Rowan wandered down the streets of London, a bounce in her step, on the last day of July. She felt happy and light as the sun sank below the townhomes she used to see every single day, the skirt of her short sundress flowing with every movement as she practically skipped down the roads.  

She had a date!  

A few days before, she and a few Muggle friends had gone to a coffee shop in the center of town, where she'd seen another old friend, who was two years older, and had been sent away to military school around the same time she'd gone to Hogwarts. They hadn't seen each other in so long, she didn't even recognize him at first.  

His name was Kyle.  

With a full head of messy, brown hair, pale blue eyes, and a 250-killowatt smile, he was the center of attention for all the girls.  

All the girls except for Rowan.  

She was spending her time rolling her eyes at her friends' flirtatious moves and generally laughing at their failures. But she couldn't help but notice how Kyle wouldn't stop looking at her, even if it was just a small glimpse out of the corner of his eye.  

It was partially flattering, partially creepy.  

Out of her entire group, she lasted the longest. Some gave up, some got bored, some had curfews, but in the end it was just Rowan and Kyle sitting alone in the coffee shop, talking and laughing.  

Strangely, she'd actually been having a pretty good time.  

When a waiter told them the shop was closing, they'd had to go their separate ways, but Kyle wasn't through yet.  

"We should hang out again," he'd said, "Sometime soon."  

"How soon?" she'd asked.  

"I don't know," he'd replied, "There's this dance in St. James's Park. They're setting up a stage and a dance floor and everything."  

"What's the occasion?"  

"No occasion," he replied with a sly smile, "Just a celebration of summer."  

"In that case," she'd said, "I'd be delighted to join you to this...dance."  

"Very good," he said, "In that case, meet me at St. James's Park, the entrance closest to St. James's Palace, at, say, six o'clock?"  

"Six o'clock," she repeated, "Got it."  

"All right, then," he said, "At six o'clock on Saturday. See you there, Rowan."  

As he turned away, she muttered, "See you there, Ky."  

And so, that Saturday, she skipped down the roads in the direction of St. James's Palace. The sun was slowly making its way lower in the big London sky as the park came closer and closer into view.  

A few minutes before six, she saw Kyle standing in front of a bench outside the palace, looking around. She picked up the pace and rushed over to him. When he saw her, he smiled and waved.  

Upon reaching him, she'd only wanted to give him a quick greeting sort of hug, but was shocked to feel her feet leave the ground. Before she knew it, he had swung her around once and placed her back on her feet.  

She stared up at him, knowing that she was blushing uncontrollably. "What...?"  

"Sorry," he apologized, "I'm sort of a hopeless romantic."  

She laughed.  

He smiled.  

"Shall we?" he asked, holding out his arm to her.  

"We shall," she replied, interlocking her arm with his, allowing him to lead her through the park.  

She could hear the music playing, and soon enough she could see the stage, covered with couples, young and old.  

Having reached the dance floor, he turned to face her and pulled his arm away, putting out his hand. "May I have this dance, Madame?"  

She smiled. "You may, Monsieur." She took his hand and he led her onto the hardwood as a Beatles song started to play.

"How many times do I have to tell you, mate?" Sirius demanded, laughing.  

"It doesn't matter how many times you tell me," James replied, "I'm still never going to believe you."  

The two were walking side-by-side down a random road in London, not really caring where they ended up as long as they could figure their way home.  

"Well, you have to believe me when I say I'm completely over it," Sirius said, "She is out of my life now and frankly I don't give a damn."  

James gave him his "Oh really?" look which caused him to roll his eyes.  

"I mean it! I moped for a week and now it's all better, no harm done."  

"Your hair's longer."  

"I like it longer," Sirius argued, "Short is too annoyingly neat."  

"Your mother likes it short," James reminded him.  

"All the more reason to grow it long," Sirius said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.  

"You know my house is always welcome to you if you get sick of them," James said, "Right?"  

"I don't think they can possibly drive me to leaving my own home," Sirius muttered, "But in the circumstances that they do, I thank you in advance."  

"You're welcome," James said, then added, "In advance."  

The sun was sinking, staining the sky a brilliant yellow. To the east, the sky was clear and beautiful, but to the west, huge clouds were drifting closer to town, threatening anyone who had no place to go if rain poured down on them.  

At some point they recognized where they were; St. James's Park. Music was ringing from somewhere close to the lake and it drew the two of them closer to it until they saw a dance floor, a stage, and some men setting up a few tents in case the weather prevented the festivities from progressing.  

A single, large droplet of rainwater landed on Sirius's head.

It took mere seconds for the rain to come.  

