"Checkmate, Sirius!" Harry exclaimed, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh.

Sirius peered at the board. "Harry," he said, shaking his head. "You're getting too good for me."

Harry gave his godfather a satisfied grin. He had been at Grimmauld for the last three days after Sirius had come to Hogwarts without warning to collect him. His godfather had a very heated argument with Dumbledore but he told the Headmaster that he was Harry's guardian and Dumbledore had no choice but to respect his authority. Harry felt horrible at the beginning, never imagining Sirius would act so rashly but he also felt touched that his godfather had come to pick him up, believing everything Harry had told him about Snape and Malfoy. So there he was now, at the Order Headquarters with Sirius and various old and new members, including Marlene, who had accompanied Sirius at Hogwarts.

Marlene had been staying at Grimmauld Place since their return. Harry liked Marlene. She was cool, collected, and utterly unimpressed by his fame, which made her incredibly easy to talk to. It was nice to have someone else around who knew his parents but someone who didn't treat him like a fragile hero or bombard him with suffocating questions. She was also an Auror and Harry grilled her about her work, fascinated by her tales of daring raids and dangerous dark wizards.

Harry had told her and Sirius about his concerns regarding Snape. Marlene had listened patiently, her expression thoughtful, but she hadn't dismissed his worries as childish paranoia. And if he was being honest with himself, he couldn't deny the spark he'd noticed between her and Sirius. The way they looked at each other, the shared jokes, the easy familiarity… It was subtle, but there. Not that he could blame Sirius. Marlene was, as she herself had put it, "bloody brilliant." And Sirius, despite his recklessness and occasional bouts of moodiness, deserved to be happy.

Harry had been wanting to ask Sirius about Marlene since he met her, but the right moment never seemed to present itself.

But when Marlene excused herself to go to a meeting with Moody and Sirius had motioned Harry to the table to get some more coffee, he saw this as a chance.

"So," Harry began. "So, are you and Marlene…" He trailed off, unsure how to phrase his question without sounding like a nosy teenager.

Sirius, who had been precariously balancing a spatula and was about to serve himself more eggs, paused mid-air."Are Marlene and I…what?" he asked.

"Together?" Harry blurted out, cringing internally at his own awkwardness. "Are you two, you know…" He made a vague gesture with his hands, hoping Sirius would get the gist.

A slow understanding dawned on Sirius's face, followed by a deep frown. " Oh." He looked at Harry, his expression uncharacteristically sad. "You do like Marlene, eh?" he asked.

"Yeah, she's… she's really cool," he managed, feeling his cheeks flush slightly.

Sirius nodded slowly, his gaze drifting towards the window. "Yeah," he echoed. "Yeah, she is." He paused, running a hand through his already tousled hair. "We… we had a bit of a thing, back in the day," he admitted, his voice low, hesitant. "But it was… complicated."

Harry wanted to ask, to pry, but something in Sirius's demeanour stopped him.

As if sensing his godson's unspoken question, Sirius cleared his throat. "It's not… It's not like that anymore," he said, his voice a tad too forced. "We're just… friends. Good friends."

"Oh," said Harry. "Sorry, I just thought that you were–well–erm," he said awkwardly.

Sirius nodded sympathetically.

Harry could tell that his godfather looked a bit flustered but the dam was broken, and Harry really wanted to talk about girls with someone who was not Ron– definitely not Ron since Harry clearly fancied his sister.

"Sirius," Harry stammered, "I, uh... I was just wondering... have you ever... you know... been in love with... with someone? A girl, I mean."

Sirius looked surprised, as if the very idea of love was a foreign concept. He opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. He seemed to be wrestling with himself, debating whether to deflect, to joke, or to actually engage with the question.

"When I was younger," he began."I was… well, I was a right prat, if I'm being honest."

He paused.

"Busier running around with James and Moony. Well, let's just say I wasn't paying much attention to those matters."He chuckled humorlessly, the sound laced with self-deprecation.

"But you've had girlfriends, right?" Harry blurted, frowning. "Like, actual girlfriends? You went on dates and stuff?" Heat crept up his neck as the words left his mouth.

" Ah," Sirius chuckled, leaning back in his chair."Right. Well, I wasn't a dusty old portrait, you know."

