Coming back to society wasn't an easy task for Sirius. It would not be even if he were only out during the time he spent in the realm behind the veil. But he hadn't been a regular wizard for far longer, including the time in Azkaban and the years in hiding. As he was struggling to find his place, he started wondering if he had ever fit in. For his whole life, he was a rebel and a prankster who only got serious when there was downright no other choice. Maybe the impression that he was back in his teenage years wasn't just the result of post-resurrection confusion. Perhaps he was a teenager all along and only realized it after gaining a new perspective on life. In a world where even fully adjusted grownups scrambled to find their place and where the choice seemed to be between cruelty and bureaucracy, how good were his chances?
Actually, the world around him was getting more insane each day. Some highly-ranked Death Eaters who survived the war managed to quickly use their resources and go underground, thus avoiding imprisonment. But they didn't simply go into hiding. As always, they were chasing power. And their hunger for it was like never before. They wanted to make up for the humiliation of being on the losing side and for years of being Voldemort's pets. Those years, no matter how hard on their egos, allowed them to learn a slew of nasty tricks and dirty secrets, in addition to those that were already their family heritage. At the same time, the war increased the pool of recruits to their ranks. Families and individuals lost their loved ones, livelihoods, and properties. Even purebloods who hadn't supported Voldemort during the war started arguing their superiority, fearing that muggleborns would take their jobs. Overall, the wizarding community was angry, desperate, and increasingly distrustful.
At first, the situation didn't seem particularly dire. Sure, it was painful to watch how the values that so many died for were being trashed. But Sirius, like everyone close to him, thought that it was more of an adjustment period. Soon enough, there were too many fires to put out. Ex-Death Eaters repeatedly turned out to be more resourceful than the Ministry, which appeared increasingly obsolete. Tracking them down was an unprecedented challenge due to the simplicity of their strategies. They didn't seem to be working together. But they all had the same goals - to spread chaos and convince as many wizards as possible that violence is the only answer. Then, in the omnipresent anarchy, they could push for a new order. If not stopped, the whole thing would probably end in another war, fought between Death Eaters on the ashes of their world.
Initially, Sirius tried to take matters into his own hands and act as a free agent. However, even with his experience, wits, and connections, he always came up short. Same as the efforts to revive the Order of the Phoenix. Multiple high-profile members were gone. Others felt that they could make more impact by pursuing Ministry careers, including the younger ones, who decided to complete the Auror training. By the time they realized the matter was beyond their reach, they were too invested in their paths to admit their pointlessness. Not to mention, Sirius realized how much of the Order's success could be attributed to Dumbledore's wisdom. Even after the man died, his ideas and plans made a decisive impact.
So, for the time being, Sirius succumbed to watching. With Harry busy with his training, relationship with Ginny, and being the man who saved the world, he didn't have much time to spend with his godfather. The latter didn't mind, though he also couldn't find alternatives to occupy himself with. After all that he went through, most pastime activities or even potential jobs appeared rather dull. And maybe it was thanks to his rebellious nature, but he remained utterly convinced that the Ministry was no place for him or anyone who wanted real change. So, he mostly led a simple life in a small house he built for himself in the middle of nowhere. He even realized that some of the everyday activities, like chopping wood, are more fun done the muggle way. Still, there were rainy evenings when he would go out to an obscure wizarding pub to chat with strangers and get a sense of where the world was (from sources other than his friends). There was one he particularly loved, The Loony Moon. One, it was among the few places where no one ever cared who he was, or at least was delicate enough not to react. Two, it was owned by an exceptional witch, Madame Lucinda, a woman in her 60s who seemed to read people like books without legilimency. More importantly, she was insanely fun to talk with.
Even though Sirius tried hard to condense his memories into an easily digestible story, Hermione still had to beat her tongue to stop herself from asking why on earth had he come to tell her about his trips to the bar.
One stormy night, Sirius entered The Loony Moon, marched straight to the stool near the counter, and unceremoniously threw his coat on the seat next to him.
"Nice weather, huh?" he asked, grinning widely at Madame Lucinda.
"Sure, a bar lady loves true English weather. A fire whiskey for you, Sirius?" she asked, and he nodded slightly.
Only then, he glanced around the bar. Since he spent most of the time on his own, he liked to observe people whenever he was out. Also, the place, far from any popular wizarding street and relatively free from the hostility spread in their world, tended to be full of interesting types. He quickly spotted three middle-aged ladies around the table close to him, who he sometimes chatted with. They were passionate activists, planning to help the unemployed, widows, orphans, and whoever came to their minds. While Sirius believed the Wizarding World was beyond the help of activism, he always appreciated those who remained hopeful. Then, next to them, there were four older men, who he also knew. Already in their retirement, they had a peculiar hobby, inventing magical games. At the moment, it seemed like they were in the creative phase, trying to determine whether a card game makes sense if the figures from the cards can walk out on players if they don't fancy their luck or strategy.
