Falling // Wolfstar

Nine

Sirius hands in both James' and his report to McGonagall, much to her surprise. "What is this?" McGonagall asks, inspecting both parchments.

"It's the assignment," Sirius answers as if it weren't clear enough. "On time and neatly written might I add."

McGonagall squints through her glasses, examining both assignments side by side with a frown. "They're the exact same."

Sirius shakes his head. "No, this one," he points to the one in her left hand, "says Sirius Black. And that one," he motions to the other, "says James Potter."

"Oh how could I miss that." Her lips purse tightly, setting both parchments aside. Sirius stands sheepishly in front of her desk, fidgeting with the small goblet with catnip planted inside. The classroom is empty, silent with the occasional gust of wind howling beyond the windows. Letting out a slightly frustrated sigh, McGonagall lowers her glasses and asks, "Mr. Black, do you need something?"

"Who me?" Sirius mumbles, straightening up. "Er - not particularly."

"Would you care to explain why you're still standing in my classroom then?"

Sirius blushes. "Sorry, I'll go." He stuffs his hands into his pockets, strolling towards the door. "Unless," he says half turning around, "you need someone to, oh I don't know, grade papers or fetch some yarn -"

"Have a good evening, Mr. Black."

Sirius lowers his head, waving a hand before sulking back to the Gryffindor Tower. His hands are stuffed into his trouser pockets casually as he stares at the portraits lining the wall. He tenses slightly when a group of young Slytherins round the corner. In the middle of the crowd is Regulus. His figure has grown over the summer since Sirius last saw him, though in his mind, Regulus is still a little kid. His baby brother. A wave of sadness passes over when they brush past one another.

Regulus' eyes flicker over at Sirius briefly. There's an acknowledgment, a subtle hello, albeit no words are spoken.

Sirius keeps his chin up, stalking down the corridor without looking back. One he turns the corner, he sighs heavily. A tug pulls at his heart just a little bit.

Regulus bites his lip, drowning out the conversation his friends are discussing. He walks with his head held high, a notorious trait Black's have - even when they're tearing apart on the inside.

"Reg?"

Regulus shakes his head, turning to the voice. "Hm?" he murmurs.

"Do you want to go back to the common room?" Dylan repeats.

"Uh, no I've got something to do."

The group splits ways, leaving Regulus to himself. It's peaceful sometimes, being alone. Regulus finds himself wandering off on his own more often than he'll admit. He walks leisurely, feeling the familiarity of the castle walls around him. Soon he wouldn't have them to protect him anymore.

"Shit -" Regulus grunts, stumbling back to catch his balance.

"Perhaps you'll want to start walking on the right side of the corridor," a voice says with a laugh.

Regulus narrows his eyes, taking in the sight of a girl before him. "Didn't realize that there was a wrong side to walk on." A pink blush crosses her nose and the apples of her cheeks with embarrassment when their eyes meet. "Francesca."

Frances scowls automatically at the use of her full name. "I go by Frances, actually."

"Does Francesca irritate you?"

Frances ignores his question. "I think you're old enough to know that you always walk on the right side of the corridor."

Regulus rolls his eyes. "Are you the corridor guard?"

"No, just a student nearly trampled over because of your lack of common sense. It's common curtesy if not an unspoken rule all students abide by."

"If we're talking about common curtesy, you might want to reevaluate how much desk space you take up in class."

Frances' mouth opens ajar. "I do not take up any more space than respectable!" she argues, her arms now crossed over her front. The proud smirk on his face only angers her more. "You know what, you continue walking on the wrong side of the corridor and hopefully a troll will just stomp on you."

"Always a pleasure talking to you, Francesca." Regulus glances over his shoulder, watching her storm off. He carries on, going against his pride and crosses over to the right side of the corridor.

Frances strides into the library, a wave of relief washing over when she spots the nicer of the brother's sitting on the couch. Walking up to him, she notices he isn't reading a book, but drawing. "Hello Sirius," she greets, leaning over the back of the couch. "What're you drawing?"

Sirius snaps his sketch book shut. "None of your nosy business," he answers.

"Where's your lover boy?" She walks around to sit beside him.

As if on cue, Remus walks out from one of the aisles holding three books in one hand. He offers a friendly smile to Frances, leaning down to kiss Sirius on the forehead. "Hey," his voice is quiet, and Sirius keeps from showing any emotion. "I've got to get going, but I'll see you back in the dorm?"

"Sure." Sirius leans into his hug.

"Sorry to run off Frances." She shrugs, unbothered. "Love you babe."

"I love you too..." When he's out of sight, Frances raises a curious eyebrow. Sirius reads her expression and regrettably asks, "Got something on your mind?"

"No." Sirius grunts and makes to stand up. "Wait - okay I do." He sits back down, stretching his arm over the back of the couch comfortably. "Are you okay? You seem a bit...on edge recently."

"I'm fine." Frances crosses her arms defiantly, clearly not buying it. "You just worry about yourself and I'll worry about myself. Alright?"

"Sirius I know I can be annoying and you have that whole 'I'm a cool loner' thing going on, but you can talk to me if you need to. I'm a great listener. I'm your friend, and I don't want to see you sad."

Sirius shakes his head. "I'm not sad."

"Well you're not happy. Is it about Remus?" She sits criss cross on the couch. "I've never actually had a boyfriend, but I can pretend I do if you want to talk about it."

"Frances, I really just don't want to talk about it. Not that there's anything to talk about."

Frances reaches for his sketch book and flips it open before he can protest. "Is that why your drawings are all depressing and colorless? What's going on, you're not calling me Francesca or making fun of me."

"If I want to talk to you, I'll come find you. For now, just go on with your friends. I reckon you have much better things to do than sit with me." He gets to his feet, tucking the sketch book under his arm. "See you, Francesca."

She swats away his hand before he can ruffle up her hair, resting her chin on the pillow. Sirius wanders out of the library with a swagger that displays a confidence, though everything about him reads otherwise. "Sure I'll go hangout with my friends," Frances grumbles to herself as she brushes her skirt flat. "If I had any..."