Chapter 34: Shambles of Stuff

Music suggestion: Showdown, Boy and Bear

Sirius had thrown the bedclothes off some time in the night, hating the hot constriction of soft fabric. He lay on a naked bed, in only his trunks, cold but more comfortable. It had taken five shots to finally find sleep. Only five. The bottle sat on his bedside table, looking down on him.

He'd been running along again, headlong, not looking around him; not stopping to evaluate.

Kicking his legs off the bed, Sirius got up and went to the adjoining bathroom. Washing his hands after, he caught sight of himself in the mirror over the sink. Hands slippery with water, he gripped the marble sink top and leant in.

He knew women used to find him attractive. He was a Black, after all, and he looked it. The tattoos didn't even stand him apart. Cousin Bella would have had ones just like his. Sirius had tried to get rid of them. Nothing had worked. Aurors liked to make sure the most dangerous and heinous of them stayed marked forever, their crimes spelled out on their chests – just in case Azkaban didn't manage to impregnate them deeply enough in their minds.

He'd kept his hair. It was as thick and full as it ever had been, and not a single grey as far as Sirius could see. He had good hair genes, at least. But he had the wrinkles. Fine lines on his forehead and around his mouth; deeper ones around his eyes. Eyes that weren't bloodshot, somehow, despite a restless night. They just looked tired. More heavy-lidded than usual.

Sirius shoved away from the mirror and went back into the bedroom. It was as disordered as his mind. Grabbing the mess of bedclothes Sirius dumped them back on the bed, and that was as far as his interest in tidying up took him. He turned and dropped back onto the bed.

His lips still felt like they remembered hers. His mind knew what hers looked like. The slight, sad pout they made when she was trying to hold back tears. The wide grin they could make that turned her cheeks into little apples.

The second time she'd shared his bed an image had popped into Sirius's head, unbidden. Of those lips, the top one a perfect cupid's bow, wrapped around a part of his body Hermione's lips would never touch. It had been good at the time… earnest brown eyes gazing up at him as she sucked – it had done the job. After, like now, it left Sirius sick to his stomach.

Innocent big brown eyes. Eyes filling with tears. Spinning around and running as far away from him as she could get, stuck in this house with him.

Sirius rubbed hard at his face. He'd crossed a line. Badly.

He was old enough to be her father. It was he who should know better. But he didn't. He knew nothing. He just fumbled his way along, stumbling all over the place. He could do with Hermione going back to shouting indictments at him. It was better than watching her cry because of him. Better than her running away from him. Better than him violating her all over again.

More than that… he wished the easy companionship they'd had could come back. She hadn't held him shouting at her against him – shaking her. She should have, but she didn't. Somehow, Sirius didn't think this time was something that would be as easily gotten over. He'd heard her sobbing when he'd come upstairs to his room. He wasn't stupid. He knew well what had left her terrified of his touch before. And he'd gone way too far this time.

Sirius's stomach was hollow, but he didn't go down to breakfast. He'd run out of the bread and peanut butter old habits had placed in his room. But it didn't matter. Sirius didn't want to fill his stomach.

The morning lingered on. Sirius managed little dozes here and there. None that left him feeling ready for the day, they just passed the time. He was awake, restless but disinterested in getting up, when someone knocked on his door.

Sirius just lay there. Let them think he was asleep. If it was Harry… Sirius couldn't face him right now. If Harry only knew… Sirius felt way too much like a sleazy bastard right now.

And… if, somehow, it was Hermione –

'Sirius!' Hermione shouted, rapping again at the door. 'I know you're in there! You can't stay in there all day!'

Sirius rubbed his eyes. There was a reasonable possibility he was imagining her. It seemed more likely than Hermione really being there.

'Sirius!' Hermione called again. 'If I have to come in there and pull you out, I will!' She tried the door handle. It was locked, but not with anything complicated.

Sirius hauled himself out of bed and grabbed up his jeans. There was no point trying to shout back at her. He'd long kept a Silencing Charm on his bedroom.

He heard the lock click and had only just gotten his jeans done up when Hermione pushed the door open.

