[1985]
"Hurry up, Dad," Harry whined, pulling my arm nearly out of its socket as I closed the door to the flat behind us. "We're gonna be late!"
"What's there to be late about? We're just going to the park." I slipped the keys into my pocket and yanked my hand away, nudging him towards the stairs instead.
"Oh. Yeah." Harry's face fell for a moment before he regrouped. "But I'm supposed to be meeting Nat, Laura, and Mindy, remember? I don't wanna keep them waiting." He punctuated the statement with the THUD of his shoes on the floor as he jumped down the last two stairs.
"Uh-huh." I held the front door open for him. "And since when are you worried about that?"
"Ugh." Harry rolled his eyes. "It's rude. Mrs. Davis says we shouldn't be rude to people."
"Mrs. Davis also says you're gifted in English, so what does she know?"
Harry stopped on the sidewalk in front of the building to shoot me a dirty look. "Ha-ha. Not."
It was all I could do to stop myself from laughing outright, which would have definitely earned me a look.
The weather was cold and brisk as we made the short walk to the park. November had only just reared its head, but already the winter promised to be a dreary one. Today, though, the sun peeked out from the clouds, giving the illusion of warmth. The day appeared cheery, at the very least, if nothing else.
Harry ran ahead, waiting dutifully by the crosswalk for me to catch up. He bounced up and down on his toes, barely containing his eagerness. As soon as we had crossed and the coast was clear, Harry took off ahead of me to where Viv stood waiting by the picnic tables. It was odd to find her there, rather than the bench that had practically become ours. She was beaming and had one hand on Harry's shoulder by the time I caught up, with the triplets giggling behind her.
"What's up, Viv?" I asked, raising my brows at the girls, which only made them giggle harder. To their credit, they did their best to hide it by disappearing behind their grandmother, but there was only so much of her and three of them.
"Oh, happy birthday, Reggie!" she exclaimed.
My brain stuttered and halted, as I said, "What?"
Before I had a chance to figure out what was happening, Jay stepped out from behind a tree and clapped me on the back. "Happy birthday, Reg."
Laughter from behind me. I turned to find Andy and his partner, Matt, approaching, dragging a reluctant Lizzie along behind them.
"You didn't really think we'd miss the chance to celebrate your birthday, did you? When have you ever known me to pass up a chance for cake?" Andy winked as he chuckled.
My birthday. That's right. It was November 3. How could I have forgotten?
I wasn't sure what possessed me to use Sirius' birthday rather than my own. I supposed I had figured that if my name still sounded the same, thanks to Sirius' disturbing lack of creativity, an entirely different birthday might throw some people off. It made sense at the time. When I was twenty. Of course, a lot of ideas that had seemed great back then took on a different shein with a bit of time and perspective.
Viv leaned in and whispered, "Are you mad?"
"No, I'm not mad." I couldn't decide exactly what I was feeling, but it wasn't anger. "I'm just . . . surprised."
"Duh. It's a surprise party," Harry said.
I tapped him on the back of the head. "Mind your tone, kid."
He glared at me as he rubbed the back of his head, but any slights were soon forgotten as he took off chasing after Nat.
"Lizzie, go play with the others." Andy waved a hand dismissively in her direction, earning him an eye roll.
"But they're babies." Lizzie crossed her arms and scowled.
"You're a baby!" Harry stuck his tongue out at her as he ran past.
"I thought Mrs. Davis said you weren't supposed to be rude," I called after him.
"Yeah, but she started it!" he shouted over his shoulder.
"He's got a point." Matt shrugged and shot a grin my way. "Go." He nudged Lizzie along, and she finally obeyed, but not before heaving a giant sigh. At eleven, she was often too old for the things her fathers suggested.
"She's at that age." Andy caught the edge of the tablecloth before the wind could take it, smoothing it back over the table and setting a cooler on top of it. He passed Viv a stack of paper plates and added, "I don't know how you'll manage with three of them."
Viv pursed her lips. "That's a bridge to cross when we've arrived there, and not a moment sooner."
"Means she has no idea, either," I whispered to Andy as he passed.
"It means I'm focused on laying this out and not the future torment of my children," Viv snapped, but there was a twinkle in her eye as she looked up from what she was doing to meet my gaze. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Which, by the by, I could use a hand with." I stepped forward, but she waved me off. "Not you. This is your party. Jay, you're the youngest here. Make yourself useful."
