Thank you again for all the reviews!

Part Five

Sirius made his entrance to the school as dramatic as possible. Harry was watching eagerly for him one night at dinner; he'd told Ron and Hermione it would be tonight, but no one else, including Professor Dumbledore, so everyone else started up in surprise as the Great Hall's doors flew back.

"Where is the witch who has been tormenting children?" Sirius, in his illusion disguise, roared in an impressively dramatic voice. Like the spell he'd used on the doors, it was one from the Black library, and it didn't sound like a Sonorus. In this case, it just made him sound as if his voice really was as deep as a dragon's roar.

"Mr. Black!" Professor McGonagall's eyes were very wide. "What are you—"

"Blimey!" Ron breathed into Harry's ear. "Look at Snape!"

Harry turned his head, trying to watch both Snape and Sirius at once. Snape stared at Sirius with a sick expression, one hand resting on his left arm. Harry snorted into his pumpkin juice.

"He has to know that it's just Sirius, though, right?" Hermione whispered on his other side. "Professor Dumbledore would have told him that. And he knows you're Sirius's son."

"I don't know if it matters," Harry said softly. "They must have known each other, I suppose. Snape and Regulus, I mean. And Sirius worked out the illusion using old pictures of Regulus. So it probably hurts whether or not he actually knows."

Sirius crashed to a stop in front of the High Table and glared back and forth. Of course he knew who Umbridge was, since Harry had told him, but he took a long moment to focus on her. Umbridge's face was pale. Harry wondered idly if that was because she'd never thought she'd be called out on her use of the Blood Quill or if she was intimidated by a pureblood parent.

"Mr. Black," said Dumbledore heavily, and with a lack of twinkle in his eyes that was probably supposed to make an impression on Sirius. Harry could have told him it was wasted effort. "What is the meaning of this?"

"This witch," Sirius said, and pointed the ebony-and-ivory cane he'd chosen as an accessory at Umbridge, "is tormenting children."

"How, exactly?" Dumbledore asked calmly. "She is a professor at Hogwarts and has the right to give detentions and take points—"

"Does she have the right to make them carve lines into their flesh?" Sirius snarled.

The Great Hall almost exploded with shouts and demands for clarification. Hermione clutched Harry's shoulder for a second. Harry leaned back into her. Hermione was always ready to stand up for justice, but up until this point, she'd mostly done it in private, not in front of the whole school.

"He has pictures," Harry whispered. "You know that. We could just wait and have him show those. You don't have to—"

"I want to," Hermione said, and wiped away what looked like a tear, and stood up.

Umbridge was just saying, in the soft and sickly sweet tone that she probably thought would get her out of trouble, "Mr. Black, I am unaware that I have tormented any child. Righteous discipline for loose tongues and idle minds, yes. Would you care to show me the evidence?"

"I would," Hermione said, in a ringing voice.

People all over the Great Hall turned to look at her. Harry happened to catch Draco's eye, and blushed under his cousin's glare. Draco mouthed, We are going to talk about this, in the moments before the drama shifted back to Hermione and Umbridge.

"Miss Granger, dear, perhaps you should sit down if you know what's good for you," Umbridge simpered.

"I, for one, would like to see this evidence," Professor McGonagall said, and glared at Umbridge. Harry hid a smile. If Umbridge was really smart, then she would have worked to make the professors like her. As it was, they were all too ready to believe that she had done something terrible.

"It's truly nothing," Umbridge cooed. "Surely nothing. And if I'm not much mistaken, Mr. Black, that young lady is not your daughter, is she? What kind of authority do you have to enter the school and pretend that you care what she wrote in detention?"

"The kind of authority that says my son could be next," Sirius said, and glanced at her in magnificent disdain. Harry stuffed his hand in his mouth to keep from laughing. He kind of wished Kreacher could be here to see this.

The real Regulus couldn't have done it better.

