Like a Brother

Like a Brother

The house-elf's expression was very, very disturbing. It didn't help, of course, that its whole face was a mass of dark, leathery wrinkles and wisps of white bristles, the huge, golf-ball glass eyes sparkling in the light from the hall lamps. Nor did it help that it was thickly coated in dust, cobwebs wafting gently from its long ears and the tip of its nose. What really creeped Harry out was that it looked - as far as he could tell on a face that looked like a walnut - pleased. Almost contented, although what anyone could find to be contented about when they'd had their head cut off and nailed to a little wooden plaque, Harry couldn't imagine. He squinted at the name engraved beneath.

"Twinkle?" he muttered, hardly believing it. Now that was really adding insult to injury.

He turned away, shaking his head, and continued up the stairs, heading for the second floor of 12, Grimmauld Place, thinking he'd go and find Ron and Hermione before dinner. He had just arrived on the first-floor landing when he ran - almost literally - into Mrs Weasley, carrying a huge pile of cobwebby curtains and hangings downstairs for washing.

"Careful! Oh, hello, Harry dear. I didn't tread on you, did I?"

"No, I'm fine," Harry assured her. "Erm, Mrs Weasley, do you know when we'll be having dinner?"

"Getting hungry?" Mrs Weasley shifted into her mother-anything-that-moves mode immediately. "It won't be long now, I just have to sort out the sausages - actually, Harry, are you doing anything at the moment?"

"Not really," Harry admitted, hoping she wasn't going to ask him to help with the sausages. The only other time he'd ever cooked sausages he'd given the Dursleys food poisoning. Luckily Aunt Petunia had blamed the butcher, not him.

"Well, if you're at a loose end, perhaps you could go and tell Sirius and Remus that dinner will be ready soon," Mrs Weasley said.

Harry brightened at the mention of his godfather. "Okay," he said. "Where is Sirius?"

"He should be in his room... You see the corridor there? " Mrs Weasley rejigged the sheets to point. "You turn left at the end, then you keep going until you get to a big window, and Sirius' room is just around the corner from there. You'll find it easily."

"All right."

"You're a good boy." Mrs Weasley picked her way downstairs, while Harry ambled off down the corridor. The thick carpet silenced his footsteps completely, so that the only sound Harry could hear was his own breathing.

As soon as he turned the corner, Harry started wishing that he'd invented something else he'd had to do. The further he got from the staircase, the creepier his surroundings became. Strange mottled patches stained the dark wallpaper: the figures in the portraits hanging in their heavy tarnished gilt frames stared and said nothing, though Harry could swear their eyes slid to follow him as he passed. Shadows grew longer and the lamps spluttered, making the shadows jump unpleasantly. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck started to prickle.

"Prat," he muttered to himself. He was getting spooked by shadows like a little kid. Still, this place was creepy. No wonder Sirius had hated living he-

Harry almost jumped out of his socks and fled whimpering when he heard a faint muttering rising from floor-level. He gulped, leapt back and grabbed the wall, before remembering the weird stains and letting go in a hurry. Heart hammering in his ears, he peered into the shadows, and sagged with relief when he made out the hunched little figure of Kreacher, stumping along and griping to himself. He talked to himself almost constantly, as if, in the absence of anything to occupy it, his mouth wired itself straight to his seemingly endless list of grievances against everyone and anyone. Gradually, the litany developed into words.

"...tells us to shove off, how rude he is, beastly piece of scum is Master, befouling poor Mistress's house with Mudbloods and blood traitors . That's not the worst of it, either, what would the mistress make of it, such a creature let into her house? But Master decides he will invite it in, a monster and a freak, the old Master would have shot it on sight, oh yes..."

"Hello, Kreacher," Harry said. He didn't expect a reply and he didn't get one: Kreacher completely ignored him and padded on past Harry's feet.

"...thought he had seen the very worst, Kreacher had, till he heard those filthy creatures - ugh! Kreacher can't even bear to think of what disgusting business they were about. Poor Mistress would die of shame, would have killed him for fouling the family name with unnatural acts. And he tells Kreacher to 'shove off'!. Not a drop of shame in him, not a bit. Poor Kreacher, it breaks his heart that he has to serve monsters and Mudbloods and filthy, filthy beasts..."

