distant thunder

“I believe this calls for a test. You move out of the flat and go live with Potter for a few weeks and we’ll see.” Laughter bubbled from her lips, shaking her head in amusement. “Oh baby, that’s because she had a crush on you. And she hated me. I remember she kicked me out of the bathroom once because she said I had no right to be there.” And back then they were friends only, but she supposed the ghost saw something they didn’t. “I’m not trying to convince you. But I guess we just had to agree to disagree.” It didn’t matter, not really, because Severus thought she was dead and he didn’t like Felicity that much. Hell, some days even Lily herself didn’t like Felicity at all. It was for the best if they avoided a fight and simply didn’t talk about him. “For way too long, it seems. But I’m still here, so it means you must be doing something right. It’s a surprise and you can’t see it yet.” She smiled and looked at him, as waiting for him to decide whether he had missed her or not, already knowing the real answer. “Not sure? When you sleep on the couch tonight, I want you to ask yourself again.”

“You do realise that he’ll never let me leave if I move in with him, right? He’s been on a right sulk! You can kiss this face goodbye, Lils.” He grimaced. “Sadly for ol’ Myrtle, I’ve never been into the non-corporeal. I prefer my partners to have a pulse.” She really was a character. “She said that you had no right? Tragic.” Sirius chuckled. “Clearly. Well, we can rule out you being with me for my money, so it must be my winning personality. Either that or you think me handsome.” Sirius had always been far too inpatient and impulsive for surprises. “Not fair. Not fair at all. Are you sure that I can’t see it yet? Can I persuade you?” The couch? Oh no, that would not do at all. “You know I did. I’ve been absolutely miserable without you today. And I’m not sleeping on the couch - I refuse. I’ll use a sticking charm to keep myself in bed if I have to.”

Moody is derived from the Old English ‘modig’, which means brave, impetuous, or bold.

“I can do this,” I thought. Then: “And even if I can’t, I have to.”

     “Quit it with your– oh! Damn you, down, down! I need help - with the creeping vines! The water pale - just behind me! NOW, PLEASE!”

“Not the vines again!” Tilden exclaimed, reaching for his wand and summoning the pail. “Holly can you explain something to me? Just why do you keep the vines if they cause nothing but trouble? Remember that one that wouldn’t leave me alone... Pomona, wasn’t it? The one you lifted from the greenhouses that time we broke in to see the Plagentine bloom?”

James sighed, not in defeat because he would never admit being wrong, not even to his best friend, but he decided to stop giving Sirius a hard time for – well, for being happy. “Wrong. That kid looks at me like I am the greatest thing after Quidditch. He knows I’m his favourite uncle, he doesn’t speak yet but he will tell you.”

"I’ll make sure not to tell Moony or Wormtail that your Harry’s favourite uncle - I think they’d have a bit to say about that. Yeah, yeah, I’ll get him to tell me in interpretive dance. I’ve found that works well as a form of communication until he can talk.” 

The Annual Slug Club Christmas Party, Horace Slughorn’s Office. 20th December. [ OPEN ]

“Welcome.”

If the buzz of Christmas cheer bursting from his office was at odds with the change of regime within Hogwarts’s halls, Horace Slughorn did his utmost best not to notice. The broad, gleaming smile affixed to his face was in part fuelled by one too many mulled wines and the rest by the wide array of brightly wrapped presents that were forfeited as tribute with each new arrival. His hands clapped together delightedly as he wound through the sea of clustered guests towards the door to swoop in on the newest arrival. “Welcome, welcome to my little soiree and Happy Christmas, it’s been too long. Coats on the stand — we aren’t animals now are we — and presents on the table next to the refreshments, if you wouldn’t mind so terribly, I only have so many hands you see.”

He beamed, tipping the enormous glass of mulled wine keeping one hand busy towards them in a toast followed by an overly large sip. 

Why he was there he did not know. He was hardly a valued member of the Slug Club, simply a photograph relegated to the back of the collection, hidden away behind all of the shining successes (or perhaps the more easily exploited). Severus held little love for his erstwhile head of house, something that had changed little in the few years since graduation. And yet there he was, reluctantly standing in the doorway, expression curling in disgust at the swathes of decorations and twinkling lights.

“Slughorn,” he greeted, fighting to keep the sneer to a minimum as he hung up his coat. “You have certainly outdone yourself this year.” Severus swore that the parties grew more and more unsightly with each year that passed. “Still up to the same old tricks?”

He’d only hoped to find Molly. A quick stopover, a brief glance through the crowds in the hopes that if his sister were found he could retreat again. His routines bred routines lately, schedules he kept to with a peculiar sense of urgency for a man with such an inherent interest in the concept of Time. Yet here he sat, fingers tracing runes in spilt firewhiskey and fishy ale, an untouched glass of Dragon Barrel Brandy set at his wrist. Wasting time, chewing time, killing time — now that was his favourite.

“That seats taken,” he replied, not glancing up from the bar. It was inherently understood (within Fabian’s mind at least) that the seat to his left would always intrinsically be reserved for his brother, no longer how long he was missing for. His eyes lifted, snagging on the aristocratic profile that was trying to be buried beneath wool and hair and facial hair but he said nothing, merely eyeing Sirius for a moment before glancing away. “The firewhiskey is appalling here anyway. You should try the brandy.”

Sirius’ eyebrows raised in surprise, glancing around the immediate area. “I don’t see anyone sitting in it.” He replied, shrugging. The man certainly didn’t look like he had company, and if he did, well... Sirius felt sorry for them. Decidedly not budging from the seat, at least until the person who had taken the seat turned up (if they did at all), he shrugged. “I’ve always found it to be alright.” Although Sirius much preferred the muggle whiskeys these days. He eyed the untouched glass of brandy. “Oh yes, because you seem to be enjoying it.”

Taking the glass from the bartender when it was finally offered, he held it up in a brief toast to the man next to him. “Bottoms up.” Taking a sip, he set the glass back down, grimacing slightly at the murky smears. The Leaky Cauldron really had gone down hill.

“But who cares if you have wounded me, right? After everything we’ve gone through together, you decided to name your kid Harry instead of James. You know that kid is the closest I have to my own child. He loves me more than you.”

“Don’t be like that.” Sirius repeated, sighing as his mood sobered. He wasn’t going to lie - things had been feeling a little strained to him of late. “We both know the only person he loves more than me is Lily, and I can’t blame him there.” He chuckled softly. “Being named for someone, having to live up to their legacy is far from an enjoyable experience. I know that all too well.”