was just so cute.

"I like dwagons." He suddenly stated, immediately cutting off Arthur, who was in the middle of explaining to me what he really did at the ministry.

I turned to Charlie, his small, chubby hand flailing in front of me. Arthur laughed. Molly, however, looked almost horrified at her son's rude interrupting.

"Charles Weasley!" Molly reprimanded him in a stern tone that almost had me inching further into my seat.

Charlie's opened mouth immediately closed. I fought the urge to assure Molly it was alright. After all, I was actually quite interested in knowing how a five-year-old went about deciding dragons, of all things, were their favourite animal. It wasn't my place to invalid Molly's authority. My lips still twitched upwards, though, something Charlie noticed.

"You like dwagons?" he asked me after a second of looking abashed for his rudeness.

"I do."

Charlie's eyes narrowed slightly, his head going backwards, like he didn't believe me.

"Prove it."

"Okay," I let out a laugh. "My favourite dragons are the Swedish Short-Snouts!" I stated.

I watched with curiosity as Charlie thought about it, his eyebrows furrowed and lips drawn back. It made for a highly entertaining and amusing sight. I was probably smiling like a fool. I didn't care, really, I already loved this little boy. After a second of consideration, Charlie's eyes jumped to his mum.

"Mummy?"

"They're the ones with the blue fire, honey." Molly helped him out, her smile as warm and loving as her husband's.

My chest suddenly ached. These people could have been my family. I could have been little Charlie's, Bill's, and little Percy's aunt. Beside me, Charlie's five-year-old mind had caught up.

"I like they, too!" he exclaimed, blue eyes shining just like Fabian's would when he spoke about the things he was passionate about. I knew, in that very moment, that dragons were not a thing Charlie Weasley would forget about in time. "They aw big and fly tall!"

"They are gorgeous." I agreed.

"Gor-juice." He repeated, nodding his little head vigorously.

He turned back to his mum, signalling her forward with his hand. Molly rose from her seat and walked around the table, crouching down between her two youngest children. Percy, suddenly interested enough in what was happening around him that he stopped playing with his spoon, held on to a loose strand of Molly's hair almost immediately. If she noticed, she didn't mention it. Instead, she kept her undivided attention on her five-year-old son. Charlie leaned in and whispered something to her in her ear.

I turned to Arthur, suddenly uncomfortable. I had no real experience with children. James was my only cousin and Delilah didn't really count because our age-difference wasn't that big. When she was five, all she went on about was makeup and wanting to get dressed-up, but that was probably because Ari and I always used her as our own personal real-life doll. What if I'd done something wrong?

Arthur, however, didn't seem too concerned about his son's secrecy. Instead, he got up and went over to the stove, peering into the pan filled with beans before moving it from the fire. Apparently, Arthur did have some idea on how to cook.

"You tell her, honey." Molly told her son.

"You are nice." Charlie slowly let me know, his hand once more on my wrist.

"Thanks!" I replied earnestly, truly flattered. "You are really nice, too, Charlie."

Charlie giggled. Molly just gave me a grateful smile. Just then, there was a crack in the living room. We turned around just in time to see Mr. and Mrs. Prewett walk into the kitchen, big smiles on their faces.

"Hello!" Mr. Prewett announced happily, taking off his hat.

"Sorry we're late. Someone wouldn't get up." Mrs. Prewett added, sending her husband an amused glare. Suddenly, she stopped, her eyes stuck to my face. "Meredith."

"Hi," I said bleakly.

I rose from the table, suddenly hesitant. Surely these people didn't want to meet their late son's girlfriend on their family breakfast, right? I was probably a reminder of what they'd lost. Instead of asking me to leave, Mrs. Prewett took a step towards me and pulled me into a hug. My eyes stung.

"I am so sorry, Meredith." Mrs. Prewett murmured against my shoulder. "They were all so young." I realized she wasn't just talking about Fabian, but Ari and Chris, too. I bit my lip, trying not to cry in front of all of them. "How are you?" she added, putting me at arms' length.

"It's…" I swallowed. "A work in progress." I managed. Her eyes shone with sympathy and understanding. "How are you?" I asked, mostly because I really wanted to know, mostly because I didn't want the attention on me.

I met Mr. and Mrs. Prewett a month into dating Fabian. He'd taken me to a Sunday roast his mother was hosting. Fabian had claimed it was a big gathering, made it seem like I wouldn't be the only non-related person there, but the second I stepped foot into their home garden I noticed I was the only person who wasn't a Prewett in some way or another. It'd taken me by surprise, especially because I had never really been taken to meet my boyfriend's family. I'd known Sirius's most of my life, and I hadn't dated anyone else seriously enough that they'd even consider introducing me to their family.

Fabian's parents and his family had all been lovely towards me, though, and I'd grown fond of Mr. and Mrs. Prewett, Molly, too. I had spent most of my time with Fabian that day, so I'd only met Molly's children for a moment or two. Now that I'd really met them, at least, Charlie and Percy, I wished I had had the courage to play with them a bit that day. I knew they'd grow to be exceptional wizards.

When Fabian passed away, though, all I could really bring myself to do was write Mr. and Mrs. Prewett a heartfelt letter with my condolences, Molly, too. I didn't think they'd ever want to keep in touch with me, to be fair. Now, standing in this lovely house that was very clearly a loving home, I couldn't help but wish I had kept touch somehow, even if I knew that, had Fabian still be alive, we wouldn't be together anymore.

"It's a work in progress." Mrs. Prewett repeated my words back to me.

If she was standing here, going as far as even joking around about her husband not getting up in time, then there's was hope for my own mum yet.

