"Don't tell Dora about this."
"She's going to find out eventually," Sirius mumbled through a yawn. "One day we'll
have everything. Mia will be right back there on your right where she belongs, my head in
her lap where it belongs. And you can have my cousin there on your left, if you like."
"I really think we should stop the bed-sharing at thirty-five."
"Fifty," Sirius argued.
Remus let out a self-deprecating chuckle, rubbing his tired eyes with his free hand.
"This is weird, Pads."
"Fine," Sirius conceded. "We'll stop at forty-five. Not like it matters. You're still old
enough to be Tonks's father."
"Go to sleep, you hypocrite."
January 11th, 1996"No." Sirius put his foot down, shaking his head as he looked at the letter in his
hands, signed by Dumbledore. He waved his wand over it, verifying the signature and
scowling when it came back clean. "The old man's gone mental. I don't care what he says.
I know what it feels like to be taught Occlumency. The person who taught me loved me
more than anything, and it still hurt like hell."
He narrowed his eyes up at Snape, who stood with his arms folded across his chest,
his hands buried in his robes, returning Sirius's disdain with equal measure.
"As it stands, Black," Snape drawled. "It is not up to you. The headmaster has
requested—no, demanded—that the boy be taught, and I have been given the assignment to
complete the task."
"Sirius, Dumbledore says that Severus is the best for the job," Remus whispered.
Tonks stood next to Sirius, hand on his shoulder. Remus took the letter, reading it himself.
"Harry needs to do this."
"Why him?" Sirius asked.
"Because the headmaster wants it done correctly," Snape sneered.