When the Darkness Broke In

Chapter ~ VI

It May Be Quite Simple

"If you're thinking of me you've got to let me know..." Dodgy

The week seemed to go by quite slowly to Harry, but then, he supposed, things always did when you were either thoroughly bored or looking forward to something, and he'd spent most of it gazing into space daydreaming about a certain Ravenclaw. He knew so because Ron had rather helpfully insisted on pointing it out at every possible opportunity. In fact, he'd gone so far as taking a very wonky, slightly out of focus picture of him doing so with Colin's camera. The picture's haplessly taken quality made it even more surreal and having to look at his own silly smile on the notice board every day made him feel like a prize pillock.

It didn't help that Gavin had made a habit of running up to Harry in the corridors, lifting him off his feet, doing a half-turn and putting him down facing in the other direction before scarpering - usually stopping at the other end of the corridor to yell "See ya later, 'Arry!" with a broad grin and leaving Harry a fetching shade of pink. Hermione thought it was "terribly sweet", Ron thought it was side splittingly funny and Draco seemed to breathe napalm at the very sight of the beaming Welsh lad. Harry had tried several times to speak to the evidently very unhappy Slytherin, but Draco had taken to blanking him - staring at him expressionlessly and walking away - and the only time Harry had heard him speak all week was when he'd witnessed one of Gavin's silly moments and launched into a venomous tirade about people who couldn't act their age. It concerned him, a little, as he wasn't entirely sure that the other boy was sufficiently stable emotionally, and it crossed his mind more than once that Draco's reasons for his attempt at suicide may shift somewhat if he reached a low enough ebb. Harry wasn't sure what to do about it, so he vowed to watch and wait and just cross each bridge as he came to it. He'd messed things up for Draco quite enough for the time being. He really didn't want to push it.

In contrast, the practise, held on the Friday evening, went rather well. Gavin brought his broom along and taught Ron a few nifty little tricks. Ron, needless to say, decided he'd found a new best friend. The twins already vaguely knew the Ravenclaw through his older brother, Jack, who they seemed to see fairly regularly in detention, and all in all the team accepted the visitor fairly easily. It was a relief to see that Gavin was giving something back to the Gryffindors for their help as Angelina and the twins had all been fairly hard to persuade. The new team members, Martin Poacher - a third year who Fred and George kept calling Pheasant - and the cocksure second year, Sam Knox-Croft, didn't have much of an opinion on the matter, even though they'd been consulted and had said it was up to the others.

Harry was growing to like Gavin more and more with everything he did; racing Fred and George to the forest and back (but only just winning by about half a broom), taking over as keeper while Ron and the others helped Martin and Sam practise chasing, laughing heartily when George called him a "sheep-loving Taff" and responding with:

"Yeah, man, we shag 'em an' then you eat 'em!" before making a preposterous joke about four sheep tied to a lamppost in Cardiff. Harry liked watching the way his cheeks filled with colour and made him look so healthy and alive and the way is hair flicked out in the breeze and the way he tucked it back into place behind his ears.

As they headed back into the changing rooms, Gavin fell into step with Harry. "Tha' were really brilliant," he grinned, patting him on the back, "I really 'preciate you doin' tha' for me. You should come along t' one of ours or somethin'..."

"Oh, er... thanks, but it's nothing," Harry replied, blushing and watching his feet trample the neat grass.

"No, it's not 'nothin'', it's really kind an' I'm lookin' forward to meetin' up wi' you t'morrow," Gavin said, stopping outside the changing rooms. "I reckon you're pretty cool, see... I mean, for a saviour of all men an' all that," he added, brown eyes twinkling with mirth. "But if you turn up t'morrow wearing a spandex jumpsuit an' y'pants over y'trousers I migh' 'av t'change me mind a bit..."

Harry laughed bashfully and promised not to.

"Good, right, well I'll catch you in th' mornin', prob'ly, otherwise in th' Lobby 'fore we go. See ya..."

"Bye, Gavin..."

He paused to watch him go and was embarrassed but pleased when Gavin turned and saw him still standing there and waved at him, grinning merrily. Harry jumped as a voice behind him declared:

"You, Harry, are well in."

Harry turned to Ron, blushing even pinker, "Were you standing behind there all the time?" he demanded, gesturing to the curtains at the entrance of the changing rooms.

"Yeah."

"You ear wigging git!"

"Only got your best interests at heart. Very interesting interests, too."

Harry gave him a small shove and glanced off after Gavin, now little more than a stick figure, climbing the steps into the castle. "Do you think so?"

"Yeah, course I do! And it's not as if anyone's ever seen him with a girl or anything... well, I haven't, anyway," Ron shrugged.

"I s'pose not, no," Harry nodded, looking up to the castle again, but Gavin was gone.

"Oh stop mooning over him and get changed, you soppy, lovesick tart!" Ron teased and dragged him into the changing rooms.

The next morning Harry woke up at a shocking hour, every nerve in his body doing a reckless conga and his stomach tying itself in a cat's cradle. He lay for a while, staring at the blue sky outside the window; it was going to be a nice day.

At half past seven he clambered out of the snug bundle of blankets and made his way up two floors to the showers. The window opposite the bathroom door looked out over the forest and distant mountains. For one very long moment Harry felt entirely at peace with the world, as though the gods were smiling down on him and everything was completely perfect. Grinning to himself, he turned to head into the bathroom, caught his toe on the step, lurched forward, dropped his towel and robes, and fell into the door, bashing his face on the handle as he did so.

After a few minutes of rolling around on the cold flagstones, clutching his face and groaning, Harry staggered to his feet and made his way to the row of sinks. The mirror made a loud wincing noise and chortled, "Oooh, that's going to be a real shiner when it comes up, son."

"Thanks," Harry muttered, holding a cupped hand of cold water up to his eye. When he looked in the mirror he found it hadn't been wrong. On his right cheek and eyebrow was a dark red mark that he could actually see spreading around his face. Harry closed his eyes. Bollocks.

When he returned to the dorm, clutching a wet flannel to his swelling eye, the other boys were just beginning to stir. Ron lifted his head wearily, complained about the noise and flopped back down on his pillow. A second later he was sitting bolt upright in bed, gaping at Harry as he dabbed morosely at his bruises.

"What on Earth have you done?" he demanded in a horrified whisper.

"Tripped up the step in the showers..."

"Sweet Mary!" Seamus exclaimed as he opened his curtains, "That's gonna be the best black eye I' seen since me nanna clocked me grandpa wit' the rolling pin! Dean, come and look what Harry's done!"

"God, that's nasty, Harry!" Dean agreed, peering at him with interest, "You wanna get some ice on it quick, you know..."

"Where from?" Harry asked irritably.

"Well, Hermione might know some kind of charm or something," Ron suggested, climbing out of bed and picking up his tatty dressing robe.

"Not going to go completely though, is it?" Harry complained.

"Well I'm sure Gavin won't mind all that much if that's what you're bothered about," Ron retorted impatiently.

"Ron!"

"What? Why would Gavin Cross be bothered?" Seamus asked immediately.

"Er..."

"Don't mind him... Ron's just being an idiot," Harry told them quickly, aiming a kick at the red-haired boy in annoyance.

"Whyyyyy?"

"Look - it's nothing, really. Just ignore him." Please, Harry prayed silently, please let them drop it...

"Crikey, Harry - anyone would think you fancied him or something! Why would it matter?"

Harry felt the colour rising in his face and bit his lip. "It... well, it doesn't..."

The Irish boy gave first a gasp and then a squeal of delight. "Oh my God! Harry! You do, don't you? Harry - are you-? No way!" Seamus bounced up and down on his bed in delirious excitement. "HARRY'S GAY! HARRY'S GAY! HARRY'S GAY!!"

"Oh shut up Seamus, he never said that..." Dean muttered, throwing his pillow at the Irish boy. "But - I mean, you aren't, though, Harry... are you?"