"Wha—how did I get dragged into this?" Jay feigned offense at being called out, but stepped up to the table anyway and shrugged. "Guess it makes sense you put these bad boys to good use." He made a point of rolling up his shirt sleeve and flexing his bicep.
Nobody was particularly impressed, except Matt, who leaned toward Andy and whispered, "D'you think I should start working out?"
"I think you're perfect the way you are." Andy pecked him on the cheek as he handed off a picnic basket. "Except your snoring. You still need to get that looked at. Don't think I've forgotten."
Matt waved him off the best he could with the additional weight, before lugging it over to the table. With a groan, he set it on top and helped to unload it.
The fare was simple, yet almost lavish with its breadth. Bread and sliced meats and cheeses, half a dozen fruits and vegetables, a couple kinds of dip, and an assortment of finger foods I couldn't name but were sure to be delicious all the same. It lacked the flare of magical feasts—certainly nothing to write home about when stacked up against the Start-of-Term Feast at Hogwarts. Still, I knew for certain I'd rather be there, dining on Muggle food, such as it was, than back at Hogwarts any day.
Jay finished up his part of the setup, grabbed one of the coolers, and rejoined me under the shade of a nearby tree. "I'm glad Viv thought to invite me. Been meaning to do something like this sooner." Jay pulled two beers out of the cooler and held one out to me.
"Drink?" I grinned as I took the bottle. "I thought you did that every day."
Jay tsked. "Asshole," he muttered under his breath as he passed beers to Andy and Matt.
"Language," Viv sing-songed as she sidled past, putting what I assumed must have been the finishing touches on the food.
"Relax. They're not even paying attention to us. Are you, Harry?" he asked as the boy ran past.
"Huh?" Harry glanced over his shoulder at Jay, but he didn't stop. Not until he face-planted into a tree, anyway. He looked up at me from the ground, dazed and confused. Hero of the wizarding world, indeed.
"You're fine," I told him. "No harm done." Probably. I mean, he'd certainly run into harder things and come out the other side unscathed.
Harry picked himself back up and ran off, as if nothing had happened. As soon as he was out of earshot, everyone released the laughter they had been stoically holding in.
"It's a good thing kids bounce back quickly at that age." Matt shook his head as he glanced at Andy. "Remember what Lizzie was like?"
Andy groaned. "How did she ever survive that age?"
"How did we?" Matt chuckled as he snaked an arm around Andy's waist and pulled him closer.
"I hate to break this up." Viv gave Matt a pointed look. "But don't you think we should get to the cake while there's still time for the kids to burn off some of the sugar? We have all day to eat this lovely meal, but I, for one, have no desire to bring home three girls still riding a sugar high."
"Oh, good call." Matt took one last swig of his drink before handing it to Andy and heading over to the table.
"Wait. There really is cake?" Jay asked.
Matt scoffed. "Of course there's cake. What sort of birthday party would it be otherwise?" He lifted the lid on a nearby cooler and withdrew a beauty of a dessert. Raspberries and pink icing decorated the top in a swirl of color, dripping down over the smooth brown sides. Matt gestured to the cake with a flourish. "Raspberry chocolate fudge cake."
"That looks amazing." I was practically drooling just looking at the thing. Sure, it didn't have the same pomp and flair as magical desserts, but I was willing to bet the taste would be hard to beat, if Matt was even half the chef Andy was. And Andy always said Matt was the one with the cooking skills in the relationship.
"I'm so glad you think so." Matt beamed as he carefully settled the cake on the table. "I wasn't sure what your favorite was, so I just took a stab at it."
"Kids!" Viv called as she produced a pack of candles from her pocket. "Cake!"
It was like she had flipped a switch. They all stopped immediately and stampeded back to the tables. "Cake! Cake! Cake!" they chanted. It reminded me of baby birds chirping for a meal. Even Lizzie had perked up at the word, wandering back into our midst and deciding that she could maybe tolerate our presence just long enough to sneak off with a piece.
"Twenty-four candles. I counted them myself." Viv nodded proudly as she stuck the last one in and produced a lighter from her other pocket.
"Huh." I leaned over the cake, pretending to inspect it carefully. "Is that why there's twenty-five of them?"
"Oh, there is not." Viv slapped me lightly on the shoulder and nudged me out of the way so she could light them. But I caught her counting to herself as she did so, when she thought no one was looking. Jay caught my eye and grinned, holding up his bottle in a mock toast.
