𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦.

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𝗦𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗱𝗮𝘆, 𝗔𝘂𝗴𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝟮𝟴𝘁𝗵, 𝟭𝟵𝟳𝟲
𝗣𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗠𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗿, 𝗪𝗶𝗹𝘁𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗲

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐏𝐒 cradling her perfectly white quill, the sixteen-year-old Valerie Potter was staring down at the textbook that loomed on the desk in the room she had grown up in, lit warmly by the old lamp her mother had refurbished for her three years ago. She inhaled before muttering under her breath in an attempt to retain her studies. A tap at the window caught her mid-sentence and she looked over to the roosting branch in the corner of her room. Her tawny owl, Nyx, turned its head to face her, blinking its black eyes.

"That wasn't you?" Val asked, already knowing the answer. She glanced over to the window while docking her quill into its rest next to her ink bottle.

Tap.

She frowned, rising from her seat and reaching for her dogwood wand, the touch warm against her palm. Her free hand wrapped around the brass handle against the window frame and pulled down, pushing the pane open as another small stone went flying into the recess of her bedroom. She glared down at the culprit who was standing in her garden in the middle of the night. "Sirius!" she scolded in a whisper. "What are you doing?"

"Let me in," the dark-haired boy pleaded, his face hardly even illuminated by the nearby streetlamp.

"Use the door," Valerie hissed, leaning further out of the window.

Her friend stepped closer to the house. "I don't want to wake your parents."

Val finally noticed the duffel bag in his hand, and she bit her bottom lip. She pushed the window open further and he threw his bag up to her, which she tossed onto her floor as silently as she could. He scaled the vine-tangled trellis that climbed the external wall of the house, and Val stepped aside, letting him crawl in and stumble over the pile of books that were stacked beneath her windowsill. She grimaced; her hands extended to catch any loosened books about to come crashing down. Sirius did the same, bending down with his hands pressed against the unstable tower. They each exhaled, slowly pulling away without a sound.

He quietly closed the window behind him before Val finally pointed to his bag. "What's going on?"

"I ran away, what's it look like, genius?" he joked, as if it wasn't a shocking change that had flipped his world upside down. "Is your brother awake?"

Val shook her head slowly. "I don't think so."

"Can you go wake him?"

She rolled her eyes, sighing. "Fine," she conceded, opening her door. "Don't go through my stuff." She padded quietly down the hall to slowly turn the doorknob to James's bedroom. She peeked her head in and upon seeing his sleeping figure, sighed a breath of relief. Creeping in, she pressed her hand against his shoulder and shook him slightly. "James."

"Mm," he stirred.

"Wake up," she ordered. "Sirius is here."

"I don't want any pancakes."

Valerie shook him again, harder this time. "Wake up, you pillock! Sirius is here."

Her brother finally opened his eyes before rubbing at them. "What are you talking about?" he grumbled.

"Sirius? You know, your best friend, just climbed through my window with all of his clothes in a bag." She sat down on the edge of the bed and lowered her voice. "He's run away from home."

Staring at her for a moment, James finally sat up. "I'm gonna get mum and dad."

"He said he didn't want to wake them."

"I'm going," he repeated, firmly, "to get mum and dad." He slid from his bed and Valerie followed him out, but rather than turning further down the hall towards their parents' bedroom, she headed back to her own room, where Sirius was now peering over the notes she was taking earlier.

"You're studying?" he asked without lifting his gaze. "Before the term's even started? You're such a Ravenclaw." Valerie rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest before he finally turned to look at her. "Did you wake your brother?"

"Yep." She didn't dare bring up the bruise that she had now noticed was forming on the side of his left cheekbone.

"Where is he?"

She pressed her lips together before she heard footsteps in the hall. "I'm sorry," she blurted before James and their parents appeared in the doorway, and Euphemia rushed in to cradle Sirius's face in her hands.

"Oh, my sweet boy," she coddled, turning his head from side to side to examine the damage, "what have they done to you?"

"It's nothing, Mrs P. I've had worse." Sirius tried to brush it off, but Euphemia tutted, her warm eyes filled with the maternal love that Sirius never got from anyone else, especially not his own mother.

