Hideaway Strath and if you don't love me now

Sirius listened to his guardian raptly, although at some parts he thought he recognized the tale she wove him. One day he might remember the whole story and come to find it as fact, but for now it was a just a fairytale adventure— one he enjoyed hearing. One he enjoyed imagining. The boy leaned his head against Hemlock's shoulder, feeling her voice as much as he heard it, and sighed to himself as he nestled into the vocal vibrations passing through her chest. He was quiet in this moment, marking one of the rare instances in which he didn't interrupt or otherwise ask too many questions. He enjoyed stories enough to hear them start to finish, and it was in these moments that he felt closest to Hemlock.

"You hads to carry me?" he asked in childish incredulity. "Nuh-uh! I can walk! I'm the bestest walker ever. I'm strong 'nough, remember, Hemm— mama?" He couldn't remember a time when he he was unable to walk, and knowing now that he didn't like to be carried at all, it seemed an improbable thing. He was distracted, however, by the time his sentence had ended, and he'd accidentally co-mingled the names he had for her. He didn't remembered making the decision to stop calling her Hemmy, but her constant reminder of it often put the word unwillingly in his mouth.

He had enough forethought to say then: "I don' wan' you t'be Hemmy ennymores."