Sirius had nothing to say. He just stood there. Hermione was looking at him, eyes determinedly on his face. They darted away and she took in the room.

'Come out,' she said, more quietly. 'Ginny and Ron are here…'

She'd trailed off and the look on her face was suddenly fierce.

'You haven't been drinking again!' she cried, turning a stormy look on him. 'I thought you'd stopped! I –' She started forward, headed for the bedside table. 'I'm getting rid of that!'

'Don't!'

Hermione didn't listen. Sirius darted forward, catching her around the top of her chest.

'Leave it!'

Hermione rounded on him.

'Why?' she demanded, and Sirius's heart fell at the wetness filling her eyes, all over again. 'Why Sirius!' she cried. 'Why must you do this?' A tear fell onto her cheek and Hermione dashed it away. 'Don't you know how horrible it is to see you like that?'

'Leave it,' Sirius said, his voice low, 'because so long as it's there and not finished I haven't finished it!'

'What's that supposed to mean?' Hermione cried. She dashed at another tear.

'What's wrong with having a bit here and there?' Sirius snapped. 'So long as it's not draining the bottle!' He had hold of Hermione's shoulder and stared straight at her. He wasn't drunk. Nowhere near. He wasn't even hungover. Hermione was searching his face. She could see that. 'And if I do,' he told her seriously, 'feel free to shout at me then!'

'You'd want me t-to?'

'Sure I would!'

Hermione hadn't pulled free. She let him hold her shoulder, not moving away. And her eyes were as big, brown, and earnest as ever – filling with those endless small tears she kept sweeping off her face.

'Why?' she asked.

'Because it's nice to know someone would!'

Hermione sniffed and scrubbed at her cheeks. She swallowed, then nodded. Sirius's hand slid down her arm, then let go. He hadn't gripped her too hard this time.

She glanced back to the bottle, then met Sirius's eyes again.

'You're not an alcoholic,' she whispered. 'I think I trust you wouldn't let yourself become one – so don't. We need you as you are.'

Sirius's mouth opened, but he hadn't any idea what to say to that.

'We do care, Sirius,' Hermione went on, eyes welling up yet again. 'I do…' She rubbed her eyes and turned away. 'Harry, Ginny, and Ron are in the kitchen. I was hoping you'd come help us with potions again.' She stopped at the door and looked back at him. 'Please do.'

Sirius cleared his throat.

'Let me… get ready. I'll come down.'

Hermione nodded, and with a parting glance and almost-smile, she shut the door on her way out.

And Sirius was left stood, not showered, half-dressed, in a disordered bedroom, with the lasting memory of Hermione's lips curved into a little attempt at a conciliatory smile – and he didn't feel like the older one. Not at all.

He trod to the door, opened it quietly, and peeked out. He wasn't surprised to see Hermione stopped at the top of the stairs, her back to him, wiping at her face and taking a deep breath: composing herself before she headed back down to the kitchen. It left him feeling like the bad guy. Again. Sirius much preferred it when he made the girl laugh.

He didn't need her to tell him she cared. Sirius could see it in her eyes. Hermione had little by way of walls against her feelings.

Sirius gave his room a quick tidy, showered and pulled on clothes, then hurried down to the kitchen. Harry looked over as Sirius entered. Sirius didn't know what was worse, picturing Harry's look as one at a perverted guardian who'd been too friendly with his friend, or seeing the green eyes look up at him with open trust. Luckily, Ron's extraction bubbled over no more than seconds after Sirius entered the room and he had an excuse to focus on potion work.

Unlike Hermione, though, Harry wasn't immune to needing instruction. Sirius provided it leant over the table beside him and noticed the boy's hair was getting on the long side. It gave Sirius pause. It was a simple thing to tell himself Harry was just going through a lazy patch and hadn't gotten it cut. But Harry's hair was approaching the shorter length Sirius had kept his at when he'd been Harry's age, and the thought didn't sit nicely. Especially now, knowing that Harry's ambitions mirrored his rather than Harry's father's. James's example was one to be followed. Sirius's was one to avoid.

