𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 [𝐣.𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫]

35: 𝔣𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔣𝔦𝔣𝔱𝔥 𝔶𝔢𝔞𝔯

"You don't need to sit on the floor," she argues, frowning. "Sit up here. There's room, isn't there, Black?"

Sirius grins. "I dunno about that, Alarie. Seems quite stuffed as it is. Maybe Jamesie needs to stay down."

Brigitte smacks his arm, shaking her head. "James, sit here in the middle."

She doesn't notice Peter wiggling his eyebrows at Remus, who lets out a laugh.

"Wow," Sirius drawls, clutching his chest in mock offense. "I didn't know you needed a buffer to sit between us, Alarie. I am terribly offended. Truly-"

"Oh, shut up," she grumbles. Sirius only grins wider.

Brigitte was rather short with Sirius the first few days after he rejoined the Marauders. Even after he apologized for the harm he caused her, Brigitte found herself keeping a wide berth out of loyalty for Remus. However, she soon realized that if Remus was okay with Sirius, if he was willing to welcome him back, then so was she.

Now, they bickered simply because it was their preferred method of communication.

Neither would dare admit it, but in the dwindling hours before they had to return home, it was freeing to act immaturely and behave like children. Every time Brigitte thought about her parents, and the summer they'd spend, her stomach churned. But it didn't make sense to her. They were good parents to her. 

All fathers wanted their daughters to succeed, did they not? Her father just believed in unorthodox methods to achieve the means.

No matter how badly she tried to convince herself to be excited, Brigitte felt nauseous at the thought of home.

Brigitte listened to the Marauders overlapped discussions. She didn't feel a need to contribute, but occasionally James would turn and ask her, What do you think, Brigitte?

It was nice knowing that he thought of her. And yet, even when she listened to them talking without her, she didn't feel excluded in any sense. She was simply grateful to share this space with four brilliant boys, knowing that she would always be welcomed when she chose to contribute. Peter would grin at her, Remus would roar with laughter at her dry remarks, Sirius would make fun of her and they'd bicker endlessly, and James would smile, the way he always did, and look at her.

This was a different feeling, she thought. To be able to close her eyes and drift away to the sound of the Marauders conversing arbitrarily, and feel calm.

********

"Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Brigitte snapped awake with a start, her heart pounding wildly. She heard the sound of rustling, then the familiar jingle of galleons exchanging hands. She quickly became aware of the fact that her head was resting snuggly on a firm surface. 

A traveling cloak had been fastened backwards, so that it covered her front, the hood sagging awkwardly against her neck. It smelled faintly of earth and the Quidditch Pitch, as if it had been haphazardly thrown to the grown many times during practice.

Dread filled her stomach when something shifted from beneath her head. A jolt of electricity shot down her spine at the familiar smell of peaches. She immediately bolted upright, her head colliding with the open compartment door with a loud BANG!

"Oi!" James cried, instantly turning to face her. A mixture of concern and utter perplexity clouded his features. "Merlin's balls, Alarie. Are you trying to give yourself a concussion?"

Brigitte cursed, gingerly touching her temple. And then she looked down, remembering the backwards cloak. Her accent is sharp, noticeable and uninhibited by her tired mind. "What the fuck am I wearing?"