"Miss Granger, if you would please come up here," said Dumbledore. He was peering down at her over his glasses, and Harry wondered if he was upset about the words carved into the back of her hand or upset that they hadn't told him they were going to do this ahead of time. Harry shrugged. It didn't really matter, as long as he didn't try to pretend he would be helpless for some reason.

Hermione walked around the Gryffindor table and up to stand beside Sirius. Sirius gave her a nod and glared at Umbridge while Professor McGonagall stepped down and cast some kind of spell that made the wall shimmer and project a view of Hermione's hand.

Multiple gasps and even a few screams surged up from the crowd of students as they saw the blood-torn letters forming MUDBLOOD.

Dumbledore was shaking as he focused on Umbridge. Harry was glad that it looked like it was fury and not fear. "Do you understand what you have done?" he asked her, in an icy tone. Harry didn't think it was his imagination that some of the dishes on the professors' table were shaking from the force of it.

"Now, Albus," Umbridge said, and simpered at him, too. "The girl was making trouble, and the Minister for Magic did grant me the ability to discipline the students any way I see fit."

"I see," said Dumbledore, in a slow, awful voice. "I suppose I shall have to speak with Cornelius as well, then." He raised his wand, and Umbridge's chair floated out from behind the table, skidding her over the floor of the Great Hall and towards the open doors. "Come with me, Dolores."

"Albus!"

Harry didn't hear the rest of what she said as she floated out. Sirius sniffed and looked around the room. "I will be going with them to make sure justice is done," he said in the same dragon roar-deep voice. "Young lady, if you wish to come with me, then I shall make sure that you receive your due share of that justice."

"It's all right, Mr. Black," Hermione said. Harry could hear her struggling against the impulse to call him "Sirius." "I trust you."

Sirius gave her a haughty nod, which Harry could tell he was enjoying more than almost any other part of this charade, and stalked out again with his cloak swirling. In the silence that followed that, Professor McGonagall ended the spell that projected the vision of Hermione's hand on the wall. Hermione pulled her hand back to her chest, cradling it.

Snape cleared his throat. Harry narrowed his eyes, and saw that Ron was fingering his wand under the table.

"Miss Granger, I note that you have probably used Essence of Murtlap on this—cut?"

"Yes, Professor," Hermione said, blinking at him. Harry didn't relax. It wasn't like Snape to be sympathetic to Gryffindors, especially in public. "The books I read said that was the only thing that would really help."

"It eases the pain, but does not prevent scarring," Snape said stiffly. "If you would come to my office after your Potions class tomorrow morning, then I will ensure you receive the proper Painkilling Potions."

A murmur moved through the Great Hall and settled. Harry studied the Slytherin table. Draco looked as surprised as the rest of them. It was a surprise to Harry, too, that Snape was risking his position as a spy by openly helping a Gryffindor Muggleborn, but maybe it was different because she had been scarred by a Ministry worker. Or maybe Snape would play it off as needing to do something dramatic in public to help such a student because everyone was watching and it would look suspicious if he didn't.

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said finally.

Snape nodded at her, and then swept out of the Great Hall after Umbridge and Dumbledore and Sirius. Harry sat back and grinned at Hermione as she came to sit down next to them.

"So how did it feel standing up for justice?"

"Wonderful," Hermione said. Her eyes were sparkling.

Harry heard Ron stifle a little groan. He snickered. If Ron had hoped that that kind of responsibility would make Hermione reconsider a career in politics or helping magical creatures, his hopes had just been dashed.

Rightfully, in Harry's opinion. Hermione should do what she was good at, even if she made it uncomfortable for her friends sometimes.

"I can't believe how long it took to get rid of Umbridge."

Harry hugged Sirius so hard that his pointed hat nearly went flying off his head. He was once again wearing the illusion of Regulus to pick up Harry on the platform at King's Cross, but he hugged back just as hard, and ignored some of the stares and snickers from people next to them. Harry supposed that the kind of snotty pureblood Sirius was pretending to be wouldn't normally act like that, but Sirius had said he was going to start relaxing his posture and behavior in public. "It's the Ministry. They used every loophole they could to keep her there."

