"The world is a broad place," Sirius said wisely, although he thought the effect might have been skewed slightly by his goofy smile. "Lots of room, you know," he nodded, shrewd, and blew on his hands to combat the cold wind. "Oh, who knows. Y'know, when I was eleven James told me girls were all aliens so we should avoid them at all costs and I guess I never got out of the habit." He paused, grinning a bit at the memory of little runt-James imparting his wisdom in a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, she's not all wrong. The insanity part seems to have a great deal of support, 'specially if you ask McGonagall. But Remus is just as insane as the rest of us, he just hides it better. If anything, Pete's the most sensible."
He looked over at her, eyebrows raised, as he listened. His expression slowly changed to one of disapproval as her story went on and he frowned a bit. "Man. Sounds like he deserved it, really. Seems like he was being a bit of a wanker. He actually called you a freak?" Sirius shook his head, exhaling shortly. "Merlin, can't catch a fucking break, can we? Like, I'm disinherited because frankly I don't give a fuck if I hang around Muggles and you're a freak because you're a witch. I mean, there's just all this hate coming from both sides. Just seems counterproductive, y'know?" he often got mad at the world when he'd been awake too long, and he knew he sounded like a bit of a hippie, but he didn't particularly mind. A lot of the hippies had the right end of the stick, in his opinion.
"He was bleeding? You must have a mean swing, Mary Mac. Last time I punched someone I skinned my knuckles and they barely bruised." He smiled down at her and rumpled her hair playfully. "My little girl, giving boys blood noses," he pretended to wipe away a tear. "You're growing up so fast." And it was supposed to be a joke, but really it was sort of true. Because this was sixth, and next year would be seventh, and then they'd all be out of the safety of Hogwarts and fending for themselves in what was looking to be a war-torn world, and honestly that didn't sound all too appealing to Sirius.
He gave her a soft sort of look as she spoke and hoped he could convey his gratefulness to her without having to say it. Briefly, he squeezed her arm, before withdrawing his hands and shoving them deep into the pockets of his trousers. He looked up at the sky again, at the stars, shining like beacons and constant like scars, at the moon, half-full, which he hated, hated, but was so beautiful nonetheless. He was small, really, and so was Mary and Hogwarts and his cousins and their trademark Looks Of Disdain. Mary was right; he had it all right, really, and even though it might be weird sometimes, he had enough silver linings to last him a couple of lifetimes (and if most of those came in human shapes and coloured gold like the sun rather than the silver of the stars, well, call him sentimental, but that was exactly how he liked it). "You're a good egg, Mary," he said, with a crooked little grin. "Good as they come."
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