The low-level tirade faded out as Kreacher turned the corner. Harry sighed in relief. Finally, he came to the end of the corridor and saw the door and window Mrs Weasley had mentioned. The window was grey with dust, and a big gangly spider scuttled for cover as Harry approached. Harry smiled to himself. Good thing Ron isn't here. Poor Ron. He really hated spiders, although after two run-ins with an acromantula, Harry wasn't exactly mad on them himself.

The door of Sirius' room stood a little open, and Harry could hear voices in the room beyond. He recognised his old Professor Lupin's calm, level voice, although he couldn't quite make out what he was saying. Someone else laughed; that was Sirius, there was no mistaking his godfather's throaty, almost barking laugh. Harry moved over to the door.

"Come on, now. Never mind Kreacher, you know he does it to wind you up most of the time. You need something to eat, Sirius. I'll go and see if there's anything dinner-shaped happening in the kitchen," Remus said. "I mean, you might as well mope on a full stomach."

Sirius laughed again. "What would I do without you, Moony?"

"Run off to Siberia and breed fancy hippogriffs, I shouldn't wonder," Lupin replied dryly.

Harry pushed the door open, and it slid open silently, so neither Sirius or Lupin noticed he was there. Sirius' room was as gloomy and forbidding as the rest of the house, although a little cleaner. The walls were clad in such dark panelling that the late afternoon light coming from the large window hardly seemed to brighten the room at all. Sirius was sitting on the side of the bed, a huge affair of carved mahogany, hung with dark green brocade embroidered with twining serpents; Lupin was standing in front of Sirius, so Harry could see him offer Sirius his hand. Sirius grinned, the wicked grin Harry remembered from his parent's photographs

"Do you really think so?"

"I know so."

Sirius took the proffered hand and was pulled to his feet. Harry was just drawing a breath to call hello when something happened that stopped him dead, mouth open, breath frozen in his throat.

Lupin hadn't moved away when Sirius stood up, nor let go of his hand, so the two men were only inches apart from each other, gazing straight into each other's eyes. Close. Too close, too - what?

As Harry watched, not understanding, Sirius raised a hand to curve around Lupin's cheek, fingers sliding through the grey-flecked hair until his thumb was gently rubbing along his cheekbone, wrist resting against Lupin's neck. Yet Lupin didn't pull away; His eyes met Sirius' and a small smile touched his lips.

"You know me far too well," Sirius said softly, a warm, caressing tone in his voice Harry had never heard him use before. Lupin chuckled.

"Not nearly enough for me," he murmured, releasing Sirius' hand and resting his own on Sirius' shoulder. Harry saw Sirius smile and -

-and tug Lupin even closer, so that Lupin's arm slid around his shoulders, across his back -

closed -

as Sirius ducked his head a little and touched his lips lovingly to Lupin's...

Harry stared, thunderstruck. The contact between them broke, just for a moment, then Lupin moved to remake it, lips parting hungrily, arms tightening around Sirius as he kissed him back with equal passion, bodies curving to fit, to press together as closely as possible -

God! Oh my GOD! Sirius? And Professor Lupin? TOGETHER? But - but -

Harry's thoughts collapsed into a confused mess. He wanted to stamp in in a fury, wrench Sirius away from Lupin and yell ' Stop it! He's your friend, and its - it's just eurgh!!' Other thoughts crowded in, vivid memories of Lupin pulling Sirius to his feet in the Shrieking Shack and clasping him tight, the way they listened to each other, spoke for each other; suddenly it hinted at other things, things unspoken and unseen. They'd looked - familiar in the Shack. It must have been going on before then. Probably years before. They were in the same dorm at school - Oh my God, they might have....you know... in our dorm...

Why didn't Professor Lupin tell me? Why didn't Sirius tell me?

Sirius and Lupin swayed gently under each other's hands, still wrapped in a tight embrace, until Sirius broke off the kiss and buried his face in Lupin's neck. His back was turned to Harry now, so Harry could see Lupin's face, chin resting on Sirius' shoulder, a look of blissful contentment in his tired, lined features. His hands drifted over Sirius' back, drawing patterns through his shirt.

Harry didn't mean to make a sound, but the noise - a strangled semi-yelp of utter shock - escaped him without him realising it. Lupin's eyes snapped open instantly. He saw Harry, saw Harry's expression and his eyes widened.

"Sirius!" He thumped Sirius' shoulder.

"Whu?" Sirius muttered.

"Sirius, Harry..."

