A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 60: A Bit of Warmth in the Cold

Remus immediately choked as he winced his mouth and turned a very specific shade of red that ran up his neck and into the tips of his ears.

James blinked. "You alright there, Moony?"

"Yeah," Remus said too quickly. "Just... wrong pipe."

"I'm just saying," James continued, pointing between them, "it's not that deep. People sleep. In beds. Together. It doesn't mean anything."

Sirius's mouth twitched. "You think Ana's the same as me?"

"No," James said quickly, too quickly.

"Oh?"

"I mean, obviously not. That's not the point."

"What is the point?"

"The point," James said, "is that we've all slept in each other's beds at some point and it's never been a federal offence, so maybe everyone can get off my back."

There was a pause.

Then Sirius sat back on the windowsill with a slow, lazy smile. "Sure, mate."

James narrowed his eyes. "Don't 'sure, mate' me."

Sirius's smirk spread like wildfire. "Oh, Prongs. You look like a ghost. You alright? I'd think someone who finally slept with Anastasia would look a bit happier."

James shot him a lethal glare. "Oi. We didn't sleep together."

Sirius waved a hand. "Semantics."

"Nothing happened."

"Right."

"I mean it."

"Sure."

He closed his eyes. Tried not to think about this morning—the stiff goodbyes, the weird hovering, the way he'd just stood there like some awkward half-boyfriend waiting for... what, a kiss? An invitation? A slap?

It hadn't been the first time they'd woken up in the same bed. Far from it. But this one felt different. Maybe because it had been hers. Maybe because he'd said too much. Maybe because everything between them felt like it had quietly shifted, and now neither of them could figure out where the new lines were.

He couldn't stop thinking about the way she'd said, "I should get ready for class."

He'd nodded. Said something brilliant like, "Yeah, right. Me too then."

Then hovered.

James groaned again, dragging his pillow over his face. "This is a waking nightmare."

Sirius threw a balled-up sock at him. "So, what's with the mood, then? What'd you do?"

James let the pillow slide down to his chest. His eyes flicked up toward the ceiling.

"I've passed the point of no return."

He rolled over onto his back with a groan, arms thrown over his eyes. He could feel their stares boring into him.

He used to tell them everything.

Used to spit every story out the second he got back to the dorms. Used to let Sirius pick them apart, let Remus offer commentary in between sighs of moral disappointment.

But with Anastasia, it was different.

He didn't talk about it.

Didn't say her name if he didn't have to. Didn't explain where he went, or what happened, or why he always came back with that look in his eyes like he'd been holding his breath. It wasn't even about protecting her, not really. It was about protecting... this. Whatever this was.