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CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR
a room of one's own
THE BOYS HAD left the hospital wing by the time Betty saw Regulus again, but he didn't acknowledge her presence despite their fleeting eye contact. She felt as if she almost imagined their conversation. A figment that she'd created to fill the time while she walked about her rounds. But, subtle questions to Sirius answered that Regulus could be odd and cagey. Someone who thought far more in advance than the yearly calendars that hung in the Gryffindor boy's dorm. Someone meticulous, but his full plan never revealed. Betty's growing maturity allowed her to quell the curiosity that ate at her and shove the questions to the back of her brain. Whatever he had planned, it couldn't be good.
A letter from St. Mungo's was sent to James in the morning post a week later saying that his parents were recovering from their Dragon Pox, but that another bout could prove to be less kind. His shoulders relaxed as he read. Betty's eyes trailed him as he immediately stood up and mumbled something about writing his parents a letter. Her's stayed for a beat where his shadow had been, since disappeared, before she turned back to her friends and smiled as she finished her breakfast.
"I can't believe it's almost Easter," Aisling sighed as she shook her head. "Where has this year gone?"
"It feels like New Year's yesterday!" Sirius agreed. "And we're graduating soon."
The table fell silent, the reminder unwelcome.
"You lot have to start applying to jobs," Cece joked lightheartedly, but no one laughed. The 7th year Gryffindors all exchanged looks. They wouldn't work an office job until the war was over thanks to the generosity of the Potter fortune and the portion of the Black fortune that Sirius had grabbed on his way out. The fortune that was funding the underground tunnels that Dumbledore was building. No one dared to correct her, Mary clearly not having told her. Betty looked down at her food, knowing it wasn't her place despite the desperation to inform her dear friend of the fate of most of the table. "Right? You're all applying to jobs? Not the silly thing that Dumbledore's doing, for sure?"
"How did you know about that?" Mary asked, their eyes immediately flicking over, burning, towards Cece.
Hurt, Cece looked over at Mary. "You forget that I'm in Slytherin. They know. They all know. They talk about it."
"Like the ones that are, you know," Peter lowered his voice, "Death Eaters?"
"Yes, Peter," Cece replied coldly. "They're not fucking stupid, you know."
"She's right," Betty corroborated cooly. "There's a lot that they know that you don't think they do." Betty bore her eyes into Remus so he would understand. His eyes widening gave her the answer she sought.