"Come now, Reg." Viv dragged me to stand directly in front of the cake, gesturing to the candles. "Blow them out before the children mutiny."
Before I had a chance, Harry tugged at my robes, and I leaned down so he could whisper in my ear. He glanced around and held up a hand to block his face, as if it were a secret just between us. "You hafta make a wish before you blow out the candles. But you can't tell anyone or it won't come true."
"Is that so?"
Harry nodded, his face a perfect mask of sincerity.
I closed my eyes and thought of all the many things I wanted still in life. But there was only one thing that I could ever really wish for. I wish . . . you could see us now, Sirius. I hope you're proud. As soon as the thought was complete, I blew out the candles.
A cheer went up from the group standing around me. "Happy birthday, Reg!"
All I could think of was how different things might have been, locked in a small cage with no hope for reprieve. No family. No celebrations. Only a long, bleak future where death would be the ultimate kindness.
Happy birthday, Sirius, I thought, pulling Harry close and hugging him tight.
...(X)...
[1986]
I could have Apparated home from Moe's each night when my shift ended. I knew that. I had gotten quite talented at discretion, considering the way I dropped Harry off at school each day. But solitude was a luxury I was rarely afforded, and my walk home was the one time I was allowed to simply exist with my thoughts. Not that they were much company that night. My shift had been an exhausting one, and thinking was, quite frankly, too much trouble.
I knew something was wrong the minute I stepped onto my street and was greeted with blue flashing lights. My heart raced and my breath came hard and fast as my mind reeled. Not Harry. I hadn't realized I had picked up my pace, just shy of breaking into a run. But still, my mind kept coming back to one thought: Please, not Harry.
I hit the small crowd of people milling around the front of the building and elbowed my way through, ignoring the grumbles. They barely registered as a buzz in the back of my mind. All I could think was, Not Harry. I took the stairs two at a time, hitting the landing on our floor in record time.
"Reg!"
I heard the voice, but it was distant and muffled, barely registering as I shoved my way into the flat. My eyes darted around the space, taking nothing in, just seeking the one thing I knew had to be there. And he was. My breath caught in my throat as my gaze settled on Harry's red, tear-streaked face from where he sat on the couch.
"Harry." The word was little more than a breath as it escaped my lips. I dropped to my knees and pulled him into a hug. The tightness in my chest loosened as he sobbed into my shirt. Harry was all right.
Pressure on my shoulder. A few seconds passed before I realized someone was squeezing my it. I looked up into Jay's weary, worried face.
"I tried to get a hold of you. Andy said you'd already left for the day." Jay paused and glanced around the flat before returning his gaze to me. "I know it looks bad, but Harry's okay. A bit shaken up, but fine."
The flat. It hadn't even occurred to me to spare it any thought, but I took the opportunity to inspect my surroundings. The entire area by the door was black and charred, starting at the floor and working its way up the wall in licks and whorls.
"What—" My voice cracked and I cleared my throat and tried again. "What happened?"
"I don't . . . really know for sure." Jay scratched his neck as he glanced around the apartment. "All I know is someone broke in. Probably thought the flat was empty. And at some point, somehow, a fire started. I know it might not seem that way, but it's actually pretty lucky it did. Soon as I smelled smoke, I saw the open door and knew something was wrong. Scared the thief, and he ran off before he could do much of anything."
"And the fire?"
"Weirdest thing. Almost like it extinguished itself. Guess it just burned itself out."
I nodded, pretending his theory had credence. Kreacher must have been close by, likely just hiding from Muggle eyes. Harry had been in no real danger. Not with him around. But still . . .
I was pretty sure Harry just wiped his snot on my shirt. Part of me reeled at the idea, but I just stroked his head without a word.
From the doorway, one of the firemen gestured toward me. I moved to stand, but Jay shook his head and pushed me back down. "I've got it. Harry needs you." I nodded my thanks and turned my attention to the child in my arms.
"Hey, kid." I pulled Harry away from my shirt so I could look him in the eye. "You all right?"
His sobs had died down to sniffles, but the moment our eyes met, he burst into tears again. "It's all my fault!" he wailed. "I got scared when the man came in. I didn't mean to use magic, I swear!"
