"Do you work with the Dark Arts?" Ricky asked, leaned forward on the table, sat on his feet. "Well, I mean, you have to, right? With all those werewolf studies and legislature you passed. How’d you get all that information? I mean— sorry." Ricky hung his head bashfully. "I get ahead of myself. Mum says I talk too much." He twisted a small fidget toy between his fingers. Remus had learned this about Ricky, he was always messing with something. He couldn’t sit still to save his own life. It got him in trouble in Zabini’s classes.