The Slytherin Transfer

41: "We're as all right as we can be."

I tell Remus everything from the minute I stepped foot in Sirius's house. When I tell him about the article Walburga read at the table, he nods, saying he read it. When I tell him about how I severed my arm, he remains calm. When I tell him about Sirius pushing me, he frowns. He doesn't say anything when I get to the big fight with his family, and more importantly, Regulus.

Then I finish, and he runs a hand down his face.

"He's such an idiot," he says with an exasperated shake of his head, looking slightly furious, "he's such an idiot."

For some reason, these words are far more comforting than the ones I've priorly gotten. I don't need someone to tell me that Sirius deserves to be forgiven, I need someone to sympathize with me.

"Is your hand okay?" He asks, inspecting my wrist, which fell out of its makeshift sling at some point last night. I clench and unclench my fist, and nod.

"It'll be fine by tomorrow, I'm sure. I tried a spell, but it didn't exactly go perfectly."

Remus shakes his head once more, standing up, "he's such an idiot."

I nod, sighing as I pull my legs up onto the couch and rest my head on my knees.

"I can't believe Regulus . . ." Remus shudders, "I remember first seeing him when he was ten, at the station. Sirius was shouting at him about something, something about their parents. Reg—he just wanted to be loved by his brother, you know?"

"I do," I say, and Remus looks at me.

"So, Josh . . ."

"Yeah," I say quietly, and it's silent for a moment, "I just . . . you always expect things to happen, but, when they actually do, it isn't any easier."

"Yeah," he mutters, and I have no doubt he understands exactly what I mean.

"I'm scared, Remus," I admit, and he looks over at me as I pick at the threading on the couch, "Josh said I had no choice. It's my destiny to be a Death Eater. He said I'm running out of time."

"Cass, listen to me," Remus says, and I look at him, "you get yourself in a lot of shit, okay? That's a known fact. We let you get yourself in a lot of shit because we know you can handle it, and more importantly we know if you can't handle it we'll be there to back you up."

I think about attacking Lucius Malfoy at the Three Broomsticks. They had my back then.

"No matter what happens, we'll be here. We won't let you get yourself into that much shit," he states, and I laugh slightly, feeling some feeling deep within me that I can't quite describe. It's warm, and welcoming, and makes me feel safe. I don't know what I ever did to deserve friends like these.

The lock to the flat suddenly rattles, and I quickly turn to Remus.

"Does it look like I've been crying?" I ask, wiping at my cheeks. He inspects me carefully before shaking his head.

"You're good," he reassures, and I smile in thanks as the door swings open and Dorcas barges through, speaking angrily.

"You should've kicked her in the shins."

"She was an old woman!" Marlene defends.

"And?" Dorcas scoffs, lugging a huge bag of groceries onto the table aggressively, "She had the last turkey. That means war!"

Marlene rolls her eyes, "We have a ham. It's just as good."

"It's not even close!"

"It's better than nothing!"

"Debatable."

They glare at each other, but their expressions lighten when they see us.

"Remus!" Marlene squeals, dropping her groceries on the table and rushing forward. She tackles Remus in a hug, and he stumbles back a few feet before hugging her back. I smile at them, not noticing how good of friends they are until this moment. I have no doubt Remus has acted as her therapist as well; he's insanely good at it.