As I stared into his watery green eyes, I realized I had no idea what I was doing, no clue what it meant to be a father. I had no role model except my own, and though I had a happy enough childhood, I wasn't sure Orion Black was the type of parent I wanted to be.
I thought about what my father would've done in this situation. The anger. The punishment. The insistence that I do better, be better. The Black name was at stake at all times, and I had to behave in a manner befitting it. But Harry wasn't a Black. He was a Potter. So instead, I imagined what Sirius would do. What Sirius had done for me, time and time again, even when I refused to extend him the same courtesy: forgive.
When I finally spoke, the voice that came out sounded far steadier and maturer than what I imagined mine to be "You did what you needed to protect yourself, Harry. That's what matters most."
The wails melted into hiccups and sobs. Harry sniffled, wiping snot across his sleeve, as he looked up at me. "Really?"
"Really." I glanced around the flat, taking in the full extent of the damage. It was almost impressive, accidental magic that could be so intense and yet so limited in scope. Not that I was going to tell Harry that.
"Reggie! Harry!"
I glanced up as Viv appeared in the doorway with Andy on her heels.
"I hope you don't mind," Andy said a bit sheepishly. "I came as soon as Jay called, but I figured Viv would know what to do."
I stood and surveyed the three worried people standing in my ruined doorway, their faces drawn and concerned. For me. For Harry.
Suddenly, all the emotions I had worked so hard to shove down overwhelmed me, fueled by the dip in adrenaline. My throat tightened and the world blurred.
A Black did not cry in public. Especially not in front of Muggles. But . . . I wasn't a Black anymore. I was a Friedman. Most of all, I was a sort-of father who almost wasn't and who was so bloody relieved not to have to unravel that convoluted mess of existences because Harry was fine.
I swiped my sleeve across my face as the first years fell. "I'm sorry. I just . . ."
Before I could finish, a warm set of arms wrapped around me and patted my head lightly, as I'd done for Harry moments ago.
"There, there. No harm done. Harry is fine, and flats are fixable. You've had quite a scare, but let's not forget how lucky we are." Viv's voice in my ear was soft, but her embrace was strong.
I wiped my eyes a final time, and looked into each of their faces, these Muggles. My friends. Lucky, indeed.
"You're right, of course. Thank you, Jay, for your quick thinking."
"Aw, it was nothing." Despite him brushing off my comment, his cheeks turned bright red all the same and a goofy smile spread across his face.
"Do you need someone to stay with you two tonight?" Viv asked, wringing her hands as she spoke.
"Oh, no, that's not necessary." I waved the offer off. "Harry and I just need a bit of sleep and a little time to process."
"Well . . . if you're sure." Viv's tone was anything but sure.
"I am." I needed them to leave so I could do magic, so Harry and I could have a proper conversation. None of that could happen while they were here. As close as I felt to them in that moment, magic would always be the rift between us. "But thank you," I added, to the soften the inevitable blow. "You know, for being there for Harry and me."
"Anytime, Reg." Andy clapped me on the back, debating with himself, before finally pulling me into a quick hug. "And I mean that. Any. Time." For the first time, I believed him.
Part of me was relieved when I managed to usher them out of the flat and close the door behind them. Inexplicably, part of me was also disappointed. I shoved that part of me down as far as I could, not wanting to examine those feelings too closely just yet. For now, it was nice returning to the quiet privacy of the flat, just Harry and I.
He had successfully managed to get snot all over both of us, and that, unlike so much of the rest of the night's events, was easy enough to take care of. So I set out cleaning us both up, putting Harry in warm pajamas, and tucking him in. He looked every bit as exhausted as I felt, and sleep took him almost immediately. I knew I wouldn't be so fortunate when I closed my eyes.
Back in the living room, I collapsed on the couch, with the full weight of the night's experiences pressing down on me, cording through every muscle and fiber of my body and leaving me worn out and hollow. I had spent so long worrying about wizardkind and what would happen if Harry was discovered that I overlooked the obvious threat that normal Muggles pose—both to themselves and each other. Not something I was soon to take lightly again.
When I had sufficiently gathered myself, I called out to the empty room, "Kreacher!"
With a small, muted pop, the House-Elf appeared, immediately dropping to his knees on the carpet in front of me.
The first full thirty seconds were nothing but unintelligible wails, as he tugged on his ears and head. Bandages were haphazardly wound around his hands and across his head, some still hanging loose. Dried flecks of blood peppered his skin, meeting the mottled bruises that lined his arms. As always, he'd taken the punishment upon himself, without anyone asking him to. Without realizing no one needed him to.