"Oh sh - " Sirius sprang away from Lupin, spinning around, guilt and shock written all over his face, "Harry, I - "

It was too late, though. Harry tore himself from the door and ran full tilt down the corridor, hammering down the stairs so hard he almost fell over his own feet and the noise set Mrs Black's portrait screaming again, still reeling at the last thing he'd spotted before he fled - Lupin's battered old watch, lying on the night table by Sirius' bed.

Dinner that night was a relatively quiet affair: Mundungus was off on some questionably legal excursion, Mr Weasley was still at the Ministry and Tonks had gone to see her mother, Andromeda. Fred and George decided to enliven proceedings by enchanting the salt and pepper pots to run off and hide every time someone reached for them. Crookshanks was watching them with great interest, tail twitching idly, from the top of the dresser. Hermione was speculating to Ginny on the type of charm they'd used. The table was so busy that Harry's silence was easily overlooked.

Not unnoticed, though.

"Have some more potatoes, Harry dear," Mrs Weasley said.

"No thanks. I'm not very hungry," Harry said, pushing his sausage casserole around his plate. Mrs Weasley's face creased in concern.

"You're sure? Are you all right, Harry dear? You're looking a bit pale, I thought, and you've been ever so quiet. Would you like to go and have a lie-down for a while?"

Harry hesitated, and his eyes darted towards the two people around the table he'd avoided looking at. Lupin sat at one end of the table, fingers tapping vaguely on the tabletop. From close range Harry could see the dark shadows under Lupin's eyes that his happiness had masked; full moon was approaching, and he was increasingly tired and distracted. He shifted in his seat, drawing a concerned glance from Sirius. Sirius was opposite Ron, around the table's corner from Harry, so he had to look up the table to catch Harry's eye. Harry looked away. He could tell Sirius wanted to talk to him, had waited patiently (or not so patiently, if Harry knew Sirius) all through dinner, but perversely Harry didn't want to know. Let him wait, he thought resentfully. See how he likes being left out of it.

"Yeah, I think I will, thanks," he said to Mrs Weasley.

She nodded kindly, taking his plate. "I'll save you a bit of dinner and some pudding in case you feel up to it later."

"Thanks." Harry rose and left the kitchen. Behind him he heard a chair scrape, then footsteps. He half-turned to see Sirius ducking around Mrs Weasley - 'Scuse me a minute, Molly' - and hurrying to join him in the hall. He stopped grudgingly as Sirius elbowed the door closed behind him.

"Harry?" Harry could feel Sirius' gaze on his face, anxious and pleading. "Harry, please, look at me."

Harry kept his face a disinterested blank and looked up at his godfather.

"Look, I know that...that...erm, seeing what you saw must've been a shock, but please give me a chance to expl - OH HELL!!!"

A salvo of infuriated hoots had come from upstairs, waking Mrs Black's portrait again, which promptly destroyed the peace with piercing howls of "Filth! Low-born Mudblood scum and vile unnatural creatures, polluting my own hearth and home! Get out! Get OUT!!"

Sirius scowled fiercely at the interruption. "Of all the bloody times - "

"I'd better go see to Hedwig," Harry said quickly, and sprinted up the stairs to his room before Sirius could say any more.

It was easy enough to quieten Hedwig. Pigwidgeon had decided it was playtime and was barrelling around Hedwig like a fluffy pinball, nibbling at Hedwig's tail feathers and hooting at top volume, while Hedwig was making it loudly known that she was not in the mood for this pestering. Harry shooed the little owl away and rubbed Hedwig's breast feathers until she settled back onto her perch atop her cage. Then he locked the bedroom door, kicked his shoes off and threw himself onto his bed, which creaked loudly. He lay there stewing, his mind replaying the scene over and over, trying to think of anything that might possibly make it mean anything else, knowing it wouldn't. To make matters that little bit worse, he remembered Kreacher, muttering about freaks and unnatural deeds, and Mrs Black calling Sirius an abomination. They must have known, Harry thought. Everyone knew, except me.

He was still brooding angrily along these lines when he heard someone knocking at the door.

"Go away! I don't want to talk to you!" He snarled at the door, ignoring the reproachful sniff from Phineas Nigellus' portrait.

"What've I done?" Ron said, sounding hurt.

"Ron? Is that you?"

"Of course it's me, you stupid git. Now are you going to let me into our room or not?"

Harry rolled off the bed and opened the door. Ron was indeed there, with Hermione just behind him.

