All right, here we are again! For your information, I'm actually working on finishing this story. I currently have four more chapters written but several more will certainly be needed. Still, I do have an end in sight...

In the meantime, happy reading!

Chapter 26 – The Art of Going Public

It was all over a rushed-out Evening Prophet. Seven whole pages had been devoted to the news that former Azkaban convict and proclaimed mass murderer Sirius Black – who had been presumed dead and gone for years – had somehow sprung back to life and – what was even more – had accepted a position at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. To top it off, the front page was more or less one giant photograph – the same old headshot of Sirius that had been plastered all over the wizarding world when he escaped Azkaban in Harry's third year at Hogwarts.

All of it, courtesy of The Ministry of Magic Public Information Services.

It was hard to say what seemed to upset the article writers and the portion of interviewees that were made to represent general public opinion the most. For starters, an almost boiling tide of affront was said to be flooding the magical world. The reason behind this seemed to be a conviction that any information surrounding Sirius' state of existence had been based on a lie. Of course, Sirius Black had been sighted after the war (everybody knew that!) but no one officially in charge had had the decency to actually confirm his return to the public, and that was little less than frightfully appalling. The most vocal among the subscribers to this theory of a grand cover-up scheme appeared to – in one way or the other – place the blame for secrecy and truth-withholding at the feet of the Ministry.

Harry did not mind this very much when he read it. Kingsley might be Minister for now but that did not automatically mend the deep rift between the Ministry and Harry, which the latter felt all too keenly. If the focus shifted from Sirius to any ministerial proceedings (real or imagined) Harry could certainly live with that. No, it was the second contingent that scared him more.

For there were those who were livid that a man such as his godfather would ever be considered to be even allowed within sight of Hogwarts, not to mention set foot on its grounds. Advocates of this persuasion argued the loudest, protested the fiercest and said the cruellest things. Harry's heart twisted itself into a knot when he read what they had to say.

It did not matter that these people had no idea what Sirius Black would actually be doing at Hogwarts. That was still a bit of a mystery. Some speculated that he would be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, implying quite heavily that the focus would be more on the Dark Arts themselves than the actual element of defence. Others knew beyond a doubt that he inhabited the Shrieking Shack and was terrorising the good people of Hogsmeade; strange lights had been sighted in the windows of the old haunted house, and one woman declared to every reporter or neighbour (or both) who cared to listen that blood-freezing screams had woken her every night around midnight for the past week. And that was just the beginning of what terrors awaited...

Yet others theorised openly that Sirius Black – certainly it was common knowledge that it was Black who had once been the staunchest and most fervent supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – had decided to return to Hogwarts to garner support for the Dark cause and throw the world into a new reign of ruthless dominion. These people proclaimed wildly that new children would soon be branded Death Eaters and Sirius Black would rise among them as a new Dark Lord.

All in all, it was enough for a disgusted Harry to want to scream and cry and quite possibly throw up. And it was all his fault.

He had told Sirius the truth. For a long, long while his godfather sat in silence in the kitchen, simply absorbing the front page headline (MASS MURDERER TO TEACH AT HOGWARTS) and staring blindly at his own photograph raging back at him. Harry's whole being physically ached for him but he barely dared to breathe, much less reach out to his godfather. He felt as though the kitchen walls were pressing inwards, that the huge chandelier was sending its iron weight downwards and slowly choking him.

He wished again and again and again that he had never done it, that he could take it back. That he had never seen that sign by the Atrium crater and figured that if he let everybody know about Sirius, Draco would see that Harry had not gone insane.

When Sirius finally stirred Harry was certain his godfather hated him.

Sirius rubbed his stubbly chin with the heel of his hand in a dazed movement. He seemed to have some trouble tearing his attention from the paper. "Well..."

Harry swallowed hard. He forced his voice to work. "I'm sorry," he said weakly.

"Yeah."

"I understand if you're angry with me."

