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Word of the fate of Regulus Black came some time later, and Gwen was not sure how Sirius reacted to it, as she had not seen nor heard from him since that Order meeting. He'd of course written James once or twice since the news of Regulus's death, though enchanted the post so Gwen's eyes could not see it.
"He's just.." James tried searching for the right word to use without hurting Gwen's feelings for a moment, after opening the third letter from Sirius regarding his brother's death. "He's trying to grieve and I don't know if Remus is allowing him to do that outwardly."
"What?" snapped Gwen, finding the whole thought ridiculous. "Remus isn't letting him be sad? That's nonsense. Something must've been lost in transl—"
"Blah blah.. Ah, here, 'Remus keeps saying to man up,'" James quoted, eyes skimming the note. He raised an eyebrow to Gwen. "Nonsense?"
Gwen risked another glimpse at the message, though of course it befuddled itself right up, letters jumbling around and hopping across the page the moment she laid eyes on it. She huffed a frustrated sigh.
"This is ridiculous," she said, angrily, reaching for her coat. "My mate's brother's just been murdered by You-Know-Who and he's ignoring me about some foolish little thing Peter's said—"
James's eyes darkened. "What did Peter say?"
"We're going to Sirius's," was her reply, and she tossed James his wand. "You ought to keep that with you, James, we're in the midst of a war. Now c'mon, buck up. Best foot forward."
Baffled, James caught his wand and tucked it into his jacket's pocket, following Gwen as she whirled out into the cool March night and readied herself for Apparation. She planted her feet shoulder-width apart and lifted her chin, only sparing James a glance when she realised his hand was not on her shoulder.
"We're going, James," she said again, impatiently. "Come on."
"I really don't think we're welcome, Gwen," said James warily.
Gwen's eyes narrowed to slits. He'd said 'we' but it was clear, by the uneven shifting of his weight between his feet and his refusal to meet her glare, that she was the one not welcome in Sirius's home, for whatever bloody reason she could not think of.
"We're going," she repeated, and the insistence of her tone was enough for James to sigh and place a hand round her arm.
A twisty, topsy, turvy moment later, they stumbled behind themselves to find a run-down little flat on the very corner of a quaint street called Humphrey Tree Lane. There were only two lights on in the windows, and Gwen could hear raised voices from inside—she spared a glance to James, before they rushed to the door.