The students didn't stick around long. The lesson for the day was on making extracts and essences – not a stimulating class. They left, Hermione following along at an invitation to dinner at the Burrow. Sirius turned the same invitation down. Acting normal when there was a role for him to play and potions to focus on was one thing. He didn't think he could make light dinner chit-chat as convincingly. And he didn't want to see Molly either.

Hermione cast Sirius a last, considering look as she left, and then Sirius was alone but for Kreacher. The elf was stood on a chair to reach the middle of the table and direct the scrubbing of a stain the students had left. As Kreacher leant over a locket fell out of his white towel toga.

'What's that?' Sirius asked.

Kreacher jumped a little and clutched the locket to him. He eyed Sirius with wide eyes as though scared Sirius would take it from him.

'Master Regulus's locket…'

Of course. Sirius nodded and pushed himself up against the table as he got to his feet.

'You can keep it, Kreacher,' Sirius said as he headed for the kitchen door. 'I'm sure Regulus would be happy you have it.'

But the bitterness in Sirius didn't last. He was strolling along the ground floor corridor when it dissipated. There was honestly little Sirius knew about his brother, other than the fact that Regulus had been the loved son. And what he'd learned since he'd come back from the veil just confused him further.

When had Regulus's views changed? Was it only when Voldemort had put Kreacher in danger, or some time before? Sirius had known well what it had been like to live in this house. He'd been congenitally incapable of keeping his mouth shut. But Sirius wasn't entirely sure he believed Regulus had agreed with him more than he did their parents and had just been keeping that quiet.

Sirius's destination changed halfway up the ground floor stairs. He started taking them two at a time, all the way up to the fourth floor and, unlocking it, through the door that led to the attic steps. He'd spotted them the last time he'd been up here.

Sirius surveyed the shambles of forgotten stuff that filled the attic. The photo albums had been stacked on an old trunk by one of the wood and metal shelving units. Not interested in a fight with anything that might be hexed to attack him, Sirius skirted objects on the way over. He nudged a bust of some goggle-eyed old warlock away from the trunk with his toes. It didn't spring up and try to stuff its tobacco pipe up Sirius's nose, so Sirius knelt down, picked an album, and started flicking through it.

On a couple of occasions, Sirius remembered Regulus lending him a hand. Caused a distraction on one occasion; helped Sirius back to his room after their father had left on another. Regulus hadn't stuck around… but… he'd helped. Then there'd been the odd bottle of dittany that had floated silently into Sirius's room, nicked, Sirius had suspected, by Regulus. At the time… Sirius had largely attributed it to Regulus knowing Sirius got himself involved whenever Regulus was the one in trouble. Even now, Sirius wasn't sure that impression was incorrect.

For all they'd been the children of the house, there were very few photographs of Sirius and Regulus in the albums. The grim assortment contained christening photos for a selection of babies Sirius didn't recognise; stuffy, old-fashioned party photos of wide variety; wedding pictures where the pureblood elite looked nowhere near bliss; several photos from the only shore-side vacation his parents had taken together – for some reason Sirius couldn't fathom. His parents hadn't actually enjoyed each other's company.

Sirius spotted himself here and there. He found his own christening photo eventually. Even as a baby, apparently, he hadn't much cared for the silver spoon in his mouth. Baby Sirius had screamed like a fiend through his christening. Quite proud of his baby self, Sirius considered taking the photo for a few seconds. But he could do without seeing his parents' faces, so he left it.

There were the requisite family photos. Taken for greeting cards and out of familial pride. Regulus was in those, looking the picture of the perfect Pureblood son – compared to Sirius, who'd made sure he'd looked grouchy and not-pressed in all of them. Sirius flipped past one that had his father's fingers visibly digging into his shoulder in some stupid attempt to make Sirius smile like a brainless imbecile. None of those photos would do.

Sirius stopped at a photo, one in a sequence covering Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange's wedding. Sirius spotted the two of them in it – him and Regulus, dressed in their finest robes, Sirius aged about fourteen, Regulus a year and a half younger. They were stood off to the side, avoiding the twirls and scampering of dancers. The photograph had been intended to capture the ice sculpture centrepiece of bride and groom. In addition, it had caught Sirius scowling at something out of frame, his body still enough to remind Sirius of the bruises he'd had that day, and Regulus, not far from him, watching Sirius closely.

