One more story from my old account. To Thistlerose, who first taught me the true depths of one Regulus Black.

Christmas of sixth year... Sirius' rage finds an explanation and a possible way out. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, breakups, brothers and the need to accept oneself. SxR. 8 months after April Fools.

Home for Christmas

To my esteemed Moony (quite certainly having more fun than me):

After so many terrible months with my infamous roommates, suffering the daily humiliation of belonging to the shameful House of Gryffindor, surrounded by nothing but boring classes and study sessions (insert innocent face here), you will surely understand the wonderful relief that represents to me to be once again at the fortress of the Stiff and Most Annoying House of Black (insert hanged man here).

Now, seriously... I MISS YOU, GUYS. This place is like a franchise of the dungeons... though I don't have to deal with any greasy gits, thankfully (insert disgusted face here). I have to admit the food's not bad... but I can't fully enjoy it, since my mother's crazy elf keeps throwing me spooky looks while serving it (and if I die during this holiday, it is my wish that this letter is used as evidence at the trial).

How's it going at your place? Are your aunts there already, pinching your cheeks and complaining to your mother about how thin you are? Oh, yes... poor Moony... martyr of family reunions... I can see you hiding under the table, trembling, protective hands on your all-covered-in-gravy-and-potatoes face, a sad look devoted to the chocolate you bought at Hogsmeade, in the heart-breaking understanding that you will vomit if you as much as put one piece in your mouth (yes, even if you don't swallow it and are only trying to forget the taste of aunt Gertrude's blueberry jam).

Sirius stops writing for a second. In fact, he can perfectly imagine poor Remus hiding in a corner, escaping the harassment of his loving aunts. He laughs softly. And the little voice starts speaking again. He's used to it by now... so used to it, he's actually started to listen.

The little voice lets him know that if the harassed boy was James, the image would be hilarious... that if it was Peter, it'd be slightly pathetic... but it is Remus, and so the image is somehow sweet, and makes him laugh softly, bringing warmth to his chest even in the cold morning of Christmas Eve at a frozen room of Grimmauld Place.

The little voice, of course, turns the warmth off.

I don't like Remus, Sirius reminds himself. It has become some sort of mantra in the last few months. I don't like Remus. Remus is a guy, and I like girls. Girls. With skirts and long legs, and wide necklines and rocking hips.

And in order to prove it, he takes a copy of Busty and Bewitched from the bottom of his school trunk, and takes it to the bathroom for a healthy and very masculine release.

Something's wrong with Sirius.

Regulus noticed for the first time during summer. He seemed worried about something. He was pensive often, gaze lost in the horizon; then suddenly shook his head and did something stupid, like whispering obscenities to some passing girl, spitting, or lifting weight.

It's true that Sirius was never normal. Always with those stupid jokes and dangerous attitude that scared little Regulus and drove his poor mother crazy. Always with that lack of respect for protocol and proper manners that denigrated the House of Black. Showing off half naked around the house, yawning dramatically at formal dinners... Sirius was always a problem-child. And things had done nothing but get worse since the Sorting Hat had sent him to that Mudblood-infected place. Of course, Regulus didn't remember Sirius being any different before Hogwarts... but his mother constantly repeated it was all the fault of those Mudbloods and blood traitors he had to live with, and his mother wasn't a liar. Memory was probably playing tricks on him... after all, he was only 9 when Sirius left.

Even so, as strange as his brother was and as little as Regulus knew about him, he realized something wasn't normal in his behaviour these last few months.

Towards the end of the summer, Regulus had started suspecting the problem was linked to one of his friends, that Remus Lupin. Sirius showed an obvious lack of interest (too obvious, Regulus thought) in the letters brought by an old barn owl, but he had seen him read those same letters privately (from the new spying-spot he hoped his brother would never find out about), with a lot more interest. Sneaking into the room, he had discovered the author... Remus J. Lupin. He hadn't said a thing about it, because nothing in the content of the letter helped him solve the mystery. Instead, he had devoted himself to the observation of the interaction among the 'Marauders' during the new school year. Now he was sure something strange was going on with Lupin. They all seemed to take too much care of him (and Sirius more than anyone), and more than once he had seen his brother all nervous around him (and Sirius never got nervous). Severus Snape, a Slytherin house mate, had returned one night to the dungeons looking pale as snow, refusing to discuss anything about it. The next morning, all the 'Marauders' shared that paleness (and Sirius never paled). All but Lupin, who didn't show up all day.

