"I don't think he could," Allie said. "It was his abusive uncle he killed, I don't think he could muster up the remorse for it. He's so bloodthirsty!" Her tone was bursting with pride.
"If the kid doesn't mind, then I don't see what the big deal is," Regulus said.
"Harry shouldn't have had to," Sirius argued. "He should have been able to be a normal child! Not a necromancer, not had his life constantly endangered by Voldemort -"
"That's not my fault!" Alabasandria said.
Sirius drooped.
She continued. "I have done everything in my power to keep him safe, damn it. You don't have to agree with my methods but do not dare presume that I put him through anything for the hell of it. Harry was young, yes. Far younger than any of my other apprentices, but I tried. I tried and I had no fucking clue what I was doing and so maybe I fucked up, but that's not your place to judge me!"
"Sirius, do you think you're projecting your anxiety about Harry's safety unfairly?" Regulus asked.
"When did you get so wise?" Sirius sighed.
"Death brings great wisdom, there is so much time to ponder one's life choices. If it's wisdom you need, then the solution is simple. Plus, there's no room for marital issues when you're dead."
"Hell and Hades, he's going to keep doing that as long as you keep the spell going, you idiot. You brought him forth with too much emotion, he won't leave and won't stop trying to drag you down with him unless you can break the connection."
"I didn't think it would be this bad," Sirius said with chagrin. "None of the ones you bring back try this shit."
"That's because I'm a better necromancer than you. If Harry had been raised by you and he tried to summon his parents, I doubt he would have lasted a minute before hunting down a length of rope."
"Harry needs feelings sometimes."
"Oh, sure. I've been very cooperative with letting you turn him into an upstanding citizen, haven't I? I thought we were doing a perfectly good job at co-parenting before you got all uppity on us."
Sirius savored the last of the chocolate. "I'll apologize if you do."
"Fine."
Neither caved for another agonizing moment.
"I'm sorry," Sirius mumbled.
"I'm sorry," Alabasandria repeated just as quietly.
Regulus clapped. "Now, I want you both to say one nice thing about the other person. Something really genuine, alright? No half-assing!"
"It's your turn to go first," Sirius said with petulance.
"I am not humoring the whims of a ghost."
"Your emotional intelligence is in the single digits, ma'am." Regulus huffed. "Grow up and talk about your feelings for Merlin's sake! If not to repair your relationship with Sirius, then the two of you at least need to consider your son!"
She frowned and bit her lip in thought.
For Harry's sake - she sacrificed a lot for Harry's sake. One more thing wouldn't kill her.
Raising a child was hard. She'd been so out of her depth at first. Having Sirius had been helpful. He provided her and Harry with a necessary perspective - a human, empathetic voice of reason. Without fail, he could pull Harry from his most desolate, broody moods. He was a connection to Harry's past, a familial relation that he'd craved.
She had long accepted that Sirius was necessary - and later, beneficial - to keep around for Harry's sake. But somehow, somehow, he'd wormed his annoying ass into her life as well.
She could talk to people when she had to, but it was always with a purpose. With the Lovegoods it had been to learn child-rearing tips and because Harry was Luna's friend. With the Weasleys, it had been because of Harry's friendship again. Actually, every person she spoke to regularly was a result of Harry's meddling.
But somehow, she and Sirius had developed something beyond an 'I have to be nice to you so things aren't awkward between the children' relationship. She hadn't even noticed until he'd left, but they spoke about things besides Harry. She realized she had missed the long rants and dramatic readings from the score of middle-aged desperate witches sending him lengthy love letters in their bid to be the next Lady Black. Lectures about magical theory and a whirlwind of questions and critiques and their passionate back-and-forth because he was profoundly stupid in many ways but sharp-witted and brilliant in other ways.
She missed their debates from before their words chipped at fragile egos and burst like ash in their lungs. When they were arguing about who had eaten the last of the biscuits and needed to replace them.
Years and years and years of serene solitude crumbled under his presence, too many years to count or perhaps a part of her had refused to - because what was the point of counting years if you had no one to share them with? Sirius had plopped his ass on her couch and never left. Lighthearted and accepting of their oddities, their family and even their necromancy. Up until now. But she couldn't fault him for that. Not truly. He was worried about Harry. What more could she ask for?
"If you want a father, you'll have to find one yourself," she'd said to Harry long ago. As a joke, dammit, but she was not very good at denying her boy.
And Sirius was not doing a bad job. Hell, sometimes he did better than she ever had.