Sirius plucked the photo from the page, shut the album, and stuffed it back with the other dusty family albums. He leant in close to the photo, then backed up a bit to where his eyes focused well. It didn't seem to matter how long Sirius watched Regulus, his brother didn't become any less of an enigma. Perhaps Regulus looked concerned when he glanced at Sirius's fourteen year old self – but that was as far as Sirius could estimate it.

Leaning to get his feet planted under him, Sirius stood up with the photo. He locked the attic door behind him and took the photo down to his stack of them. Leaving it there with the rest, Sirius descended to dinner.

He was halfway through a custard tart when he heard a baby's wails on the floor above him.

'Down here!' Sirius called up the stairs.

Dora and Remus entered the kitchen a minute later, Remus holding the baby that had announced them.

'You should put a Caterwauling Charm on this house, Sirius,' Dora said, slumping into a chair. 'What with Yaxley maybe able to enter it, an Intruder Alert that sounds at any unknown entrant would be good. I've been thinking on it for the past hour and a half that this one,' she shot a look at Teddy, 'has been screaming.'

Teddy's cries sounded a lot more like a baby to Sirius than a Caterwauling Charm's shriek, but he could understand where Dora was coming from. He took the squirming infant he was being passed. Remus sat gratefully in a chair, using its back as support as he lowered into it. Dora dropped her arms on the table and stuck her head on them.

Sirius looked down at Teddy and gave the crying baby a bounce on his knee. Teddy's hair wasn't exquisite today. It was no more than a thin, silky fuzz of blond-brown. Sirius swallowed his mouthful.

'You make parenting look fun,' he remarked.

'Ha…' Remus uttered.

'You've got no idea…' Dora muttered to the table.

No, Sirius didn't. He'd need a woman who loved him for that. And, even then, he wasn't sure he was cut out for it.

'Poppy had another look at him,' Dora went on. 'She says he's fine, just having a hard time with his teeth, and suggested we cut down on all the apple and pear we give him. Too much fibre.'

Sirius kept bouncing the baby.

'Too much fibre?' he said to the little boy. 'Lucky boy. It seems everyone else gets too little.'

'It's a thing,' Dora said. 'Apparently. It's making his poos all runny.'

Sirius lifted Teddy up before him.

'Are your poos all runny?' he asked the kid. 'That's no good!' Sirius hoiked Teddy up into the air, letting him freefall a little before catching him and resting his little bodysuit-covered feet on Sirius's legs. Up Teddy went again, just out of Sirius's grasp, before Sirius caught him. Up and down, again and again, Teddy forgetting about crying and cracking a two-toothed smile.

'He hasn't just eaten, has he?' Sirius asked warily as he caught Teddy for the seventh time.

'He had a bit,' Remus answered. 'Mostly milk.'

Sirius brought the baby back to his lap. He wasn't sure he wanted Dora's breastmilk spewed up over his front.

'Two teeth, Teddy,' Sirius said, looking down at the tiny child packaged up in soft pyjamas. 'Those are new. How're they suiting you?'

'Oh yeah,' Dora uttered sarcastically, sitting up, 'stop crying for Sirius.'

The remark was probably a bit premature. Teddy had pulled one of his remarkable sad faces. Sirius handed the baby his spoon.

'I tried spoons!' Dora cried as Teddy, his cry postponed, chewed interestedly on the spoon. 'Spoons, hard biscuits, frozen things – I even gave him a butter knife! Remus tried dangling him out the window – nothing worked!'

'You dangle him out the window?' Sirius asked Remus.

Remus had been pinching at the bridge of his nose. He dug his fingers into his eyes and gave them a rub. Opening them, he met Sirius's eyes.

'Yes,' he answered flatly. 'Sometimes I do. And sometimes it works.'

Still chewing on the spoon, Teddy grabbed Sirius's hair. He gave it a hard tug. Judging by the two babies Sirius had known, his hair was irresistible to under-ones.

'And I tried long black hair!' Dora exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. 'I tried every colour!'