"Right." Before Harry could object, Hermione and Ron grabbed a shoulder each and frogmarched him back into the bedroom. Hermione closed the door behind them.

"Colloportus."

"That's not going to keep Fred and George out," Ron reminded her.

"I know. But I told them earlier that if I ever catch them listening in on anything I say I'll use every hex I know on them, and that might take quite a while," Hermione said coolly, throwing Pig a treat to shut him up.

"Ah. That'd work for me."

Ron plonked Harry back on Harry's bed, before sitting down on his own; Hermione carefully cleared a spot on top of the chest of drawers and sat, feet dangling.

"What the heck's going on?" Harry demanded.

"That's exactly what we want to know," Hermione said. "Believe it or not, we do notice when you're not yourself, and you were acting really weird all through dinner."

"Even weirder than usual," Ron commented helpfully.

Harry glared. "Thanks, Ron."

"And you've been accusing us of ignoring you for weeks, so here's your big chance." Hermione said. "We're here, we're all ears - so tell us. What's wrong?"

Harry scowled, raking a hand through his hair irritably. "Never mind."

Hermione sighed theatrically. "Come on, Harry. I could go and see if there's some Veritaserum hidden somewhere here and dose your tea with it, but it's a lot of effort and you really wouldn't like it at all. Why don't you save us all a lot of time and bother and tell us now."

"We won't laugh or anything," Ron promised.

Harry snorted with laughter: he couldn't help it. "Why not? I would, if it wasn't me."

Twin expressions of utter puzzlement looked back at him from Ron and Hermione. Hermione frowned, her thinking expression in place.

"Is this something to do with Sirius and Professor Lupin?" she said hesitantly.

"How an earth could you know that?" Harry said, astounded. "Have you been talking to Kreacher?"

Hermione shook her head. "It was just a guess. If you must know, you weren't talking to either of them at dinner. You wouldn't even look at them when they spoke to you, and when Sirius went to talk to you, you sloped off as soon as you could."

"You noticed all that?" Ron asked in frank disbelief. Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry thought, then nodded.

"Yeah. It's ...about them."

Hermione made 'go on' motions with one hand.

"Mrs Weasley sent me to tell them dinner would be ready soon, and when I found them...they didn't see me, you see, not to begin with. They didn't know I was there. And they were - they were - "

"Arguing?" Ron suggested.

"No," Harry said definitely.

"They were cuddling?" Hermione said.

"Kissing," Harry muttered, a fresh wave of indignation rising as he remembered.

"Eurgh," Ron said, pulling a face. Hermione winced. "They're meant to be mates, that's... that's like me snogging you."

"Ron, would you please shut up," Hermione said. Ignoring Ron's splutters, she turned back to Harry. "You didn't know about them?"

"NO!" Harry snapped. "How was I supposed to - " He stopped. "You knew. You knew!" He leapt off the bed, dealing a hearty kick to his chest of drawers that made his toe ache and started Hedwig hooting in alarm. "I don't bloody well believe this! They told you - Sirius is my godfather and they told you when they hadn't said a single sodding word to me!" Another fierce kick to the chest of drawers. "Did they think I'm too stupid to understand or something? Why doesn't anyone tell me anything around here?"

"Possibly because they're worried you'll start breaking up the furniture, like you're doing now," Hermione observed. "Harry, stop it. You're scaring Hedwig. She'll bite you if you don't watch out."

Harry glowered at her in a truly terrifying way, but stopped the kicking. Hermione took this as a good sign, and continued. "And to answer your question, Sirius didn't tell me. Nor did Professor Lupin. I worked it out for myself."

"How?" Ron looked amazed. "Do gay blokes do things different?"

"What, like a special gay handshake?" Hermione said sarcastically. "No. Just...little things. The way they look at each other. They finish each other's sentences, and they touch each other more than men usually do." She shrugged. "They just have this...thing about them when they're together. A couple thing, not a friend thing."

"How long?" Harry said sharply.

"Huh?" Ron said.

"How long have you known?" Harry asked again, eyes narrowed.

Another shrug. "I did wonder in the Shrieking Shack, actually. For sure, just after I arrived here. Lupin's been living here for a few months. Keeping Sirius company, I suppose."

Harry sank down onto the end of his bed. "If they were - you know, more than friends, even in the Shack - "

"Here, how come I didn't get any of this stuff?" Ron asked, looking rather nettled. "I was there, too."