He moved his gaze further back and gulped in surprise.
"Does he come here often?" he asked Madame Lucinda, tilting his head in a discreet gesture.
"Not as often as you," the owner joked. "But he comes back now and then, always alone and never talking to anyone. An unlucky one, seems to have been born into an unfitting and impossible destiny. And without any glory."
Sirius took a moment to ponder at her words. Before his, well, break from life, he used to be the first to judge, often without much substance to his opinions. While he wasn't wasting time on regrets, he realized that some of the things he had done and said were ill-founded and harmful. So, he decided to push away his fixed judgment coming from the man's affiliation with Voldemort and Harry's opinion. Instead, he wondered why he never dedicated as much as a sympathetic thought to his, uhm, cousin. After all, he knew better than anyone that escaping family expectations could be nearly impossible, especially after a childhood filled with psychological violence and manipulation.
"Well, it is unlikely, but maybe he will fancy talking to his cousin," the black-haired man decided, taking his drink and coat as he stood up.
Lucinda winked at him.
Sirius didn't know what pushed him to make something as hopeless as giving an olive branch to Draco Malfoy. It was probably an uneasy feeling in this stomach when he thought about his relative's situation. Going by a small number of his more noble actions, he was never a full-blown Death Eater and never allowed to be anything but. After the war, he managed to cut a deal with the Ministry, but no one would have him near any honest and responsible job. There were no indications that he wanted anything to do with his father becoming the lamer version of Voldemort, but Sirius realized that daddy couldn't be happy about that. At the same time, after all that happened to him, the former Marauder couldn't be the same judgmental ass. And he had a much harder time ignoring his gut feeling, which currently told him that the unexpected encounter wasn't quite random.
"Care if I join you for a drink, Draco?" he asked, already getting comfortable on a wooden chair in front of his relative.
"If you must, uncle," the blonde said, not bothering to look up from his drink. "I can't imagine what possessed you to ask, though, we have never exchanged as much as 'hello.' "
Sirius smirked slightly at being called "uncle," with sarcasm dripping from Malfoy's voice. It was something he could have said in a strikingly similar way.
"Oh, I may be old, but uncle? We are cousins," the black-haired man clarified, trying to maintain the ironic vibe.
Draco shrugged his shoulders.
"And to answer your question, I'm not sure myself. But, to be fair, I was locked in prison for most of your life and kind of dead when you were bu… anyway, putting past differences aside, we are family after all," the older man concluded awkwardly.
Draco snorted, finally looking up to reveal sunken, resigned eyes. "You are Potter's family. And, to give honesty for honesty, it doesn't seem like I suddenly belong on your side, so I don't know if it's accurate to say that our differences are in the past."
Sirius started to wonder how he managed to recognize Draco so quickly. He did see him before, but only briefly. Then again, the Malfoys were all over the papers after the war. Yet, Draco looked neither like a slimy teenager with fake arrogance plastered over his face nor like a proud, stoic man that lurked from the pages of the Daily Prophet. More than anything, he seemed tired. He had dark bags under his eyes, which contrasted with his pale skin. He looked like he hadn't shaved in the last few days. He also ditched the hair product Harry and Ron would always mock, keeping his platinum hair longer and disheveled.
Even if he didn't come across nearly as smug and collected as he used to, his high, well-defined cheekbones still served as a reminder that you can't count on anything taking pride away from a Malfoy. Coupled with the blonde's snarky comments, they told Sirius that the most reasonable course of action would be to get his ass to sit elsewhere.
But if there were one thing he was famous for, it would be making choices that are anything but. He took a long sip of his drink and replied, "At the moment, it doesn't seem like I belong much on my side either."
Draco wriggled on his chair, betraying a sign of irritation. "Of course, our situation is nearly the same. It is not at all like you could change it with a snap of your fingers."
"Fair point, if exaggerated. Still, I have not always been the wizarding world's most loved. I'm happy to share tips," the black-haired man joked, already feeling that the conversation was getting nowhere but not giving up easily.
He sure hoped that the pounding rain outside would keep the young Malfoy in for longer, though he couldn't quite explain why he felt so strongly about continuing the farce. It was not that he had nothing to offer to the man. In some version of the universe, he could help him. But the walls his cousin put around him appeared too thick, even if the hopelessness and pain in his eyes almost made Sirius shiver.
"I'm not after redemption. I have the resources to stay out of everyone's business for the rest of my life. I don't need weird family reunions with strangers who came back from the dead," Draco replied, managing to keep his voice relatively calm.
