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Sirius watched as Harry desultorily pushed his food from one end of the plate to the next. The swirled, shallow grooves in his mashed potatoes were quickly invaded by rivers of dark, robust gravy. The peas, which Harry would normally have piled on top of the gravy laden pile, were off to the side looking forlorn all by themselves. The beef Wellington hadn't fared much better. Though Kreacher had prepared and cooked it to perfection, Harry hadn't grazed it once with any of the cutlery at his disposal. Sirius, himself, had started out with a hearty appetite; digging into his own meal with a gusto which had quickly dwindled at Harry's obvious preoccupation. Sirius pushed aside his own plate of half-eaten food after taking a sip from his glass to steady his nerves.

A full minute of silence later, Sirius took another more desperate, deeper swallow of his whiskey and fervently wished that Remus hadn't decided to spend the evening with Tonks. He was so much better at communicating with Harry when it came to deep, introspective "whatevers". And, it was clear that Harry was doing some deep, deep thinking and anyone who knew anything, knew that deep, deep thinking went hand-in-hand with loads of "whatevers". And, "whatevers" just weren't Sirius's thing.

Not to say that he and Harry didn't talk. They did, plenty. Generally their conversations revolved around The Marauders and the many hair-brained schemes they'd often found themselves party to. Sirius was all too happy to re-live the halcyon days of his youth. He took great delight in regaling his god-son, and any and everyone else for that matter, with detail, after blush-inducing detail. Sirius often took particular pleasure in embarrassing Remus as much as humanly possible in the process, making sure to press home the point that although Remus had been considered the less mischievous of all the Marauders he was in no way exempt from their notorious exploits; even planned a few.

Then there were the days in which Harry would want to talk about James and Lily and everything that Sirius could remember from the days when they'd first met in first year until the day that James had finally won Lily's heart. Now those, thought Sirius to himself, was one of the best and most entertaining stories of all and not one whit of it had to be embellished in order for it to be so. True stories, in Sirius's vast experience, had a way of being far and away more unbelievable than the tallest tale told by the biggest of liars. More times than naught those particular stories sent Harry into gales of laughter. And Sirius had discovered that Harry's laughter, his true, joyous laughter, was the most beautiful of sounds.

Sometimes they'd sit around a table at The Three Broomsticks. Harry with a cold butterbeer in hand and he with a double shot of Ogden's finest, and discuss less amusing topics, most of which were about the Wars. Sirius contributed as much as he could, he'd tried to blot most of it out while incarcerated at that hell hole, Azkaban. He'd been imprisoned during the Second War as well, in the equally hellish Grimmauld Place. Truth be told, the latter had been, in its own way, worse than the former. In Azkaban his mind had been tortured and raped of happiness and hope; slowly eroded to almost nothing. At Grimmauld it hadn't been the Dementors with their insidious power that had forced the ruination of hope and faith, but his own frustrating impotence at being left to stew while others took part in the downfall of Voldemort. No, he had done that to himself which had made it all the more damaging and destructive. Nothing brought that point to the forefront more than the days in which Harry had wanted to hear about that particularly dreadful night when all their lives had become a living nightmare. Sirius was less than keen on the re-hashing of that excruciatingly painful subject, yet he couldn't deny Harry whenever he'd asked in halting hesitation. The murder of all those innocents and the loss of Remus' respect and friendship haunted Sirius to this very day.

Though he'd forgiven Remus long ago and loved him like the brother he'd lost to that power mad psycho, no amount of love had the power to completely wipe away the hurt caused by Remus' lack of faith. It was a legacy Sirius was destined to bear for the remainder of his existence. Bear it he must, but rule him? No! Sirius would not let that happen. He had Harry to consider now. Harry, to mentor. Harry, to help establish himself in life. Especially now that there was no longer the need to hide, to run, or to fight in a seemingly impossible war to win.

With a resigned sigh, Sirius poured himself a larger measure of whiskey from the crystal decanter placed at his elbow, steeling himself for the impending conversation which he was about to initiate.

"Harry…" a voice interrupted Harry's silent musings, "what's on your mind?"

Harry balled up the linen napkin on his lap and took a moment before answering. "What makes you think there's anything wrong."

Sirius replied, "I don't necessarily think that there's something's wrong. I actually asked what was on your mind. But since you mentioned it, is there something wrong?"

"Do you think Hermione's pretty?"

Sirius blinked and tilted his head to the side and it suddenly struck Harry that his god-father, over the years, had picked up some of Padfoot's characteristics. He'd never noticed it before, but then today seemed to be a day for previously unnoticed revelations.