"Did you ever... with any of them...?" Harry stammered and trailed off, unable to force the rest of the question out

Sirius almost choked on his coffee. Then he burst out laughing. "Merlin's beard, Harry!" he exclaimed, his voice a mixture of amusement and mortification. "Where did that come from?" but then he saw Harry's embarrassment and he stopped laughing. "Right," he cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. "About that. Look, it's perfectly natural to be curious about... those sorts of things," he said, gesturing vaguely.

Seeing that Harry was still quiet, Sirius continued. "So what I mean to say is that, well–yeah. I went out with a few girls when I was at school–briefly."

"But I mean, you never really wanted to date a girl, like to have a girlfriend?" Harry flushed.

"I was more… infatuated, I guess," he admitted. "Caught up in the moment. I was never really…"

"What?" asked Harry curiously.

"Never really...serious," Sirius finally admitted, his voice a low murmur. He shook his head, as if trying to dislodge a particularly stubborn memory. "Never really let myself fall properly, you know?" He sighed, a deep, weary sound that seemed to age him years. "Not that it matters now," he added self-deprecatingly.

He seemed to sense Harry's unspoken concern, for he quickly schooled his features into a more reassuring smile. "Not everyone has to find that kind of love, Harry," he said, his tone lighter. "You can love your friends… that's enough, isn't it?"

Then, as if a thought had suddenly struck him, Sirius's expression shifted."This is about a girl, isn't it?" he asked. "One we both know, perhaps?"

Harry nodded miserably, bracing himself for the inevitable teasing. But Sirius didn't laugh, didn't tease, didn't even look particularly surprised. He simply leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Well, she's a bright one, that's for sure," he said, a hint of approval in his voice. "And a looker, too, if I may say so myself. Ginny, that is," he clarified.

Harry shot him a glare. "Sirius!" he said, mortified.

"Just stating a fact, Harry," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "But seriously, what's holding you back?"

"She's Ron's sister!" Harry exclaimed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And she has a boyfriend," he added bitterly.

"Hmm," said Sirius. "How much does she like the other lad?" he asked.

"I don't know," grumbled Harry. "But Ron–she is Ron's sister. That's the biggest problem."

"So what?" Sirius countered.

"He is my best friend !" said Harry, upset.

"Look, I know it seems complicated," he said, his voice softening slightly, "but believe me, when it comes to those matters, life rarely follows a straight path."

Harry, caught off guard by the unexpected seriousness in Sirius's voice, stammered, "I… I don't know, Sirius. It's just…"

"Just what?" he pressed. Sirius leaned closer to Harry with a kind expression in his face. "Do you like her, Harry?" he asked, his voice devoid of its usual playful lilt. "Really like her?"

The boy nodded and shrugged.

"Then, that's all you need to know at this point," Sirius said and clapped him on the back.

...

The rhythmic clang of metal on metal echoed through the cavernous kitchen of Grimmauld Place which Emma occupied for potion-making during the last days. She was making polyjuice batches with Hicks and Hitchins.

"Elbow in, Hitchings, remember? We're coaxing, not churning," Emma instructed. She was momentarily distracted as she heard footsteps. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Sirius had a way of announcing himself.

It's been a week since she had left him the potion and she had not seen him around because Harry Potter was home earlier from school. McKinnon was also absent on a mission with Kingsley, but would return for Christmas.

Emma was still ladling polyjuice into vials and did not turn before he spoke to her.

"Well, hello there," Sirius announced. He cast a curious glance at the assortment of bubbling cauldrons. "Seems you lot are having a right party in here," he said searching for Emma's gaze that drifted at Hicks and Hitchins.

Sirius must have picked up on that and nodded curtly before he turned to Emma and left an empty vial on the table next to her.

"Came to thank you for the potion," he said, his voice gruff. "It was bloody brilliant." He paused, his gaze lingering on her for a moment. "This one was different, wasn't it?"

He was thanking her, genuinely thanking her, and it threw her off balance.

"That's good. I'm glad," she replied, her voice clipped, professional. "Yes, I experimented with some ingredients this time," she said modestly. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her back, tracing the line of her spine, lingering a beat too long at the nape of her neck. It took all her self-control not to fidget.

Hicks and Hitchings probably got clued in that the conversation was more personal than Order-related business and they excused themselves.

Sirius then drew a chair and sat across from Emma.

"So, how have you been? he asked. The way he looked showed that he wanted to ask her something else and Emma noticed the tension.