Harry turned so red the bruising on his face was almost camouflaged, and he began to stammer in embarrassment.

"TOLD YOU SO!" Seamus yelled in delight.

Dean sounded slightly more insistent about it this time; "Harry, is he right or not?"

Harry began to ask if it mattered but gave up, realising he didn't want to know because he didn't think he could face the answers yet. With a glance at Ron, who looked away guiltily and rolled his robe over his arm, Harry nodded. There was a minute's silence before Neville's quiet voice piped up:

"Well I think you're brave..." Four pairs of eyes turned to him and he blushed almost as red as Harry. "I mean, I would have pretended I wasn't in case people were horrible to me about it. Harry's very brave admitting it."

"No one's going to be horrible, Neville - this is Harry Potter!" Seamus replied, as though anything Harry did was acceptable because he was the Boy Who Lived. "I think it's pretty cool."

Dean said nothing. He merely stood up and picked up his wash things before leaving the room. Harry watched despondently and sat down very heavily on his bed.

"What's his problem?" Ron demanded.

"I think that's a bit obvious, Ron, even for you..." Harry sighed.

"You reckon Dean's got a problem with you being gay?" the ginger boy asked in disbelief. "I always thought Dean was alright..."

"Hey - Dean is alright!" Seamus protested, "Just lemme talk to him. He'll be okay, Harry, don't you worry."

"Thanks..." Harry muttered. "You won't tell anyone else, will you?"

"No, no, no, you don't out someone else," Seamus said matter-of-factly, "My second cousin's gay and he told me that once: you don't out someone else." Harry felt this was a little ironic coming from the boy who had just jumped on his bed yelling 'Harry's gay!' but he said nothing, glad that at least they hadn't completely freaked out.

Nonetheless, it was a considerably less buoyant Harry Potter that traipsed down to breakfast at nine o'clock. Hermione was causing a great deal of fuss about his black eye, trying to persuade him to go and see Madam Pomfrey in case he had concussion or something, and Harry was carefully trying to zone her out while still giving the appearance of listening. As they made to enter the Hall, Harry was so busy pretending not to ignore Hermione that he almost jumped out of his skin when he found himself face to face with Draco, who was about to walk through the doors at the same time. The blond boy did a double take and stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes slightly widened and his face registering the barest touch of alarm. Harry looked away and passed through the doors without acknowledging him; he really wasn't in the mood for the sulky prat today.

Things didn't get any better when he sat down. Half the table started making a fuss and whispering and Sirius, who was for some reason having breakfast in the school instead of at home (and, now Harry thought about it, he had done so for the past week), came down and asked what the hell he'd done to himself. When Gavin walked in Sirius was still sitting sideways on the bench beside him, but the sixth year strode up to him nonetheless and asked if he was alright. Blushing, Harry said that he was fine and he'd explain later. Gavin didn't seem convinced he was and suggested he go and see Madam Pomfrey, just as Hermione had.

"Honestly, Gavin, I'm fine, I just had a fight with a step and a door handle, that's all..."

"Well..." Gavin began dubiously, "If you so much as go cross-eyed t'day I'm goin' t' drag you all the way there. An' tha's a promise. Anyway, better dash, see you a bit later, a'right?"

"Yeah, see ya later..."

Sirius watched the exchange with interest (as, in fact, did the fifth year boys), "When did you start hanging around with Ravenclaws?" he asked, following the boy with his eyes as he went to sit down at his own table.

"Oh it's a long story..." Harry shrugged, shooting Seamus a dirty look as he fluttered his eyelashes at him.

"Well I'm not going anywhere," Sirius said, making himself comfortable and taking Harry's coffee out of his hand, "Take your time."

"Excuse me, I was about to drink that!"

"Yeah well, have some pumpkin juice," Sirius replied, with a smirk. "So what's with the inter-House PR, then?"

"Quidditch."

"Quidditch? What do you mean, 'Quidditch'?"

"We did a kind of swap-thing. He came to watch our practice and I'm going to watch theirs."

"Fucking hell, things have changed a lot since I was here..." Sirius muttered, shaking his head. "You'd spy on someone else's practises on pain of death when I was on the team and now you're inviting each other! There's something fundamentally ludicrous about that. You do realise the Quidditch Cup is meant to be a competition, don't you? You bloody Potters have always been far too accommodating. Well, just as long as you don't start helping out the Slytherins, I s'pose..."

Harry gave him an unamused look. "Why aren't you at the cottage, anyway? You've been in here for breakfast all week."

Glancing around at the students sitting nearby (and not even pretending not to listen to their conversation) Sirius stood up. "Why not?" he shrugged, putting Harry's coffee back down on the table, "You can have the rest of that - far too much sugar in it. You want to be careful Remus doesn't realise how much you have, you know, you'll get lectured for hours. Anyway, I've got things to do. I'll see you down the town, probably... Bye."

Everyone watched his tall form stride quickly from the Hall. After a moment's silence Ginny voiced exactly what the others were all thinking:

"But you don't have sugar in drinks, do you, Harry?"

Frowning, Harry shook his head.

Harry straggled behind the others again on the way back to Gryffindor Tower. He was wondering what the matter was to make Sirius leave the house so early in the morning, because Sirius always got up as late as he could get away with, usually. And then there was the fact that he had avoided answering the question altogether. Usually, if he were being evasive he'd give a really stupid answer, not just change the subject. Harry had sipped the drink afterwards - against everyone's advice, as they were all concerned it may have had something slipped into it - but there was certainly no sugar in it. In fact, Harry was so engrossed in his theories about Sirius's behaviour, that he was completely left behind and was still wandering down a first floor corridor when a slightly flushed and breathless Draco appeared in front of him.

"What happened to your face?" he demanded, as he surveyed the bruising attentively.

"I walked into a door," Harry sighed.

"Oh really, you could at least be imaginative with your excuses! Who did that to you, Harry?"

"I told you, I hit my face on the door and I've been asked by absolutely everyone this morning, so I don't really want any more questions, thanks."

"You genuinely walked into a door?" the blond boy asked doubtfully.

"Yes. Well, technically I fell, but the main thing is - no one did it 'to' me, I did it myself by accident."

"Clumsy great idiot," Draco tutted, shaking his head and reaching out to take Harry's glasses off so he could see the damage better. For some reason unbeknownst even to himself, Harry didn't complain and looked at the ceiling while the blond boy tilted his face at various angles. "Oh well, you'll live," he shrugged at last, taking his wand out of his pocket. He handed Harry his glasses and said, "Here, hold these," then muttered an incantation and touched his wand to Harry's face. Harry felt a pleasantly cool tingling in his cheek and blinked as Draco's face assumed an expression of self-satisfaction. "There, you'll do."

"What?" Harry asked, "Have you done something to it?"

The Slytherin pulled a small mirror out of his pocket and handed it to Harry. Somehow, the fact that Draco carried a mirror around with him didn't surprise Harry one jot. But he had to hand it to him; all that was left of the black eye was a deep pink smudge high on his cheekbone.

"Thanks!" Harry grinned, looking at himself from a few angles.

"Well, you learn these things when your father's favourite penis extension has a platinum snake's head on the top and he likes to hit you with it," the blond boy explained nonchalantly, putting his wand away.

"Your dad really is an old shit, isn't he?"

"You could say that - although I'd prefer something slightly less vulgar."

"Your dad deserves vulgar, Draco."

"Hm." There was a lengthy pause before Draco suddenly looked over Harry's shoulder and snapped: "Say that again, Potter, and that'll be the last thing you do!"

Harry looked at him blankly.

"HA! Can't even think of a response to that, can you? So much for brainy Gryffindors!"

"What?"

Draco craned his neck for a minute then said: "Sorry, a bunch of Hufflepuffs just passed through the corridor."

"Oh." Harry thought about it for a second and burst into laughter, "This is so stupid..."