Her hair was back to brown, like Teddy's. Sirius tucked the baby against him, holding Teddy sitting upright with an arm around his back. Teddy waggled the spoon in the air, stuck himself in the forehead with it, then stabbed and scraped his face a few more times as he tried to get it back into his mouth. Sirius fingered up a bit of the custard from his tart, smeared it on the spoon, and helped guide it back into Teddy's mouth.

Mesmerised, largely by exhaustion, Dora was watching Sirius and Teddy across the table. Teddy had gotten custard on his fingers. Sirius was sure it was finding its way into his hair. He didn't mind. It was nice to feel the soft and dependent body up against him again. He'd have to wash his hair for the second time that day, though.

'You'd make a good father, Sirius,' Dora said absently. She waved her hand at him. 'You have mystical baby-soothing abilities. And it's a dog and a dad in one… what kid doesn't want a dog?'

Sirius turned his gaze back to the baby. It was far easier to focus on Teddy. The boy gave Sirius's hair another hard tug.

Teddy spat out the spoon, smacked it on Sirius's knee, and dropped it. Sirius fingered up more custard as the sad face reappeared and stuck it, finger and all, straight into Teddy's grimacing mouth. It took a moment for Teddy's face to stop looking like the world was about to end, but it did, and Sirius felt his finger being chewed by gummy jaws. Cracking off a bit of tart, Sirius fed himself it with his fingers over Teddy's head.

'Was Harry this hard?' Dora asked.

'No,' Sirius said honestly. 'But that's probably a good thing. I don't think Lily's sister would have kept him if Harry had been difficult.' He smoothed Teddy's fuzz of hair. 'Teddy has parents who'll stick with him.'

That meant a lot to Dora. Sirius caught the appreciative compression of her lips in his peripheral vision as he broke off another piece of tart. They'd made good a week ago, in a hug Sirius had suddenly found Dora wrapping him into, but Dora's gaze still looked like she wanted Sirius's approval. Sirius kept his eyes on the tart he delivered to his mouth.

Sirius let the parents rest, keeping Teddy entertained, bolstered with little tastes of custard, letting the baby play with his wedding band, and, when the enduring sad face indicated that was no longer working, with little bursts of colourful sparkles from his wand. Remus looked better, Sirius thought, evaluating the werewolf from the corner of his eye. More recovered than the last time Sirius had stopped by to check on him. The couple, odd as Sirius found their pairing, was at least united in their tiredness, and, Sirius suspected, in deeper ways than that. Sirius was sure Remus had dozed off when Teddy restarted his fussing, and nothing Sirius tried worked.

For a child that didn't even have to clean himself, Teddy had a lot to whinge about. Remus groaned, opening his eyes, and Sirius scooped Teddy into his arms as he stood up and tried the bouncing.

'He's heavy,' Sirius remarked. He didn't think Harry had been this heavy at just under six months.

'He's a big boy,' Dora agreed, not so happily. 'Grown like a weed. I think he'll be taller than Remus.'

Teddy wailed, right into Sirius's ear.

'That's good, Teddy,' Sirius murmured. 'Your dad was always too short.'

Remus, who was only a little shorter than Sirius – and decently above six feet – just rubbed his forehead with the hand he was leaning on as he watched Sirius bounce.

'Kreacher…' the elf croaked from the shadows by the stairs, 'can help.'

Sirius revolved right around to see the old house elf.

'It is an old elf trick,' Kreacher went on hurriedly, looking at Teddy rather than Sirius. 'It will help with his sore gums…'

'Is it… safe?' Dora asked concernedly. Her worry wasn't misplaced. Magic and babies didn't mix well. The old wives' tale was that it created Squibs, using magic on a child too early. As with many old wives' tales, the necessity was correct, even if the reasoning was skewed. Using spells on babies interacted with their own immature magic and produced a number of effects, few in accordance with what the spell intended; most of it bad.

Kreacher's eyes flitted from Sirius to Dora.

'Kreacher used it on Masters Sirius and Regulus,' he answered, 'when they were babies.'

Sirius felt eyes on him: evaluating him for flaws he'd acquired as a baby. His nose grew itchy.

'All right, then,' said Remus. Dora looked uncertainly at him. Remus nodded to her. 'If he ends up like Sirius,' he said wryly, 'I can deal with him.'