Sirius sniffed and began to lead Harry down the platform. "And, of course, they tried to make it seem as if Hermione didn't matter because she was Muggleborn."

"That, too."

Fudge had, in the end, used one loophole too many. He'd argued that a teacher, once hired, had to remain until the end of term, but that merely meant Dumbledore had moved Umbridge out of the classroom, taught Defense himself, and had Umbridge sit in her office. And when the Christmas holidays and the end of the autumn term arrived, Umbridge had been "sent home." The last Harry had heard, the Aurors were investigating her, and she would probably be arrested soon.

"Now," Sirius, and ruffled Harry's hair, which was nearly to his shoulders now, "ready for Christmas with the family?"

"Yes," Harry said, and held out his hand for the Apparition.

"Wotcher, Harry!"

Nymphadora Tonks was a woman with pink hair—well, sometimes—who grinned and laughed and made Grimmauld Place feel full of sunshine all by herself. Harry had only met her briefly before, during the summer, since her Auror duties kept her busy most of the time. But now she hugged him, and then stepped back and tripped over the troll's foot umbrella stand.

The curtains flew back from Walburga's portrait. "SHAME OF MY HOUSE—"

"Prettier than you!" Harry called, and the curtains swished shut.

"How did you discover that technique would shut her up, Harry? My, how much like Sirius you look.'

Harry glanced up with a grin as Andromeda stepped out of the Floo. "She hates being reminded of how ugly and dirty she is. It's one of the first things I ever said to her, and now she can't stand it."

Andromeda laughed and shook his hand. "I suppose I should discourage you from using appearance-based insults, but if they work, they work."

That was something Harry appreciated about Andromeda. She was loyal to family, and she had been open-minded enough to listen to Sirius when he had told her he was framed, but she was also ruthlessly practical in a way that Sirius simply wasn't. Sirius had chased vengeance at all costs. Andromeda would have retreated and found some other way to get it.

Not that Harry would have wanted Sirius to wait, not when it had been the reason Harry got to know him. But still. It would have been safer for Sirius personally.

"We're waiting on my sister?" Andromeda asked, a subtle tension about her shoulders.

Tonks's hair changed to black. "Oh, really? Mother—"

The Floo turned green again, and Cissa and Draco stepped out. Draco immediately looked for Harry, and smiled when he saw him. Harry smiled back, and Draco came over to lay a hand on his shoulder as if they hadn't seen each other in months instead of days.

"Cissa," said Andromeda stiffly.

"Andi," Cissa said, with the merest inclination of her head. Harry wondered if he was the only one who saw her also trembling a little with the obvious desire to go to her sister and hug her.

"Hi, Harry," Draco said, and hugged him, and buried his face in Harry's shoulder. Harry wondered if he was also the only one who heard him inhaling softly. A prickling blush ran up Harry's face, and he patted Draco awkwardly on the shoulder.

Draco winked at him and stepped back. "Come on, let's go put the gifts Mother and I brought with us under the tree."

Kreacher seemed blissful, bustling around and serving all the Black family members who had come to Grimmauld Place for Christmas. Yes, Harry saw, he frowned when he had to go near Tonks, and he shook his head and muttered something about his mistress and the tapestry every time he served Andromeda, but he wasn't filthy anymore, and he wasn't acting as though he planned to strangle people, and that was pretty good as far as Harry was concerned.

At one point, Sirius, who was half-drunk on the good Firewhisky Kreacher had found somewhere, asked, "So how are you keeping the old man under control, Cissa?"

Mr. Malfoy, Harry thought. He turned and looked at her. Cissa's face smoothed out briefly into the kind of blankness that made Harry think she didn't want to answer the question, but she seemed to realize, from the amount of concerned eyes on her, that she had to.

"Imperius Curse," she said briskly.

Sirius sat up so fast he sloshed half his Firewhisky onto the couch. Andromeda's eyes widened, and Tonks's hair changed colors several times, so fast that Harry had to blink and look away. Draco was the only one who didn't look surprised, although he looked grim and a little sad. Harry moved over to him and leaned his shoulder against Draco's.