He gulped the rest of his drink down. Sirius immediately gestured to Lucinda that they needed two more. With her impeccable ability to read situations, she was there before the blonde could get up and leave.
"What about your father? You have the resources to stay away from him, too?" Sirius shamelessly ventured into the riskiest topic.
A hard-to-catch emotion briefly passed through Draco's face. It seemed to start from fear and quickly melt into fury. He drank his fire whiskey in one take, got up, and took a second to regain his composure.
"I do. I will never join him, that's for sure. And for all his tries, I have the ultimate way to stay away: I don't care. I don't care what he does to me because I have absolutely nothing to lose. So, please take your charity efforts elsewhere, though offering them doesn't suit you any more than accepting would suit me. Have a good night," the blonde cut the conversation short and stormed off, paying for all their drinks on his way out.
After his "chance" encounter with Draco, Sirius dedicated a lot more than one thought to the young man. Contrary to Malfoy's belief, he wasn't a charity project. The older man didn't have any particular course of action in mind. He didn't intend to force himself into his cousin's life, being wise enough to know that there was little point in saving someone who didn't want to be saved. Still, something made his thoughts wander off to their meeting repeatedly. The dull look in Draco's eyes and the powerful statement he made before leaving stayed with him. And Sirius suspected that the youngest Malfoy would have plenty to offer to the world had his life gone differently. But, they all were where they were, so the older man limited himself to occasional questions to Lucinda about whether she saw Draco lately. Unfortunately, it seemed like Sirius inspired him to find a new spot to go out for a drink in solitude.
At least until one autumn evening. The black-haired man was busy at his hut, working on a major project he had yet to reveal to anyone. He wasn't sure if he ever would. There were some glaring gaps that he couldn't quite fill yet. Anyway, a sound from his fireplace, suggesting that someone was about to communicate with him, made him get up from behind a huge oak desk, which was his favorite piece of furniture. He carved a deer and a werewolf on two room-facing legs to honor his friends.
"Lucinda! Thank Merlin, I wasn't getting anywhere with my work. But… is everything alright?" he asked, suddenly realizing that she wouldn't contact him through his Floo Network to have a friendly chat.
"I'm fine, but I think if you are not too busy, you should come now. I have to get back. I left the pub to come to the house and contact you. I will tell you more when you are there," she said somewhat cryptically and disappeared.
He took ten minutes to get himself more presentable, put on nicer clothes and shoes. He didn't even take his coat before apparating in front of The Loony Moon. Eagerly pushing the door open, he regretted that particular choice, quivering from the cold and briefly thinking about whether the issue would require walking outside.
"What's going on?" he whispered to Lucinda, leaning over the bar as soon as he entered.
"Uh, sorry for the suspense. I was in a hurry," the woman explained.
Her face was still slightly flushed from running between the bar and her house. She also spread her arms to show that traffic was high that day.
She pointed her head at a table in the corner. "He came about an hour ago, looking quite shaken up. I thought that some part of him might have hoped to see you here."
"That part of him won't admit it in a million years," Sirius muttered, though he started going in Draco's direction, silently thanking for a drink that Lucinda poured in the meantime.
"You okay?" the older man asked straight away, again not waiting for the invitation to sit down.
"I'm fine," Draco replied slightly too quickly. To make it even less convincing, he gripped his glass tightly as if trying to hide his shaking hand.
Sirius raised his eyebrows but didn't comment on it.
"Listen, to be clear, I didn't come here looking for you," the youngest Malfoy added.
The black-haired man cursed inwardly, thinking, and there it goes.
"Not that I owe you an explanation, but it is simply the only wizarding public place where people don't stare at me with disdain, and I kind of needed to be in a public place," the blonde's eyes were fixed on his drink.
Sirius sighed, not quite sure how to proceed. He went for the most straightforward choice, "Why?"
"I know that I've started the heart-to-heart, but it was just for you to understand that I'm not here for you. I'm still firm on you, or anyone, staying out of my business," Draco wouldn't give in, keeping alarmingly still.
Taking in his determination to be left alone, Sirius realized that even though their lineages and potential choices were similar to some extent, Malfoy was in a far worse situation than him when he had to choose sides. Up to this point, through his entire life, the younger man could never truly count on anyone. He had no caring parents, no real friends. Just expectations, roles to fill, impressions to make, disappointments to account for.
"Alright, I only have one practical question. This place will close at some point. What will you do then?" the older man tried.
Draco still didn't move much, restricting himself to carefully putting a glass to his lips. "I will worry or not when it comes to that, thank you."
Despite his words, he looked as if he wasn't sure if he wanted the interaction to end. Sirius believed his cousin that he would run straight to his death if it came to it. No one can take an unlimited number of kicks from life, especially when they are utterly alone. At the same time, the older man could see that something serious had already happened that day. Even if Draco's miserable circumstances made him not care too much about his life, the event was significant enough to leave him shaken.