Dora obviously didn't think Sirius was too messed up either. At least, not as a result of anything Kreacher had done to his gums. She gave her permission.

Sirius lowered to Kreacher's level and moved Teddy to lie cradled in an arm. The old elf creaked over. He stopped by Teddy and gave his hand a vigorous shake by his side. Sirius watched Kreacher raise a glowing blue finger, slip it into Teddy's wailing mouth, and run it swiftly and precisely along the baby's gums.

'It will numb them,' Kreacher said, retrieving his finger and letting the glow disappear. 'It always helped you get to sleep, Master Sirius.'

Teddy was still crying, but Sirius hadn't expected gum-numbing to be an instant crying tonic. Kreacher's bulbous eyes looked almost sad as they watched Sirius stand up and settle Teddy on his shoulder again. Sirius filed the look away for considering later. He'd done enough analysis of his relationships with others for one day. And Kreacher wasn't an easy one to ponder on.

Moving aimlessly around the room, Sirius bounced and patted the baby. The effect of this was timelier than Sirius had come to expect from Teddy. He cast Remus a look and Remus heaved himself up and came behind Sirius to take a look over his shoulder.

'Asleep,' Remus confirmed softly.

Kreacher's was an effective trick, then.

Dora looked like she'd fallen asleep where she sat. Remus didn't try to take his son back from him, so Sirius sat slowly and cautiously in his seat with the little boy snoozing against him.

'Have you eaten?' Sirius whispered.

Remus's whole body still ached. Sirius could see it. The werewolf grimaced slightly as he returned to his seat.

'Not yet.'

Sirius looked around for Kreacher. He knew there were leftovers. There were always leftovers. He could send Remus or Tonks to go fetch them from the pantry, but neither looked like they were much better positioned to get up than Sirius was at the moment – and the elf had developed a strong tendency to hover and look antsy every time anyone went to feed themselves; when he wasn't outright telling Hermione or Harry off for it.

As if he'd sensed Sirius's thoughts, Kreacher's head poked out through the low door by the stairs that led to the laundry. Kreacher needed little prompting, Sirius merely beginning his whispered request before Kreacher was off to heat up two plates.

Sirius thanked him when he returned with the food. It gave the elf cause to treat Sirius to an odd little look before he scuttled off. Sirius filed that one away too.

Nothing sought to interrupt the sleepy quiet of the kitchen until Sturgis thumped down the stairs. More than one 'Shushhh!' greeted the straw-haired man and he stalled just inside the room, looking around confusedly.

'If you wake him up,' Dora hissed warningly, 'I will lop off your ears and attach them to your arse!'

Sturgis quirked an eyebrow at that.

'Feisty!' he whispered back. He looked on to Remus. 'Kingsley has gone on watch already, left me a note that sent me to yours – where you weren't.'

'You found me,' Remus said mildly.

Sturgis didn't sit down, but he did rest on a knee he planted on the chair next to Dora and deposited one of the Order's invisibility cloaks on the table.

'Turgid Kemp,' Sturgis reported, thankfully keeping to his whisper, 'chatting with Runcorn, in Diagon Alley. I reckon Runcorn's moving house. Makes sense, his house has been quiet as a graveyard for weeks. Seems Kemp's wife is some kind of house decorator for hire. Runcorn didn't sound like he was planning to pay, but he wanted Kemp to enlist her services. No heavy curtains, Runcorn said. It would spoil the view. And it's not like the house we know he has has much of a view, unless he likes weeds and trees planted by someone who thinks nature should stand to attention like terracotta soldiers.

'Kemp has no spine,' Sturgis continued. 'He bent right over. Hope he's earning enough from the Wizengamot, because there won't be a dual income for a while with what he signed his wife up for. Then again, if Runcorn is able to afford something with a grand view, he must be making enough between the Wizengamot and his Senior Undersecretary position. Never realised government paid that well. Though, if the Death Eaters that avoided Azkaban bought their freedom, Umbridge must be rolling in it.'