Draco sighed and let himself slump sideways, so that his head was lolling on Harry's shoulder. Harry felt himself flush again, but it was such a pleasant sensation he didn't want to move away.

"Why in the world…" Andromeda asked, but let her voice trail off.

"I thought you were really in love with him," Sirius said, sounding stunned. "I mean, so deeply in love that you would never turn your back on him. Not for your disowned sister and your disowned cousin and their half-blood children."

"Family is important," Cissa whispered. "And I came upon him using the Imperius Curse on Draco, trying to get him to swear an oath to become a Death Eater when he turned sixteen."

Sirius whistled. Harry turned to Draco. "Wow, I'm sorry," he whispered. He dimly heard Tonks saying the same thing, but he was focused on Draco and didn't hear the words for sure.

Draco bowed his head. "I really thought I could trust him, you know?" he whispered. "He always said that he loved me more than anything. But then it turned out that he loved the Dark Lord more."

"Well, you have unexplored depths to you, Cissa," said Sirius, and toasted her with his glass. "Yeah, I think we can trust you more than I thought. And that means you'll be welcome behind the wards at Grimmauld Place if you need refuge."

"Thank you," Cissa said, her face relaxing a little. "I have chosen my side. My family's side." She cast a glance at Harry.

Harry nodded. He had had only a few visions this term, mostly of black corridors in a place that Sirius said looked like the Ministry, but not many, and none with the strong tone of emotions that he had got from the dreams in fourth year.

And despite the few visions, Harry had no doubt at all that he would need to battle Voldemort when the time came. Voldemort hadn't forgotten about him, even if he was content to lie low at the moment and allow the Ministry to tarnish Harry's reputation.

"Thank you, Cissa," Harry said, because thanks seemed to be called for. It seemed a little strange that he only had the words he'd also said for the nice set of dress robes she'd given him as a present, but that was the way it was.

Her face eased a little from its tight strain. "You're quite welcome, Harry."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about being under the Imperius Curse!"

"Well, you didn't tell me that you were planning to run away from Hogwarts until a day later, so we're even."

Harry leaned on the edge of Grimmauld Place's roof, which had parapets around it like the roof of the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts, and stared at Draco. Draco had his face turned away, and was scraping one nail over the stone.

"Hey," Harry said softly.

Draco turned and looked at him. His eyes were miserable, the first time he'd looked like that since he and Cissa had arrived at Grimmauld Place. Now that Harry thought about it, he'd seen Draco looking like that a few times during the school year, but he'd thought it was connected to Umbridge and probably the intense pressure in Slytherin to become a Death Eater.

"It's okay to feel like that about it," Harry whispered. "He was your father. You thought he loved you. And it's okay to feel conflicted about your mother holding him under the same curse."

Draco took a deep breath that sounded as if it might be catching on the bones in his chest, and grabbed Harry. Harry cradled him close and shut his eyes. Draco's tears made small warm damp spots on the shoulder of Harry's robes.

Then Draco pulled back and wiped his face with his hand. "This isn't the way I meant to tell you," he muttered.

"Tell me about the Imperius Curse?" Harry didn't know why that would need a special setting.

"Yeah." Draco swallowed and stared at him with a kind of grim and dusty courage that alarmed Harry a little. "I wanted to tell you to show I trust you, but I wanted to tell you—something else, too. And I was going to do both at the same time."

"Okay. Well, what was the other thing you wanted to tell me?"

Draco fidgeted in place for a long moment and then stared at Harry. "Can I—can I show you instead?"

"Okay," Harry said again. He was feeling uneasy now, although he tried not to display it. What kind of thing would Draco want to show him that had something to do with trust?

Draco came forwards with a determined jut to his chin. He reached out and put his hands on Harry's shoulders, and Harry looked back at him as calmly as he could when it felt like Draco might try Legilimency on him. Harry had read about that in one of the books in the Grimmauld Place library, and it hadn't sounded fun at all.