The first thing that received me when I floo'd into James's living room was Peter Pettigrew, still very much asleep, sprawled in front of the chimney, snoring loudly. Remus was laying on the couch, his clothes wrinkled, and an empty bottle of fire whiskey rested on his belly, rising up and down softly every time he breathed. I stifled a giggle, briefly wondering what I'd walked into. Tiptoeing out of the room, I made my way into the kitchen, planning to make myself a cup of tea while I waited for the boys to wake up. If Remus and Peter were in this state, I could safely assume James and Sirius were the same.

At least James was, except that he was awake, which made him look even worse. He was sat on the round table in the middle of the kitchen, looking blankly ahead and nursing a steaming cup of coffee.

"Godric's Beard, what did you do last night?" I asked, joining my cousin on the table.

James jumped up before wincing.

"A little louder, please, I don't think the ghoul in the attic heard you." He replied, full of sarcasm.

"You don't have a ghoul in the attic." I pointed out immediately with a self-satisfactory smile plastered on my face. James just rolled his eyes, dragging his elbows across the smooth surface of the table until he was lying his chin on it. "You look like utter shit."

"I feel like utter shit." He whined, closing his eyes for a second. "I am never drinking again."

I snorted, knowing that was a huge lie. After a moment, James opened his eyes and quietly regarded me.

"Why are you dressed so smart?"

"I went to see Fabian today." I shrugged, taking a sip from his cup of coffee.

"What? Why?" James asked, his voice suddenly shrill.

I blinked, confused. Why was he getting his panties all in a twist? Fabian had been important for me, of course I would visit him.

"Well, I—"

"Meredith, please, don't tell me you're still in love with him." James interrupted, eyes wide and alert. I scowled. "Because Sirius really is mad about you and if you're using him—"

"I would never do that!" I exclaimed so loudly, James winced again. "Hell, James, how could you think that?"

James had the decency to look slightly embarrassed, even though I could tell he was still overly protective of Sirius. That was how it worked with those two. They loved each other so much, they'd die for each other. But I didn't care. He had no right to be doubting me like this.

"He was here one day, and the next he wasn't, James." I shook my head, slightly hurt. "He died without knowing I'd wanted to break-up. I needed to tell him, explain everything to him."

James blinked, surprised. "You wanted to break-up? I thought you were in love with him."

I hesitated, not knowing what to say. I hadn't talked about this to anyone. Sirius, maybe, when he'd been keeping me company in dog form, but still, I hadn't told him I'd wanted to break up with Fabian because of Sirius. Did I really want to tell James that? Finally admit out loud that the reason Sirius and I hadn't gotten together sooner was only because I was scared?

"I did love him. In a way, I still do." I began, sliding the still hot cup of coffee from one hand to the other. "But I—I loved Sirius more. So, I wanted to break-up."

James awed. I snorted, rolling my eyes at him.

"You two are so cute." James sighed, looking up at me from his spot on the table and pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Be more of a girl, why don't you?" I teased him, mirroring his position, and resting my chin on my stretched arm.

James just grinned at me, unbothered by my comment. I grinned back. My mind was still reeling with everything that had happened today. Surely, I shouldn't have been so sad, right? My mind shouldn't have been plagued by 'what-if's. So, I slowly rose to my feet, leaving my cloak at the back of my chair.

"Where's Sirius?" I asked.

"Oh, he's upstairs in his room." James let me know.

"Thanks!" I called, already making my way out of the kitchen.

It took me only a few minutes to get to Sirius's room. The door was ajar, so I just walked in without knocking. Sirius was stood by the desk, hair dripping wet, small water droplets sliding down his naked back. He was in the middle of choosing a shirt, his jeans the only piece of clothing he had on, when I walked in, making him look up. I closed the door behind me. His eyes lit up.

"Hi," I said.

"Hey," Sirius commented as he pulled on a simple white shirt. "I was just about to go see you—what?"

I realized then, that I was staring at him. I couldn't help it; he was just so attractive. And even though he was completely hungover, he'd still planned on visiting me. I smiled, feeling warm inside. Taking three steps forwards, I circled his torso with my arms in a soft embrace. Just like that, all doubts and questions disappeared from my mind. Because, while, yes, the Weasleys and Prewetts were amazing, and it would have been great to have had them as my family, I knew, in my heart, that what I had told Fabian in the morning was true. Sirius was much more, he was just what I needed, what I wanted more than anything.

"Are you okay?" Sirius asked, a small tinge of worry in his tone as he returned my hug.

"I'm perfect," I answered, for once feeling like it wasn't a lie. Breaking slightly apart but keeping my arms around his waist, I met his eyes. "Can we stay in today?"

"Sure." Sirius shrugged, clearly having no plans for today. He leaned in and brushed my lips with his. "You wanna go bug Remus and Peter until they wake up?"

"Sounds like a plan." I giggled.

It took us fifteen minutes to get Peter and Remus up. Sirius, James, and I dug at their sides and tickled their noses, and they still slept through it. It wasn't until I pinched Remus's nose that he woke up with a start and a snort. Peter still wouldn't wake up, so we drenched him in a mix of water and cornflour. He wasn't very amused, but we all thought it was hilarious.

The five of us spent the rest of the afternoon fooling around in the gardens and, eventually, playing a long match of quidditch. Even though Sirius and I didn't have much of alone time, which meant that we had to pretend we weren't together, I still felt… serene. Happy. It made me forget about the hurt and gloom probably awaiting at home.

At least, for a little while.

A/N: And there you have it! Let me know what you think!

I am, at the moment, busy with my UCAS application so, as usual, (I;m awful at keeping my writing schedules.) next upload might not come very quickly. Sorry! And hope you can understand. 3

Please, review and follow, so I can know that you like what's going on!

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