Sirius weighed possible responses in his head, not coming up with a satisfying one. Suddenly, he was struck with an idea. It was brilliant and entirely absurd at the same time. In other words, it was the kind he liked the most. He leaned forward, supporting his head with his hands.
"Listen, Draco. I may have a proposition for you, and it is not out of pity. Weirdly enough, it would make sense for me, too. I'm even willing to bet on my gut feeling that you have more decency than you are letting on," he paused briefly to gulp down half of his drink.
"But I need to know if it's not all in my mind. And that given a chance, you'd actually prefer to switch sides," he continued, genuinely wondering if his head was in the right place. "I'm taking the risk that what I'm about to tell you will reach the wrong ears without ever reaching the right ones. But there's no point if you won't even consider it. I realize it's not easy to go against people you have spent most of your life with."
Draco's eyes grew wide. He moved too abruptly to take his glass and tried to hide a grimace of pain. A few drops of sweat appeared on his forehead. Sirius shot him a quick worried glance but decided to stay quiet about it for the time being. He didn't know what went on in the younger man's head as he pondered on his reply, but his face appeared to lit up, even if it was only very slightly and hardly noticeable.
"I will consider it," Malfoy finally said.
"Great," Sirius leaned in even closer on his elbows and lowered down his voice. "So, I don't know if you've noticed, but the whole Ministry, and Aurors specifically, are pretty much useless in catching your father. Or any others, for that matter. The Order of Phoenix is no more, and I believe we can't successfully revive it. Somehow, we went from having good enough people and sufficient structures to fight Voldemort to not being able to fight his former servants."
"Now, we could try to fix the old ways, but I think the situation has outgrown them. We have no Dumbledore or Snape, no chosen hero, half of the most experienced warriors are either gone or busy fighting the bureaucracy. So, I'm thinking about starting a group sanctioned by the Ministry but operating independently. I know Kingsley will go for it. He is no fool. He is well aware that we are in over our heads. The group will mostly consist of young people who fought against Voldemort, who will hopefully realize that they are wasting themselves in the Auror training or other official careers," Sirius explained, closely watching Draco's reactions.
"Forgive me for interrupting, but I don't exactly fit among the Golden Trio and Neville Longbottom. I can hardly see them welcoming me with open arms, and I don't blame them," the blonde remarked, ever prepared to ditch a tiny spark of hope he felt a few moments before.
The older man noticed that Malfoy said nothing about not wanting to work with them. The corners of his lips curved up slightly. "Oh, they won't welcome you, that's for sure. But so what? As I told you, it is not a charity offer. Snape is gone, and while I'm no stranger to pureblood families' tricks, I've never really been into this stuff. Not to mention I'm years behind. I'm stuck in my planning because I don't have enough insight into how people like Lucius think and work. Or what networks they have at their disposal."
"In other words, I do need your help. I'm not saying it will be easy for anyone. Snape's life wasn't either. But I do promise that at least you won't need to play a double-agent. I'm only interested in what you already know," Sirius concluded.
Draco fidgeted on the chair, tightly grasping its edge, biting his tongue to cover physical discomfort.
"Merlin, no wonder everyone in the family believes you are crazy," he commented.
Sirius couldn't stop himself from grinning mischievously. "Believe me, I know."
"But I'm in," Draco finally said, making Sirius's smile grow wider.
While the older man was sure it would result in an infinite number of problems, he couldn't shake off the feeling that it was just what he needed to move forward. And, just what Draco needed to move at all.
They spent another hour discussing the details. They decided that Draco would temporarily stay with Sirius, at least until they were able to put sufficient protection around some of his properties. They also agreed to keep the arrangement between themselves for the time being. Draco would help his cousin prepare for pitching the idea to the Ministry and potential candidates. Soon, Sirius suggested that they could continue working out the specifics the following day. He didn't say that it was because he could see Draco was hurt physically and running on fumes, knowing how easy it was to make him back off into himself.
"Are you sure you are okay with me staying with you? What if Potter drops by?" the blonde asked as they were preparing to leave.
"I will hide you in the closet," Sirius chuckled at his own joke, fully aware of how lame it was. "Harry never drops by. We always go out or meet at his and Ginny's place. He is too busy to go into the forest. Anyway, I don't feel good about outright lying to him. If the right circumstances present themselves, we may tell him earlier."
"One last thing, though. What about your mother? From what others told me, Narcissa risked a lot to make sure you were alright during the final battle. How come she is not here with you?" the older man added, his fingers tapping on the empty glass.
Draco's face fell. "Let's say that during the war, she had a few rare displays of affection. Not sure if it was genuine or because she was unsatisfied with the surprisingly inglorious life of a Death Eater's wife. Now that more power is at stake, she seems to be back to following my father wherever he goes."