Instead of answering the question, Sirius asked one of his own. "What brought this on?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno." He lied. "Do you, though? Think she's pretty, I mean."

Sirius slouched comfortably in his chair, looking to Harry's eyes, disturbingly like Diggory had in his own kitchen this past afternoon. "Yes, Harry I do. Think she's pretty, I mean."

Harry scowled. "Now, you're making fun of me."

Sirius's grey eyes sparkled with repressed laughter. "I suppose I am, a bit. I'm just curious as to what brought all this on." Very curious. "We've talked about girls before but Hermione's not been one of them. It's only natural, don't you think, that I find this little conversation a tad curious."

"Yeah," Harry grudgingly admitted. "I can see your point. It's just… I've never really thought about her being a girl before."

"I know, and I could never fathom why ever not. She's lovely and has a fine mind. In fact, if Remus were younger or Hermione older, I don't doubt he'd make a play for her himself."

"Remus?!" Harry exclaimed, sounding both shocked and scandalized.

"Harry, Harry, Harry…" Sirius laughed outright. "Where have you been, my boy?"

"B…but," Harry sputtered, "He's a professor."

"Was a professor; he hasn't taught for years and he's certainly not blind." Unlike others I could name, Sirius thought. "You know," Sirius chuckled in amused reminiscence, "Remus was never one of those blokes who checked a bird out from the neck down." Sirius grinned before continuing. "Unlike me, he was more interested in what went on from the neck up." Scratching behind his ear, Sirius added, "Now don't get me wrong, he was as susceptible to a pretty face as the rest of us, but it really wasn't a requirement as far as he was concerned. Had some silly notion of brains over beauty, or some such nonsense."

"Then, what's he doing with, Tonks?" Harry asked, bewildered. Almost immediately he felt bad, his face burning with embarrassment. He hadn't meant to it to sound like that. It was just that while Tonks was pretty in an exotic sort of way, smart wouldn't be one of the adjectives he would have used to describe her. Funny, brave, resourceful and clumsy as all get out. Those were the words that came to mind whenever Tonks' name was mentioned.

Sirius gently rocked his glass, watching the amber liquid splash against the sides, not in the least offended on his cousin's behalf. "What Tonks and Remus share isn't based on mental affinity, relationships seldom are. There's a lot to be said for settling into comfortable companionship."

"Comfortable companionship?" Harry, echoed dimly, not really liking the sound of that.

"There are various forms and degrees of love, Harry. Tonks is far too much of a free-spirit for anything deeper. And Remus? Well…" Sirius sighed, a touchingly sad sort of sigh. "His scars go far deeper than the ones visible to the naked eye."

A disturbing thought occurred to Harry. "What about my parents? Did they settle into comfortable companionship?"

Sirius threw his dark head back and barked out a raucous laugh and slapped the table with a force that rattled the silverware and startled Harry into the bargain. Wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, Sirius sputtered, "Comfortable?! It was about as comfortable as Hagrid would be sashaying through Madame Puddifoot's Tea Shop."

"Your parents," Sirius wheezed, "didn't just settle into each other, they careened into each other with the force of a nuclear blast! Your mother had the fiery temper of a true red-head and your dad… well he was determined to not be ignored." Harry's grin widened. "Combustible; those two! I think," Sirius mused, a faraway look in his eyes, "in the beginning that he had no real intention of getting serious with your mother. He just couldn't resist a challenge, your dad. And Lily, with her pretty little nose stuck in the air whenever we "ruffians" were about, making her disapproval all too clear; was a challenge right from the very start."

"Do you…," Sirius slapped his knee. "Do you know," Sirius snorted, "what your father did when your dear mother deigned to showed up with another bloke in tow, to a "study session" he'd orchestrated so he could be alone with her?"

Harry shook his head, eager to hear what is god-father had to say. Stories about his parents held a special fascination for him and he'd never heard this one before.

"First off, we - meaning Remus and I - were hiding behind an aisle of Transfiguration books. Remus knew all the best places to stand when trying to get a clear view of certain areas, knew the entire layout. Real familiar with the library, was our Remus. Come to think of it," Sirius mused, "that was probably one of the only times I'd ever ventured into its hallowed aisles"

"What happened?" Harry demanded, annoyed that Sirius appeared to be getting off topic.