Something very strange was going on with Lupin.

The old barn owl had brought a letter that morning and Sirius had placed it in his pocket without reading it. But he seemed distracted after that. So distracted, he had followed all the etiquette rules of breakfast without a single complain (and Sirius never followed a rule without complaining). That's why Regulus had waited a prudential amount of time and then had rushed to his spying-spot.

But Sirius doesn't seem to be in the room.

He leaves the secret passage through the wardrobe door. A half written letter lies on the desk. He looks at the door. It's closed from the inside.

Where's Sirius?

There's a muffled sound coming from the bathroom. Some kind of moan, between anguish and pleasure. Regulus wonders for a second what is his brother doing. Then, he convinces himself that it is curiosity what drags him towards the half-opened door.

This is not happening, says Sirius' conscious voice, in a swirl of images, sounds and scents that become more and more clear. But Sirius' conscious voice has lost so much presence, it no longer manages to put out (not even a bit) the intensity of the sensations.

He's not sure how it begun. One moment he was picturing the legs of that Hufflepuff he dated last month, and the next he was back in April, sitting on Moony's bed, and he could almost smell his hair, feel the heat radiating from his skin...

No, had said his conscious voice. Don't think about that. Skirts, legs, necklines... skin. Moony's soft skin under the sleeping shirt. And how would that skin feel against his own? It couldn't be completely soft. Light scars gave it texture, made it slightly rough... And suddenly the rough skin of the scars was rubbing against his chest, against his legs... And Remus' golden eyes opened in surprise, innocent, discovering the pleasure Sirius could give him... more and more yellow, with big dilated pupils and the predatory look of the Wolf...

Sirius moans out loud. Years of sharing the room with three other boys had taught him to be silent. But this is too much. He makes a secret pact with himself. This will be the only time. He will never do it again. But this one time, he'll let go.

He has a picture of Remus from last summer. He never shows it to anyone, but it's always in his pocket. He's never (before) used it for anything like this, of course.

"Ah..."

Remus squirms in bed half naked on a hot June morning, curtains opened and sheets off... He looks more like a cat than a wolf, arching his back to strecht his muscles.

"Ah..."

Sirius wonders about Remus dream that night, whether he was rubbing against the sheets the afterthoughts of a dream full of skin and sweat and saliva.

"Ah... Re..."

Whether he was part of that feverish dream...

"Re..."

If he'd like to see him now, getting off to his stretching image...

"Remus... ahh... ahhhhh..."

Only when everything has been consummated, is that Sirius understands the magnitude of what just took place.

Regulus is petrified.

A new sound from the bathroom (Sirius getting dressed, probably) brings him back to life, and he runs from the room.

Sirius comes out a few seconds later and lands on the bed, so lost in his thoughts he doesn't even notice the opened door.

If he must be honest to himself, this is not the first time something like this happens. It's only the first time he allows it to happen. Moony's smell, the soft, warm skin, those golden eyes, had come to his mind in a 'compromising situation' before... but he had always been capable to put them back at the bottom of his mind and refocus on startling women with long legs. Or, at the very least, the horror brought by the images had destroyed the moment.

Not this time.

This time, he had accepted the sensations, he had accepted Moony's skin... Remus' skin (it's Remus in those moments, in which 'Moony' seems too sweet, too innocent for those eyes), he had accepted the masculine, slender body. He had accepted it all gratefully, and embraced that wonderful present. And the truth is he had never been so excited thinking about a woman.