"I'm sorry," Sirius commented before getting up. "Let's go then."
He watched as Draco got up, swayed a little, and grabbed the chair's backrest. Then, before he composed himself, he bent a little and put his arm to his ribs.
"You alright?"
The blonde nodded.
The same day, as Draco was settling in his room after they recovered his things with a clever trick, Sirius leaned against the doorway. "Hey, I don't mean to pry, but I've noticed you are hurt. Do you want me to look at it? I have quite a collection of healing potions and herbs here."
"No, it's okay, I can handle it," Draco replied quickly, going back to sorting his clothes. "Thanks."
"Alright. Let me know if you need anything."
Around ten days passed. Even though his idea was, so typically for him, rushed and insane, he didn't mind living with Draco. While the guy was reserved and visibly adjusting to the unexpected turn of events, he was making an effort. They worked well together, having a similar balance between focusing hard on the task and letting themselves wander into sarcastic jokes, banter, and surprising anecdotes. Well, it was nothing new for Sirius, but it amazed him how Draco was beginning to open up with stories from his life, even if they were lighter, less serious ones. For a spoiled kid that everyone took him for, Malfoy also did well in other departments of living together. He cleaned after himself, cooked, even if his range of culinary abilities was limited, and kept to himself most of the time. It seemed like all the shit he went through humbled him.
One thing that bothered Sirius was that Draco's injury didn't seem to be healing. He was incredibly skilled at pretending to be fine, but the older man was an equally perceptive observer. An occasional wince or noticed an unexpected stumble here and there told him what he needed to know. He also picked up on the young man tiring or breathing too fast from time to time. However, Draco was firm about not taking any additional help, dismissing any questions about it. Since he seemed to be functioning fine overall, Sirius assumed the issue wasn't significant.
That morning, though, Draco looked alarmingly bad when he came down. He stopped on the stairs a few times. He seemed even paler than usual, which made his skin nearly transparent. It was glistening with a thin layer of sweat.
"Good Morning. How are you feeling?" Sirius tried the usual, knowing the answer.
"I'm good. How are you?" Malfoy replied politely, propping himself against the railing.
"Fine. Sit, I made us breakfast," the black-haired man replied, vigorously scrapping scrambled eggs from the pan onto the plates.
"Thanks. You didn't have to," Draco plopped down heavily on the nearest chair, making it wobble slightly.
Sirius shoved a plate before him and rushed back to the kitchen counter to bring coffee. "Obviously. I wanted to."
Then, a mischievous but well-minded idea struck him. He stealthily moved salt to the cupboard within Draco's reach, though it would require the younger man to turn around.
Sirius sat down and instantly said, "Oops, I forgot the salt. Could you pass it? It's right behind you."
As expected, Draco turned around too quickly and winced loudly. He had to pause his movements and put his hands on his knees.
"Okay, enough with this," the black-haired man stated firmly, walking to the blonde and crouching in front of him. "You are obviously still injured, and you can't heal it on your own, let me see it."
As he got close, he noticed that Draco's eyes were gleaming with fever. He moved his hand to lift his shirt, but the young man protested briskly. "No, I'm okay. Just give me a moment."
Draco turned away from Sirius, which caused the latter to fall on his butt. More importantly, though, was that the blonde's midsection brushed against the table, which made the pain almost unbearable. He nearly passed out, his body already starting to slide from the chair.
Sirius reacted quickly, raising slightly and grasping Draco by the shoulders.
"It's okay. I'm sorry for startling you. Stay with me," he soothed, though Draco's eyes remained half-closed.
Sirius moved one of his hands to grab and lift the back of the blonde's head, which also dropped slightly. He said, more decisively, "Draco! Open your eyes!"
As the younger man obeyed, Sirius added softly, "Good, very good. Keep them open if you can. Breathe. We will wait before the pain passes a bit and get you to bed."
As he waited and supported Draco, several thoughts passed through Sirius's head. He scolded himself for not pressing his guest on the injury earlier. It also occurred to him that Harry, Ron, and Hermione always told him stories about how Malfoy made a huge deal of the tiniest cut or bruise. After all, this was how Buckbeak was sentenced to death. Yet, it was now clear to him that the whiny boy turned into a man who kept his mouth shut through the pain, having learned a heart-breaking and not entirely accurate lesson that there was no one out there to help him, while the cries for attention would only bring more hurt and regret.
As Draco's breath started to quicken again, Sirius came back to the present, realizing that things weren't getting much better, "Easy, easy. I've got you. Let's go now."
He put his arm under the blonde's armpit and lifted him from the chair, taking on most of his weight. He heard a soft moan. "It's fine. We will soon be there. We will go to the guest room downstairs."