"That's not nothing, son," Fleamont frowned. "No one should lay a hand on you, especially not family. Why, if I ever see..."

"Dad," Valerie quickly cut her father off before he began on a tangent, "let's go look for a salve... in your stash..."

Fleamont looked at his daughter before nodding. "Yes, quite right, my dear." He turned on his heel and left the room, his characteristically quiet footsteps retreating down the stairs towards his study and laboratory.

Valerie slowly managed to pry her mother away from fretting over Sirius by convincing her that what they all needed was a nice pot of tea, and being unable to deny the mundane magic of her brews, Euphemia obeyed, following her daughter down to the kitchen, leaving James and Sirius alone.

James sat at the foot of his sister's bed while Sirius remained standing, his fingers absentmindedly and anxiously toying with the edges of the parchment on the desk. "What happened?" James finally asked.

Sirius shrugged. "Nothin'."

"Bullshit." James pointed to his friend's cheek. "Which one of them did that?"

The room was silent as Sirius fought within himself. "My mother," he finally muttered. "I told her I despised being a Black. I... I said I wished that neither her nor Father had been born." He glanced out the window, still unable to make eye contact with his best friend. "She told me that if that were the case, then I wouldn't exist either, and I said 'good, I'd rather be dead than be'..." he paused again, the words like poison in his mouth that he didn't dare repeat entirely, "'like them'."

"That's when she hit you?"

Sirius nodded.

James took in a deep breath. "Padfoot," he started, "you don't have a say in how you came into this world. You don't get to control that, it's in the past. What you do have a say in, however, is what you do with your life. You're smart, stupid funny, and you're a good friend. I don't care of your heritage, you're a good person, Sirius, you've just had some bad things happen to you."

"Don't go mushy on me, Prongs."

James grinned. "I wouldn't give you the satisfaction." He stood up and cocked his head towards the door. "Come on, mum's probably got that tea made."

Standing on her tiptoes, Valerie had her head engulfed by her mother's tea cupboard by the time the boys descended the stairs and entered the kitchen. She reached in, retrieving the small glass vial of mint from the back corner. Its label was worn and wrinkled, but the leaves inside were still perfectly preserved. She decanted the cork and held the bottle to her nose, inhaling and smiling. "That's the one," she murmured, taking a delicate leaf and crushing it between her fingers before tossing it into the teapot brewing on the kitchen stove. "And..." she began again, unaware of the two males who were now watching her with intrigue, "hm... ah! Wormwood." She grabbed another vial from the cupboard before turning, noticing the boys, and jolting back in surprise. "Merlin's robes! Since when could you two galumphing oafs sneak up on me?"

"It takes some serious skills to stalk you, Val," James explained, grinning.

"Skills we've taken years to hone," Sirius added, walking over. "What are you brewing this time?"

"A comfort tea," Val retorted, measuring a small amount of crushed wormwood and stirring it into her teapot. "Any excuse to get you two to shut up and go to sleep."

"Wormwood?" James asked, tilting his head to see the label better.

"Mhm," Val nodded, her attention still on her potion as her hand slowly stirred the long-handled wooden spoon.

Her brother smirked. "You know, wormwood is really good for getting rid of fleas."

Sirius pressed his lips together to avoid the laugh that threatened to escape while Val frowned, looking over her shoulder at her brother. "Who has fleas?"

"Sirius does."

Sirius gasped, feigning surprise. "I most certainly do not have fleas. I take weekly baths, thank you very much."

Val scrunched her nose tighter. "Ew!" She poured her tea into a flowery white teacup before handing it to Sirius. "Here, stinky boy."

"What did you do to it?" Sirius took the cup cautiously and gave it a sniff. It smelled sweet and soothing, and the mint relaxed his shoulders from their pent-up tension.

She narrowed her eyes. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Sirius took a slow sip, and then another. Val prepared another cupful before handing it to her brother.

"I thought mum was making the tea," James interjected, taking it from her.

"Mum's not the top of Slughorn's class."

