Sirius was feeling indulgent; he was (about to turn) seventeen, his best friends were all here, and he was sure that people would be talking about how fun his party had been when they got back to Hogwarts. Yes, Mama spoiled him — but he knew that he deserved it. And no one had shown up because they felt bad for him — they had shown up because they liked him, and wanted to be liked by him. It was a glorious feeling. So he did not anticipate he would complain about any of Nico's flying-creatures-talk (although he did take another hefty swig of wine before replying.)

"You should buy one, once we finish school," Sirius suggested. Nico was an only son — surely he could purchase a Quidditch team if he wanted to. "Then you can rename it." He squinted out the window, hoping to see an owl — or a cloud of bats. He held the bottle back out for Nico.