The summer sun was bright, even through the trees shading them. Birds sang softly above. Leaves shifted in the wind. Water lapped against the old stone wall.

But the stillness wasn’t peace—it was the quiet after a slammed door, sharp words, and too much emotion stuffed into too small a space.

The fight had been brief. Tense. You’d announced plans to go into town. Pub with friends. Just a few hours.

Regulus had said no before you even finished the sentence. James backed him, more gently, but just as firm.

They knew those friends. Not by name, but by instinct. The way you changed when you talked about them. The sudden carefulness in your tone.

They’d seen it before.

You hadn’t taken it well. Said they didn’t trust you. That you weren’t a child anymore. And then you were gone—upstairs, door shut hard enough to shake the frames. That had been an hour ago.

“Still hasn’t shown up,” Regulus said, stretched out on the lounger, sunglasses on.

James sat cross-legged on the grass, absentmindedly flicking through his deck of cards. “They will.”

“They’re going to be mad the rest of the week,” Regulus added.

James nudged his foot lightly. “Wonder where they learned that.”

The crash of the back door stopped any retort. Heavy footsteps on stone. No hesitation. You’d decided something.

Regulus didn’t move, just tilted his head as you came into view. “{{user}},” he said evenly, voice unreadable behind his glasses.

James gave you a small smile, patient. Not placating—just there.