"Yes, well, tell Dumbledore," Draco muttered.

"I would, but he does have a point... Look, Drac, about the other day -"

"It never happened. As far as you are concerned, we never had that conversation, you understand?"

"Any of it?" Harry asked in surprise.

The blond boy made an amusingly foppish hand gesture and said, "Well, perhaps the friends part, if you'd like, but certainly not the last part."

"What last part?" Harry asked innocently.

"Precisely. Just... just don't raise the issue again if you can help it, alright?"

"Well, yeah, okay, but I am sorry, honestly. I-"

"Never happened, Potter."

"Okay, okay..."

"I had better be going before Pugsy comes to find me," Draco said, looking over his shoulder as though he suspected she might be hovering behind him. "See you around."

By half past eleven Harry was strolling down the dusty road to Hogsmeade with Gavin. The Welsh boy was chattering away ten to the dozen and Harry was listening happily, enjoying the lilting of his Valleys burr. The days were still warm, and he was only wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Draco was right, he thought, as they reached the edge of the town, it really was good to be getting out.

About a hundred yards behind them Sirius and Remus walked along in a contrasting silence. Remus seemed lost in thought and gave the impression he wouldn't notice if an army of Death Eaters danced naked in front of him, while Sirius stared after his godson and mused about the new friendship he seemed to be embarking upon. Neither of them had spoken about the incident with the photograph album and Sirius still hadn't asked Remus why he'd hidden something so important to them both. Sirius was not the sort of person to feel sorry for himself, nor to be lacking in healthy self-esteem, but he was concerned and quite embarrassed about it all. There had to be a reason Remus was ignoring the fact that they had once been much, much more than friends and the one that Sirius feared was most probable was that Remus had simply moved on. The only thing was, now Sirius knew the truth and his memories were beginning to re-emerge from the pit in which they were buried, he was actually growing to miss the relationship he'd only just realised ever existed. It seemed ironic that it had been he whom Lily had warned never to hurt Remus lest she should 'hex him to kingdom come and home again', and now, all these years later, quite the reverse was happening. Sirius was finding it incredibly difficult to bear being in Remus's presence without a barely suppressible urge to ask him straight out what he was playing at. He spent as much time as he could away from temptation, knowing his impulsiveness would fail him eventually.

Remus, on the other hand, was taking Sirius's absence as proof that he was doing the right thing. His dismay upon realising that the person he had sworn to remain faithful to until the end no longer had any clear memory of what had been, for Remus, the happiest time of his life, had been all consuming. He had kept his word, even in the years he should have believed Sirius was guilty and worthy only of his contempt, and he would continue to keep that word for as long as he drew breath. But the wild-haired young man Remus had held so dearly since his youth was, although you'd never get him to admit it, fumbling awkwardly with life neither confined to four walls, nor in hiding. Remus shuddered at the memory of finding a black shaggy dog chewing a mutilated rat on the kitchen floor - barely three weeks earlier. Sirius had passed it off with one of his broadest grins and the explanation that he had "Developed a certain taste for rustic cuisine" that was proving hard to shake. But the point was, Sirius was far from normal quite yet (if Sirius Black could ever have been called 'normal') and what he needed was a friend - someone who knew him and who would help the true Sirius shine through again, not someone who expected a return on anything they gave.

"So where we headin' to first?" Gavin asked, shoving his hands in the pockets of his black corduroys.

"Um - not bothered, really," Harry shrugged, "It's so early this year that I haven't run out of anything yet..."

"No, me neither, ach'ly," the older boy nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I s'pose we may as well go straigh' t'the pub, then - 'less you wanna visit the sweet shop or the Shriekin' Shack or somethin'...?"

Harry grinned to himself; apparently the word hadn't spread that the shrieking of the Shack was all down to one Remus Lupin and had fallen silent years ago. "Yeah, why not," he said, "I could do with a drink - it's a much longer walk when you're not taki-" Shut up! Idiot!

Gavin looked at him with interest, "Takin' what?"

"Oh - um, nothing, I just meant it seems shorter when I come down here with Ron and Hermione..."

"Oh - 'm I borin' you, then?" Gavin asked with a slight pout.

"NO!" Harry said quickly, turning crimson, "No, I just meant... Oh I dunno... But you're not boring, honestly!" Please, just let the ground open up and swallow me now, please!

"Tha's a'right then," he said with a small smile, "T' th' pub it is. Come on - race you!"

Harry gave a small gasp of laughter and sprinted after the taller boy, who was already a good few metres away. They dashed past other pupils, almost knocking a few third years into a ditch as they did so, haring recklessly down the uneven road through the first section of village and only stopping when they literally fell giggling against the wall of the Three Broomsticks.

"I win!" Gavin half laughed, half panted, raising a triumphant hand into the air.

"Only-"Harry puffed, "-only because you've got longer l-legs than me!"

"Oh I dunno," Gavin said with a twisted half-smile, "I reckon you got pretty good legs, myself."

Harry's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish for a moment as he watched Gavin open the door of the pub and felt his wrist tugged to lead him into the dimly lit lounge. He followed a little hesitantly, looking around at the low beams and the redbrick fireplace with its horse brasses and three broomsticks lined up above it. It was funny how you could visit a place regularly and still be completely unable to describe it in detail; how it could feel so familiar without really knowing its intricacies - the features that made it unique.

Gavin went to the bar while Harry claimed a table, one at the back of the pub away from the bustle of the main door that would open repeatedly as pupils, teachers and the odd local traipsed in. Settling down, he made himself comfortable, tugging the t-shirt he was wearing straight. It was one of the few he owned that actually fitted him properly, and that was only because he'd grown into it. He'd had it since he was about seven and the front was emblazoned with a picture of a Muggle cartoon character - He-Man - which Dean, Parvati and Lavender had insisted was "so retro and cool" that it was perfectly acceptable for a fifteen year old to wear. He'd taken their word for it as he really had no clue himself and the girls in particular always looked rather fashionable.

"One Butterbeer," Gavin said with a grin as he put the mug down on the table and slid onto the wall seat next to Harry. "By the way, your godfather's jus' turn'd up wi' Lupin."

"Has he?" Harry asked, craning his neck to see. Sure enough, Sirius and Remus both stood at the bar and he watched as they took their drinks and sat down at a table to one side of the large fireplace, almost hidden away in a corner. "Sirius is on duty today, Remus is just helping out," he shrugged, not wanting to admit that he was actually being babysat.

"Is it okay, living wi' them, then?" Gavin asked, taking a swig of his butterbeer and tilting his head slightly to one side as he waited for Harry's answer.

Harry smiled thoughtfully before saying: "No, it's not okay - it's brilliant. I had the best summer of my life this year... They really look after me and they're a good laugh. And Remus tells me things about my parents..."

"D'you not know much, then? 'Bout your parents?"

"I'm learning more and more all the time, but until I came here I thought they'd died in a car crash. Obviously, I've known the truth for a long time now, but Moony and Padfoot sort of fill in the gaps."

Gavin gave a tiny chuckle, "Who and What-foot?"

"Oh, um..." Harry blushed into his butterbeer, "Moony and Padfoot - it's their old nicknames from school."

"You call 'em by their nicknames?"

"Well, sometimes. They're not really like parents... well, Moony's a bit like one sometimes, but they're more like grown up friends, really. Like Hagrid," he explained, "but much closer and much better cooks..."

"Always good, that!" the Ravenclaw laughed, nudging him with his shoulder.

"I can cook myself, thanks!"

"Can you? Oh, tha's good t'know... they say th' way to a man's 'eart is through 'is stomach, don' they?"

Harry gave a strangled laugh and quickly took a long gulp of his drink. Oh my God...

"I never knew my parents... 'least I don' remember them."

Harry looked at the other boy in surprise; "Sorry?"

"Oh, I were jus' sayin' that I never knew my parents, either... Were lost in th' firs' war... I'm adopted, see?"