Harry sniffed at having his thoughts disrupted. "You had a broken leg, Ron. I don't think I'd've noticed much either."

"And it could've been a friendly hug, really," Hermione added. "It's only when you add it to all the other things that it seems different."

"Gay," Ron said. He seemed to be having difficulty with the idea.

"Anyway," Harry said pointedly, "if they were ....well, coupley in the Shack, then wouldn't that mean they were together before Sirius was sent to Azkhaban?"

Pigwidgeon fluttered down to sit on Harry's pillow, pecking interestedly at the counterpane. Possibly to his giddy owl-brain the trailing threads looked like mouse-tails. All three humans ignored him.

"I don't know," Hermione said slowly, "but they did look - I don't know, very familiar with each other, as if they'd been together a long time. Maybe even since school."

Harry bridled. "So they kept this from my dad too? He was supposed to be their best mate! Sirius is always telling me how they used to do everything tog -" A very unpleasant mental image reared up in Harry's brain and he stopped dead. "Oh no. Oh please God, no," he said, very quietly, in the tones of someone whose world may collapse if he thinks seriously about what's just occurred to him. Hermione noticed the rising panic on his face and came to the rescue.

"I don't think so, Harry, I really don't. You don't have to be gay to be friends with someone else who is, and your dad did get married and have you, so it's not exactly likely. And I don't think they hid it from your dad either. He was their friend, like you said. He'd have to notice something: I mean, they were all sharing the same dorm for seven years, anyone with half a brain would pick up on it, especially if he knew them both well." She folded her hands in her lap and looked at Harry. "Your dad knew, I'm sure of it, and it doesn't seem to have bothered him much, because he still made Sirius your guardian, and he probably would have done the same for Professor Lupin if he could."

"Why couldn't he?" Ron asked.

"Werewolves can't be a child's guardian," Hermione explained. "There are dozens of legal restrictions on werewolves, even if they're on Wolfsbane and not dangerous. It's almost as bad as house-elves - you could understand it if all werewolves were the same, but they treat someone like Professor Lupin the same as they do a dangerous killer..."

Harry didn't say anything. Now that his initial outrage had died down, he was starting to feel very guilty about how he'd treated Sirius. The thought of his godfather feeling the way Harry felt about Cho for another man still felt weird, not normal, and he couldn't quite fit the idea into his world yet, but Sirius - he'd been worried about Harry, hurt when Harry wouldn't talk to him. He hadn't really deserved that.

"So, what do you think?" he said.

"What do I think about them?" Hermione said. "I don't, really. It's just how they are. It really isn't any of my business."

"I still can't understand why he didn't just tell me," Harry muttered resentfully. "We've been in touch well over a year. I told him everything that was going on with me."

"And he did see Harry last year, didn't he?" Ron chipped in. "If he wanted to tell Harry, he could've done."

"Except that last year we were all worried that someone was trying to kill Harry," Hermione reminded him. "And what would he say, anyway? 'Oh, by the way, Harry, you remember Professor Lupin, don't you? Well, I'm gay and he's my boyfriend. Thought you might like to know.'"

Ron's ears turned a bright crimson. " Well of course it sounds bad when you say it like that," he grumbled, scowling at the floor. Hermione just rolled her eyes again, then winced and rubbed her temples.

"Ouch!"

Harry toed the carpet impatiently. "Are you listening, either of you?"

"Yes, strangely enough. Why?"

"What do I do, Hermione?"

"Do you have to do anything?" Ron asked. "It's not like it's your fault."

"Yes," Hermione said patiently, "but he was really off with Sirius, so Sirius is probably feeling pretty hurt." She turned back to Harry. "Go and talk to Sirius, Harry. Talk it over and sort it out with him. He still thinks the world of you, no matter who he's with."

Harry sighed, and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. "Yeah, all right. Maybe I'll catch him tomorrow, explain I didn't mean to go so nuts." He opened his eyes to see Phineas Nigellus back in his frame and watching them with a kind of smug amusement. Harry debated whether to really spoil Nigellus' week for him by spilling the beans on Sirius and Lupin, but then remembered that Sirius couldn't leave the house and really didn't need to be heckled by portraits on top of everything else. He scowled viciously instead, only for Hermione to cut in on his musings.

"No, Harry. I think you should go now. Right now."

"You could leave it till tomorrow morning if you wanted," Ron said. "There might be more time then, and it's not like Sirius is going anywhere, is it?"