Sirius looked up, then. "I'm not angry with you, Harry." His words had a dull, monotone sound to them. But they held an edge. "I would, however, have appreciated it if you had come to me first..."

Harry opened his mouth to apologise yet again but something hard glinting in his godfather's eyes stopped him. Sirius continued instead, "And I cannot pretend I like the fact that you're doing it to help a Malfoy." His jawline looked unnaturally sharp.

Harry's eyes were stinging. He was so very, very, very sorry, but there seemed to be no way to make Sirius understand that. He felt his own lower lip quiver involuntarily.

Sirius' gaze was still glued to his. The crushing silence held for a while longer until Sirius finally made a pained face and his shoulders relaxed just a fraction. "But it was bound to come out sometime. I guess now's a time as good as any." He pushed the paper aside. "The sooner the better, I suppose. This way they will have some time to calm down before the school year starts."

He looked tired now. Harry wanted no more than to touch him but he was too frightened to move lest Sirius should turn him away. "I'm sorry, Sirius, I really am," he almost whispered. "But I had to do something. I had to prove to him that I'm not deranged."

His godfather let out a humourless laugh. "Judging by that picture I'm clearly the deranged person here."

"But you're not!" Harry blurted, the tight leash he had had on his emotions loosening a little. "And they'll all know anyway. When the school year starts, as you said."

Sirius shook his head with a bitter half-smile still lingering on his lips. "You're too idealist, Harry."

That stilled their conversation for a while. Harry's tea had gone cold but he did not care.

It was Sirius who broke the silence once more. "Why did you tell him about me anyway?"

Heat crept over Harry's cheeks with eager fingers. "I... I didn't tell him only about you... I told him about us." This was difficult. "Um, about... well..."

Sirius' eyes widened. "You what?" He slumped back in his chair. "I'm having a hard time believing that subject simply... came up..."

It was not technically a question and yet it was very much a question. Harry's feet felt numb. "It didn't, not like that... But he accused me of always coming to the rescue–"

"You always do," Sirius interjected with something that might have been the most distant cousin of a grin.

But Harry ignored him and pressed on, with every heartbeat becoming more and more aware of how childish his reaction to Draco's rant had been and feeling all the more ashamed for it. "Well, there was that... and he told me I'm predictable and..." That was where he had to stop talking or he would never be able to say another word to his godfather ever again.

But Sirius worked out the rest for himself. He stared at Harry in utter disbelief. "And you responded by telling him that I fucked you?"

Harry would honestly not have minded if another crater like the one in the Atrium opened up underneath him in this very moment and swallowed him whole. "I didn't exactly..." he began feebly but broke off quickly since the truth was that he had said more or less exactly that.

He had no idea how to phrase it to make it all sound better. More reasonable. More grown-up.

"And he didn't believe you so you told the Prophet about me."

"He didn't believe you were alive," Harry mumbled.

Sirius ran a hand through his hair. And then he did it again. And then, ever so slowly, a small smirk blossomed in the corner of his mouth. He bit his lip, almost as if to keep it from spreading too quickly. "So..." he mused, "you're out." He leaned forward over the table, fixing Harry's eyes with his own. "You've gone public."

A whole new range of emotion rushed through Harry at his words. He had not even thought about that. The kitchen seemed to wobble around him. But he could see that his godfather liked the prospect and he clung to this slight improvement of the situation with all his might. "Yeah, I guess..."

Sirius nodded, his gaze still intent on Harry. "I can't say I don't support that," he said quietly. "Even if the purpose of the revelation was one that I disagree with."

Harry swallowed. "So you're not angry?"

"I'm not angry," said Sirius. "But next time you ask me first, yes?" He shot the Evening Prophet a disgusted glare.

"There won't be a next time," Harry promised.

"Good."

After that some of the tension seemed to melt away, leaving Harry's breathing a little lighter. They finished their reheated tea with not another word, however, but with the headline screaming silently between them.

But as they passed the drawing room on their way to bed, Sirius suddenly sniggered in front of him. "They weren't wholly wrong about the Shrieking Shack, you know. It is an old haunt of mine, after all."