When finally he could speak, the words were heavy with remorse. "Kreacher tried to help, but those filthy Muggles . . ."
"I know, Kreacher." My voice felt hollow, my emotions strung out, but I did my best to exude a calmness I hoped he could sense. "You did well to put out the fire and not be seen."
"But Harry . . ."
In all the years we had lived together, I couldn't recall ever hearing the House-Elf use Harry's actual name. Not once.
I summoned my wand from its hiding place on the bookshelf. It felt strange in my hands, after all that time. Most spells I cast those days were simple nonverbal ones that I could do without a wand, if I ever cast any at all. As gently as I could, I healed Kreacher's self-inflicted wounds and patted him lightly on the head.
"Harry is fine." For the first time that evening, I wasn't saying it just as a reassurance; this time, I really meant it. "I think, perhaps, we give Harry too little credit, Kreacher."
After all, he had done so many things that I couldn't, and so easily, at that. Defeated a Dark Lord. Befriended loads of Muggles. Assimilated to a non-magical life like it was nothing. He was still a child, in the grand scheme of things, but perhaps, under the guise of protecting him, I had overlooked just how capable he was becoming, little by little. Soon—not just yet, but soon—I would need to start teaching him magic, like the proper wizard he was born to be.
...(X)...
This was a bad idea. No, scratch that—a horrible one. I wasn't even sure what possessed me to stop by the liquor store in the first place, let alone return to the flat with not only several cases of beer but various other bottles of alcohol.
I raised my fist and rapped on the door, before I could talk myself out of it. Scuffling ensued from the flat, then a bang and a muttered curse. Finally, the door cracked open.
Jay was looking worse today than he had the previous day, and I hadn't even thought that was possible. His black hair was disheveled and unkempt, looking in desperate need of a good wash. The clothes he had on were definitely yesterday's clothes, now rumpled and worse for wear. That's not even to mention Jay's haggard face, with bags large enough to pack for a month's vacation under his eyes.
"Oh, Reg. Hey," Jay croaked, leaning heavily against the doorframe.
I held up my purchases. "You did say you had always been meaning to do this."
Jay stared at the alcohol in my hands for several seconds too long before letting out a huge puff of breath. "Yeah, okay. Why not?"
He opened the door wider and gestured for me to come in. The state of the flat suggested he had started the party early. Like last night. Empty beer bottles littered the dining room table, spilling over onto the floor by the couch.
"I don't have a whole lot to do here, but . . ." Jay shrugged. "We could always watch a movie."
I stacked whatever bottles had been on the coffee table on the floor beside it, replacing them with my fresh stock.
"Actually"—I grabbed two bottles of beer, offering him one—"I had thought we could get some studying done."
"Studyi—?" Jay's face contorted into a mask of confusion as he took the bottle, then crumpled when he realized what I was talking about. "Oh. Thanks for the thought, Reg, but studying is the last thing I want to do." With a heavy sigh, he dropped onto the couch, slinging his arm over the back of it.
I arched an eyebrow at him. "What about your finals tomorrow?" Two weeks ago, they had been all Jay could talk about. Well, whine about was more accurate. The way a doomed man did when he has no hope for reprieve. The last week, Jay had been oddly quiet on the subject.
Jay scoffed, thumbing the wrapper on his bottle. He finally got one edge up and started peeling it apart in thin ribbons of paper. When he spoke, it was to his beer. "You know, I've been thinking that maybe school isn't for me, after all."
I plopped onto the sofa beside him and put my feet up on the coffee table. I had expected this, of course. I'd seen enough people reach their breaking point to recognize the signs. "And when exactly did you come to that conclusion?"
Jay laughed, but it was a pitiful, mirthless thing, drowned at the end as he took a long swig of beer. "About the time I realized I need a near perfect score on the final just to pass this semester."
Worse than I had imagined. Jay had always been irresponsible, of course—not that I was one to talk—but I hadn't realized how bad it had gotten. Foolish of me not to step in sooner. Not surprising, though. I'd been so caught up in my own little world, hadn't I? I forgot that there was a whole world going on outside my door in the meantime.
"Well." I set my beer down on the coffee table with a loud clunk. "Then I guess we'd better get started, huh? It's going to be a long night."