The little voice in his head has stopped pestering him. Now it speaks seriously, quietly. You know it's true, it whispers softly. You'll have to deal with it sooner or later. He knows. He knows it's true. He's spent the past eight months fighting against this, and he's just too tired to keep going.

He's a bloody poofter. And he likes one of his best friends.

If Moony knew... And then he remembers the hope in those golden eyes on that April morning, and how Moony had approached him too, had almost kissed him... Maybe... He shakes his head. No. Moony is too sweet, too innocent... There's no way he thinks the terrible things on Sirius' mind.

The rage starts rising again. He's had to deal with a lot of rage in the past eight months. Cruel jokes, unnecessary fights... He's beaten his own detention record this year. Only the 'Prank' managed to scare him.

He can't remember that afternoon. There was a fight, yes, and a vague exchange of rough sentences... Snape had said something, insinuated something... But it was the damn voice who spoke louder, and who Sirius listened clearer. Suddenly, he had revealed the Willow secret, had wished to destroy it all. He remembers quite clearly the rage, the hate buzzing in his ears... but the details, the words, are foggy.

He remembers that night, however. The long conversation with Dumbledore (almost word by word) and the harsh look from James, the long sleepless hours imagining the violence of the Wolf excited by the smell of human flesh, the guilt eating up his guts, the weight of discovering himself as an unworthy being, a traitor capable of revealing the one secret he was never to reveal, the golden eyes in his mind, accusing, cold, hurt and distant...

He also remembers the next morning, when the eyes he imagined accusing turned out to be warm and worried.

"Are you all okay?" had been Moony's only question after the confession. Then, he had forgiven Sirius. "You're one of my best friends, I know you didn't mean to do it." As single reproach, he had added in a bare whisper, "please, don't do anything like this again." And for the first time in years, the tears had escaped the eyes of Sirius Black.

A lot had changed since that morning. Slowly, Sirius had begun to question the origins of his rage. At the beginning, he thought it was due to the little voice's insinuations. But now he understood it had more to do with the fact that those insinuations were right. He understood the little voice was the dark side of his conscience, trying to open his eyes to an undeniable truth.

Sirius Black likes men... and one of them in particular.

Lunch goes by silently in the cold dining room. Sirius eats, a far-away look in his eyes. Regulus hardly dares to look at him. They had almost finished when something knocks on the window. The old barn owl leaves a small package in Sirius' lap and flies away.

Remus Lupin's Christmas present.

Rage burning in his chest, Regulus can't help to leave the table and follow his brother outside the room. Sirius discovers him half-way to his bedroom.

"What is it, brat? Still afraid of wandering alone through the house?"

No... but maybe I should be afraid of being alone with you.

Regulus always has a smart answer. In fact, it's a gift he has exercised a lot since his admission to Slytherin. Still, for reasons that escape his understanding, he's unable to formulate even one in front of his brother.

So he settles for an irate look.

"Aw... The baby's upset... Why don't you go shake your tail for mommy? She'll sure take you out for a walk."

Because you're the bitch.

"No? Well... I can't think of anymore recommendations. Except that you better stop following me unless you want my foot in your ass."

Won't be worse that what they put in yours.

Sirius throws him a last menacing look and turns to leave.

He hasn't walked two steps when he hears the shaky voice of his brother.

"I heard you."

"That was the idea," says Sirius without stopping.

A moment of silence, and Regulus finds again the courage to speak.

"This morning." Sirius stops. "I heard you this morning. And I saw you."

Sirius turns slowly, paling slightly (maybe Sirius does pale, sometimes). "You saw me 'what'?"

"I saw you. I know... what you were doing... what you were thinking... who you were thinking about..." And suddenly, Regulus finds himself waiting for his brother to deny it all. To call him a sick bastard and curse him for even insinuating something like that. And to have life go back to normal.

But he only gets a furious answer that doesn't deny a thing.

"You were spying on me?"

Sirius has always intimidated him. He's always been bigger, more confident, more aggressive... But the sickness of the very idea, of the simple memory, helps Regulus gather the courage to release his anger. He won't be intimidated.

