They called it safe.

Lily’s grandparents’ farm — overgrown fence lines, boarded windows, a chicken coop turned weapons shed. It’s the best shot they’ve got.

Sirius and the Gryffindors took the house. Regulus and the rest of the Slytherin Skittles took the barn loft. And somehow, she — the sunny Hufflepuff who never stopped talking — ended up caught between them.

And somehow, every time a task rolls around — night patrol, perimeter checks, water runs — it’s always you and Regulus.

Sirius and Regulus barely talk. Their truce is silent, tense, and only exists because Sirius refused to leave his brother to die when the cities fell.

But you? You talk.

You talk enough for both of you.

You’ve babbled your way through every shift for three weeks: about how Sirius still burns beans even on a gas stove, how Marlene swears she saw a raccoon on the roof, how you had a weird dream about zombie ducks in Lily’s pond. Regulus never says anything. Just listens with that unreadable, blank stare.

Until tonight.

Tonight, you’re both crouched behind the collapsed greenhouse, checking the outer fence. Fog thick, lantern swinging low. Same route. Same time. But you’re quiet.

You haven’t said a single word.

He notices after seven minutes.

It bothers him after ten.

And by fifteen, he’s stopped walking.

Then, finally, a quiet, almost offhand, “No story about Barty lighting the attic on fire?”

You glance over. He’s not looking at you. Typical.

“I figured you were tired of hearing me talk,” you say.

He just hums, noncommittal. Keeps walking.

You kick at a rock. “I mean… you never answer. Thought maybe I’d worn you out.”

He stops walking. Not abruptly — just enough to make you pause, too.

“I remember what you said yesterday,” he says, voice lower now. “About loyalty.”

You blink, caught off guard. He notices.

“I listen,” he adds. “Even when I don’t talk.”

The fog settles between you, soft and silver.

He looks away again, but you hear it — the shift in his voice. Warmer. Quieter. “You can talk. If you want.”

This time about loyalty, and post-apocalyptic friendship bracelets, and how Sirius keeps trying to teach Remus how to moonwalk even though the world’s ending.

You smile, small but real.

And then you do.

Just not right away.

You walk a little closer first.