After a short struggle, they finally reached a large bed in a spacey, bright room. Sirius used his free hand to throw away a red satin cape with a floral pattern. He gently helped Draco settle in on the bed. Then, he lifted the patient's back slightly to put more pillows behind him.
"Alright, I will reap your shirt now," Sirius informed calmly before proceeding.
Drąco groaned as the fabric detached from his skin. Sirius cursed inwardly, seeing a large, blackish bruise that ran from the left side of his ribs down to the bottom right of his abdomen. It didn't look like a regular bruise, with blisters that seemed to be moving slightly, as if the blood below them was boiling.
The black-haired man looked up for a moment, his eyes automatically scanning Draco's body. He understood why the man was so defensive about Sirius trying to lift his shirt. Draco's body seemed to be marred with unpleasant reminders, including the Dark Mark and a few nasty scars. Of course, the same could be said for many people who fought in the war. Still, most of Draco's appeared much older, and Sirius felt sick thinking about how they came to be. In the corner of his eye, he registered Draco raising his head and still worrying about Sirius's reaction despite the pain.
"Hey," the older man said, putting a hand on the blonde's shoulder. "It doesn't matter. We will focus on getting you better, alright?"
"I think I know the curse you've been hit with and how to heal it. I will have to make sure, but if I'm right, the reversal is quite painful. It lasts a while, and the pain potions or any anesthetic ones won't work until later. But it's the only way through," he added.
After Draco nodded, though it was barely noticeable, Sirius squeezed his shoulder and got to work. He took out his wand and quickly performed a few diagnostic spells, confirming his suspicions. Then, he left to bring a few healing potions, water, and towels. After coming back, he cleaned the bruise with a towel wetted with a mix of a blueish potion and water, which alone left Draco half-conscious from pain.
"Alright, I will start now," Sirius announced, lightly touching Draco's wrist.
He poured a few drops of an intensely red liquid into the younger man's mouth and smeared the rest over the bruise. Next, he added a pinch of a sparking powder at the top. Finally, he took out his wand and muttered a spell, drawing a spiral-like shape above Draco's middle part.
When he was done, he sat on the edge of the bed. A few moments later, Draco's body started shivering violently while his face twisted in pain.
Sirius knew that there wasn't much he could do to help. Still, he put his hand back on Draco's shoulder. He also kept wiping the young man's face and chest with a cloth.
At some point, Draco opened his eyes, his gaze darting and frightened.
"It will pass. You will be okay soon," Sirius soothed, rubbing his thumb against Draco's shoulder.
The black-haired man still thought that the blonde was handling himself impressively. No screaming, no rolling off the bed, no begging for it to stop, which was how he saw people react to that curse reversal.
Draco rolled to the side, mumbling something and kicking away the blanket that covered his legs.
"What is it?" Sirius asked, bending down to get closer to the injured man's mouth.
"Y-you d-don't have t-to st-tay," Draco whispered.
Sirius put a cooling cloth against the back of the blonde's neck. "Don't speak now. I'm not going anywhere."
A few hours passed, with Draco enduring through the pain in a dazed state and being tended to by the older man, who wiped off the sweat, moistened his mouth, and occasionally said comforting words. Eventually, the trembling subsided, Draco's breathing eased slightly, and his body and expression became more relaxed.
Sirius sighed with relief. He took a fresh towel and cleaned the wound one more time, taking off the puss that oozed out from it. The patient winced softly.
"It's alright. The worst is over. You've done great," Sirius assured quietly. He gently lifted the younger man's head and poured the pain potion into his mouth. "It will work now. Rest."
Sirius knew that the last word was redundant because Draco would pass out from exhaustion soon enough. He covered the injured man with a blanket, briefly grasping his thigh to signal all was fine. Then, he sat down in the chair next to the bed, preparing for a long wait.
As he observed Draco's chest going up and down, still a little irregularly, he felt fury rising inside him. How could a father do something like that to his son? How could a father hurt his son repeatedly, leaving scars for life, not only physical ones? He also felt a pang of regret that he never tried to reach out to Draco, who, after all, was his relative. He had already seen that the youngest Malfoy had more to offer than his circumstances allowed him to let on.
Sirius wasn't always thoughtful and understanding. Worse, he could be an insensitive arse. But he had a gentle heart and newly found reserves of empathy. And what he saw that day nearly pained him physically. It seemed as if Draco never experienced genuinely good things in his life, never had real friends, not to mention supportive family. The older man could relate to having crappy parents. Still, he had a brother. At least in the early years, he could fall back on him. Later, Sirius found great friends who became like his second family. Undoubtedly, he also had shit luck and lived through things he wouldn't wish upon anyone. But at least he had tones of great memories and many people he could lean on.