"You're sick, Sirius! What does it matter if I was spying you? Do you have something going on with...?" Deny it, he thinks. Deny it. But his brother just looks at him through stony eyes. "Why can't you be bloody normal? Do you like being the shame of the family? Is that it? Are you trying to shame us all?"

He can see the rage in Sirius' eyes. A rage capable of bringing down the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

"That's what you're worried about? The bloody family? Let me tell you something about this family, Regulus! They're nothing but a bunch of gits with no further talent to show-off than the fact that they've been banging they're cousins for the last thousand years! You think I'm sick? Your damn family uses elven heads as wall decorations! And your mother convinces them that it's the best destiny they could wish for! They're all insane, Regulus! And so are you, if you think this family has anything to be proud of!"

"Shut up! Don't you dare speak about the House of Black! You're a bloody freak! How could you...?" Regulus knows there's repugnance in his eyes when his voice lowers to a less furious, more hurt tone. "How could you, Sirius? Merlin... I can't think about it without being sick... It's disgusting..."

Sirius' voice grows colder, more dangerous.

"Well, it didn't disgust me at all... Face it, brat. Your brother is a poofter. Who knows... it could be consequence of all this endogamy. You could be next."

"You're sick."

The sound of familiar steps cuts the exchange. The brothers lock eyes in silence, defiant, as their mother appears in the hallway.

"What's going on here?"

"Nothing," answers Regulus, holding back his anger.

But Sirius' anger is too strong, and he's always had trouble holding it back.

"It seems your heir is a freak of nature for a lot more reasons than you first thought," he says, never unlocking his eyes from his brothers'.

Walburga Black throws a disgusted look at him.

"What have you done now?"

"Let your son tell you," he says. And leaves for his room.

Everything he truly possesses (which he doesn't owe to the Twisted and Most Stupid House of Black) fits in a backpack. His friends' letters, Moony's unopened gift, the set of Wizard Chess James gave him last Christmas, the notebook with the strategy of the most complex pranks, the dog collar the Marauders gave him as a joke for his birthday, a couple of books, the red and gold wool hat one of his 'fans' had knit for him...

The copies of Busty and Bewitched, bought with James, are forgotten under the mattress.

He throws the backpack on his shoulder. Puts on a cloak and the red and gold Gryffindor scarf. Takes his broom and walks to the door.

He loves that broom.

Just this, he thinks. Just the broom.

But at the last moment, he leans the broomstick against the wall and takes ten sickles from the bedside table. He won't take anything from that house that he can't return.

There's no one in the hallway, and he doesn't know if it's a good or a bad sign. There's no way his mother doesn't already know everything Regulus saw that morning, every word Sirius yelled in that fight. She has that power over his brother. And Sirius hates Regulus for letting her manipulate him, almost as much as Regulus hates him for not letting her.

But nobody's waiting for him. There are no screams, no curses, no terrible threats. He crosses the hallway silently and walks down the stairs. He's almost at the door when he sees his brother.

There, face to face, grey eyes locked on identical grey eyes, Sirius notices for the first time that his 'little brother' is already as tall as him. It takes him by surprise.

The harsh voice of Kreacher can be heard through the walls. "Oh, yes, yes... My poor mistress... The traitor must leave the family..."

"Sounds like you're going to be the only heir any second." Regulus doesn't answer. "Don't worry, I'm not taking any part of your legacy." That said, Sirius leaves the house.

Regulus stands there, staring at the last spot occupied by his brother, many minutes after hearing the bang that makes him an only child.

"Eight sickles."

Sirius pays and sits at the back of the Knight Bus. His hands are freezing, but he doesn't feel cold. He can't tell how many hours go by before a voice yells his stop. Streets, coldness, time... it all blends in a thick, confusing fog.

Only when reaching the house he realises that he's showing at the Potters' door in the middle of the night, with no announcement and to invite himself to stay.

But he has nowhere else to go.

He knocks. Nobody answers.

He thinks on turning back, transform and find some hole in which to spend the night. But the truth is that more than shelter, more than a warm bed, more than a roof above his head, right then he needs his best friend.

