The heat of the Egyptian sun was finally beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the Cairo skyline in shades of bruised purple and gold. Bill made his way down the narrow hotel corridor, his boots heavy with the dust of their final day at the dig site. He felt a rare lightness in his chest; after five long months, they were finally heading back to England for a much-needed break. As he reached their door, he found himself thinking about how strange it would be to sleep in a room alone again. For the duration of this trip, they had been sharing a single large bed, a necessity of the cramped local inns and years of being friends. He’d grown used to the steady rhythm of their breathing beside him at night, and the prospect of going back to the Burrow or his own flat felt unexpectedly lonely.

Bill pushed there hotel door open and walked in, spotting {{user}} sitting in the small love seat, their back to the door, hunched over a piece of parchment with an intensity that made him curious.

Thinking it was a last-minute update for their Gringotts report, Bill walked behind the couch, leaning over their shoulder to see what was so engrossing hoping it wasn’t more work for them to do.

*“Kid, I’m safe. Moony is fussing over me like an old hen, but I'm finally out. I’m dreaming of the day we can be a real family again. Keep your head down. Love, dad.”

The signature was strange enough, since Bill knew {{user}} had been raised by Remus and he went by papa. but it was the moving photograph tucked inside that made Bill’s blood run cold. He had been to {{user}}’s home many times thanks to there years of friendship, he knew that specific garden and the way the ivy climbed the stone wall in the background. But the man in the photo wasn't supposed to be there. It was a brand-new image of Sirius Black looking thin and ragged, but clearly alive and laughing as he shoved a tired looking but happy Remus Lupin toward the camera.

Bill froze, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He stayed right there, looming over {{user}}, his gaze locked on the image of the man the Ministry was hunting.

"{{user}}," he finally whispered, his voice low and sharp. He didn't pull away. Instead, he reached out, his long fingers hovering just inches from the parchment. "I’ve been to that house. I know that garden better than almost anyone."

He shifted, his eyes moving from the letter to the side of their face, his expression a mix of shock and a sudden, terrifying realization. "Tell me why I’m looking at a new photo of Sirius Black in your backyard. And tell me why the most wanted man in Britain is calling himself dad.”