"Oh, well, you know. We have been brewing a lot these days," she said, pushing some ingredients out of the way avoiding his gaze.

"I see," he said. She started fiddling with the ingredients, organising vials and she could tell that he was watching her.

"So, why did you leave it there—the vial I mean," he said in an unrecognisable tone. "Why not give it to me personally?" there was a hint of puzzlement in his tone.

Oh, shit, she thought. Did he know she'd overheard his conversation with Marlene? The thought sent a flush up her neck, and she cursed her fair skin for betraying her so easily.

"Oh. I didn't want to disturb you," she said, forcing her voice into a semblance of indifference.

"Wouldn't have taken a minute…" he countered, his voice softer now. It was a tone she'd never heard from him before, intimate, almost…wounded. She had seen him upset and offended but never like this.

Emma's hand trembled, the vial of moonstone slipping through her fingers. She caught it just before it hit the floor, her heart pounding against her ribs. And then, against her better judgement, she impulsively spoke the words that came to her mind.

"Marlene wouldn't have liked that, would she?" she blurted out. "If I gave it to you personally, sought you out," she said in a clipped voice.

Sirius straightened, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Lena? What's she got to do with any of this?"

"Forget it," she muttered. She couldn't believe she'd let that slip. She had no right to be jealous, no right to feel anything at all for this man.

She then abruptly got up, signalling that she wanted to leave. "I am busy, I should just–" she gestured toward the door, but he was quicker and stood next to her.

He reached out, his hand closing gently around her arm, his touch surprisingly warm and grounding. "Hey, hold on," he said, his voice softening. "What's this about? You're upset."

"I am certainly not," she protested.

"But you are," he said, examining her features. "Look, I know Lena can be a bit… too much sometimes. Maybe she made a comment about your potions? She's not always as appreciative of healing as she could be," he said apologetically.

Emma thought that the way he said that was strange, as if he felt a wave of embarrassment as well. It was true that McKinnon constantly berated the healers though.

"Well. her favourite phrase as of late is 'just tell the volunteers'" Emma said.

Sirius winced. "Volunteers?"

"Yes," Emma said flatly. "As if we are some kind of well-meaning school children who stay behind after meetings to clean up," Emma said, her voice rising in indignation.

"Right. I'll have a word with her, make sure she—"

"As if that would make a difference," Emma cut him off, her voice laced with a bitterness she couldn't quite suppress. "She's not exactly known for taking direction, is she?"

The silence stretched and for a moment, their eyes met, his grey locking with her own startled blue. A flicker of something unnamed passed between them. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a careful neutrality.

"She will," Sirius said firmly. "I won't have you feeling undermined or disrespected in my house. The same is true for the others of course," he said, averting his gaze a bit.

Emma swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. His gaze was doing strange things to her insides, making her forget what she was going to say, making her forget how to breathe. "You don't have to do that," she whispered.

"I want to," he countered. "I don't want you upset."

Why was he looking at her like that? Why was he being so…attentive? It wasn't like Sirius to be so concerned with anyone's feelings, least of all hers.

She took a step back, breaking the connection, needing to put some distance between them, if only to breathe properly. "Since when do you care so much about what Marlene is saying to us?" she asked.

Sirius shoved his hands into the pockets, his gaze shifting away from hers. "It's not about Marlene," he muttered.

"Then what is it about?" she pressed, her own voice gaining a touch of defiance.

"I was a right git to you," he finally admitted, his voice rough. "To everyone, really. Moaning about everything, yelling at Molly, thinking you were not good at your job because of the Remus incident… I took it out on all of you."

This was enough to make her head spin. "What brought this on?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

He hesitated, gesticulating heavily. "Remus gave me a right bollocking," he admitted, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Said I was being an idiot."

Emma couldn't help but chuckle at that. Leave it to Remus Lupin to cut through Sirius' stubbornness. "He has a point, you know," she said, her voice softening.

A wave of warmth, unexpected and startling, washed over Emma. She hadn't meant to encourage him, not really. But seeing him like this, stripped of his usual bravado stirred something deep within her.

"What can I say, you are right," he huffed but then smirked. "I can be difficult, sometimes."

She offered him a small, hesitant smile. "Just… try not to be such a prat, alright? Some of us are rather fond of you," she said. "When you are not impossible," she added.