Jay's red-ringed eyes met mine. "You can't be serious."
"Sure I am." I clapped my hands together. "So, where are your notecards?" Given the mess in the flat, I imagined they would take some digging out, but I sure wasn't going to be the one to do it. There was no telling what I'd find once I got started, and that's not a question I needed answered.
"Huh?"
"Your note cards." The blank expression on Jay's face told me I may have overestimated his studying habits, which were seeming less like habits and more like frantic bouts of last-minute desperation. "You know, the things you use to study with."
"What?!" The hopeless confusion slipped from Jay's face, only to be replaced with guarded defensiveness. Maybe a little flash of his usual determination, too.
"Oh my . . . You really don't have note cards?" I did my best to keep any judgment out of my voice, but even to my own ears, I knew I failed miserably. I couldn't imagine how he'd managed to pass any of his classes. The fact that he was only at risk of failing one was almost a miracle.
"Hey, cut me some slack." Jay chucked a pillow at my head, which went way wide. "I'm first generation, you know. It's not like I've got anyone teaching me how to do this."
"Wrong. You didn't have someone to teach you. But you also didn't ask. Okay, Mr. First Generation. First tip: note cards."
Jay sat there, staring at me, until I snapped my fingers to get his attention.
"We need paper and pens for starters."
"We're really doing this?" he asked again, though I noticed his tone was less dejected than it had been.
"We're really doing this. And I will kick your ass if you waste my time and fail tomorrow despite all this. Got it?"
Jay grinned, for the first time since I entered the flat. "Yes, sir. Paper and pens. Give me a minute."
He disappeared into the bedroom, and I took the opportunity to drain the rest of my beer and open another. I wasn't the best student at Hogwarts, by any stretch of the imagination, but neither was I a stranger to long nights of studying. I just never imagined something like that would actually be useful out in the real world.
Jay returned loaded down with supplies, which he dumped unceremoniously onto the coffee table before returning to his place on the couch.
I met his gaze. He looked more like himself, but not quite fully there yet. "You ready?" I asked one last time.
Jay hesitated, looking over the mess of his flat, the still-full selection of alcohol on the table in front of us, and his stack of stationary. "Yeah, sure. Let's get started." This time, he said it with much more conviction.
The night passed in a blur of notecards and random facts that I had no interest in learning. By the time the sun rose, I was pretty sure I could have aced the test. I left his apartment with a light buzz remaining and with a hasty, "Good luck," just in time to get Harry ready and to school. Which I did, somehow, without splinching either of us.
I only fell asleep at work twice. Micro naps, really. Just resting my eyes. Andy caught me both times, before wising up and keeping me on my feet and busy enough that I wouldn't have time to doze off, even if I'd wanted to.
By the time I arrived home, I expected some sort of word from Jay, but none had come. He wasn't home yet, either. I did little things to keep myself occupied. Bathed Harry. Listened to his retelling of his day, which stretched on forever. That boy could talk for hours and say nothing substantial. I cooked dinner—while Kreacher grumbled and judged every step in the background, bitter that he wasn't doing it himself. I couldn't explain to him why I felt the urge to stay busy, so I just tolerated his muttered complaints. Then bedtime for Harry, which always took at least twenty minutes longer than it ought to.
All the while, I listened for footsteps on the stairs or someone at the landing. Nothing. The building was quiet, except for its normal grunts and protests. Surely he couldn't really have failed. Not after everything. There was no reason for him not to have been home hours ago, though.
I had just drifted off on the couch when someone knocked on the door, startling me awake. I shook off my sleep, though it still clung to my muscles and joints. I definitely wasn't eighteen anymore, and my body liked to remind me of the fact in small ways.
The moment I opened the door, I was greeted by a case of beer shoved in my face. It took a few moments for me to recognize Jay's grinning face behind it.
"I thought we could do this for real this time. My place?"
"Does this mean . . ."
"I passed. By the skin of my teeth, but still. Guess I won't be dropping out after all. But"—he held up a large bottle of liquor—"now I plan on drinking until I forget everything I learned last night. You in?"
I glanced back into my flat, where everything was still. Kreacher had returned to the Manor—or wherever he went at night. Harry was sleeping fitfully in his room. Well. One more night of drinking wouldn't kill me. I wasn't that old just yet.
I grinned as I pulled the door shut quietly behind me. "I'm in."