Within the Wings of a Storm

Don't Leave Me Now

As warned, this chapter earns a "Mature" rating. Make sure you like that kind of stuff before continuing!

Chapter title is from "Rhiannon" by Fleetwood Mac
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Over a week had flown past since Rhiannon's arrival to London. Grimmauld Place had been a whirlwind of activity, with Order members coming and going, and Molly and Arthur working diligently on their remodeling of the house, with their children visiting periodically. Her head was chocked full of names and backstories, little facts like Ginny's crush on Harry Potter, for which her family teased her mercilessly, to big facts like Remus's monthly transformation into a werewolf, which required isolation and the brewing of the incredibly complex Wolfsbane potion by Severus Snape.

"Will Professor Snape be returning here to administer the potion?" she asked Remus, her interest less thinly veiled than she liked. The quiet, perceptive professor caught on to her question immediately, and she remembered his comment days earlier as to her flirtatiousness. She could feel a slight air of judgment wafting in her direction.

Remus paused and glanced at Sirius, who was busy fiddling with an old music box Molly had found and hadn't seemed to hear. "That is usually the plan when school is not in session, yes. But perhaps this time I should go to Snape instead?" Remus was still looking at Sirius for a reaction, but Sirius was oblivious.

"This thing has some sort of enchantment, if I can just get the damn thing to open," he mused, turning it every which way and flicking his wand unsuccessfully.

"It's ok, Sirius, I don't have to see it," Rhiannon assured him, affectionately rubbing his leg. She had noticed that each time they all gathered at the long dining table, his chair inched closer to hers. It probably looked rather silly to the others, with all that space at the table and the two of them essentially sharing a seat. They all reacted to the pair with a mix of knowing smiles and snickers that were slowly giving way to sly jokes, especially on the part of Fred and George Weasley.

"You know, Mum, Hermione is going to be here in a couple weeks," George piped up. "When is Rhiannon going to move in with Sirius so Hermione can have a place to sleep?"

Ron snorted so hard that pumpkin juice came flying across the table.

"Oh, never mind, 'Mione can just sleep in Ron's room," Fred quipped with a grin.

Sirius finally put down the music box. "Very funny, you two. Why don't you get your minds out of the gutter and do something useful. Buckbeak needs his dinner. Rhiannon, some fresh air?" He stood and offered his arm, which she accepted with a quick nod to the others.

The two of them made their way to the garden, which had become their spot to find refuge when the crowds inside became too much. It was a lively group— a happy, loving family all united around a common purpose with a great collection of sharp minds and hilarious wit. Rhiannon loved being a part of it. But she also loved her moments alone with Sirius. He was full of stories of his Hogwarts days with his best friends and their wild adventures. He became so animated when he told them, it was like his heart and mind were still there, trapped in a time capsule of youth and freedom before their world became so dark.

She in turn told him of her time at Ilvermorny, surprised how little the British wizarding world knew of the school across the pond. She told him of the trips the fifth year students took to explore the origins of their respective houses. Being a Thunderbird, hers was to the desert southwest, where she explored the Grand Canyon, rafted down a river, rode horses, and learned about the magical traditions that were born there in the painted desert lands. She and Sirius bonded almost instantly with their shared love for adventure and exploration.

"Where shall we go when all this is said and done?" he asked her, passing by the stone bench where they normally sat and opting for a patch of well-manicured grass instead. Sirius pulled her to his side and wrapped his left arm around her, entwining his fingers with hers. The sky was still tinged with magnificent shades of orange, purple, and pink, and a hushed blue twilight had fallen over the garden. The scent of rosemary and sage filled the summer air, and the crickets had already begun to usher in the night with their song. Rhiannon felt a bit silly letting her senses overcome her this, like she was in a Muggle romance novel. (Yes, the term Muggle was starting to replace No-Maj in her mind, as this new reality was suddenly becoming her own.)