Hermione shook her head, sending fuzzy tendrils bouncing in all directions. "No, Ron." She looked at Harry. "Obviously it's up to you, Harry, but if you take my advice you'll go now. If you leave it...oh, I don't know, something else will happen, it won't be the right time or there'll be things to do, and before you know it it's been weeks. And," she hesitated, "This is a horrible thing to say, Harry, but Voldemort - oh, stop it, Ron! - is back, and the war's already started. Things happen in wars. People die. The last thing you want is for Sirius to get killed before you ever got up the nerve to make things right with him."

Harry shivered. The thought of Sirius hurt or killed was too horrible to imagine.

"But I'm not going to make you," Hermione finished. "It's your godfather and your decision. Just don't wait too long."

Harry sighed, pulling a put-upon face. For several minutes, the only sound in the room was a happy cooing from Pig, who'd teased a cord out of the counterpane and was tossing it about.

"All right." Harry got up. "Do you know where Sirius is?"

"No, but you could try downstairs first. Ron's mum would probably know."

"Okay. Keep an eye on Hedwig for me." He plucked the cord out of Pig's beak before he could swallow it, getting an indignant shriek for his pains.

"Of course. Oh, and Harry?"

"What?" Harry turned at the door. Hermione seemed to be hiding the tiniest hint of a smile.

"Before you go walking in on people, I'd suggest you knock first."

Harry rolled his eyes at her and left.

"Sirius is feeding the hippogriff, dear," Mrs Weasley said. "Thank goodness. What on earth he thought he was doing keeping a bag of dead rats in the pantry I don't know." She shuddered. "I nearly died when I opened the bag."

"Where's he keeping Buckbeak?" Harry asked. Sirius had mentioned it, but Harry hadn't been paying much attention at the time.

"His mother's old room - it's a big room on the third floor, right by the stairs. Why, are you going up now?"

"Yeah, I thought so," Harry said.

"Oh. Only, I kept you some pudding, just in case you felt hungry. It's treacle tart," Mrs Weasley said. She looked so concerned that Harry almost gave in, but then he remembered Hermione's warning.

"Uh... Can I have it later? I really need to talk to Sirius first."

"All right, then. I'll put it in the warming oven, is that all right?"

"Yeah, thanks."

There were only four rooms on the third floor, so Mrs Black's old room wasn't hard to find. Harry dawdled outside the door, scuffing little puffs of dust and fibres out of the carpet, trying not to look at a portrait of Sirius' father that was watching him with immense distaste. He looked very like Sirius, same wavy black hair, same shape of eyes, same high forehead and strong jaw, but there was something in the cold eyes and thin lips that reminded Harry very strongly of Professor Snape. He shook himself, annoyed, and went to knock on the door.

He meant to, anyway. But an image of Sirius, looking at him hurt and angry, saying 'I thought you'd understand, Harry. What's so wrong about him and me being together?' and Harry not having an answer, flashed into his head, and his hand fell again. He'd been outside this damned door for ten minutes, trying to steel himself to face Sirius, and he was heartily glad there was nobody else around to see him, because he felt a total idiot.

Oh, for Pete's sake. Drawing a deep breath, Harry knocked on the door before he could have second - or third, or twelfth - thoughts.

"Come in." Sirius' voice came from inside, followed by the sound of fluttering wings. Harry jumped. How could he have been so stupid? In his nervous state, he'd forgotten about Buckbeak. Hippogriffs can't understand what humans are saying, can they? he wondered - and then remembered Malfoy's injured arm. Great. An audience. Oh well, it was too late now. He pushed the door open.

Sirius was sitting on the floor, back to the bottom of the huge cobweb-hung bed, whose canopies hung in tatters - whether because of age or Buckbeak, Harry couldn't tell. He had the offending sack of dead rats by his side, and without looking at Harry he dug one out and tossed it to Buckbeak, who caught it neatly and chewed it up with great relish and a nauseating crackle of tiny bones.

"Sirius?"

Sirius started and looked up. "Harry?" His face shifted from a gloomy grimace to a tired, sad smile. "Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry, Sirius," Harry blurted, staring shamefaced at the bag of rats. "For - um - what happened before dinner. I didn't mean to be so... it was just I - " He hesitated, trying to explain. "I didn't know, and it was - I dunno, so...so..." He gave up. "The thing is, I shouldn't've been like that to you, and it was stupid and mean and I'm sorry."

"So am I."