"You should have seen his face, Harry. All that smugness just dropped off when your mother walked in hand-in-hand with Zelios Ekthris! Dashing fellow and good-looking too. Some said he was the best looking bloke in the entire school. With the exception of myself, of course." Sirius preened. "Smart too. Double irritating to our James."

"What did he do?" Harry could barely contain his excitement.

"Zelios wasn't the only smart one." Sirius smirked, touching a finger to the side of his nose. "James knew if he did anything in front of Lily, he'd blow any chance he might have with your mum. Lily had neither time nor patience for the Marauders high-jinks. Thought them juvenile. Which looking back, they were." Sirius conceded. "But fun, Harry. Such fun! See, Harry, your mom was a lot like Hermione. Studious and responsible. Being named Head Girl made her even more so. She took her duties seriously."

Harry nodded; it certainly sounded like Hermione. But Harry was more interested in the story at hand. "You're killing me here, Sirius! What did my dad do?"

"Nothing at first, he bided his time. He was determined that Lily not be able to trace what he did back to himself. Then," Sirius held up his glass and whispered dramatically, "when he was sure it wouldn't look as if he had anything to do with what happened, your dad made his move!"

Sirius drank deeply from the glass, he was parched from all this story-telling. Licking his lips, he continued, "With Remus' help, reluctant help I might add. A batch of Polyjuice Potion was brewed." Harry's eyes grew wide until they looked like dark green saucers. He knew all about Polyjuice from his experiences in second year. "I can see from your face that you've pretty much guessed what happened next."

"You drank the Polyjuice." Harry whispered in awe.

"Yes, dear boy; I did." Sirius sounded so proud of that fact that Harry couldn't help but laugh. "I made the supreme sacrifice on behalf of my friend and while in the disguise of Zelios managed to get Lily's nemesis, Lorinda Maverson; distant relative of the Malfoy's," Sirius added, with relish, "into a somewhat compromising situation while Lily "happened" upon us while on her nightly patrol."

Harry gasped. "Was she mad?"

Sirius' eyebrow disappeared beneath the fringe of his black hair. "Mad? Was… she… mad?" Sirius echoed, as if speaking to a slow witted child. "Harry, she was furious! Gods! Your mother could pack quite a punch!" Sirius rubbed his jaw line as if experiencing the pain all over again.

Harry doubled over, lost in a tirade of laughter. He laughed until the tears streamed down his face, until his sides and stomach muscles ached and he could barely breathe. "She never found out?" Harry managed to spit out between hasty snatches of air.

Sirius, grey eyes sparkling said, "Nope and she didn't even give the poor bloke a chance to defend himself. As far as she was concerned they were through and no words, none; was going to change that!"

Just like Snape, Harry thought. Apparently his mother had set a high store on loyalty and honesty. Harry, felt a pang of pity for his old professor and for the hapless Zelios. Harry didn't have it in him to hate Snape anymore. Not really, not since he showed Harry his memory of the events concerning his mother. What followed later might have turned out very differently if only she would have heard him out. His parents might even be alive today if she had. Not that Harry blamed her, sometimes he just speculated on "what ifs" and "might have beens."

"I wish… I wish I could remember them." Harry remarked in a choked whisper.

"Ah, Harry," Sirius sighed, squeezing his god-son's shoulder in sympathy, "I wish the same. Two of the finest people I have ever met, and that's a fact."

Through a haze of tears Harry asked, "Have you ever been in love?"

"Countless times, my dear boy," Sirius joked. "Countless times." When Harry didn't laugh, Sirius continued in a much more solemn voice, "I never had the chance to fall in love, Harry; not really. At first I was too busy chasing every skirt known to Wizarding kind. I was having a marvelous time. Beautiful birds every night of week. Then," he paused briefly while raising the tumbler to his lips, mumbling against the rim. "Things happened."

Harry knew exactly what "things" his god-father meant.

"Truth be told, I didn't know much about love back then, still don't in many ways. The Black family wasn't exactly brimming with it." There was no disguising the bitterness in Sirius' voice.

"Me neither," Harry admitted. "My aunt and uncle might not have been evil in the sense of using magic or siding with a power mad wizard, but they had their own special brand of evil."

Sirius grasped the back of Harry's neck, giving it an affectionate shake. "Well now, that's all over for both of us. Right, my boy?

Harry pressed his forehead against his god-fathers and whispered emphatically, "Right!"

Sitting back, Harry wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt pretending not to notice that Sirius was doing the same.