Harry looked up at his broad back. "Yeah," he said, still wary of the subject.

"Although I've never woken ladies up in their sleep. Apart from my mother, that is, whenever I happened to drop something in the hallway or return home late from some... outing," Sirius continued. "But best not think about her too much."

"Right," said Harry.

Sirius stopped, then, and turned. He towered over Harry in the gloom. "There is only one person I want to be with in the middle of the night." His fingertips were light but earnest on Harry's cheek. "And that is someone I like to think about very, very much."

Harry's breath hitched in his throat. Something was giving way in his chest. "I'm sorry," he whispered into the stillness. "I really am, Sirius."

"I know," his godfather smiled. "And that's enough for me." He bent down and his mouth was warm and comforting on Harry's. The kiss was gentle. "I love you." Sirius brushed his tears away with the pad of his thumb. "I just hope Malfoy comes around sooner rather than later. Or I'll fail him."

Harry drew away just a little. "Fail him?"

Sirius chuckled. "Don't think I don't know you, Harry. You won't be satisfied until you've got Malfoy back at Hogwarts, finishing his last year along with the rest of you." He straightened. "Come on now, if I don't have you in bed beside me within the next two minutes I'll curse you, or eat you, or brand you, or whatever other monstrosity I'm apparently capable of!"

o.O.o

Harry woke the next morning to his godfather placing kisses all over his chest. His skin was already tingling, as if it had begun reacting to the treatment while the rest of his body was still asleep. Not that Harry complained, though. Sirius' hair tickled his side as his godfather mouthed his way to a nipple and laved at it with a warm tongue. Harry arched upwards on an inhale and opened his eyes. Without his glasses the world was of course a blur so he promptly closed them again, sinking back into his pillow with a smile.

Sirius found his mouth soon after that and they kissed long and slow, Harry's fingers tangling in the long shaggy hair. "I love mornings," Sirius murmured against his skin, warm breath stealing across Harry's cheek in a teasing puff.

"I love you," Harry mumbled, drawing his godfather in for a new kiss.

Sirius draped himself over Harry like a blanket, covering him from top to toe. Harry liked that, he discovered. He liked to have Sirius' full weight on top of him, and he revelled in that sensation until he discovered that certain parts of his newly acquired blanket were definitely more than simply pleased about the arrangement. Sirius ground down gently with his hips, his semi-hard cock nudging Harry's own awake.

Harry skimmed his palms over his godfather's back until he reached the base of Sirius' spine. There he hesitated. Sirius' tongue was sliding against his, his hardness pushing at Harry's and, really, it was silly to not feel courageous enough to touch Sirius' arse. So he steeled himself and slid his hands further down, over the gentle swell of his godfather's buttocks. Sirius moaned into his mouth and the push of his hips grew more insistent.

Heady with success, Harry repeated the action, adding some more pressure to the caress this time. Sirius' cock jerked between their bodies and Harry could not stop himself from grinning.

"Again." Sirius' voice was rough. His hands had found Harry's face and he cradled it, mouth only half an inch from Harry's.

So he did it again. Taking a firm hold of his godfather's arse cheeks he pressed down and in response Sirius rolled his hips. It made a jolt of electricity shoot through Harry. Sirius gasped.

It felt so good, Harry decided dimly, to have Sirius' swollen cock against his own, having him push down like that. And before he knew what he was doing, he was tracing the beginning of Sirius' crease with the tip of his forefinger. His godfather growled, then, and plunged his tongue deep into Harry's mouth.

Harry held on to him, hard. Pushing him down, lifting his own hips as much as he could to meet Sirius halfway. He was half-sobbing by the time he felt his orgasm begin to build in his balls. Sirius' harsh breathing tore through them both, making Harry shiver with need. He had lost track of the kiss somewhere along the way, when all the blood in his body seemed to pool in his groin.