Harry blinked. Sirius shrugged. "I should have said something to you, I know, but I could never find a good time to do it."

"It wouldn't have helped, anyway," Harry admitted.

Buckbeak sniffed and scratched at the carpet, nosing for anything he'd missed. Sirius tossed him another rat. Harry stretched out and scratched Buckbeak around the beak. The hippogriff cocked his head and inspected him with one golden eye, and then turned back to his dinner, food being far more important to his mind than human melodramatics. Harry came over and sat down next to Sirius. For a long while they watched Buckbeak in silence.

Finally Harry cleared his throat. "You and Professor Lupin...?"

"Yes. Me and Remus," Sirius said, his voice bitter. "Sorry."

"I didn't mean it like that, it's..." Harry tailed off, feeling hot with embarrassment. "It's just that even the idea feels weird. Like if I started going out with Dean or Neville."

"You can't imagine preferring other blokes? No, nor could I."

"But...but you do -"

"Surprised? Not as surprised as I was. You think I woke up on my sixteenth birthday and just knew? I wish I had, it'd've saved me one hell of a lot of messing about," Sirius said. "It was ages before I realised it wasn't going to go away if I ignored it long enough. Remus and I didn't start going out until almost the end of fifth year."

"What about my dad?" Harry asked.

"What about him?"

"Didn't he - you know - mind that you were going out?"

"No, 'cause he didn't know about it. Don't look like that - we never kept it from him, and if he'd asked we wouldn't have lied, but - we didn't go around flaunting it, if you get me. Remus isn't the type to tell the world about his private life anyway, but there were plenty of idiots in Hogwarts back then, people like that Malfoy -"

"Draco Malfoy," Harry supplied, trying to imagine Malfoy's reaction if he found out someone was a pouf. It wasn't pleasant.

"Yeah, him and his father both. You know Moony. The werewolf thing makes his life hard enough as it is; the last thing I wanted to do was add gay-bashing morons to his problems. So," he continued, "James didn't find out until quite a while later. Or maybe he was like you, and he just didn't want to think about us being together. We were still his mates. That was what mattered."

"Did he know...I mean, before he made you my godfather?"

"Ages before that. Either he finally worked it out or your mum told him." Sirius grinned. "I reckon she rumbled us within a term. You know what you hear about women's intuition? It's true, believe me."

"I believe you," Harry said, thinking of Hermione. "But if you were - I mean, if you hadn't been sent to Azkhaban, I mean, would you - ouch!"

Harry yelped as Buckbeak nudged his leg with his beak - bored of waiting for his next rat, Buckbeak had come foraging for himself. Harry swatted at him, but Sirius leaned over, got the bag and threw it into a corner, where Buckbeak pounced on it eagerly and proceeded to tear it to rags. Over the ripping noises, Sirius said, "Would I what?"

Harry shrugged. He didn't want to ask the question he had in mind, as even the thought was too painful; on the other hand, it wouldn't go away. "If - if you had Professor Lupin with you, maybe - I dunno, I wondered if you'd still have wanted to have me hanging about to look after. You - you wouldn't have had as much time together, not if I was there all the time, so..." He trailed off, but Sirius had already got the message.

"Harry, what the hell gave you that idea? Remus'd never object to having you living with me, and I promised your mum and dad that I'd look after you. Nothing was ever going to make any difference to that. Certainly not my love life."

"Would you still want to, though?" Harry asked harshly, staring fiercely at the carpet. A strip of sackcloth plopped onto his trainer, and he flipped it off. "Even if Lupin didn't want to share you with me?"

"Remus isn't like that, Harry, and you know - " He caught Harry's fierce, demanding glare, and gave in. "All right. If it came to that, Harry, you'd stay. You'd come first, because I said to James and Lily I'd look after you and a promise is a promise, at least as far as I'm concerned. It would break my heart to lose Remus, but if I had to - I would."

"Even if it really hurt you?"

"Yes, even then." A trace of pain flickered across Sirius' face. "Couldn't live with myself otherwise. Sending you off to live with those vile Dursleys so I could - well, I couldn't do it. Even if I did lose Remus because of it."

"I wouldn't want you to," Harry said suddenly. He saw Sirius looking baffled, and explained. "Lose Lupin, I mean. Not if it made you miserable. I wouldn't want that."

They both fell silent, watching Buckbeak explore the tattered bag in hope for finding something he'd missed. Finally, Harry voiced a question he'd been pondering.