At first it wasn't a big deal, a few random drops every now and then, until soon it started to come down a little harder, and every girl wanted to get somewhere dry where their dresses wouldn't be ruined. And as it came even harder down, everybody left the original dance floor.  

Kyle was anxious not for himself, but for Rowan.  

She looked up to the sky, allowing cool rainwater to land on her face.  

"Aren't you worried your makeup will smear or something?" he asked, using a hand to block the rain from getting into his eyes.  

"I'm not wearing any," Rowan replied, "I hate makeup. It takes away girls' natural beauty."  

She didn't look back down until she felt a hand grasp her forearm. Kyle gently let go, smiling, and took her hands in his, just as a slow song started to play. He placed one hand on her waist and took the other, intertwining their fingers. She let her other hand fall onto his shoulder as if it was light as a feather, and they danced.  

She remembered little of her ballroom dancing lessons she'd received as a child. But what she did remember, the simplest steps of waltzing, he matched just as simply. In a way it was romantic, and in another it was wrong, but she couldn't figure out why.  

And then it hit her, suddenly and almost violently, that the reason it felt so wrong to be dancing with Kyle, this boy she'd known all her life and only just been reunited for the first time in five years, was because of the boy who'd replaced him.  

But she wouldn't think about that. She wouldn't think about him. She couldn't think about him.  

Him.  

She couldn't think about him. She had to stop thinking about him, otherwise she'd lose it again. She couldn't lose it on her date.  

Her date.  

Her date with Kyle.  

Not a date with...  

...Sirius.  

She gasped as a particularly loud roar of thunder rolled out louder and louder in her ears until it was almost deafening, drowning out the sound of music.  

"Shush," Kyle whispered, "Don't be afraid. It's only noise."  

"It's only loud noise," Rowan reminded him just as she realized she had let go of his hand and was wrinkling up a handful of his shirt in an extremely tight grip. They were so close she could feel the beating of his heart in rhythm with her own, his breathing on her neck, his hands holding her up.  

"It's okay," he hushed, "I won't let anything harm you, Rowan."  

She looked up, and felt his lips crush hers.  

She gasped again and pushed away from him. His arms around her retracted and, suddenly, they were separated by a yard of nothing but falling water.  

He refused to look at her through the blinding rain. "I'm sorry!" he called as a clap of thunder made it close to impossible to hear him, "I didn't mean to push that on you. It wasn't right of me; I'm sorry! Please, Rowan, please forgive me!"  

But after "I didn't mean to push that on you" she completely ignored the rest. She just stepped back to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled herself up, her own two feet off the ground, and kissed him back.  

She could feel his arms go back around her. She could feel his heart beat racing. She could feel her foot pop up as he swung her around, splashing water from her soaking wet hair all around.  

When her feet touched the ground again and they pulled away from each other, the song playing just reached its chorus, and she smiled up at him and said, "Consider yourself forgiven if, and only if, you don't stop."  

He grinned and leaned back down over her, craning his neck to get his lips down to hers.

James couldn't believe his eyes. He wanted to get Sirius out of there, but he refused to be pulled away.  

They were standing in the pouring rain, thunder and lightning dancing around them, all thoughts of perfect weather far behind them. But it wasn't the weather that he wanted to get away from.  

It was the view on the dance floor.  

At first they weren't sure it was her. For one, they'd never seen her in a dress before. Not even when she was going to one of Slughorn's parties; she'd always wear a skirt and a vest. But they knew it was her when she started to slow dance with the boy.  

He was tall, at least six feet. His brown hair was in his face, dripping wet. He wore black pants and a button up shirt that, from all the water, was suddenly turning transparent. Even from afar, they could tell he was relatively handsome, and from the way he danced, he was musically inclined.  

Talented, dark, handsome, it was no wonder she let him kiss her.  

But then she pulled away. Something was wrong, maybe she wasn't ready, or maybe she didn't want him to kiss her, or maybe he was just a really bad kisser, but no matter what it was, that didn't stop her from going right back and kissing him again.  

He knew it must've been killing Sirius.  

"Padfoot," he said, "Come on, let's get out of here." His untidy hair was falling into his face, onto his glasses, making it impossible to see anything. "Let's get somewhere dry, mate."  

"No," Sirius said, "You go, I'll meet up with you in a minute." He didn't take his eyes off of the dance floor.  

"I'm not leaving until I know you're away from that," James insisted, "Come on, let's just go."  

"I'm not leaving yet," Sirius said, "Period."  

"Why not?" James demanded, "We're soaking wet, the storm's getting worse, and your ex-girlfriend is out there snogging some Muggle!"  