"You'll use any excuse to rub that in, won't you?" he joked.

"Damn right," she replied. "I worked hard to get into the Slug Club, and I'm going to bring it up in every conversation if I have to."

"You know Slughorn only invited you because of dad, right?" James cocked a brow.

"Oh yeah?" Val matched his expression. "Why weren't you invited then?"

"Snooty Ravenclaw," Sirius muttered into his teacup.

"Better than a stinky Gryffindor," she retorted.

⊹

𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐏 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐙𝐄 crept its way in through the open windows of the Potters' sunroom early the next morning. Sunlight dappled the worn-down workbench that Fleamont had gifted his daughter for her fourteenth birthday, littering its peeling varnish and scattered spellbooks with golden rays. It was his originally, and still held the marks of his trials and accomplishments, but Mr Potter claimed that it was now more suited to his prodigy and her proficiency in potion production.

The soft clinks of her measuring spoons against the jars and pots holding her ingredients led Sirius Black directly to her after he had woken. He was still rubbing his eyes by the time he entered the makeshift laboratory, and yawned loudly, breaking her concentration.

Valerie peered over the tortoiseshell rim of her glasses and held in a laugh, nodding towards her brother's old blue striped pyjamas that Sirius now wore, ever so slightly too short at the sleeves and ankles. "Nice PJs," she remarked.

Sirius extended his arms, looking down at them. "Thanks."

She turned her attention to his cheek, still bruised. "Come here," she instructed, walking back over to her workbench and retrieving the emerald green canister that contained the rose scented, semi-opaque balm she had prepared late the previous night. She unscrewed the lid and scooped out a Knut sized morsel on her finger before carefully dabbing it to his reddened cheek, gingerly massaging it in with her thumb. The bloodied colours had indeed sullied his almost perfect complexion, but his skin somehow remained smooth under her touch.

He winced before exhaling. His eyes couldn't help but fall upon her concentrating expression as she delicately applied the soothing salve with her fingers. "Don't go pitying me, Val."

She scoffed. "Pity you? I wouldn't dream of it." She couldn't help but smirk and he smiled in return.

"Thank you," he murmured.

She smiled wider. "Anytime."

"How long is this gonna take to clear up?" he asked, referring to the bruise.

She wiped the remainder of the salve from her fingers on a dusty rag before handing him the canister. "A few days. It should be gone by the time we go back."

He tapped his fingers against the cold metal, making a quiet drumming sound. "And if it doesn't?"

"I'll lend you some makeup," she joked. "Get real, Sirius. Nobody's going to care, or notice. I know, hard to believe that'd happen to you."

He smiled again. "Thank you, Val."

"You said that already."

"Because I mean it."

She returned to her potion brew and he watched her in silence for a moment before she spoke again. "Sirius?"

"Mm?"

"Why did you come through my window last night?"

He shrugged. "I knew you'd be awake."

The cover of peace was broken by loud footsteps bounding down the stairs towards them. James appeared, his dark hair messily pushed back and already dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. "Are you coming?" he asked Sirius.

Sirius nodded. "Yep, one sec." He slipped past James and hurried up the stairs to get dressed himself.

"Where are you two off to?" Val questioned, toying with the loose herbs in the small dish by her hand.

A mischievous grin spread across her brother's face. "None of your business."

She frowned. "If you want me to keep quiet about it, you'll tell me where you're going."

"Just a walk," he lied. "Some guy time, you know?"

"No, I do not. I've never had the desire to have guy time in my life."

"Ha, ha," James joked before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Have fun studying."

"Have fun flunking!" Her words were lost as he had already disappeared back up the stairs to join Sirius, leaving Val to tend to her seedlings and potions. She glanced at the mess she had made before sighing and collecting her discarded ingredients.

Valerie grabbed the opened jar of mugwort and screwed the lid back on, lifting her gaze to the apple trees that banked along the edge of her mother's garden. She tilted her head and smiled contently at the young stag that seemed to have hung around for the entire summer. Putting the jar back into her cabinet, she frowned and took a second look out of the window.

The deer was now accompanied by a large black dog.