"Oh - I...oh." Stupid, stupid, stupid! Speak like a human, not some bloody chimp!

"I were jus' small when it 'appened, an' I were sen' off t' Wales..."

"I - um, I'm sorry to hear that, Gavin... honestly," Harry managed, tentatively reaching out and giving the other boys' wrist a little brush with his finger tips.

"Oh - don' be! T'were a long time ago, now, an' my mum's great," he said, with a wide smile that was just slightly less bright than usual.

"Doesn't make up for it, really, though, does it?" Harry asked quietly, staring into his own drink.

"Never know, will we?"

Across the pub Sirius watched Harry and his Ravenclaw friend with mild irritation. "Does he even have any clue about inter-House competitiveness?" he demanded of Remus, as the other man squinted at the small notepad on the table while working his way through a packet of peanuts.

"Hm? What, Harry?" he gave a small smile, "Not a hint."

"You'd have thought someone else would have bloody told him - the rest of the team or something. I just can't believe that he's giving lessons to other captains! Silly sodding amenable Potters."

"James would have done exactly the same," Remus muttered, turning over a page and taking a sip of his drink.

"No he wouldn't, because when we were on the team the rest of us wouldn't have been bloody thick enough to let him! And can you try and at least pretend to pay attention when I'm talking at you?" he scowled, slapping Remus's fingers away from the notebook. "We were all far too dedicated, anyway - we took Quidditch as seriously as it should be."

"Really?" Remus raised an eyebrow at him and poured a few more peanuts into his palm, with a certain obstinance.

"Yes, really!"

"I seem to remember a time when James missed three practises in a row because he was too busy with Lily..."

"Oh well you would, smart arse."

Remus merely grinned and ate his peanuts.

A moment later a shadow fell across the table and Remus looked up to see two fourth year girls standing side by side in next to Sirius. He gave the other man a small prod, eliciting a look of annoyance, and nodded towards them. "Hello, girls," he said, smiling.

"Oh - good afternoon ladies," Sirius said, looking at them with slight surprise.

"Hello, Sirius," they chorused, blushing slightly.

"Having a good after time, are you?" he asked, slightly awkwardly, sounding to Remus like he either didn't know what to say or wanted to get rid of them as soon as possible.

"We've got you a present," the girl on the left said, and the other girl held out a small bag with a giggle.

Sirius merely stared at her hand and then up at the girls.

"Sirius? He's so pleased he's speechless," Remus said, smiling at them and giving Sirius a surreptitious kick under the table.

"Oh - yes, thank you... thank you very much," Sirius said after a minute, taking the bag gingerly. The girls giggled coyly and said good bye before dashing out of the pub. "Heh..." Sirius muttered, opening the bag and looking at its contents with a wry smile.

"What is it?"

"Bag full of sugar snitches... Oh! God - it was that class who I told I used to be in the Quidditch team, the other day," Sirius remembered, holding open the bag for Remus to see.

He peeped inside and looked at the tiny gold balls zipping about inside. One darted out, making a bid for freedom, only to be caught immediately by Remus's deft fingers. "I always said you should have been our bloody seeker!" Sirius muttered, closing the bag quickly.

"Except I can't stand heights. There was never any point in being on the Quidditch team if I couldn't fly, was there? Talking of fear - what was the matter with you just then? You looked terrified!"

Sirius gave an exaggerated shudder and grimaced. "There's a group of girls in every year that just won't leave me alone. I keep finding things on my desk..."

"Such as?"

"Such as sweets and apples and bloody flowers!" Sirius told him, shoving the bag into his pocket.

"Oh how adorable!" Remus laughed, releasing the sweet for some lucky pupil to catch. He picked up his drink again, returning his attention to his notebook. "You always were popular with the girls..."

Sirius gave a sly smirk; "Not just the girls, eh?"

Remus's drink crashed loudly onto the table and poured its contents onto floor.

Harry looked up as some kind of commotion stirred up on the other side of the room. He was still laughing uncontrollably at Gavin's impression of Filch, and Gavin was leaning his forehead on Harry's shoulder, laughing just as hard. He was having such a good time, Gavin was so much fun; he was already dreading the prospect of having to head back to the school because it would mean that he wouldn't be able to spend any more time with the engaging young Ravenclaw. "Wassaht my prit-ee? Two sevehnff yeeers cawltin' in th' Stronomy Towah? Lead the way, prit-ee."

Both boys collapsed into a second wave of giggles, and Harry was somewhat startled when Gavin sank down sideways until his head rested in Harry's lap, still cackling hysterically. Harry tugged at his hair playfully and brushed it out of his face, giggling more as Gavin blew an errant strand out of the way languidly. He was so very tempted to just lean down and brush his lips against the stretch of perfectly smooth skin where Gavin's dark hair met his forehead, but as soon as the idea crossed his mind a small (but very vociferous) voice started screaming not to dare be so stupid. What are you even thinking, you big idiot? Don't you dare. Don't you dare make such a prat of yourself! A pair of brown eyes were suddenly staring up at him and a soft, rosy cheek was resting against the hand he had used to brush the other boy's hair out of his face.

"What on Earth are you doing? You were laughing like a lunatic!"

Harry's breath caught in his chest as he raised his eyes once more and found Draco standing directly in front of them. It was as though a gust of cold wind had blown in, even though the weather outside was warm and sunny. The blonde boy looked at him with bemusement. He was almost smiling, seeming genuinely amused by the state Harry was in. The hint of a smile was eradicated immediately as Gavin sat up and glanced uneasily at Harry, tucking his hair behind his ear nervously, as though having only just remembered quite how public a place they were in.

"Wha' d'you want, Malfoy?" Gavin asked, swallowing and benefiting him with a look of annoyance.

"Oh, I'm so very sorry for interrupting your frivolous little game there, Cross," he sneered, his silver eyes taking on an almost green-ish hue that Harry had never seen before. "I didn't realise Potter had company," he fixed the icy stare on Harry, "If I had known I would have stayed well away."

"Well why don' you jus' piss off, then, eh?" Gavin suggested austerely, picking up his butterbeer and casting Draco a look almost as chilling back. "Harry don' need your snotty little nose pokin' in where it's no' wanted. 'Aven't you got any friends t' show off to?"

"I don't take orders from you, Cross - I don't take orders from anyone."

"Is tha' right, is it? See, tha's not what I 'eard," Gavin said, leaning across the table and speaking in a low voice, "I 'eard tha' you're so good at takin' orders tha' You-Know-Who 'as got you down for a very special position, if you catch my meanin'. When you leave 'ere, I 'eard you're so good a' suckin' up to 'im tha' you're gonna take over that role from your mother..."

The moment the words had left Gavin's mouth every lamp and candle in the room flared up twice as bright and the unlit hearth was suddenly filled with roaring flames, which startled Remus so much he leapt out of his chair and practically fell onto Sirius to steady himself. Harry didn't know where to look; Draco's face was frozen in an expression of such pure rage that he was almost frightened of what the blond boy was about to do. His eyes flickered over to Harry and Harry quickly cast his eyes to the floor. When they flicked back to the Slytherin he had looked back to Gavin. Very slowly, Draco leaned forward and almost whispered in the older boy's ear: "If that's the case, Cross, you'd better learn to be a little more careful what you say about me. Who knows what might happen if you don't?"

With that he glanced at Harry once more and knocked the nearest drink off the table, directly into Gavin's lap. A moment later he was gone.

Sirius and Remus looked at each other as a flash of silver blond passed them and in a split second a mutual agreement was made and Sirius was on his feet and half way to the door while Remus headed over to where Harry sat with a very pale Gavin. Draco hadn't had time to get far when Sirius caught up with him. The Slytherin hadn't even realised he was behind him until a large hand clamped itself around his arm and spun him around to face its owner.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" Sirius bellowed, blue eyes flashing menacingly. "HAVE YOU ANY IDEA HOW DANGEROUS THAT WAS? YOU COULD HAVE HAD THE WHOLE BLOODY PLACE UP IN A PUFF OF SMOKE YOU STUPID, STUPID CHILD! TWENTY POINTS FROM SLYTHERIN FOR BEING AN IMBECILIC LITTLE PRAT! NO - FIFTY POINTS!"