'I doubt it,' said Dora. 'The Ministry's finances were terrible when Kings stepped aside – he'd only just gotten started trying to sort out the mismanagement of funds after Thicknesse. It would take a huge amount of gold to fix that, and if Umbridge does pay her inner circle even half as well as Kinglsey reckons she pays herself, the coffers will be draining faster than they're filled. Unemployment is sky high at the moment.'

'I take it,' said Remus, 'Runcorn gave no indication of where this new house was?'

Sturgis shrugged.

'It has a good view,' he repeated. 'That's it.'

Remus nodded.

'Runcorn's isn't the only house that has been unusually quiet,' he said. 'Lights haven't been seen on in Blishwick's house for a week either.'

'What pays more,' Sturgis said drolly, 'Wizengamot or Head of International Relations, do you reckon? I'm looking for a rise in my status. My job pays pittance.'

Training security trolls may not pay a lot, but, to Sirius, it didn't sound uninteresting. And it gave Sturgis fairly flexible working hours.

'Leonora's taken Elphias's night shift,' Sturgis went on. 'He's sick. So she's pulling double duty. Left me to do the report.' Sturgis jabbed his chin in Sirius's direction. 'The Ministry hasn't shown much interest in recapturing you. Reckon you can take some extra watch shifts yet?'

'We have,' Remus said quietly, tone very moderated, 'gained greater reason recently to believe Sirius, Hermione, and Kingsley are specific targets. They are on reduced watch shifts.' Which meant Kingsley was doing two a week around a full time job to Sirius's one. 'There is also benefit to Sirius and Hermione being generally available at headquarters. It means there is always an immediate source of skilled assistance to be drawn on.'

Not that it was drawn on often, but Sirius had to admit he saw Remus's point. As much as Healing had long been a bittersweet component of Sirius's life, he'd rather be there to provide it than not.

Sturgis didn't argue that point. Instead he raised one about the three of them and Harry being the famous faces that could do something to discredit Umbridge in the public's eye. It was an old Snargaluff pod, and one that had mixed responses. It wasn't as though Hermione hadn't tried, and all she'd done was make herself a contentious figure Umbridge really didn't like. They could try to publish a story about Petal Finnworthy and Phillip Coles to show what Umbridge was sanctioning, but there were too many ways those stories could be discredited and the Order wouldn't benefit from making it clear they'd been involved in deliberately defying Umbridge – all of them could well end up charged with trespassing, and that charge would likely hold an Azkaban sentence for no greater reason than opportunism.

Hermione came in halfway through the whispered discussion. She was quicker to realise the reason for their quiet, and sat without speaking in a seat next to Sirius. He noticed her glancing at him every few minutes. The first few times Sirius thought she was just drawn to a sleeping baby – most people were – but it didn't seem she was only looking at Teddy.

The answer to what could the Order do? was definitely a new one compared to the last couple times Sirius had been in the Order. Walk a tightrope, was the answer, never sure whether the moments you chose to step off it would be onto secure ground, or into a gaping abyss that took out an insignificant force of thirty people. Frankly, Sirius couldn't face again the death toll of the previous times he'd been in the Order, so he was just fine with this answer. It wasn't like it was all-out war this time around.

Sturgis gave up with finding arguments to support stepping off the tightrope. He wished them a good night and left. Dora looked to Remus and he nodded.

'We'd better be off too,' she whispered. 'I need sleep, and I can get it so long as he does.'

Sirius wasn't looking at her, but at the baby he was sure she'd indicated. He couldn't see Teddy's face, but he could see the peaceful rise and fall of his round tummy. It was like a cat purring on your lap, but better: a baby sleeping on you. Soft, warm, snuggly, and trusting. Sirius dispensed Teddy carefully into Dora's arms with a reluctance he didn't want to admit.

Remus and Dora called soft thank-yous to Kreacher for his help and food. They parted with one to Sirius too, and he took it with a small nod.

'You're good with children,' Hermione commented, still speaking softly though the sleeping child had left.

Her saying that was more than Sirius wanted to deal with. He looked at a knot on the table.

'Want to help me put a Caterwauling Charm on the house?' he asked after a moment.

'A Caterwauling Charm? Against intruders?'

Sirius got up from the table.