"I wanted to stay just to make sure I mean it," Sirius said, suddenly very calm, as if straining his obvious frustration, "When I say I'm over it."  

They were both completely silent, which made James highly uncomfortable. It would've been utterly quiet without the roar of thunder in the background and the slamming of water on concrete. Finally he couldn't take it anymore and said, "And?"  

"And," Sirius said, so quietly James had to strain to hear, "I do."  

James sighed with relief, just as Sirius turned on his heel, with an expression on his face that revealed he hadn't even noticed the rain or the lightning or the thunder until that moment.  

"Come on," he said, "Let's get out of here. I hate wet dog smell."  

James chuckled happily and the two of them raced under an awning.  

He was so relieved that he didn't even think about the possibility that Sirius might have lied.

Walburga and Orion Black were out on an...outing. Sirius refused to call it a "date" because he refused to think his parents still did that kind of thing.  

He really didn't want to be thinking about them at all.  

In short terms; they found out about Rowan.  

It wasn't the fact that they broke up that upset them. That was an antagonizing factor, but no, that was not the worst part. They knew about her blood status.  

Regulus had spilled.  

And that was another thing. Regulus, in general, made him sick. Even after Moony had specifically explained to him that he hadn't been Rowan's significant "other," he still disgusted him.  

His whole family disgusted him.  

Anybody who showed up in that stupid family who was even halfway decent always ended up being disowned.  

He was more than halfway decent; he was seventy-five percent decent. If that meant he was out of the family, than that was fine with him. He didn't give a damn. In fact, that just made everything a whole lot better. He could start his own family, a family of people who didn't care about blood status or wealth or ethnicity or ability. He could do whatever the bloody hell he wanted because he didn't care how much his mother cried and how much his father yelled and how much his brother begged, he wasn't going to come back to that damned family.  

He was done.  

He was gone.  

He sat on the edge of his four-poster bed, staring at his single bag, wondering if there was anything in particular he actually wanted to bring. There was nothing but bad memories in the damned house, along with the room. He'd packed away his decent clothes, a few pictures of friends, letters from Andromeda that he'd prefer to keep, and pictures from her wedding and of her baby girl, Nymphadora. He could think of nothing else besides money, Hogwarts supplies, and things he'd gotten at Zonko's.  

So what was it he felt he was missing?  

That didn't matter anymore. He was determined to leave before they got back. The only issue was Regulus. He was sitting downstairs in the drawing room, gloating.  

He could probably sneak passed him, if he put a Silencing Charm on the stairs without getting caught.  

But lately, he'd been getting caught a lot.  

Standing up, he took two long, creaking steps to the window, where he'd left his bags, and saw something that sent a shock through his system.  

Rowan, hand-in-hand, with the tall, dark, and handsome guy from a month before.  

He'd been so good at not thinking about it. He'd gone an entire hour, actually. That was a new record. And he had gone even longer without thinking of ways to murder Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome.  

And suddenly, he was thinking of all of it, all over again.  

He only wished he could tell somebody.  

The anger grew inside him, larger and larger like a snowball that would eventually be a snowman, until he was so mad he could feel a growl coming on and roughly pulled the curtains shut. Then he picked up his bag and rushed out.  

Like he'd guessed, Regulus caught him trying to escape.  

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded upon seeing his brother with the bag. "You're grounded."  

"I'm leaving," he replied emotionlessly, "Your parents don't control me anymore."  

"You mean our parents," Regulus reminded him, determined to keep him from leaving.  

"No, your parents," he repeated, "Because the second they step through that door-" he motioned towards the front "-I will be disowned from the family, and therefore, they will no longer be my parents. Congratulations."  

"What?" he asked quietly.  

"You've always wanted to be an only child," Sirius explained, gaining on the front door, "Well, guess what? Soon you'll be one."  

"Sirius, you can't do this," he said, "Mum and Dad'll freak! Please, just think it through!"  

"I have thought it through," Sirius said, "And you know what pops into my head every time I think the words 'Mum and Dad?'"  

"No," Regulus muttered, "What?"  

"I think death," he said, "And pain and hatred. And you know what? I'd rather not have to deal with that every single bloody day of my life."  

"Okay," Regulus agreed, "You don't have to come back for Mum and Dad, but what about me? You're my brother!"  

Sirius stopped, his hand on the doorknob. Slowly, he turned around and glared at Regulus. Then he held out his hand, his index, middle, and ring finger up, and said, "I have four words for you, brother; Read between the lines."  

When Regulus lost all color, Sirius turned back to the door and pulled it open, stepping out into the bright sunlight of the August day.