"Harry, my lad," Sirius exclaimed in a husky, choked voice, "we're getting a bit maudlin and that just won't do." With a flick of his wrist, Sirius tipped his remaining whiskey back in one swallow. He then reached across the table and grabbed Harry's own glass swallowing its contents as well. Sirius grimaced before saying, "I do not recommend pumpkin juice as a whiskey chaser."

Sirius poured whiskey into both glasses and pushed Harry's back to him using the knuckles of his hand. Harry's eyes were automatically drawn to the symbols inked across them. He was curious about them, had been from the moment he'd glimpsed them, but not to the extent of actually questioning Sirius on their origin. He was curious about all of Sirius' tattoos but Harry correctly sensed that Sirius wouldn't welcome such an intrusion. To the best of Harry's knowledge no one had asked him, not even Remus.

"What shall we drink to?" Harry asked, getting into the spirit. He, like Sirius, was eager to move beyond painful subjects.

"Need you ask, oh god-son of mine?" Sirius questioned him, while tipping his glass toward Harry in a salute. "To all the lovely ladies of our acquaintance; past, present and future!"

Grinning, Harry returned Sirius' gesture saying, "I'll drink to that!"

After several similar toasts, Sirius ventured back to the original subject, "Care to tell me about this sudden interest in Hermione?"

Harry swished the amber liquid around the insides of his cheeks, savoring the flavor of the whiskey. "I ran into Diggory today," Harry paused. He had absolutely no intention of telling Sirius that it was he that sought Diggory out or why. "And some things he said made me wonder. About Hermione, I mean."

"Amos Diggory?" Sirius asked; surprise etched on his fine features.

"No." Harry disagreed hurriedly, a small laugh escaping him at Sirius's relieved expression. "His son, Cedric."

Sirius rubbed his hand across a jaw again, a jaw which was already graced with early evening stubble. It grated on Harry's nerves even though he knew it was silly. He didn't have to shave twice a day. Hell, he didn't even shave once a day. He'd bet his bottom dollar that Diggory had to shave. To Harry's way of thinking it was just one more reminder at how young and juvenile he still was in comparison. Now that he was thinking on it, he kind of remembered a spicy citrus scent had drifted across the tiny table whilst he and Diggory gorged themselves silly. It had been quite pleasant, actually.

"I remember Amos' boy, good looking lad as I recall."

Harry's shoulders slumped. "Yeah, that would be him."

Ignoring Harry's dejected demeanor, Sirius quietly asked, "Am I right in surmising that it was young Diggory who mentioned Hermione and pretty in the same sentence?" Harry nodded his head in the affirmative. "Discerning fellow is our Mister Diggory."

"You think he's right then?" Harry asked, clearly annoyed

"Harry," Sirius exclaimed in exasperation, "What exactly do you want to hear from me? I've already told you that I think Hermione is pretty so me agreeing with Cedric doesn't make me the enemy. Besides which, I'm not the only one who's noticed what a fine looking young woman Hermione has become."

Harry's head shot up. "Who," he demanded. "Who else has been eyeing her up?"

"Eyeing her up?" Sirius chuckled. "That's an interesting phrase, but back to the subject at hand. Does it really matter?"

"No… yes… I don't know!" Harry groaned. "I'm so confused and he said other things that made me wonder…" Harry's bottom lip pushed out into a full pout.

"It seems to me," Sirius interrupted Harry's tirade. "That you're not exactly sure what you're feeling." Sirius suggested to his distraught looking god-son.

"I do too know how I feel. I'm in love with, GINNY!" Harry shouted, sounding very defensive.

Surprised at this sudden change in topic, Sirius took the outburst in stride and simply asked, "Are you?"

"Yes!" Harry stated; a mulish expression on his face.

"All right, then. Let's talk about Ginny."

Harry's face cleared and a totally besotted look settled onto it. "She's beautiful, don't you think?"

Sirius agreed with Harry and said so. "Without a doubt, she is." He wondered, though if that beauty went all the way through. She seemed to be nice enough lass. The Weasley's were, after all, good folk all around.

"She's one of the best Quidditch players I've ever seen. She can out-fly most of the blokes on the team too." Harry proclaimed, sounding just like a proud poppa. "When she flies, it's like watching an angel; she's so smooth and graceful." Harry reached for the whiskey bottle. Sirius noticed worriedly that Harry's hand shook a bit and Sirius determined that Harry was a serious light-weight when it came to alcoholic beverages. From here on in, pumpkin juice all the way. "Course, she's in no way as good as Diggory," Harry added, sounding very much like an expert. The effect was slightly spoiled when Harry belched loud and long.