Then Draco leaned forwards and kissed him.

Harry gasped softly and reached up to catch Draco's wrists. He didn't move away from the kiss, though, and he could feel the glowing warmth that spread through him from the touch of Draco's mouth. He sagged back against the wall behind him, and his head spun, and his lips moved against Draco's without his telling them to.

Draco stepped back at last and stared at him with eyes that were hopeful and so nervous Harry thought Draco would have flinched if Harry had shouted boo. "Do you—was that all right? Do you—do you want—"

Of the two of them, Harry was the Gryffindor, and Draco had already gone above and beyond in courage. Harry nodded, smiled, said, "I liked it a lot," and reached out to haul Draco closer for a repeat performance.

Draco kept his eyes open all the way through it, as if he didn't want to miss a moment. It was oddly sweet, and Harry smiled into the kiss.

The infuriating thing was that Sirius, who Harry had thought would remain comfortably oblivious until Harry chose to tell him, somehow figured it out right away. Harry and Draco had been down from the roof for about half an hour the next time Harry saw Sirius, and his dad took one look at him and burst out laughing.

Harry's cheeks turned bright red. He barely resisted the urge to feel at his lips and see if they were still swollen. "What?" he snapped.

"You just got the snogging of your life, didn't you?" Sirius fell back on a couch in the drawing room and returned to howling with laughter.

Harry folded his arms. "So what if I did?"

"Oh, well, you come by the habit of kissing your cousins honestly." Sirius waved the bottle of Firewhisky at him. "I did some snogging myself with Bella when we were younger."

Harry stared at him. "You what?"

"She wasn't always insane. She used to be really hot."

"And you're really drunk."

Sirius squinted at the level of Firewhisky in the bottle and then shrugged. "Okay, I am. Anyway, I approve. Draco and Cissa are on our side of the war now, and he looks like he'd be a good kisser."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Sirius leaned nearer and said in a conspiratorial voice, "His nostrils. The really good kissers all have the really narrow nostrils like that. When they're too wide, then you know they have no idea what to do with their lips or tongue."

Harry buried his head in his hands. "Oh, Merlin, Dad, shut up." He fled up the stairs to his bedroom.

"It's every Dad's duty to embarrass his son!" Sirius called after him, followed by more cackles of laughter.

In the end, revenge was easy. Harry just got Kreacher to withhold the hangover cure the next morning.

"I must tell you, Harry, that I am very concerned about your dreams."

Harry kept his eyes a little unfocused and peered past Dumbledore's left shoulder. Draco had told him that both Dumbledore and Snape were probably Legilimens. And Dumbledore, at least, was probably strong, just as he was powerful with ordinary magic, too. "I don't know why, sir," he murmured. "It's not like Voldemort is trying to trick me with them. He's just obsessed with something in the Ministry."

"How did you know it was the Ministry?" Dumbledore asked sharply.

Harry blinked at him, and hoped that didn't count as looking him in the eye, at least when it came to Dumbledore's power to read his thoughts. "Sirius said, sir. Said the black corridors reminded him of some places in the Ministry."

Dumbledore closed his eyes. He looked exhausted. Harry sort of sympathized, but he also sort of didn't. "He was not to tell you," Dumbledore murmured. "I told him that strictly in a letter to him a few weeks ago."

"You—" Harry shook his head. Sirius had said that Dumbledore had been writing to him, but not specifically what about. "Sorry, sir, you expected Sirius to do what he's told? Especially when it means keeping a secret from his son?"

"Well, yes, Harry. Especially a secret so important to your survival in this war."

"So what is it?"

"I am sorry, Harry, but I cannot tell you. There is too much chance that it would travel back down the connection between you and Lord Voldemort and alert him that we know about his plan."

Harry threw up his hands. "Wouldn't just mentioning that to me tell him that we know about it? If he even knows about the connection. Like I said, so far, I don't think he does. He would either try to feed me something else or shut off the visions if he did. He probably doesn't want me to get a hint of what he's doing, either!"