Draco was still feverish. After a while, he started writhing and mumbling in his sleep. Sirius knew that the younger man's tight guard would make him back away from someone who openly comforted him. However, he was unconscious, and Sirius felt like it was time he received some of the attention and care every person needed.
So, he did something which he would never admit to. He sat back on the edge of the bed again, gently wiped Draco's face, and began stroking his hair in a fatherly manner. "Shh, you are alright. I'm here."
Draco was out quite a while, only waking up the following evening. It was already dark outside. He looked around to see Sirius in the chair, reading through the Daily Prophet. The blonde tried to get up and grumbled.
"Welcome back. I wouldn't try to get up just yet, though," Sirius said with a smile, putting away his newspaper and moving to the bedside table to pour Draco a glass of water.
"Thanks," the blonde took it with a shaky hand.
They were silent for a few moments, after which Draco cleared his throat. "Were you here the whole time?"
"Pretty much."
"Why?"
"You were in a bad way. I wanted to make sure you were healing," Sirius stated as if it was obvious.
Draco shot him a look that suggested it was anything but normal in his world. Still, he muttered a shy "thank you."
Sirius nodded, brought his chair a bit closer, and gestured at the injury. "It had to hurt like hell. How did you manage to hide it? And, for Merlin's sake, why?"
"Pain potions. Numbing spells. Dreamless sleep potions to get through the night. I have a lot of tricks up my sleeve. One of the few perks of spending years at the Malfoy Manor, where you can never be weak," the blonde replied, looking at the window. He felt that he owed Sirius an honest answer.
The older man swallowed loudly.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause so much trouble," Draco added.
Sirius rubbed his face. "Fuck, I don't care about that. I know it's hard to break a habit if you had to act in a certain way your entire life. But, if you can, try to remember that I'm not Lucius."
Draco nodded, not sure how to reply.
"We are not friends. At least not yet. And you were right. Given our lack of history, playing the family card is pathetic," Sirius paused to choose the right words.
Draco used his elbows to lift himself a little. He grimaced slightly.
"Well, that's optimistic," he interjected, using the pause.
The black-haired man chuckled before continuing, "I'd like to change that. I care about changing that. With how messed up our families are, it's hard to have any faith in them. But in case you ever need it, you can count on me."
For the second time that day, Draco had no idea how to respond. It didn't matter, though. Sirius knew that such words only gain meaning with time and effort, especially for someone with warranted trust issues. Still, he felt like he needed to say them. Damn, was he going soft.
Sirius left a lot of details out when sharing his memories. He was particularly brief about Draco's injury, knowing that it wasn't his story to tell. More importantly, though, he didn't say enough to get his point across.
"Just to make sure, you are not joking?" Hermione asked, looking as if someone had just told her that she should date Voldemort.
"I've been known for my pranks, but why on earth would I spend months of my life on something I'm not serious about?" he replied calmly, stretching his legs under the table.
Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "No idea, but it would be easier to grasp than… well, this."
Sirius grinned, his eyes shining with a boyish gleam he never quite lost.
The young woman sitting across from him looked puzzled. She moved forward on the seat and combed both hands through her messy hair. Playing with loose strands made it even more so.
"Sorry. I'm enjoying the moment. At last, I've managed to say something that Hermione Granger can't grasp," he deadpanned, trying to lighten up the mood.
"This shouldn't be too hard to comprehend, though," he added.
The brunette's cheeks turned reddish. Sirius achieved another impossible thing, making her speechless.
"Don't you think that letting go of dumb prejudices is our only hope of fixing this mess? Where would we be now if Dumbledore wasn't ready to do that for Snape?" the man asked. He leaned forward, his tone growing more heated.
Hermione had a retort ready, but Sirius anticipated it, "Yeah, yeah. I know. I am the last person who should talk about Snape. I would try to fix it, but it's too late. I can only try not to fuck up again."
"Malfoy may not be his father, but he is no Snape either. He's never done anything to suggest that he was even interested in changing sides," she pointed out fiercely.
Sirius furrowed his eyebrows. "So, I am mistaken that he didn't kill Dumbledore and didn't rat you out at the Malfoy Manor?"
"Two drops in the sea of crimes, hatred, and cruelty," the woman huffed angrily.
Crookshanks walked back to the room and gracefully climbed onto the armchair. He curled up into a ball next to Sirius's thigh.
"I'm not saying that it was much. Hell, I'm not even saying that he deserves your benefit of the doubt or that it's fair to spring this on you," Sirius shot her a sympathetic look.
The brunette took a few deep breaths. She sunk back deeper into the armchair and let her arms fall loosely to the sides, signaling that she became slightly less defensive.