Draco tried to wrench his arm out of Sirius' grip and turn away, but he was holding on too tight. "Let me go," he hissed, continuing to struggle.

"I don't think so, kid," Sirius replied, still fuming, "You're coming with me and I seriously don't think you'll be seeing this place again this year."

"Well that's just typical of you, isn't it, Black? Never bother to find out what's going on before you jump in with both boots!" He wrenched again at his arm. Several people had now stopped and were watching the skirmish with delight.

"Alright, Malfoy - explain. And none of your crap; just tell me what happened so I can get you back to the school."

"It wasn't my fault," Draco told him, writhing slightly to try and break his grip.

"Bollocks wasn't it! You know as well as I do that you were responsible for what just happened in there, now you can either tell me now and get off a bit lighter, or I can drag you kicking and screaming up to the school if that's what it's going to take."

"It was Cross - he - ow! Get off me! He was saying things about my mother and it made me angry - will you get off? That hurts!"

Sirius loosened his grip a fraction and realised, to his horror, that the boy seemed almost to have tears in his eyes. "Malfoy are you-" he looked around at the gathering crowd, "Alright you little vultures, piss off, go on!" Most of the kids looked around at each other and began to slope off reluctantly. "OI! What are you still doing here? Shift - NOW!" he yelled at some sniggering sixth years nearby. They left, scowling, in the direction of the joke shop and Sirius turned back to Draco. "Right, so what happened?"

"I told you, Cross made me angry and - I didn't mean to do it, it just happened. Go on, give me detention, take away my Hogsmeade privileges - I couldn't care less anyway."

Sirius's temper was mellowing rather quickly and he couldn't help but pick up a tone of actual anxiety in the boy's voice. "What did he do to make you angry?" he asked, crouching slightly so he was more or less on a level with the tiny fifth year.

"He implied my mother is Voldemort's courtesan. In fact he more or less said it directly."

Ah. No wonder the poor little bastard's pissed off. "What did you do to Cross?"

"Nothing! I just went to say hello to Harry and -" he hesitated for a second, tempted to make allusions to what may have been going on under the table, just to pay Harry back for letting the stupid, long-haired idiot talk to him in such a way. "-I went to say hello to Harry because I didn't realise Cross was there and Cross told me to piss off, alright? All I did was be there."

"Malfoy, you know Dumbledore wants you to keep your distance from Harry-"

"Dumbledore or you?"

"Well, actually both of us, now you come to mention it, but you know full bloody well that you shouldn't have started speaking to him in the first place!" He lowered his voice slightly, "How are you expecting us to help you if you won't follow our instructions?"

"Just leave me alone." Draco finally managed to wrench his arm from Sirius's grip, only to find both wrists caught instead.

"Listen to me, Malfoy, if you can do that sort of thing by accident you have got to learn to control it. Dumbledore is trying to sort it out, now you're going to have to help us to help you. Stop making it hard for yourself. Don't approach Harry in public, because you've seen what happens. I'll talk to Harry about it, get his side of the story and then..." he gave the boy an appraising look, "Just leave it to me and Remus, alright? We're trying to help you, so stop fucking everything up." He let the boy's wrists go. "Go on, kid... bugger off."

Remus met him at the door of the Three Broomsticks; he'd been watching the scene from afar and was on the brink of going and breaking it up. "You really shouldn't have touched him, Sirius," he said, shaking his head, "He could have you arrested for assault for you just did."

"He won't, Moo, don't worry about it. That kid's got problems, though... got a real obsession with Harry, I think."

Remus looked at him with wide eyes; "Pardon?"

"He's a bit fixated on Harry - won't accept that he can't be seen talking to him."

"I expect it's hard for him," the other man said, watching as the blond boy disappeared into the distance, "He's turned to Harry because he's got no one else and we're telling him he can't. It's a bit harsh, isn't it?"

Sirius winced, slightly; "I know. And look, I know we can't just let them be best mates and go running all over the shop as if they've been friends from the off, but the poor little sod's probably feeling like shit-"

"I know," Remus murmured, nodding slightly. You think we should get Harry to keep an eye on him, don't you?

Could it hurt?

Harry's a good kid. He can cope.

They both nodded to show their agreement.

"I'll get back up to the school and tell Dumbledore, then," Sirius sighed, ruffling a hand through his own shaggy hair, "And do me a favour, Moo - next time you want to sit on my lap, ask first."

Draco stormed away from the confrontation with Sirius feeling as though the whole world was pitted against him. He was striding so fiercely that within a hundred yards his ankles were actually aching. He slowed down and forced himself to control his breathing; throwing tantrums wasn't going to get him anywhere. None the less, he gave a sharp kick to an unfortunate squirrel that scampered through his path as he reached the end of the main street and approached the wooded stretch that bordered the Forbidden Forest. He turned off the road and began to climb up the slope towards the Shrieking Shack, knowing that very few people actually ventured there.

Making his way for a heavily wooded section of land, he found a fallen tree, which he cleared with a simple spell that was too insignificant to get himself expelled from school (not that he was altogether bothered at that point in time) and sat down upon, leaning his head against a protruding broken branch. He hated Sirius Black. Hated him. It was just like a Gryffindor to yell first and ask questions later, sounding his great big mouth off and refusing to apologise when it turned out he was wrong. And Black, of course, the Light's precious freedom fighting anti-hero martyr with his stupid leather Muggle clothes and his famous flying motorbike, was the very epitome of Gryffindor. Brave, rash, honourable, determined, tactless, stupid, insane... Draco despised Gryffindors more as he thought about how very well Black suited the house. He'd like to flatten him with his own flaming motorcycle. That would teach him.

Draco pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and slipped one into his mouth. This was the penultimate packet, he'd have to brew some more Duplication Serum soon, create some more. Looking at the nearly empty pack reminded him of Harry and the night in the Arithmancy classroom; the way Harry had panicked when Draco had flicked the flame around his fingers. He lit the cigarette and repeated the action with his fingertips. The tiny flame effortlessly passed from one to the next leaving no trace or even heat. In fact, to Draco it felt only as though a small animal was licking his hands, like the baby rabbit he and his grandmother had rescued when he was small. It had always licked his hands and his grandmother had said it was because it liked the salty taste. Draco had giggled, his four-year-old mind finding it hard to comprehend that he tasted like salt. He didn't taste like salt! He tasted like Draco, of course!

Don't do this to yourself, Draco, don't get yourself upset.

You'll have your revenge one day. On Cross, too. You'll show him who Harry belongs to.

Not yet, perhaps; but he could. You could fight for him. You have to.

- I will not fight for anyone. I am not degrading myself to that level!

You never fight to win anything, do you? You just to lash out against what you can't have, because you're too weak to take it with your own hands. You're pathetic.

Isn't it true? You know it is... You need to show him, Draco. Show him how much more you deserve him. If you do, of course...

- Of course I deserve him! I told you, I'll prove it.

Of course you will, and when you make your best impression Harry will still pick Cross. What will you do, then, Malfoy? What will you do?

Well let's hope for Cross's sake that he does. It would be such a terrible shame if something happened to him, wouldn't it?

Draco sat up sharply. He was not going to think like that; he wouldn't start wishing people dead - it was far too dangerous. What had happened in the Three Broomsticks had startled him as much as it had everyone else. Of course, he'd got angry in the past and made lights flare - that was nothing - but the raging fire in hearth had been something altogether new. And that hadn't been all; he'd seen something in Cross's eyes - a reflection of himself - and it had been flaming green. But he knew that was impossible. He knew he hadn't engulfed himself because not only would he have felt it, but the reaction in the pub would have been far greater. People would have been screaming and panicking and he would probably have been proclaimed some sort of demon working on Voldemort's behalf. But there was really very little that was new to that theory.