Dumbledore shook his head. He was openly avoiding Harry's eyes now, the way he'd been doing all year. "I am sorry, Harry. It is simply too risky. And in fact, I have arranged for you to take Occlumency lessons with Severus. It is irresponsible of me to have let you continue so far without learning to close your mind."

Harry stared at him. "What?" He knew what Occlumency was, but only because it had been mentioned in the same book as Legilimency. And there had been no mention of how to do it, or whether you could learn it from a teacher at all. He certainly wasn't about to learn it from Snape. Snape had been better, a little more decent, since the incident with Hermione's hand in the Great Hall last term, but Harry wouldn't trust him to poke around in his head.

If nothing else, there had been no sign that Snape hated Sirius any less. He would probably try to find some secret to humiliate Harry's dad.

"I must insist, Harry."

"And what does my father say about this?"

Dumbledore hesitated. It was the kind of thing that Harry might have noticed last year but not attached much significance to. Now, he did. "I have not told him."

"Guess what, Headmaster," Harry said, and let some of his scorn leak into his voice. He and Dumbledore would still and always be on the same side, because the alternative was Voldemort and that was not an alternative, but he didn't have to be nice about it. "I'm not a Muggle-raised orphan you can push around anymore. I'm a son with a father who's very much alive and very much involved in his care. You have to ask him first."

"He would say no." Dumbledore was doing some kind of odd peering where he managed to look at Harry as directly and sternly as possible while still not looking him in the eye.

"Yes, he would! That's why I'm saying no, too."

"Harry." Dumbledore put one hand over his face, and yes, he looked exhausted, but so was Harry, too. Really exhausted of people keeping secrets from him and thinking they could just push him around. "You must see that the openness of your mind endangers more people than just you, or even than you and your father. You must take the Occlumency lessons and learn to close your mind."

"Could you teach me?"

"I cannot risk you gaining access to the secrets of my mind."

"Do you mean if Voldemort figures out we have a connection and looks through my eyes? Or because I might be lucky and figure out something you don't want me to figure out?"

Dumbledore slowly shook his head. "Harry, if I could trust you with more information than this, I would. Please believe me. As it is, we are already pressing against the boundaries of what is safe for you to know."

"Safe for me? For you?"

"For the entire war effort." Dumbledore appeared to look straight at him for the first time in months. "Can you not understand? If it were up to me, I never would have involved a child in this war. But you were marked by Voldemort, and we have no choice now. The most we can do is try to keep you safe."

Harry sighed and stood. "Sir, I understand that, but I also know that you're still trying to treat me as a pawn, not a child. Sirius won't stand for me taking Occlumency with Snape—"

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"And neither will I," Harry said, deciding to ignore the interjection. "I'm just going to go back to the Tower now, and if you want to assign me detention because I won't be showing up for the Occlumency lessons, that's your right. But I'm not going to subject myself to having my mind ripped apart because you think it's a good idea."

Dumbledore said nothing. Harry turned and went back down the moving staircase with his heart aching.

Draco met him at the bottom of the stairs. Harry leaned forwards and wrapped his arms around his cousin, his boyfriend, sighing. "Did you have any problems in Slytherin when you got back?"

Draco shook his head, taking a deep breath as if to pull in the scent of Harry's skin and hair. "They don't know what to make of me anymore. It's not official that the Dark Lord is back, so they can't accuse me of being disloyal to him. And they knew that I stood with you and that you're my cousin and officially the son of Regulus Black, but my father also hasn't sent me a Howler about that, and Regulus Black was rumored to be a Death Eater. So they're keeping their distance."

"Good. Let me know if they don't, and I'll hex them for you."

Draco laughed quietly. They stood there a few moments more, and then Draco cleared his throat and whispered, "I hate him, but he's so powerful. Do you really think we can win?"

Harry smiled and tilted Draco's head back. "That's one reason we can."

"What?"

"Because we say we," Harry said, and kissed him, a long, sweet, lingering kiss that had him smiling all the way to Gryffindor Tower.