cigarette daydream || james potter

"Standin' in the pourin' rain,"

The cottage felt different in daylight.

Less like a hiding place. More like something fragile pretending it wasn't.

Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains in pale strips, catching on dust motes that drifted lazily through the air. The hearth was cold for once, its usual restless green glow dimmed to embers. Everything was too quiet in the way places only ever are after something violent has happened-like the walls were still listening for echoes that weren't there anymore.

Estella sat on the sofa as if she was still negotiating with her own body.

The hospital had stitched her back together enough to send her home, but not enough to make anything feel entirely stable. Her ribs still ached when she breathed too deeply, and there was a faint tugging sensation under her skin where curse residue lingered like a memory that hadn't fully burned out. A thin blanket was draped over her legs, though she wasn't cold.

James sat beside her.

Not touching at first.

Just close.

Close in the way that made it obvious, even before anyone said anything, that something between them had changed shape and refused to go back.

Across from them, Remus stood.

Sirius paced.

Remus looked like he had accepted responsibility for maintaining sanity in the room and was already reconsidering that choice. Sirius, on the other hand, looked like he had decided that pacing was the only thing preventing him from exploding into questions too quickly.

Hope and Remus's mother had gone upstairs moments earlier under the excuse of "tea and recovery rest," which was really just diplomatic language for *we are giving you all space before we start asking things we might regret asking loudly.*

The silence lasted approximately twelve seconds.

Then Sirius broke it.

"No," he said sharply, stopping mid-step and pointing between them like he'd just connected two pieces of a puzzle he hated. "No, I refuse to accept that I've been standing in the same house as *this* and not noticed."

James sighed.

Estella closed her eyes briefly.

Remus did not look surprised. That was arguably worse.

Sirius resumed pacing, faster now. "Alright, no-no, we're doing this properly. How long has this been going on?"

James opened his mouth.

Estella, quicker, said calmly, "Since after the prank war."

Sirius stopped walking again.

Very slowly, he turned his head.

"After *what* prank war?"

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Don't encourage him," he muttered.

But Sirius was already locking onto Estella with the focus of someone who had just been handed an unsolved case and a personal grievance at the same time.

"You mean to tell me," Sirius said, voice rising slightly, "that the two of you have been-what-secretly *whatever this is* since that ridiculous prank war thing you both never shut up about-"

"It wasn't ridiculous," Estella said automatically.

James made a small sound that might have been agreement or defeat.

Sirius pointed at him. "Don't you *dare* back her up right now."

Remus finally spoke, calm but edged. "Sit down, Sirius."