Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Nope, not me.
A/N: Yay for reviews!
This chapter is posted a little early but… I'm sure you'll deal with it. I'm leaving at some god-forsaken hour tomorrow morning so I won't have time to update in the morning like I usually do…
After this chapter, there will be three more chapters and an epilogue…
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There was a knock at Sirius's door and he raised his head groggily. By the look of the sun, peeking cheerily in through the window, it was very early in the morning.
"Reggie?" he croaked hoarsely. "Reggie, is that you?"
Regina had left him in the early hours of the morning. After they had left Remus, they had gone back to Sirius's rooms and drowned their sorrows in each other. But Regina had seemed to sense, as they lay, entwined, in a post-coital embrace, that there was trouble afoot, and she had left him.
"No, Sirius," came Dumbledore's voice from the door. "It's me."
Sirius hastily got out of bed and pulled on his discarded trousers. "Come in!" he called.
Dumbledore entered and looked with an amused eye at the state of Sirius's rooms. "I see that you have not become any neater since you left school."
Sirius allowed himself a grin, reminiscent of the old Sirius, the Sirius before Azkaban. "Clearly not. And it seems no domestic wights or house-elves decided it would be fun to tidy either. Find yourself a spot and sit down, Professor."
"Thankyou."
"Would you like some tea?"
"Please."
Sirius flicked his wand at the kettle and it began to boil. "So, what brings you here at the crack of dawn, Professor?"
"I have a task for you today," Dumbledore answered. "A task and a proposition."
Sirius handed the Headmaster his tea and sat down, cradling his own mug. "Propose away."
"Well, the task is simple enough," Dumbledore said. "How do you feel about a trip into London?"
Sirius understood immediately. "You want me to retrieve the papers from Gringotts?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Of course. It has also come to my attention that Harry and his friends will need new things for school - especially considering that I have not the slightest inclination of sending him back to Privet Drive."
"What about the Dursleys, Professor?"
Dumbledore sighed. "I received a message last night, Sirius."
"Yes?"
"Privet Drive has been destroyed."
Sirius gaped. "But - the Prosapiae charm -"
"It protects Harry when he is with his Aunt Petunia. Generally, his Aunt Petunia is in Privet Drive. But -"
"- she's at Hogwarts," Sirius finished. "Voldemort doesn't miss a beat, does he?"
"I am sure that, if tested, he would dance the gavotte very well," Dumbledore replied sombrely, but there was a wicked twinkle in his eyes.
Sirius chuckled. "Terrible joke, as ever, Professor. Anyway, what do you plan to do with the Dursleys?"
"I have no intention of letting them go anywhere," Dumbledore answered.
Sirius was dumbfounded. "You mean… you'll keep them at Hogwarts?"
"The magical community is no longer safe, as I know you are aware, Sirius," Dumbledore answered. "It is my intention to offer all the families of Muggle-born students shelter - as well as all Squibs. I will not allow people to harm my students."
"With respect, Professor… where are you going to put them all?"
Dumbledore smiled. "As one of the infamous Marauders, Sirius, you should know better than anyone just exactly how much room there is in this castle and how little of it we use."
Sirius nodded distractedly. Something had occurred to him. "Professor… I don't know if I should take the kids into London today…"
"Ah. I understand your predicament, Sirius."
Sirius looked at him quizzically. "You do?"
"Our esteemed Minister Lupin informed me of the events of last night," Dumbledore replied. "Aemilia will take Hermione and Ginny shopping for their school things."
"Thankyou, Professor," Sirius answered. "So… I'll take Harry and Ron, then."
"Yes. I am sure Regina will join you also." The Headmaster smiled wickedly. "It seems she does not like to be absent from your company."
Sirius was painfully aware of the tangled blankets on the bed behind him and flushed bright red. "Ah…"
"I am sure your wedding will be wonderful, Sirius," Dumbledore said sincerely.
Sirius smiled. "Thankyou, Professor."
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and took another sip of his tea. "And now, to my proposition."
Sirius leaned back too. "Fire away."
"I do not know if you have been apprised of this yet," Dumbledore said, "but Helena Seraphim, the priestess I asked to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts this year, has declared herself unable to take the position, due to her pregnancy and impending marriage, as well as the fragile state of her religious order and the need to travel to eldritch places to communicate with seelie wights."
Sirius caught his breath. Dared he believe…?
"And, as you know, it is no longer needful for you to be a prisoner in Grimmauld Place," Dumbledore continued. He paused. "Sirius, would you consider teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts come the start of the school year?"
Sirius felt a huge grin work its way onto his face. "I would love to, Professor," he said.
Dumbledore beamed. "Excellent! There will be a place here for the soon-to-be Mrs. Black, as well, though I know her work with Helena may take her from here from time to time." The old man sighed. "And hopefully… hopefully you can re-establish some kind of relationship with your daughter, Sirius."
"Thankyou, Professor," Sirius said.
"Hermione is a wonderful girl," Dumbledore told him gently. "She feels hurt, as I am sure you realise. But… time will heal all wounds, Sirius. Perhaps not completely… but time will help."
"I hope so, Professor," Sirius answered. "I truly hope so." A thought brightened his face. "At the very least, I can spend as much time with my godson as I desire."
"I am sure you will find Harry an enterprising pupil," Dumbledore replied. "Did you know that he received the highest marks in Defence Against the Dark Arts since the 1860's?"
"And we all know who received them in the 1860's, don't we?" Sirius teased, and was gratified to see the Headmaster turn pink.
*
When the Headmaster had gone, Sirius looked at his watch. It is early yet, he thought. I doubt anyone is awake in this castle except Dumbledore and I.
Carefully, almost reverently, he took a case out of the corner and opened it. Out of all his material possessions that had been restored to him, this one was the most precious.
The dawn hours are not so unfamiliar, Sirius thought, as he lifted the glorious, shining wood out the case. He remembered days, weeks, months, years… the years of his youth, where he would rise before the other three boys in his dorm and go quietly down the stairs, out the portrait hall, to an empty classroom.
And there, he would play.
He had fond memories of that classroom. From his earliest years at Hogwarts, it was his sanctuary, his refuge, the place sacred only to him. Eleven-year-old Sirius would look out the window at the shining waters of the lake and play. And music would drip from the strings, his bow, his fingertips, like water.
Later, when he and Regina had been caught by the snare of young love, he took her to the classroom in the early evening. Together, they stood at the window and looked at the glassy lake, glimmering invitingly a hundred feet below them. Then he had taken her hands, led her to a chair.
And he had played for her, and they had fallen in love.
And as Sirius played now, so many years later, that love was still bright in his heart.
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