"Do you - do you love him?"

"Very much," Sirius admitted. "I mean, I care just as much about you, but it's...different, you know?"

"Yeah." Harry nudged the bag off his trainer again. Next to him, Sirius shifted.

"Do you mind?" he asked eventually.

Harry thought about it. To his surprise, he didn't find nearly as much of an objection as he'd felt before. The thought, now, the idea of Sirius being with Lupin in that way, was still odd, still felt strange in his mind, and probably would for a long while yet. But mind? When this was somebody Sirius loved? Someone who made his life even slightly better just by being there? No, not at all.

"Are you happy with him?" He asked, searching Sirius' face for an answer. Sirius' eyes softened, and he smiled slightly.

"Yes," he said simply. "The happiest I've been with anyone. Except you, of course," he added hurriedly, as if trying to reassure Harry that he wasn't forgotten.

Harry absorbed this. "Then I don't mind," he said.

Sirius' eyes were fixed to the carpet, but Harry saw him smile. "That's good. I don't think I could handle leaving Moony if you didn't, but - I feel a lot better, knowing you're all right with it."

Buckbeak chirruped softly, nosing hopefully at the bedcurtains by Sirius' side.

" I wouldn't eat that, Beaky," Sirius warned him.

" He can't still be hungry," Harry said. The tense, awkward feeling in the room had gone, and he felt lighter than he had all day. Actually...

His stomach rumbled, loudly. Sirius looked over at him from where he was squatting to scratch Buckbeak's ears.

"That wasn't Beaky."

"No, I - erm - I didn't have much to eat earlier, and I'm a bit hungry," Harry admitted.

Sirius got up and dusted his hands off. "Come on, I'll go and see if we can find you a snack. Molly's usually got some cake or something in the pantry, she never stops baking," he said briskly, evidently feeling this was an opportunity to fulfil his godfatherly duties and Take Care Of Harry. Harry got to his feet, wincing at a vicious attack of pins and needles.

"It's -aaargh!- okay, Mrs Weasley - ouch! - saved me some pudding downstairs. She said she'd leave it in the oven."

Sirius nodded. "Fair enough. But if you want anything else, you help yourself."

"Thanks - "

There was a soft tapping at the door. Sirius growled. "Kreacher, go away. I always hope he'll sneak in here one day when I'm not here and Buckbeak will eat him," he said to Harry, rather an evil grin creeping across his face. "Probably too much to hope for."

But it wasn't Kreacher. The door opened and Professor Lupin looked in.

"Sirius, I - " His eyes fell on Harry. "Oh. Shall I come back later?"

"No, Remus, don't go," Sirius said.

"It's all right, Professor," Harry said. " I was just going downstairs any way."

"Is everything all right?" Lupin asked carefully. His eyes flicked from Harry to Sirius, trying to gauge their expressions.

"Harry and I were just talking," Sirius said casually. "Sorting a few things out."

"I see."

Professor Lupin shifted uncomfortably, fingers tugging at a loose thread on the front of his robes. Finally he said, " Harry, I'm sorry about what happened earlier, I should have -"

"It's okay, Professor," Harry interrupted.

"Yes, but - what?" Lupin looked up, startled.

"It's all right," Harry repeated, catching Lupin's eye before he continued, "Look, Sirius wants - well, if he's happy with you, then - fine. It's okay with me."

"You're sure?" Lupin asked.

Harry nodded firmly. "Yeah." He went to the door, turned to look at them. "See you later."

"See you," Sirius said. Lupin said nothing, but a little smile twitched at the corner of his lips. Harry left quietly, closing the door behind him.

The treacle tart was pretty good, as it happened, and with some extra cream Harry found in the pantry it was just what he needed. He was just scraping up the last drops of treacle-laced custard when he heard the door open. He'd expected Mrs Weasley, but it was Ginny and Hermione. They'd apparently been having an hour or two's hairdressing, because Ginny's hair was in high bunches and Hermione had wrestled hers into a French plait.

"Hey, Harry," Ginny said brightly.

"Is everything all right?" Hermione asked. Harry put the spoon down, considering.

After all, if Professor Lupin and Sirius were together, then when Sirius's name was cleared he could go and live with not one, but two of his favourite grown-ups. He glanced up at Hermione, who was hovering concernedly by the table while Ginny rifled the biscuit tin.

"Not yet," he decided. " But it will be."

Finis