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[theshabbiestofmen]

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[theshabbiestofmen]

I . . .yes. I shouldn't imagine so, given that no one's brought it up. Still.

This is quite good, you know, you're very good at this.

[majestyofthethrone]

[She takes a bite and smiles a little]

It's all math and chemistry, you know.

[theshabbiestofmen]

Two things I'm afraid I was never particularly good at. I never even took chemistry, to be honest, much to my mother's disappointment. Just enough math to know how to count before I left for Hogwarts.

[majestyofthethrone]

[She looks at him, baffled]

Well I don't know any magic but I know numbers. I can turn numbers into music.

[theshabbiestofmen]

Can you show me?

[A beat, and then:]

Why are you looking like that? I'm a wizard, not a scientist; my parents knew that since I was a child.

[majestyofthethrone]

[She laughs]

But math is so important!

[But then she nods, and picks up his plate, and carries it. Luckily the music room is just down the hall.]

[theshabbiestofmen]

Not for a wizard, it isn't.

[Patiently he follows.]

I mean, it is, but not . . . I only really use it in arithmancy, and even that, it's more about studying the magical properties of numbers than actually multiplying them.

[majestyofthethrone]

[She sets up everything at the piano and opens her piano bench to reveal a notebook - it's just a spare - and takes it out, ruffles through the pages, and sits, then hands him his cake back. Once she's sitting, she writes out, erasing after each paragraph:]

You still live in a world governed by math, I bet. You can't get away from it. This ship is only possible because of it. Anyway, okay, let me try and explain.

Music is based on octaves, which is measures of eight. I turned that into a sequential equation that I can read. It's not entirely that simple - because of beat and meter, and tempo, and other factors - but music is basically math transformed, so I transformed math back into music. This may seem strange and not impressive, but it has some interesting applications besides playing - mostly with what I can program into computers.

I wrote this equation, which translates into this song.

[She moves her fingers, and plays Arabesque I.]

[theshabbiestofmen]

Oh, wow-- Sera, that's beautiful. I can't pretend to really, ah, understand the process, but that's amazing!

[majestyofthethrone]

[She blushes a little, and dips her head]

Well, translating music is easy enough, but I also turn mathematical proofs into songs - that's not as pretty, I won't torment you with that. But thank you.

[theshabbiestofmen]

What's a mathematical proof?

[majestyofthethrone]

[She considers this for a moment, and writes out a basic x equals proof.]

It's a way to prove that the math is sound. Like logic. How do you go through life without algebra?

[theshabbiestofmen]

Magic isn't based in math, or science. It really isn't. I've the skills for an entirely different world, Sera.

[He studies that, though, and smiles.]

I do like the neat logic of it, though. Have you found any particular favorites?

[majestyofthethrone]

[She gives him a look - that doesn't make any sense, dude. But whatever. Magic. Fff.]

Favorite proofs? Or favorite songs?

[theshabbiestofmen]

Both. Either. Look, you don't have to look at me like that, I can explain magic to you if you'd like!

[majestyofthethrone]

It's like you told me you can breathe without air.

[She considers it, but then, well:]

You might not understand it? But my favorite proof is my brother's soul.

[She cracks her fingers and plays. And plays. The music is strange, disjointed for a moment, but then suddenly it's like there's another person in the room. A teenage boy, someone irreverent, cranky, strange, artistic. Part of his voice is there, too, loud and brash and angry, but there's a tenderness to it, too.

She plays this song a lot. After about ten minutes, she stops, and takes a deep breath in.]

[theshabbiestofmen]

[He closes his eyes after a minute into it, trying to enjoy it-- and he's never really understood music, not really, but this is something even he can appreciate. It's short and sharp and beautiful, as exasperated as it is loved. Remus smiles sadly when she stops playing.]

I don't understand it. But it's beautiful.

[majestyofthethrone]

[She closes her eyes for a moment and flips her book to another series of squiggly lines and numbers and letters, and plays Sirius.

She's spent so much time with him, so much time touching him, that this is easy. It's dark in places, and funny, and bold, and just a little dangerous. It's as though he's in the room, casual and beautiful and careless, and she plays it and plays it.]

I haven't figured it all out yet. I need more time, I think.

[theshabbiestofmen]

I'll help you, if you like.

[He smiles and tilts his head back, closing his eyes.]

It's wonderful.

[majestyofthethrone]

He's easy.

You're harder. I'll figure you out, too.

[And she leans over, just putting some weight on him. It's not romantic, it's just comfortable.]

[theshabbiestofmen]

[He huffs a soft laugh and shifts, putting an arm around her.]

I'm easy. Insecure, constantly wanting to please, desperate for friends, constantly diving into books.

[majestyofthethrone]

[She shakes her head]

No. It's not like...who you think you are. It's who you really are. Your place in creation.

[theshabbiestofmen]

Well. I'd certainly be interested in hearing it, if you ever do figure it out.

[majestyofthethrone]

I will.

Thank you. For being here. With me.

[Because he's not the only one desperate for friends.

[theshabbiestofmen]

Of course.

[He tugs her in, squeezing her shoulders for a moment.]

When you say it's one's place in . . . in life-- does that mean, then, that you know about-- what precisely do you know about Sirius, then?