So what had happened? Why had he seen himself engulfed in flames in the Ravenclaw's eyes and why had the flames been green? He didn't understand. He wanted to tell Harry. The thought brought him back to his confrontation with the other boy's godfather and how the fool had essentially told him to stay away from Harry. Stay away? Does he actually think I have that much of a choice in the matter? He didn't have a choice, because it was being around Harry that made him want to carry on existing. The week he'd spent ignoring him - trying to block him out and convince himself he didn't need the Boy Wonder to keep him going - had been such a trial that he had felt physically exhausted at the end of it. Seeing Harry with his face all bruised that morning had just broken his resolve into pieces and he hadn't been able to stop himself chasing after the Gryffindor when there was the slightest chance he might be able to catch him alone. He had been weakened by it. Just like Daddy said, isn't that right, Draco? Just being around Harry the few times he had been recently was wearing him down. Harry couldn't even see it, but he was placing everything at the oblivious fool's feet and the careless idiot was tripping over it as he ambled on through everything. He'd never say it to Harry's face, but he would literally give his Life - do the very thing he was attempting to run from - if it would save the Gryffindor from Voldemort; if it would save him from anything. He would do that for him because he loved him, and yet Harry had just let the stupid Welsh oaf say those things to him without saying a word to defend him. He'd just sat there and let it go on - even knowing all that he did about Draco's situation. Spineless prat. Wouldn't dare say anything civil about me in public, would you? So much for your brave Gryffindor heart, Harry. It's all so sodding easy for you! You were always on the right side... You didn't have to choose. Didn't have to decide to give up everything... Follow what they want so blindly, like a good little Headmaster's pet. Little lap dog. He tossed his cigarette butt onto the ground and stamped on it hard. Someone needed to show Harry how to break the rules they weren't expecting him to break.

Sirius shifted his weight awkwardly from foot to foot as he stood on the threshold of Dumbledore's office, waiting for the old man to return. No matter how many times he'd been in there as an adult - as a teacher with perfectly innocent reason - he couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom in the way of detracted points or nightly detentions. It was a long, long time since he'd stood in front of Dumbledore's desk with Snape, Remus and James and been told his future at the school was in serious danger. He hadn't meant it... not the way it turned out... he hadn't been thinking... he just wanted Snape to see - to realise he couldn't treat Remus like that - he'd just wanted Remus to fight back for once... that was all...

He shook his head violently. That was one of the memories that they had tortured him with in Azkaban... and the sight of Remus's pale green eyes streaming with unhindered tears in the Entrance Hall as Sirius was sent home on indefinite suspension. Remus had insisted on going down to see him leave, even though he had been hidden away in the hospital wing all weekend, but he hadn't said a single word; he'd just stood and watched as Sirius's mother and father led him away. It was only the second time he'd seen Remus cry; the first had been when his father died. Sirius didn't know at the time whether the tears were because he wasn't sure if Sirius would ever be back at the school or whether he just felt so desperately let down by his closest friend. Sirius had never really forgiven himself, even long after Remus swore he had. It was a memory comparable to the moment he'd landed at the crumbled shell of Godric's Hollow and Hagrid had refused to let him take Harry. He had failed James and they wouldn't even let him take on his duty - to carry out the promise he'd made to him just months earlier - and do the only thing he could possibly think of to try and make up for his stupidity. He should never have made the change. James hadn't even wanted to, he had said he trusted Sirius with his life, with his family's lives. Sirius had failed the one other person who meant everything to him and he had to do something to make it right or he would go completely insane. If only he had never gone after Peter... if Hagrid had let him take Harry straight to Remus, because he knew, then, he knew that Remus had always been as loyal and true to the Marauders as he always had been... it wasn't his Moony... it was Peter - it had always been Peter...if only he had had something to do then - to give him a sense of carrying on and making up for what he had done... twelve years... all that loss... so much time wasted and Remus all alone... so alone. All he had been able to think of sometimes was whether they had found Remus and how he would cope on his own. Oh yes, Remus was strong and brave and determined, but he'd said so many times that he would be lost without the Marauders... he couldn't bear being alone, sometimes... Sirius had wondered if Mundy and Miranda would look after him. Florry was gone, killed in the raid on the Shamanic Embassy... Jennifer - sweet little 'Nifer - was 'indisposed'... Isobel had fled to the continent... no one knew where Elias was... Everyone was gone. Who would Remus turn to without them? Who would remind him to eat or listen to him when he talked about his book or his P.R.O.F. studies? He shouldn't be alone, he really shouldn't - he'd just fall apart if they left him to his own devices - he needed people ... he needs...

"Sirius?"

Somewhere far away he could hear a voice, and he knew it was calling him, but it wasn't properly registering in his mind.

"Sirius..."

A hand gently grasped his shoulder and all at once he was back in Dumbledore's office, staring into the old man's pale blue eyes, never having realised he had left the room. For a moment Sirius just blinked at the man in front of him. It always took a few moments for him to shake himself out of his regression-like daydreams; he always felt lost and agitated at first.

"I...um... s-sorry - I..."

"It's quite alright, Sirius, quite alright," Dumbledore said, patting his arm soothingly. "Do come in and sit down. Tea?"

"Er..."

"Plenty of sugar, I think."

Sirius found that he was being handed a china teacup and saucer with steaming tea in. He had no idea where it had come from and had anyone other than Dumbledore - or perhaps Remus (although the other man had recently proved he was still capable of a prank or two when he kindly laid out Sirius's toothbrush for him - with toothpaste that turned his teeth blue for three days) - given him the drink he would have carefully disposed of it when they weren't looking.

He followed the headmaster to the desk and sat down on the old sofa before it. "Now, what is the matter?"

"Draco Malfoy," Sirius answered simply.

"Ah, yes, Master Malfoy," Dumbledore said, nodding slowly. "There was an incident."

"Um - yeah. Word travels fast around here, still, doesn't it?"

Dumbledore smiled, "It is always prudent to keep one's ear to the ground, Sirius, always prudent."

Sirius smiled and nodded. An ear? What, over the whole of Hogsmeade?

"There was something of a brouhaha?"

"It's the pyroclasty issue. He got a bit wound up and nearly backdrafted the whole pub. I mean, it's dangerous and the kid has to be taught to control it. I know you're looking for someone to train him up and everything -"

"Actually, I think I may have found someone," the old man interjected.

"Oh - well good! And the sooner the better because I don't fancy explaining to any distraught parents why their kids are..." he gave a small cough, "Well..."

"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded, the devious twinkle in his eyes, "And I'm sure they will trust your teaching skills as well as I do myself."

"Thank you," Sirius said automatically. Then his brain and hearing clicked into sync. "Sorry - hang on - what?"

"Oh, I was merely saying that I'm sure the parents will have quite as much confidence as I do in your teaching skills. Particularly where Draco is concerned," Dumbledore explained as though he were merely saying he'd decided to buy Earl Grey instead of PG Tips teabags for a change.

"I'm sorry - I don't think I quite understand..."

"Oh it's really quite simple, you will be teaching our young charge to master his gift and turn it into a skill."

"I won't! I mean - um... well I can't! I don't know anything about that sort of thing."

Dumbledore gave a merry chuckle and replied, "Oh I do beg to differ, my friend. In fact I can think of no one more capable. There is no one else who is currently available who has the skill, will power and-" he looked up towards the ceiling innocently, steepling his fingers, "-patience for such a task."

"No. I'm sorry but I just can't - the kid is a nightmare! We are absolutely incapable of working on a one-to-one basis. I really can't. There has to be someone better!" Please, please let there be someone better, because I am not giving up my spare time to teach that little brat. No way.