So, Sirius thought, we're back to Diggory. Fascinating. "I've don't think I've seen the boy fly, myself."

"Oh, he's fabulous and you'd remember it; definitely." Harry gushed.

Sirius was having trouble keeping up with Harry's conflicting attitudes towards young Diggory. One moment Harry acted as if the lad was a pain in the arse and the next he swung to the opposite end of the spectrum to clear admiration.

"Earlier, I got the impression that he wasn't exactly one of your favorite people."

"He's not all bad." Harry conceded, with genuine reluctance. "He was real decent about the whole tournament; was one of the only people in his House that didn't wear those blasted pins. But what he said, the things he hinted at; really made my blood boil."

"Such as?" Sirius encouraged.

"Today, he was talking about Hermione like she was a girl." Harry continued grimly. "He called her a woman. Hermione! My Hermione! Our Hermione," He quickly amended. Well… it made me uncomfortable."

"Do you think of Hermione as sexless, Harry?" Sirius questioned, even though the answer was obvious.

Harry grimaced. Hermione and sex in the same sentence just didn't sound right to him. It sounded downright disgusting. "It just seems wrong for me to think of Hermione like that. Like… like she's nothing but some kind of object of lust or something stupid like that."

"Harry," Sirius whispered, reaching out to giving him another comforting pat on the back. "You've known, Hermione from the time you were children. You all but grew up together." And far too fast; at that. "It's natural for you to think of Hermione as a sister and most blokes have a tough time when another bloke is talking about their sister in such a fashion. It's normal, Harry; perfectly normal."

Harry's head shot up. "That's it exactly! I told him," Harry said him like it was some sort of foul word. "That she's like a sister to me; to me and Ron both."

Sirius' mouth curved into a sardonic smile. Harry just didn't have a clue. Was the boy totally blind to the goings on around him? Ron had been acting anything other than brother-like to Hermione for quite some time now. Even while immersed in the War, Ron had made his attraction clear in a awkward sort of way.

From what Bill had told him, Ron had clearly given Hermione an ultimatum while out on their quest for Voldemorts hopefully, hell-bound soul; an ultimatum that had torn Hermione up inside. Love or friendship? It had been a viciously, selfish thing to have done and Sirius hoped that Ron had come to regret having thrown it out there.

Harry had certainly forgiven and forgotten but somehow Sirius wasn't as sure of Hermione. There had been a coolness between the two that Ron had been trying desperately to bridge. Sirius could have righted Harry's wrong opinion but, the poor boy was conflicted enough for one day and so Sirius decided to let the Ron situation lie.

Harry ran a hand through his black, messy hair and zeroed in on Sirius' face with slightly glassy eyes. "He made it seem as if I use Hermione. That I don't appreciate her!" Harry slammed his glass on the table and then, absently wiped his alcohol splashed hand across the front of his shirt. "What a load of rubbish!" Harry proclaimed, slightly slurring his words. He reached for his glass, looking a bit confused when he couldn't find it but didn't mention its absence. Sirius had discreetly removed it from the table with the silent assistance of Kreacher. "Well, don't you think?"

Sirius was surprised by Harry's belligerent tone and it showed. It wasn't often that Harry was this difficult. Sirius could count on his one hand those instances and still have a finger or two unused. Sirius knew he had to handle this with care. Truth was, in a way, he agreed with young Diggory. Lying to Harry was out of the question but maybe he could work it so that he could soften up the truth, as he saw it.

"Well?!" Harry demanded once again, his face screwed up into a ferocious scowl.

Or maybe not. Sirius made a mental note to hide the whiskey decanter.

"Harry, perhaps we should discuss this tomorrow, when you've had a chance to rest." Sirius suggested, hoping he could persuade Harry to have an early night. If he did, there was a good chance that Harry wouldn't remember this part of their conversation. The whiskey will have done its job and for the first time ever, Sirius would be grateful of the after effects of drowning your sorrows in a bottle of booze.

"I'm not in the least bit tired," Harry argued, his head bobbing back and forth.

Sirius faked a yawn and retorted briskly, "I am." Pushing himself to his feet, Sirius followed this statement with another made-up yawn.

"That's not all," Harry continued, oblivious to Sirius' cues. "The worst," Harry hiccupped. "The worst is," Harry gulped, as if girding himself against what he was going to say next. "He saw Hermione naked!"

Sirius' legs gave out and he found himself back in his chair completely dazed, he couldn't have been more caught off guard.

