word count: 894

Kingsley shivers when he enters Grimmauld Place. As expected, Walburga's portrait screams her abuse at him, but he's learned to ignore it by now. Annoying as the deceased Black matriarch may be, she is little more than pain on canvas, and engaging with her will only make things worse. She seems to be in an even worse mood than usual lately. Kingsley can't help but wonder why that may be.

"Ah. Finally come to see poor old Sirius, eh?" Sirius calls, appearing at the top of the staircase, resentment heavy in his words.

Kingsley can't fault him, really. Sirius has been trapped in his childhood home, almost completely isolated except for Order meetings. If roles were reversed, Kingsley thinks he might lash out. He tries to visit as often as he can between meetings, but his work as an Auror interferes more often than he'd like.

"It's freezing in here," Kingsley says. "How are you not cold?"

Sirius offers him a sheepish grin, all irritation seeming to fade. "I, er… Well, I don't actually know a good heating charm," he admits.

Kingsley shakes his head, unable to resist a small grin. "Let me help you."

"I don't need your help."

There it is. There's that bitterness and anger. Kingsley wishes he could take it away and make Sirius understand that there's no need for it. Really, Kingsley is trying his best, but sometimes he feels so hopeless.

"You'll freeze to death, idiot."

Sirius snorts. "Azkaban was colder."

With a roll of his eyes, Kingsley waves his wand and mutters a quick spell. It's one his mum always used, one that Kingsley, who is horribly cold-natured, insisted on learning the moment he had some basic control of his spellcasting. Within seconds, the temperature begins to change, slowly warming around them.

Grudgingly, Sirius mutters, "Thanks."

Kingsley lets out a sigh. "I know you're upset, and you have every right to be," he says because he doesn't know the last time anyone has validated Sirius' feelings. "How you've avoided complete insanity is beyond me. I've been a terrible boyfriend."

Sirius' lips quirk. "It's okay. You're cute," he says before pulling a cigarette from his pocket and tucking it between his lips.

"Terrible habit."

"So sue me. C'mon."

Kingsley follows Sirius upstairs and into his room. It's pure chaos that makes Kingsley's eye twitch. From countless pairs of shoes strewn across the floor (some several sizes too small that Sirius probably hasn't worn since his early Hogwarts days) and a dented bird cage with a dirty lemon-yellow cloth poking between the golden bars. On the table next to the bed is a half-eaten Cauldron Cake and a chipped teacup.

"Sorry. I've been a bit…" Sirius doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't have to. Kingsley understands, even if he doesn't really know how Sirius feels.

"I can help you," Kingsley says.

With a soft smile, Sirius crushes his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. "You are absolutely beautiful," he says. "I love you."

"I love you too. I know you feel alone right now, but you aren't. I promise."

With that, they set to work, cleaning and tidying. Kingsley remembers Molly roping everyone into cleaning the house over the summer, and he thinks it would be nice to have the extra set of hands now. Still, there's something about working alone with Sirius that makes it feel nicer.

Sirius whistles as he cleans, pulling a flower pot from underneath the bed and placing it on his dresser. "I feel like this will only strengthen our connection. Why bond over sin when we can bond over being productive?"

Kingsley rolls his eyes, snorting as he plucks a pair of silky pastel blue boxers from the floor and moving them to the dirty clothes pile. "Why do I get the feeling you would much rather bond with me over something sinful?" he teases.

"Because you know me too well."

It takes some time, but the room really comes together. With a relieved sigh, Kingsley wipes the sweat from his brow. He can't remember ever cleaning so much in his life, except maybe when he was a kid and his muml coming home from visiting Auntie Siti; his dad had insisted Kingsley clean like mad to make his mum happy.

"I know I've been pretty moody lately," Sirius says, leaning against his boyfriend.

"Moody? Not at all. You don't have the magical eye."

Sirius lets out a barking laugh. "Funny. You know what I mean," he grumbles. "It's easy to feel like there's no point and to let myself get caught up in my feelings. But then there's you, and I start thinking maybe things aren't so hopeless after all."

Kingsley wraps an arm around Sirius, holding him close and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Of course there's hope. I know it doesn't always feel like it, especially with Voldemort returning and all."

Kingsley has felt it too. So many people have, and not just those in the order. There's a dark shadow hanging over the world, one that no one can quite shake.

But these moments with Sirius, as few as they may be, are precious and good, and they remind him why he's still fighting. This war will end, and he and Sirius will have a home and life together. All he has to do is believe.