A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 60: A Bit of Warmth in the Cold

Chapter 60: A Bit of Warmth in the Cold

When James pushed through the door to the Gryffindor dormitory, it was still early enough that the sky outside was a foggy blur, all soft grey light and frost-slicked windows. The castle hadn't fully woken up yet—but unfortunately, his roommates had.

Sirius Black was already awake, sitting on the windowsill with a cup of coffee and the kind of expression that said: I have been rehearsing what I'm going to say to you for thirty straight minutes.

James stepped in like a ghost.

"Well, well, well," he drawled. "Look what the cat dragged in. I was about five minutes away from declaring you missing and launching a search party."

James didn't answer. He kept walking, expression blank, the Map tucked under one arm, the Cloak stuffed under the other like a shameful towel from a night swim gone wrong.

"The map and the cloak, too," Sirius added, voice a touch sharper. "Bold move. Not even a note?"

James walked past the foot of Sirius' bed without so much as a glance, eyes fixed on his bed like it was the only safe place left in the world.

"Used to be a predictable bloke," Sirius went on, leaning back on his elbows. "Comfortable. Routine. Like a very smug clock. Now look at you. I don't even recognise you anymore."

James didn't answer. Just collapsed face-first onto his bed with a muffled groan.

Sirius's eyes narrowed. "Where were you, then? Since you vanished last night without so much so as a warning?"

Remus, still brushing his teeth, muttered around the foam, "Why ask questions you already know the answers to?"

Sirius snapped his fingers. "Exactly! Thank you, Moons. But I want to hear it from the horse's mouth."

James made a noise into his pillow that could've been a curse or just a long-suffering wheeze.

"Oh, come on," Sirius pressed. "You're telling me nothing happened? You disappeared with both the Cloak and the Map, do you know the kind of crimes I could've committed last night?"

James raised his head slightly, face red from the pillow crease. "Just let me die in peace."

"You slept in her bed, didn't you?" Sirius asked, like he was delivering the news of a national scandal.

"We don't know that for sure," Remus said calmly, spitting into the sink. "Maybe she made him sleep on the floor."

"She didn't make me—" James started, then stopped, groaned again, and covered his face with his arm. "Oh, for Merlin's sake."

Sirius was delighted now. "No, no, don't stop there. Go on. Enlighten us."

James sat up slowly, raking both hands through his hair. He looked a bit like he'd been steamrolled by some invisible force. "It's not that weird," he muttered.

Sirius tilted his head. "You slept in Anastasia Gaunt's bed."

"I mean, I couldn't even wrap my head around her crashing in your bed," Sirius continued, tone bordering on manic glee, "but you, in hers? That defies all known magical logic."

"Friends sleep in the same bed all the time!"

Sirius raised a brow.

"We used to sleep in the same bed!"

"We were twelve, Prongs."

James turned desperately to Remus. "Remus sleeps in your bed all the time!"