He knocks again, a bit harder. This time, steps can be heard and the door opens slowly.

"Padfoot?" a sleepy James stares at him, confused.

"Hello," says Sirius, not knowing what else to say.

"James, who...?" Mrs. Potter appears on the stairs in a robe. "Sirius? Are you ok? What happened?"

"It's nothing, Mrs. P... Well, actually..." Sirius' gaze drops. He doesn't feel like taking about it. What can he possibly answer if they ask why he left home? "Actually..."

"Come in, mate. We're all freezing here."

He walks in grateful and James closes the door. Mrs. Potter touches his face and drags him to the kitchen yelling "Merlin, you're freezing!"

A few minutes later, James' father has joined the group and the four of them drink chocolate in silence.

"So... did you have a fight with your family?" Mr. Potter is the first to speak.

"Yes."

"Do they know where you are?" asks Mrs. Potter.

"No. But I don't think they care..." and getting ahead of her reproachful look, he adds "I've been erased from the tapestry." And Dorea Potter, who was once Dorea Black, finally understands the situation.

"You know we love you, Sirius," she says with a sad smile. "You can stay with us for as long as you need. You're always welcome in this house."

"Thaks Mrs. P... Mr. P."

"Not a problem."

"Now go to sleep... You'll have to stay with James tonight, because Aunt Eleadora is in the guest room. But don't worry, we'll fix it for you after the holidays."

The warmth of the Potters has always surprised Sirius. They're both a bit old, and they hold James as if he were a treasure, a miracle they no longer expected. As their friendship grew stronger, Sirius found himself involved more than once in that embrace, in that miracle, while "we'd love to have you home" and "you must come visit" ring in his ears. During the cold Christmas break of his first year as a Gryffindor, in which his family rejection had hit stronger than ever, the weekend he spent with James at the Potters' insistence had been his only moment of happiness.

Before climbing the stairs, Sirius hugs James' parents fiercely. Right then, the lack of a room of his own is hardly going to bother him.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing at all."

"Your broom?"

"Nothing."

James sighs heavily.

"Ok. I have ten sickles, that's not a problem. And we wear the same size, so I guess we'll share clothes for a while..." He looks at his friend again and can't hold it back. "Padfoot... what happened? I mean... I know you never got along with them... but not taking anything... and that tapestry thing... that's big, isn't it?"

"It means I'm no longer part of the family," answers Sirius calmly. "As if I had ever wanted to be..."

James frowns. He'll never understand the Blacks. He asks himself, with no real interest, if they'll erase his mother from the family tree for taking Sirius in. But no, of course not; uncle Pollux wouldn't allow it. His mother may not be the Blacks favourite aunt, but James notices they respect her. In spite of having different ideas, she's carried an 'acceptable' life in the eyes of her Noble and Most Ancient family. Married to a Potter, living a life free of scandals, defending 'liberal' opinions, yes, but never in an environment too public or dangerous.

It's not that his parents are cowards, thinks James. Or that they care about 'keeping appearances'. They're just discreet, modest people, more worried about carrying a consistent life than getting involved in political grudges. He's not sure he likes it, though. Sometimes, he wishes with all his might to see his father out in the streets defending his ideas, to see his mother yelling at her brothers. He knows she wants to. He knows she doesn't agree with the expulsion of Marius, the squib uncle who 'doesn't exist', who comes for tea once in a while but should never be mentioned in front of others. A nice but distant man, with strange, sad eyes. And when that sadness grows deeper, something burns in his mother's eyes. And James knows that the sweet woman who raised him hides a volcano inside, a fire fed by the stupidity of her 'noble' family, which will erupt one day, erasing stupidity from the face of Earth. And he loves his parents more than ever.

That night, when Sirius mentioned he had been erased, James had seen the fire burn deep in his mother's eyes.