'I'd put it against animals too,' he quipped, not with humour, 'but that'd make getting owls a pain in the arse.'

Hermione didn't get up. Sirius stopped and looked at her. Her lips had that sad little pout that made him rethink his tone. He hadn't meant that as an attack. He'd just been trying to say something.

'I was joking,' he said swiftly. Hermione swallowed and met his eye. 'The house is too big for me to do it on my own,' Sirius went on. 'I could do with an extra wand.'

Hermione nodded and followed after him. It didn't surprise Sirius that she didn't need to be taught the charm. Casting it was quick, even with Sirius's instance on making sure the roof was defended. Adding the list of authorised entrants to the house took longer. They ran through every current member of the Order, including Abberforth, and added Poppy, Teddy, and Andromeda too. Then they went up to bed.

'Goodnight, Hermione,' Sirius said on the third floor landing.

She'd stopped looking quite so sad halfway through their task. Her demeanour now was reserved.

She turned dull brown eyes on him and wished him the same. There were no cheeks rising into apples. No twinkle in her eye that showed the daring and loose Hermione was showing through. Her hair was tied back in a plait that currently looked quite tame, and her slightly pointy nose had spent too much time tipped toward the carpet. Low spirits didn't leave Hermione looking innocent.

Sirius shut himself into his bedroom. It had been cleaned up completely in his absence, though the bottle hadn't been removed. Sirius couldn't muster irritation with Kreacher for messing with his stuff just now.

He closed his eyes and sighed out a deep breath. He was in deep shit. Like a hook he hadn't the gumption to evaluate the power of, the clever, brown-eyed woman had gotten to him. He didn't like it, but it was there, in his head. And, for a moment, standing alone in his room, he could imagine himself putting a happier expression on Hermione's face. A joke. A hug. Something that would make her look up at him with open enjoyment.

Author's Note

Last time this year I'll post only two measly chapters of a Sunday. The chapters will come hot and heavy as a Boxing Day special!

Just a reminder to everyone who reads here, if this story is removed from this site, it will still be up on AO3.

And as I won't post again until Boxing Day, I want to wish everyone who does celebrate it a cheerful Christmas! Whether you do or not, though: all the best to you and your loved ones!

Responding to reviews:

Dear Guest,

Thank you very much! I'm so pleased you enjoy how the characters are being developed! I've got whole backstories in my head, and when it comes out right, and people like it, I'm so happy!

Dear Dissyblack,

You predicted it! Yeeesss, absolutely needed a chapter from Sirius's perspective! Really interested in hearing what you think after it! I think, for me, I've spent so long with this fic that for me nothing I've written seems out of character for the characters, but the question, then, is whether I manage to turn that into something convincing in what's written in the story. I can describe how I see it, but that means diddly squat if I don't convey that properly in the story itself.

And I suppose… I get a bit stuck in the idea of what is "in character" for people… Such as, someone can be really stoic about the extreme pain of their broken foot, barely showing any pain, but approach them with a needle and it's like you're coming at them with a saw to hack their leg off. I pick this example because a lot of people would say that needles are "different" – it's in character for that person to both be very stoic about pain, while, at the same time, scream and flinch at the relatively small pain of a needle.

But this doesn't negate the question, at all, as to whether I've managed to show Sirius's perspective well enough, both in chapters written from his point of view, and others. There is a duality, absolutely! So what I do wonder, revealing this to other peoples' eyes, is whether the context that makes the one kiss different from the other for Sirius can be understood from what I've written, because that's the real test of writing. I really appreciate you commenting on that, and giving me a chance to muse over it myself, trying to see whether the words I've written reflect adequately what I'm thinking… And if you get a chance to answer as more chapters come out, I would love to hear your view on it!

PS – I donno, really. I wonder, in part, if I scare people off commenting with my long responses. In another part, I reckon it's just a large investment to read something like this, that isn't too popular a pairing, and takes a long while to pay off.

PPS – plus, I do think my view of Orion, as another reviewer also pointed out, doesn't reflect the fanon. It seems, to a degree, I went my own way with that and a several other things, and that jars weirdly with people.

Thank you for taking the time to review!