[Matter of factly, without question or second thought, Sirius accepts that hug, that shoulder clasp--and then the handful of snow as well, packing into yet another snowball as they talk. It's good to have something to do with his hands, anyway, because the shit that James is spouting--

Well, it seems almost inadequate to just call it mental. It's somewhere beyond mental, this whole--being plucked out of wizarding England to come to the end of the world. Not the end of their world, but some other world, and James is just sort of going on about it as if it's perfectly normal, leaving Sirius very little to contribute to. Just the occasional huh here and there, as he works on that snowball.]

Never had a head for anything other than the Greek mythology. Comes of being named after a star, I s'ppose. That and Norse names don't make any bloody sense, do they.

[Case and point: Thi-azi. What an idiotic name. And Sirius could wax poetic on that for a bit, except then James sort of looks away from him, and he can feel that hesitation. Like he'd miss that, from James. He knows James too well for that. Jesus, but six weeks--]

That's-- nearly two months. [And then, though it goes without saying:] That's impossible.