"You will, Sirius."

"Sorry? Will...?"

"You will, I'm afraid, have to give up your spare time to teach 'that little...' boy."

Sirius stared at him. It was true! They'd always thought so and it bloody was! The old sod could read people's minds. Sirius sincerely hoped he wasn't reading at the moment, because he'd probably get the sack.

"Have faith in yourself, Sirius. You were one of the brightest students this school has ever seen - "

"So was Remus! Make him do it!"

"Remus has a career of his own to consider," Dumbledore reminded him, actually appearing to find Sirius' tantrum rather amusing, "not to mention general housekeeping."

"Housekeeping? What's that got to do with anything? And - how do you even know he does the housekeeping, anyway?" Sirius demanded, colouring with irritation and mild embarrassment.

"Walls have ears, Sirius, and it is often extremely useful to know how to locate their mouths, as well."

Sirius blinked at him, wondering if perhaps the beaming old professor had found the stash of hallucinogens Graham Elessdi has hidden behind the loose brick in the room that used to be the old potions auxiliary cupboard. He certainly seemed more... lucid at the moment. Though in a certain sense of the word, it had to be said. Perhaps it was the tea. Sirius and James tried to make mushroom tea, once. He tentatively sipped at the china cup in his hand. No, just normal tea.

"I must say I am terribly hungry," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. He took his wand and conjured a plate of round, butter-drenched savoury cakes. "Talking of Remus, how are you adjusting?"

"Er--fine; yeah, it just took a bit of--"

"Crumpet?"

Sirius spluttered tea all over the desk. "Um..." he mopped at his chin with his sleeve. "Sorry?"

"Crumpet?" Dumbledore held out the plate of cakes.

"Er... no. Thanks."

"You're both well then?"

"Um...we're fine. I think."

"Splendid! Now, Master Malfoy has free time on Wednesdays for the two periods after lunch. I'm sure you can arrange your own time during those periods to ensure you make the very best of the time you have with the young man. It's rather convenient that it coincides, don't you think?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes a fraction. "Yes. Extremely convenient." If he didn't know better he would have said that Dumbledore had done that on purpose. "There's also the fact that...well, Remus and I think the Malfoy kid would benefit from Harry's company. I mean, the poor little bugger's in a really sticky situation and he shouldn't be doing it alone."

"Yes, yes, of course. Are you willing to allow Harry to spend his time in Mr Malfoy's company?"

"I don't think it's down to me or Remus, really. If Harry is prepared to tolerate him I think it's down to Harry. I just think that the kid has got problems he's not going to talk to any of us about. Maybe talking to Harry will help."

"Yes, you're quite right, quite right indeed. It is quite incredible how people often speak to each other without actually communicating."

Sirius wondered how he had ever been considered intelligent when he had no bloody clue what the Headmaster was on about today. He made a non-committal sound and nodded. Just leave the room and don't question it. Back away slowly and it'll all be okay... This is all because of that bloody kid, you know. If he hadn't started trying to blow himself up you wouldn't be sitting here with Tom fucking Bombadil. Shit - I hope he didn't hear that! Sirius stood up and made to leave. "Right, well, I'll be off."

"Yes, yes - you must discuss things with Remus, of course."

"Er, yeah... And Harry - he's a big part of this."

"Oh yes, most certainly. It will all be frightfully important to him, but I shouldn't consider it a problem," Dumbledore smiled.

"No. I think it'll all be fine with Harry... I'd better be going."

"Yes, yes, of course. Oh - and Sirius, things kept behind closed doors are often liable to break them down and cause quite a lot of bother. An opened door is far less complicated than a door blown off its hinges."

"Um. I'll remember that - thanks." Sirius left the room very, very quickly, entirely missing the look of amused exasperation Dumbledore cast him.

"Children these days... so very oblivious."

~*~

That afternoon Harry was asked very politely (in Remus's best 'Please do this for me so I don't have to pull the "I-am- your-guardian-you-are-obliged-to-do-as-I-say" stunt and you know I really don't like that' voice) to come to the cottage for dinner. Of course, a nice, homely meal away from the bustle and whispers of the Great Hall were all the encouragement Harry needed and he made his way directly there once he'd signed back in with Filch in the Entrance Hall. Remus hadn't stayed with them long at the pub, but had scuttled off rather soon after a quick word with Professor Flitwick. It was obvious that he had been asking the tiny Charms teacher to keep an eye on them as he took to trailing them when they went to the joke shop and on to Honeydukes, obviously thinking he was being subtle. Gavin had been a bit strange for the rest of the afternoon; absent and slightly distracted, but not enough to make Harry worry. Most people who'd been threatened by Draco Malfoy like that were usually a bit shaken.

Harry said goodbye to the Ravenclaw in the lobby and made his way across the lawns to the white picket fence on the perimeter of the cottage garden. He made his way around the back to where an old-fashioned stable-door led into the house from Remus's little vegetable patch. When Harry had asked, once, why they had one when Remus was often to be heard complaining about having to do the weeding again, Sirius's explanation had been that Remus was a person who always like to see things through. He always liked to make sure things were complete and this, unfortunately, included the middle-England cliché. Remus's answer was that it had been instilled in him by his green-fingered mother that things that came straight from the earth were better for you. Harry preferred Sirius's theory.

The teenager ambled into the kitchen, nearly tripping over the lower half of the door, which was locked and didn't move when he walked into it. Muttering and rubbing his bruised hip, Harry climbed over it and gave Remus the fright of his life by appearing behind him as he drained the potatoes. After a brief collection of chuckles and apologies Harry asked him what was wrong, as he was clearly distracted.

"Oh - nothing, I'm absolutely fine..." Remus told him, blushing and placing a tray full of empty eggshells back in the fridge beside a teapot and carefully pouring hot water into a partially-empty milk bottle.

"Oh yeah?" Harry asked, pulling a tub of ice cream out of the unlit oven - which he'd merely checked for a joke.

"Well -" Remus took the ice-cream out of his hand quickly and made to put it in the bread bin before shaking himself and putting it in the freezer, "-I'm just a touch distracted..."

"I did notice, actually, Moo,"Harry laughed. "What's the matter?"

"What? Oh. Nothing - it's just... well... post-moon and all that."

Harry nodded, humouring him. It was a blatant lie, of course, but everyone seemed to be acting strange today, so he let it pass, convinced that he'd find out eventually if it was that relevant.

Suddenly there came the sound of the front door being slammed incredibly hard and Remus winced. "Harry," he said, in a would-be-calm sort of voice, "he's in a very bad temper and there's.... well, there's something-" He was cut short as Sirius stomped into the room and dumped a large collection of dusty books onto the kitchen table.

"As if teaching all the little bastards wasn't enough!" he complained loudly, "What does the old git think I am, some sort of miracle worker? Where the fuck does he think I'll find the time?"

"Time for what?" Harry asked, only catching Remus's warning look when it was too late, just as it dissolved into a distinct expression of 'Oh God, not again!'

"For what? To teach the bad tempered little bastard how to not char grill everyone within thirty feet when he throws a tantrum, that's what!"

Harry blinked rapidly and scratched his temple. "H-hang on... you're going to...? You are going to teach Draco?" he asked in disbelief. Oh no... they'll kill each other!

"Not through choice," Sirius said irritably, verging on a childish sulk.

"But - why you? Couldn't Dumbledore find anyone else?" Anyone less likely to get reduced to a pile of ash when they wind him up?

"I don't actually think the old git even tried. And he's going fucking bonkers! He used to talk in riddles when here were here, but these days he's just talking rubbish!"

"Just because you don't understand him, Siri?" Remus asked wearily as he began to spoon mayonnaise into the boiled potatoes. "And don't swear so much."

"I'll fucking swear as much as I bastard well like. And what's that supposed to mean, 'Just because I don't understand him'?" the black-haired man replied, scowling.