Sirius visibly softened. The tension left his shoulders, replaced by a relaxed looseness that made him seem years younger. A real smile, not his usual roguish grin, touched his lips as he ran a hand through his hair, the gesture almost sheepish. "Right," he said, his voice lighter, softer.

...

The familiar squeeze-and-spin of Apparition deposited Emma on the uneven cobblestones of her street, the lingering scent of polyjuice potion clinging to her like cheap perfume. She wrinkled her nose, eager to wash off the lingering traces of someone's unfortunate hair tonic. Honestly, the things she did for the Order..

A sharp thwack to the head interrupted her passage toward her street though, sending a jolt of pain through her skull. "Ouch!" she yelped, clapping a hand to her hair, expecting to find a rogue conker or, Merlin forbid, a dead rat. Instead, her fingers closed around a small bird.

"What on earth!" she muttered, prying the creature from her tangled curls. It was a robin, its chest puffed out in indignation.

Could it be a message? She tried hard to see in the dark.

"Did someone send you? Was that supposed to be subtle?"

The robin, as if understanding her words, let out a shrill chirp and pecked sharply at her finger.

"Alright, alright, message received," Emma hissed, glancing around to make sure no Muggles had witnessed this little assault. Thankfully, it was past eleven, and the street was deserted. "Just… hush now."

She deposited the disgruntled bird on a nearby window ledge, her gaze falling on the small, midnight blue envelope clutched in its tiny claws. It was addressed to her, in an unfamiliar, looping script. Healer Emily Pettigrew.

She freaked out momentarily–she used her mother maiden name since she started working at Mungo's. Who could be addressing her by her real name?

Her heart stuttered in her chest. She carefully pried the letter free, noting the delicate feather sealing the wax.

Ignoring the throbbing in her head, Emma practically ran up the stairs to her flat, her fingers trembling as she broke the seal. As she unfolded the letter, her breath caught in her throat.

Portia.

Emma swallowed up the words of the letter quickly and needed to read it three more times to comprehend what her estranged sister was saying.

Dearest Emily,

The robin insisted on delivering this personally. He was most insistent, in fact, and quite impossible to shoo away. Apparently, I have a certain charm with the feathered fiends these days.

Anyway, I digress. The robin, bless him, reminded me that Christmas is fast approaching, and wouldn't it be lovely to see a familiar face amidst all the festivities? I know it's been too long and you probably have many friends and loved-ones to host for the holidays, but I've missed you dreadfully and I'm ashamed to say I know so little of what you've been up to. Mother's letters were rather short on details, you see, and even shorter on news of you.

Imagine my surprise to find your Patronus calling on me, of all people!

Which brings me to my point, dear Em. The fire is warm here, and the tea is always hot, and I find myself with a surfeit of mince pies and a distinct lack of human company. So, if you find yourself with a spare moment, you'll know where to find me. The bird is instructed to stay with you until you have an answer for me.

I won't be offended if you decline my belated invitation or if you are upset and disappointed by this letter. I do know, despite what you might have heard, that I have not been a proper sister to you.

Please do not tell Pia that you got a letter from me. My location is best kept… discreet.

With love, always,

Portia

P.S. A lovely Patronus you have! Impressive!

The words swam before Emma's eyes. She hadn't allowed herself to dwell on her own loneliness, not with the war raging around her, not with the Order demanding every ounce of her energy. It was as if Portia's letter unleashed a torrent of grief and longing she'd kept bottled up.

She sank onto the sofa, the letter fluttering to the floor, and buried her face in her hands. It was true, what Portia had said. Years had passed, years filled with whispers and half-truths, with Pia's carefully constructed narratives designed to keep her other sister apart.

The robin must have understood because he landed softly on her shoulder, nuzzling its head against her cheek. Emma wrapped a hand around the tiny creature, her tears soaking into its feathers.

"I'm as alone as she is," she told him and he looked puzzled.

After a moment, she rose, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She let the robin flutter away and she moved towards the kitchen. Emma opened a cupboard and retrieved a handful of dried berries and a small dish of water, placing them on the table before the robin.

"Tell her I'll be there for Christmas. And… tell her to write down her address. I'll find her," she instructed the bird.

The robin chirped. He pecked at the berries, its tiny throat bobbing as it drank deeply from the dish of water. Then, with a final flick of its wings, the bird soared out the open window, disappearing into the night.