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“—and I was wondering if…”
The woman's voice trails off, and Sirius looks up from the book in his hands, confused. Yes? he opens his mouth to ask, only swallowing the word back down when he feels Harry's familiar shape step up beside him, back from his errands at the other end of Diagon Alley.
Grinning, he holds out his arm for Harry to take. “Done already?” he asks, hooking his arm through Harry’s and tugging him closer (to help ward off the autumn chill, he tells himself, that’s all).
The woman—and, hmm, Sirius really should be able to remember her name, shouldn't he—looks down at where their arms meet. When her eyes flick back up to his, she blushes, stammering an apology.
“Just about,” Harry says, mercifully cutting her off. He smiles at her, and it looks…understanding? “I still need to head to Knockturn for a bit.”
Sirius grimaces, recalling the many—mostly awful—forays he made into the alley in his youth. “Want me to hold your things for you while you do?”
“Sure.” Harry nudges his side, nods to the woman. “But first, introduce us.”
“Right.” He can't believe he's being so impolite. “Harry, this is—” He hesitates, wincing, and she covers for him quickly.
“Edna Maisey,” she says with a sheepish smile, offering her hand.
Shaking it, Harry spares her a kind grin, much warmer than the ones he usually reserves for people who try to talk to him on the street. “Harry Potter. Nice to meet you."
Edna laughs, taking a step back as soon as her hand is released. It's only then that Sirius realizes just how close she'd been standing. “I’m sorry,” she says again, gesturing between them, “I didn’t realize you were…”
Harry clears his throat, blushing. “We’re, erm—Yeah. Thanks.”
Truly, it’s unfair for a grown man to be so lovely, even when he’s acting strange.
“Anyway!” Edna says brightly, clapping her hands together and turning to face Sirius again. The smile on her face looks distinctly forced. “Please, take the book. It means a lot to me that you like it.”
Before Sirius can protest, she dips into an awkward half bow and hurries away.
“She gave you a book?” Harry asks, leaning in to see the cover.
Sirius tilts it toward him, obliging. “An aspiring best seller, she says. Her publisher gave her a few copies for promotion, and she dropped this one. I read a bit before handing it back; she wanted to know whether I liked it.”
“Ah.” Harry looks after her. “That was nice of her.”
“It really was.” He nudges Harry with his elbow. “Your influence, eh? Gotta treat the godfather of the Man-Who-Conquered well.”
Harry snorts. “Uh, yeah,” he says, giving him an odd look.
When Sirius raises a brow in question, Harry just shakes his head, fond. Then, before Sirius can ask, he leads them toward Fortescue's, where they stop every time they do their shopping together.
“I’m sure that’s why.”