Remus gave a pained sigh, "If you ever actually listened to what Dumbledore said properly and didn't take every little thing at face value you wouldn't be in such a mood and you would know what he was talking about."

"He always talks in riddles," Harry added, "I think half the point is to leave you so confused you're forced to think about it." He shrugged and picked up a piece of sliced mushroom. "That's my theory, anyway."

"Oh go on, all gang up on me, why don't you?" Sirius pouted, also moving to take a piece of mushroom and receiving a wooden spoon across the knuckles. "OI! Oh yeah, that's right, let Harry take a bit but whack me one when I do. Thanks a lot," he pouted, licking mayonnaise from his affronted fingers.

"Oh stop moaning, you big baby," Remus tutted with a half-smile and shoved three slices into Sirius' face, shaking his head.

Harry chuckled at them. They could both be so very juvenile at times. But Harry was quite sure he now knew what Remus was so distracted about. A foul tempered Sirius was always hard work.

"So, is this what I'm here for? For you to whinge at and to help you cope with his moaning?" Harry grinned, sitting down.

"Among other things," Remus muttered, throwing handfuls of chopped spring onion into the potato bowl.

"What other things?" Harry asked, picking up a piece of spring onion that had rolled off the nearby chopping board.

"Harry, will you stop picking, please? You'll get him started..." Remus said, shoving Harry's hand away as he went for another piece and gesturing to Sirius with his wooden spoon.

"Sorry," Harry said, smiling up at him mock-innocently, only to take a piece of diced carrot when Remus turned away to pick up some sweetcorn.

"OI! That's not fair! Remus - Harry just took some carrot!" Sirius told him, picking up another piece of mushroom and hiding it in his fist until he had a chance to eat it.

"Harry!"

"What? He's got some mushroom!"

"No I haven't!"

"He has! It's in his hand!"

"Sirius?" Remus scowled, holding out his own hand.

Sirius glared at Harry. "Bloody tell tale tit."

"Right, that's it - out. The pair of you, out of the kitchen until I've finished! You're flaming well driving me mad!"

"Oh typical you - have to rub salt in the would, don't you? You should have been a Slytherin..." Sirius sulked, throwing the slice of mushroom and hitting Remus square in the forehead.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Um - you said 'flaming', Moo..." Harry explained, shaking his head in mock-disapproval.

"Oh that is it! OUT!" He physically picked Harry up and dumped him on the threshold to the living room before turning to Sirius and silently pointing at the door. Sirius hung his head and sloped out, muttering something about mucking about. "Actually, Sirius - come and get these books. They shouldn't be out here while I'm cooking."

Sirius gave a loud sigh and returned to collect them. "Sorry - Moomin Mama," he said sarcastically when he was out of reach of the wooden spoon.

"Blasted children!" Remus muttered, shaking his sandy head in exasperation. He wouldn't have minded but who else had to hold down a job, run a home and look after two kids aged fifteen and thirty-seven? He felt like a single mother.

Half an hour later they were finally allowed back into the kitchen and they all sat down to a very summery meal of cold chicken and potato salad. "So what was it you need to tell me?" Harry asked, trying, and failing, to stab a fork into a potato that seemed to want chasing around his plate.

Sirius and Remus cast each other uncomfortable looks. "Well," Remus began, carefully, "we need to talk to you about Draco Malfoy..."

Harry stopped chasing the potato and looked up at them, both sitting on the opposite side of the table like a pair of awkward interviewers who didn't know how to tell him he most certainly hadn't got the job. "What about him?"

"Do you get on better, these days?" Remus asked, trying to sound casual and succeeding only in sounding nervous.

"Um... better, yes..." Harry replied suspiciously. "Why?"

"Well, we've been thinking-"

"Look - we think he needs someone to talk to, and as he seems quite keen on you all of a sudden, we think you're best for the job. Now, you can turn us down if you want - fuck knows I wouldn't bloody want to do it - but we thought we'd ask all the same."

"But Dumbledore-"

"See? He doesn't want to. Fine - I totally understand, I said you wouldn't want to."

Remus cast Sirius an impatient look. "You absolutely did not. Anyway, Harry - would you mind, at all? Dumbledore thinks he needs a friend, too, and provided no-one broadcasts the matter-"

"He doesn't want to, Moony! It's obvious!"

"Sirius, will you let him answer for himself? Not everyone is quite as uncharitable as you, you know."

"I'd happily do it," Harry said earnestly, continuing to pursue the errant potato.

"What?" Sirius asked in horror.

"I'll do it. He's really alright once you get to know him a bit..."

Remus smiled with relief, "Thank you, Harry, that's really very kind. You see, Sirius - he doesn't mind."

Words, apparently, had failed the other man and he merely looked at Harry as though he had sprouted horns or turned a particularly putrid shade of green.

"I've spoken to him quite a bit recently," Harry shrugged, "We can get on okay when we're not fighting... and he's actually quite funny some times. Not often, but some times..."

"But..." Sirius managed the one word before his brain seized up again and he looked at his friend in the vain hope of some form of support.

"Good," Remus smiled at the boy opposite him, "I'm quite glad. Actually, he'd never admit it, but it was Sirius's idea. He's a sensitive soul under the antagonistic exterior, aren't you, Padfoot?" He patted the dark-haired man on his arm and gave Harry a conspiratorial grin. Sirius merely made an indistinct gurgle.

Harry grinned at his godfather and continued, "He talks to me about things I don't think he's ever told anyone before - about his mum and dad and all that... I feel sorry for him, really."

"That's because you're a nice person, as James was. So what sort of things does he tell you?"

"Well, um... like the fact his mum is really sort of mentally ill, now. It sounds like she had some sort of breakdown after Lucius Malfoy murdered their little girl. The only thing stopping her being taken back to France is that she won't leave Draco with him." Harry prodded at his food thoughtfully, "He's really fond of her and talking about her really sort of... bothers him like nothing else can. It's sad." Well, one other thing can bother him, but there's no way I'm telling you that with Mr Grumpy in the room.

"The poor woman," Remus sighed, frowning. "But there's nothing anyone can do until Lucius has been caught or confesses, or until she goes to the Ministry."

"Wouldn't they just lock her up, like they locked up Wormtail?"

"If she's lucky," Sirius muttered, apparently having found his tongue.

"Lucky? How would that be lucky?" Harry demanded, feeling oddly protective of her for Draco's sake.

"Because if she goes to the Ministry I'm bloody sure it'd be the last thing she'd ever do. He'd kill her for something like that. That's what Malfoy's like," Sirius told him, the sound of contempt seeping into his voice with a good measure of disgust.

Remus nodded in concordance. "She'd be eliminated without a thought."

"So - what's he going to do to Draco if he finds out? Would he have him killed, too?"

"Naturally."

Sirius's response was so quick, so sure, so very blasé that Harry felt instantly sick. "But then... if everyone knows what Lucius is like, why can't they stop him?"

"It's bureaucracy, Harry," Remus explained, "You can't just go and arrest someone for something without the proper foundation to do so. You at least need to have them under suspicion of a specific crime-"

"And being an old bastard doesn't count, mores the pity... we could have had Sevvy locked up some time ago under that one."

"But he murdered his own baby! And his mother!"

"Do you have proof, Harry?" Remus asked challengingly, reverting to 'teacher-mode' for a moment.

"Draco told me he did and I believe him-"

"Does Draco have proof?" Sirius interrupted, shovelling chicken into his mouth.

"I- I dunno..."

"Right, well, Lucius would have been very, very careful to leave no trace. The baby would never have been registered. The mid-wife probably had a memory charm done on her - everyone else he was certain he could keep silent. When his mother was killed he probably made it look like an accident or a natural death..." Sirius said with a shrug, "He's a bastard, but he's a very clever bastard."

"Her name was Penemue Malfoy, wasn't it?" Remus asked, running two fingers across his bottom lip, thoughtfully.