𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗|| James Potter

18.

He looks over her shoulder. "We'll be downstairs if you need anything." Neither of them accept Sirius to reply yet naively believe he might. He doesn't.

Rhea walks out the room first with James not far behind her. She turns to him just as he shuts the door. Raising a questioning brow at him wordlessly asking what they are meant to do now.

He doesn't say anything, only leading her down the stairs and into what Rhea assumes is the kitchen. She can hear her uncle Alphard and James' mum's voice as they grow closer to the room.

All eyes snap towards the two teenagers when they stand at the entrance of the room. Alphard sits at the kitchen table with his hands clasped together with a mug of tea in front of him that looks untouched. James' mum sits opposite him while his father leans against the kitchen counter with a cup in his hand.

"How is he?" Rheas uncle asks, bringing one of his hands up to rub across his chin.

Rhea looks down at her feet and shuffles slightly but answers her uncle. It won't do well to leave him in the dark but she also isn't sure what he can do to help. "He only asked about Regulus. Then turned away and told us to leave."

"Poor boy." James' mum, Euphemia, mutters while shaking her head.

Rhea agrees with her. Sirius may hate their family– not that she blames him, she would as well– but it's still all he has ever known. And while Sirius knew it was ultimately leading here, he'd never prepared for it.

The Black family robbed Sirius of a lot: a happy childhood, freedom in his choices and love. But now Rhea knows Sirius is afraid of them robbing his little brother from him as well.

He'd seen them rob Andromeda of her sister's, even if Rhea has started talking to her again. Yet Andy hasn't spoken to Narcissa and Bellatrix without threats since before she left. And the three of them were once thick as thieves.

"Why don't you two sit down?" James' father inclines his head over to the other seats at the table. He turns his back to them and flicks on the kettle. "I'll make you both tea. Rhea, how do you take yours?"

Her uncle Alphard pulls out the seat beside him and pats it telling Rhea to sit down. Rhea tries to smile at James' father but it comes out more like a grimace. "A splash of milk and one sugar please. Thank you, Mr Potter."

A weak chuckle escapes the man, "Call me Fleamont please."

Rhea only nods and sits beside Alphard. She thinks James might sit beside his mother but he surprises her when he pulls out the chair on the other side of Rhea.

Euphemia clears her throat and smiles politely at Rhea. The younger girl shifts awkwardly in her seat as the older witch assesses her before her eyes flicker over to her son and she nods at him, bringing her tea to her mouth.

What was that about?

The only sound in the kitchen is the kettle boiling and James' fingers tapping the wood under the table. Rhea doesn't know what possesses her to do it, because she wouldn't have if she was thinking straight, but she reaches under and puts her hand on top of his.

Their fingers lightly interlock and James brings them to his lap and rubs his thumb over the back of her hand. Two cups are placed in front of them yet neither of them make a move to pull their hand away from each other.

Both drinking their tea with their hands still joined together.

☾☾☾

For the next few days Rhea stays with her uncle Alphard. A routine starts, every morning after breakfast she floos to the Potters in hopes Sirius will at least speak. He won't.