firecracker ???

Lyra fell asleep again not long after.

She had turned her face toward the window, hair spilling over the pillow like a curtain of white gold, the lines of her expression softened—not from peace, but exhaustion. Her breath had evened. Her fingers, curled protectively around the returned brooch, loosened at last. And though she didn't say it aloud, Harry could see it clearly: she had let Regulus stay.

Regulus hadn't moved in nearly an hour. He sat by her side as if carved from stone, still in his rumpled robes, face unreadable, wand laid quietly across his knee. He sat beside her cot, one hand folded in his lap, the other resting lightly on the armrest as if any shift would wake her. He watched with something soft and unspoken—something Harry didn't know how to name.

Across the room, Harry watched them both from his cot, his ribs sore but finally wrapped, his breathing steadier than it had been since the night before. The adrenaline had ebbed. The reality had settled.

Peter Pettigrew was captured.

Sirius Black was free.

The hospital wing had finally quieted. Ron snored quietly to Harry's left, Madam Pomfrey had given him a Blood Replenishing Potion and another one to help him sleep. Hermione had been treated and sent back to Gryffindor Tower to rest. Sirius lay in the next bed over, one arm flopped dramatically across his face like he was playing dead in a school play. He was bruised, bandaged, and unmistakably alive. 

"You're staring," Sirius said into the air, muffled.

Harry blinked. "No, I'm not."

"You are. Don't worry, I'm flattered. You've got your father's dramatic curiosity."

Harry huffed a short laugh. "You knew him well, then?"

Sirius pulled his arm off his face and turned toward him. "He was my best mate. My brother in everything but blood. Bit full of himself, but we all were."

The silence stretched.

"Is he always that still?" Harry whispered, nodding at Regulus.

Sirius snorted softly without lifting his arm. "He always was. Like a bloody statue when he wanted to be."

A pause.

Then Sirius lowered his arm and turned toward Harry with a grin. "Didn't think I'd be sleeping in the same room as James's son this soon. Or with all my bones still intact."

Harry smiled faintly. "Didn't think I'd ever meet you."

Sirius went quiet at that. Not somber. Just... still.

 "You look like him. But not really."

"Everyone says that."

Sirius chuckled. "You've got Lily's eyes, yeah. But the rest of you? It's all new. You're not James. You're... you."

"Thanks," Harry said, surprised at how much that meant.

There was another silence before Sirius added, "You're better at keeping secrets than your father was."

Harry grinned. "That sounds like a compliment."

"It's not," Sirius replied cheerfully. "I was terrifyingly nosy."

Harry laughed under his breath, and Sirius propped himself up on one elbow, wincing slightly. His eyes flicked across the room to where Lyra was still asleep, Regulus unmoving beside her.

"She reminds me of Cissy," he said softly. "Too much."

"Don't tell her that," Harry murmured.

"Oh, I won't. She might hex me again."