"Are you sure?"

Looking bleaker than bleak, Harry nodded. "He as good as told me so himself, right to my face."

"Harry, are you sure? Really sure?" Sirius just couldn't fathom Hermione being so casual with her heart let alone her body and as far as he knew, she wasn't even seeing anyone.

"What? Do you think I'm lying?" Harry spat. "He told me, said she had a mole…" Harry hesitated. Sirius closed his eyes expecting the worst. "On her shoulder!"

"On her shoulder? Her shoulder?" Wiping a hand over his face, Sirius sighed. "Great Merlin, Harry is that all?"

"All? What do you mean, is that all? Isn't it enough? He saw her without clothes, Sirius! Without clothes!?" Harry's voice had risen alarmingly.

"Calm down a minute." Sirius commanded sternly, thinking it was high time to take control of the conversation. "If you had said - on her breast." Harry flinched. "Or her thigh." Harry looked as if he'd just eaten something horribly distasteful. "Then I might, might have thought something of it. Did he actually say he saw her naked?" Harry frowned in concentration. "Think. Did he say; I saw Hermione with all her clothes off? Were those his words or something similar or are you speculating?"

"Does it matter?" Harry questioned in a petulant tone. "He saw a mole…"

"Just under her shoulder blade, right?" Sirius finished flatly. Harry did a double-take. "I've seen it too."

Harry's face was a sight; a cross between shock and disgust. Jumping to his feet, he yelled, "You've seen it too?! What? Does she take her clothes off for just anyone these days?"

"That. Is. Enough!" Sirius roared, pausing between each word. "You are doing Hermione a grave injustice."

"Am I?" he hissed, still not convinced.

Sirius was stupefied. Was this is Harry, his beloved god-son speaking to him like this? Who would have though that Harry would turn out to be an ugly, belligerent drunk? But, then again, it wasn't as if Harry had ever been a few sheets to the wind before.

This was all his fault. He should never have poured glass after glass of liquor, especially as Harry had barely touched his meal. No wonder the lad was swaying in his chair and had the oh-so-less-than-pleasant attitude of a Hungarian Horntail. Definitely time to put an end to this pointless conversation.

"Yes," Sirius stated firmly, rising to his feet once again. "And when you're sober we'll discuss this for as long as you like, but until then, we're done."

But Harry wasn't ready to let it go and Sirius wondered if the booze in Harry's system had melted his brain completely.

"Feeling guilty?" Harry asked nastily.

Sirius threw him a look that would have stopped half the people he knew in their tracks and scared the other half silly.

"Harry," Sirius, spoke quietly but with a thread of steel at its heart, "go to bed."

Ignoring Sirius' suggestion completely, Harry yelled out another ugly accusation. "If Hermione didn't willingly take her clothes off for you then you must have been spying on her. Did you drill a peep hole in the bathroom? Watch her undress and shower? You're nothing but a disgusting, dirty old man!"

For a few moments the only sounds in the room were that of Harry's heavy breathing and the gnashing of his Sirius' teeth.

"Harry, if you don't leave this room immediately; I am going to give you the thrashing of your life!" Sirius' tone and demeanor finally seemed to reach through Harry's alcoholic haze.

"Fine." Harry sneered while stumbling to the door. "But if you expect me to apologize; forget it."

"I don't expect anything, especially while you're in this condition." Sirius replied, calm once more.

Sirius followed Harry out into the small foyer and watched with angry amusement as he drunkenly made his way up the staircase, staggering against the banister. He would have offered to help Harry to his room, but the truth was there was a small part of Sirius still aching to lash out at Harry for the unfounded filth that he'd spewed. But the majority of what Sirius was feeling was hurt--pained that Harry, even though talking through the bottom of a bottle, could say such horrible things.

From above, Sirius heard the slamming of a door. Harry had made it to his room. Whether or not he'd make it to the bed was debatable but Sirius wasn't going to worry about that. Sirius smirked. Perhaps a night on cold, wooden floorboards would do him good.

The evening had started out nice enough, laughing and talking about girls and Harry's parents. How had their jovial evening turned into such a disaster? Ah, yes. Hermione and Cedric, that's where it had gone downhill. Sirius shook his head in dismay. He'd had some seriously odd evenings but this one was definitely a stand out. Harry was going to have a hell of a head-ache in the morning. Sirius grinned, a devilish grin from ear to ear. And wasn't it just a shame that they happened to be out of hang over potions.

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