"But... what happened? I mean... this can't be a Dungbomb in the wrong place, or an insult in a formal dinner. Padfoot, my mother doesn't get along with the Blacks either, and everybody knows she doesn't care about her friends' ascendance. She's had very strong fights with her brothers for keeping contact with Uncle Marius. But they've never even threatened her with something like this."

Sirius stares at his feet, and doesn't look like he plans to answer.

"Padfoot?"

"Prongs... I... really don't want to talk about this. The truth is not even I am completely sure of what happened."

James accepts then that he has a vague idea of what could have altered Walburga Black to that point. The last few months (eight, to be exact) Sirius' rage has been out of control. Duels, physical fights, more than a prank which crossed the line... And every time James could feel the conflict inside his friend, the internal battle, much more violent than the external.

More than once, he had recognized the shadow of the look of that April first in his eyes, right before the first blow. More than once, he'd been just about to say something.

The 'Prank' was the breaking point. Whatever it was that Sirius had inside, he couldn't keep locking it there. He walked to Sirius' bed that night, ready to tell him that he knew it all, that he had to let it out, that it was nobody's fault he liked Remus and they were all sick of dealing with the consequences... but the bed was empty. He left the room and quietly walked downstairs. His best friend sat by the fire, rage vaporized, an infinite anguish holding its place. He deserves it, James thought, before turning back. It was a painful image, but Sirius needed to learn his actions had consequences.

"It's ok, Padfoot... don't worry."

It's not ok to interrogate him. Padfoot is his brother. Now more than ever.

In the days right after the 'Prank', when Sirius seemed to have learned his lesson, James thought of approaching him to discuss the origin of his rage. But he discarded the idea again. Truth be told, he wasn't too comfortable with it himself. Padfoot and Moony... it didn't seem natural. What did Sirius really think in those moments before the battle? What tormented him? Was it just Remus? Or were there other boys, too? Was there a chance it'd be James, one day? There were questions he didn't want to ask. Answers he wasn't sure he could handle.

"Just keep in mind that when you need to talk, I'm here."

But now it doesn't matter if he's ready or not. Padfoot is his brother. And he will understand whatever he needs to understand.

"You can tell me anything, Padfoot... anything at all. Just keep that in mind."

He adds the last sentence with so much conviction that, for a second, he's sure Sirius is going to blurt it all out. But in the end, he just nods.

"I know. Thanks, Prongs."

Then he takes his clothes off, puts a pyjama on, slips in the bed and falls asleep until the next morning.

Christmas at the Potters is nothing like the one at the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

Little cousins and nephews run across the house, excited with their new toys, while their mothers unsuccessfully try to convince them to eat something besides cake. Then the mothers sit with the grown-ups, laugh and eat and tell stories of their Hogwarts years (of which James and Sirius take mental note for future incursions).

Everybody seems happy with the explanation that Sirius is spending the holidays with them. Nobody asks why he's not home for Christmas morning, and Sirius is quite thankful for it.

The Potters are a different kind of family. A kind of family Sirius has heard about, but has never enjoyed beyond the brief weekend excursions to James' or Remus'. Nobody besides James has asked about the reasons for his leaving home. And Sirius realises it's because they're not important. This kind of family supports its members unconditionally, and he's a member now. He understands that he's always been. Not because of the blood ties he shares with Dorea Potter (and almost every pureblood witch or wizard). No. It's a much stronger bond. The Potters have always welcomed him, have always worried about him. James has always been his brother. When he found himself alone in the middle of the street, not knowing what to do, only one place came to his mind.

And now he's finally home.

Regulus stands in front of the tapestry.

Sirius looks at him defiantly from his burn mark, his nameless spot. Regulus sends back a despise look.

"You're the only heir now," his mother had said last night. "It's your responsibility to protect the honour of the House of Black."

"Yes, mother," Regulus had agreed without a second thought.

He no longer had a brother. He was an only son.

