A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 61: Breaking and Entering

James's face turned the colour of a dying sunset. "That's not—she— I don't initiate it, alright?"

"Oh, sure."

"No, really! We barely talk."

Sirius looked positively gleeful now.

James fumbled. "I swear. It's just—she can't sleep. I sit on the chair sometimes. Well, I used to. But then she told me I was making her nervous sitting upright like a bloody therapist, so now I just sort of—exist on the other side of the bed."

"Well, she's not talking to me at all. It's been a week. I've tried everything short of tap-dancing in front of the Slytherin table."

"Maybe take that one off the list," James muttered.

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "You told me to talk to her."

James winced. "Yeah, like, in theory. Not by staging a break-in."

"You're being dramatic."

"I'm being cautious." James leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck. "We barely even talk. It's like—like we're pretending none of it happened. Like everything's normal. We sit there and she reads and I pretend to do homework and then eventually we just... go to bed."

Sirius blinked. "That is so much worse than anything I thought you were going to say."

"I don't know what to do!" James whispered loudly, looking like he might throw himself into the fire. "I just think of all the ways I can make it not weird, like cracking dumb jokes or asking her if she wants a midnight snack, and she just hums or nods or doesn't answer at all, and then she lets me stay anyway. And we just sleep. And nothing happens. And I—" he dragged a hand down his face, groaning—"I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

Sirius snorted. "Because I'm the only person who gets it."

James slumped in his chair, defeated.

Sirius tapped the edge of the table. "Alright, then. Since you're such an expert in covert room infiltration—how about one more mission?"

James stared at him like he'd grown another head. "You want me to sneak you into Anastasia Gaunt's room? When she's actively ignoring you?"

Sirius shrugged. "You snuck yourself in."

"That's not the same thing!"

"You've already got the logistics down." Sirius looked at him steadily. "And even if she's mad. Even if it's awkward. You're still allowed in."

"Mate. I can't."

Sirius leaned forward, voice softer now. "You can. You will. Again, you're the one who said I should talk to her. And I've tried. She won't even look at me. This is the only way."

James exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You don't think this is crossing a line?"

"James. I'm not planning to hide under her bed and pop out when she takes her shoes off. I just want to be in the room. Long enough to get a word in before she throws a hex at me."

James stared at the table for a long moment.

"She's going to kill both of us."

"Probably," Sirius said. "But she might also need this. I know I do."

There was something about the way he said it—quiet, honest, almost desperate—that made James stop protesting.

He let out a long sigh, raking a hand through his hair. "You owe me for this."

Sirius grinned. "I'll name my firstborn after you."

James glared. "Make sure they know you're a liar."