"But what's fair and what isn't is not very relevant at the moment," Sirius stated firmly. "And Draco also didn't deserve to be born into a life without a choice. I daresay that one of the few things you can't understand is the sheer hopelessness of his situation."
Hermione pursed her lips. "Maybe. But you can. And somehow, you fought your way to making your choice."
Sirius sighed loudly and rubbed his beard. "I had a brother, who had his issues and ended up on the wrong side of things, but he wasn't cold, cruel, or obsessed about blood. I made real friends early on in my life. Long story short, my circumstances were different. And yet, for most of my time at Hogwarts, I was a Malfoy, bullying those I didn't like and walking around like an entitled ass."
Hermione appeared to calm down a little. She wasn't moving so much anymore and even smiled slightly at the last sentence.
"It is not about silly stuff that happened at Hogwarts. When it came to making real choices, you made the right one," she observed in a relatively cool voice.
"Oh, and it did everyone a whole lot of good. My supposedly right choice resulted in a series of not-so-great consequences. My decision contributed to Harry's parents' deaths. And, it put me in Azkaban, where I was completely useless and couldn't even help clean up the mess I made," Sirius waved his hand to scare off Crookshanks, who scratched his leg. "When I finally came back, I behaved foolishly, fell behind the curtain, and, once again, couldn't do a thing when things got dire."
"All of us messed up in some ways," Hermione remarked.
"I know, it is not my conscience talking," the black-haired man assured quickly. "What I mean is that bad choices can turn good and good ones can result in cluster fuckups. So, can you even label them like that? Things are what they are."
The woman rubbed her neck. "That's one way to tell this story. I guess you are right that the world is not black and white. But still, you can only do what you believe in, or you will get lost in all the possibilities. And I'm sorry, but I don't believe in working with Malfoy, not to start on convincing others to do the same."
Sirius took the last sip of his tea, which had gone cold long ago. For the first time since coming to Hermione's house, he tensed.
"That's your choice, of course. One that I respect. Before I get going and demonstrate that respect, I have one last question to ask. At the risk of offending you," he said solemnly.
"Shoot."
"Are you being honest with yourself about the true reason why you can't work with Draco? Is it because he joined the Dark Side? Even though you admitted, on more than one occasion, that he didn't belong there? Or is it because of all the times he mocked you, all the times he called you a mudblood?" Sirius took a deep breath, part of him getting annoyed with himself for going this far.
"I don't mean to be cruel. I do know all the pain this word has caused you," he explained.
Both of them glanced at Hermione's arm, though the sweater covered the scar entirely.
"But, at the end of the day, it is just a word. Like Voldemort was just a name. It doesn't define you. Mindlessly repeating it after his family doesn't define Draco either. Well, at least as long as you don't let it."
Sirius cleared his throat before saying the final part, his eyes glistening with passion for his cause. "Once again, I don't want to undermine what you went through. It matters. And, at the same time, it can't matter too much."
Hermione gaped slightly.
"As you've said, we can't afford the luxury of focusing on ourselves yet. What we have to do is bigger than you, me, Draco, Harry. If you think my way won't get us there, I'm okay with that. But I don't think we have time for personal preferences," he concluded poignantly.
Hermione didn't respond immediately, Sirius's words reaching her on some deep level. There was a lengthy silence, interrupted only by the ticking of the clock and the trees rustling outside. The brunette considered her guest's last words carefully, analyzing her motivations. Working with Malfoy seemed like an absurd idea. Dislike for him was one thing, but how could she ever trust him? Sure, Dumbledore also had to trust Snape at one point. But he had a solid track record at betting on the right people. Sirius, not so much. She consciously chose not to point it out during their conversation. Still, it was there. Then again, Dumbledore did want to give Malfoy a chance. And, they did need insider knowledge. Out of all Death Eaters she came across, Malfoy seemed the least... deadly.
She realized that there were perfectly rational arguments for and against. It didn't escape her attention that despite that, her reaction was one-sided and deeply emotional. She couldn't deny that the idea still made her feel sick in her stomach. But she also couldn't pretend that the feeling was there because Malfoy happened to get manipulated and bullied into becoming a Death Eater. Merlin, was there any good way out of this?
As Hermione's mind continued to spiral, Sirius started suspecting that he wasn't about to get any reply, so he got up and straightened up his clothes. "Alright, I think I've taken enough of your time. Let me know if you change your mind. Take care."
As he was walking away, the woman also jumped from her armchair, "No, wait."
Sirius turned back abruptly to face her.
"You are right. I reacted so strongly because of my history with Malfoy," Hermione admitted.
She clasped her hands together in front of her and began twisting her fingers. She wasn't sure whether she got anxious about what her realization meant or uncomfortable with her low motives getting exposed.
The black-haired nodded slightly, offering her a small smile.
"I'm not making any promises. But I will think about it," she declared.