And yet, he had dreamt about that day at the beach, many years ago. Before the Sorting Hat had brought disgrace upon his family. His father was with them, oddly enough. So was his mother. Sirius and Regulus played in the sand. The governess got distracted by something, and Sirius took his chance to run away, as usual. He took little Regulus' hand and they ran and hid in a cave. Regulus was afraid and squeezed his brother's hand with all his might. But Sirius wasn't afraid (Sirius was never afraid). They spent the day exploring, until the governess found them and took them home, grounded. But as she tried to lecture them, Sirius made such a good imitation of the woman that Regulus had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing.

In his dream, the little cave became an unfathomable abyss, and his brother a brave explorer who fought sea monsters.

I don't have a brother.

He had come down for breakfast as if nothing happened. The table was quieter than usual, but his parents talked about the same things they did everyday. Breakfast finished, they moved to open their Christmas presents.

They were almost done when an owl with a package arrived. The Potters' owl. The package consisted of some clothes and ten sickles.

"Don't worry, I'm not taking any part of your legacy," said Sirius' voice in the back of Regulus' head.

His mother had ordered Kreacher to get rid of the package. Then she'd reminded the elf to have their robes ready for their Christmas dinner and moved to continue the gift exchange.

Regulus had had the sudden urge to see the tapestry.

And there it is.

The burn mark looks at him defiantly. Regulus sends back a look that tries to express despise.

Why, Sirius? Why do you always have to do everything backwards? Why can't you be bloody normal?

He knows the answer to that question perfectly well. It's all those Mudbloods, those Gryffindor traitors fault. It's them who have turned his brother into a freak, an aberration of nature. It's all their fault.

Why, Sirius?

When he feels the first tear run through his cheek, he runs and locks himself in his room. No one must see him crying for a brother who doesn't exist.

When Kreacher knocks at the door with his robe, some hours later, all trace of pain has disappeared from his face. That night, at the Christmas formal dinner, he behaves like a perfect heir and honours the name of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

After dinner, James opens the closet and takes the secret provision from the hidden compartment. It's a miracle it hasn't been discovered yet. It seems a bit risky, with the whole family there, but the occasion pays the risk.

"It's not everyday that you gain a brother, my dear Padfoot," he says, "and much less one that's a pet, too."

Sirius answers by slapping him in the head.

Many hours and a bottle of Firewhisky later, they both lay on James' bed, waiting for the room to stop spinning.

"Have you noticed how Snivellus' hair looks like... like... something very disgusting?"

"What?"

"Snivellus' hair," Sirius makes a disgusted face. "And his nose..." another face. "I don't know how anyone could possibly like him."

James tries to turn around and face him, but desists of the idea, holding his head with both hands and breathing deeply. "Padfoot... do you fancy Snape?"

"What? No!"

"Then shut up. I feel too sick to discuss greasy hair."

"It's just that..." I fancy guys, Sirius wants to say, but instead he stares at a crack in the ceiling. He needs to tell someone.

There's a long silence, in which James' nausea calms down a bit. His thoughts become light and unconnected. He's falling asleep.

"Prongs..." says Sirius, eyes still fixed on the long crack.

"Mmh?"

"I think I'm a homo."

"Mmh... Well, it's good you finally noticed, I've been telling you for six years," and he snickers half sleep.

"Prongs, listen to me," says Sirius, turning around with great effort to face his friend. "This is serious. I fancy guys... I fancy Moony."

And his friend's (brother's) expression is so desperate that James makes the effort to wake up enough to produce an answer.

"Padfoot..." he searches his eyes, unsuccessfully trying to still his own gaze. "Do you fancy Evans?"

"What? No, of course not!"

"Do you fancy me?"

"No! What are you talking about?"

"Well, anyone else is your business. Now shut the fuck up and let me sleep."

And Sirius shuts the fuck up, both grateful and confused.

"Just one thing," adds James, before starting to snort like a mad train, "I don't wanna hear a bloody sound in the dormitory."

And Sirius falls into a strange dream, in which Prongs drives a huge yellow train and Evans chases kids with pieces of cake across the Hogwarts grounds, and Regulus and him fight the Giant Squid, while Moony cheers from the ground.

The next morning, the conversation is blurry. But they both know it happened.

They don't address the subject for many months.