But this time, it was Sirius who came first. He suddenly stilled, mid-thrust, and moaned. It was like nothing Harry had ever heard before. It was a sound that made him want to curl around Sirius' very soul. Then hot release shot between them and Harry choked at the sensation. It was enough to bring him over the edge as well. They shuddered through it together, Sirius' hips still jerking urgently and Harry still reaching upwards, but eventually they surrendered to gasps and breaths and shivers, and Harry dissolved into the dizzy morning sunlight.

Sirius collapsed on top of him, his scorching breaths fanning out over Harry's shoulder. "Fucking Merlin," he panted. "And I wasn't even inside you."

Harry heavily turned his buzzing head to press a kiss into the tangled black hair. Sirius' skin was so warm against his. His godfather's hand twitched and he dragged his knuckles down Harry's cheek. Harry smiled.

They lay like that for a while, until Sirius' skin under Harry's palms had cooled with sweat and they both needed to move. With a deep sigh, Sirius pushed himself up and rolled off Harry. "Hold on," he muttered.

There was some shuffling and then he pressed Harry's glasses into his hands. Grateful, Harry shoved them onto his nose. The suddenly sharp contours were eye-watering but as soon as he spotted his godfather's bright face it was worth it. Sirius was grinning, looking ten years younger as he met Harry's gaze.

"Just for your information, you're a great shag, Harry Potter." The grin turned into a smirk. "Just as I knew you would be." The smirk deepened. "And you have my permission to tell Malfoy that, should he ever ask."

Harry pulled him down for another kiss, if only to shut him up. But mostly because he had no idea what to say to that.

o.O.o

It had been best to invite them over.

"But that's..."

"It's..." Hermione frowned, "it's good, right?" She looked up at them questioningly, brow knitted in concentration.

"Of course it's good!" Ron exclaimed. "It's bloody brilliant, that's what it is." He looked from Harry to Hermione and back to Harry again. "It means that Harry won't be feeling guilty for going back to Hogwarts and – and, mind you – it means that there will be at least one subject this year that we are guaranteed to not fail!" He beamed.

But Hermione gaped at him. "Ronald Weasley! Just because Sirius will be our Professor does not mean he will give you a free pass in Magical Duelling!"

Ron stared at her. "Of course he will! He can't fail us!" He jerked a thumb at Harry. "He's Harry's godfather, remember?"

"Of course I remember," she glared at him. "But he will grade us on the same principles as he will all the other students!"

"But that doesn't make any sense," Ron protested.

"It makes perfect sense, Ron! If Sirius would–"

"Hold on!" Harry interrupted. "'Us'? I thought you weren't going back, Ron?"

Ron turned a sheepish smile at him. He shrugged. "Figured I'd just as well, y'know." He shot Hermione a glance. "Want to make sure no wanker makes a move on her, and stuff."

Hermione's already flushed cheeks acquired a deeper shade, but she ignored him. "Besides, Harry, as soon as we saw last night's Prophet we knew you were definitely going back."

"Yeah," said Ron. "Makes no sense not being there together."

Harry found himself grinning stupidly from ear to ear. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

Ron winked at him. "Figured."

There was movement by the doorway, Harry caught it in the corner of his eye. When he turned to look, Sirius was hovering by the threshold, Levitating a laden tea tray. He was smiling. "Am I interrupting?"

Hermione immediately sat up straighter. "Oh, not at all!"

Ron rolled his eyes at her. "Hey Sirius! Good to see you, mate."

Sirius sent the tray to land gently before them on the table and then strode into the drawing room. His eyes, searching, travelled over Harry where he sat crammed into the sofa next to his friends. Harry looked away, the bubbling joy Ron's news had evoked in him immediately crushed by a forceful feeling of guilt. By the way Sirius dropped into the armchair furthest away from him, it was obvious that his godfather had understood.

I have to tell them.

All too familiar anxiety once more churned its way through his stomach.

I have to tell them, I have to tell them, I have to tell them...

But what would they say? What would they think of him?

Ginny could handle it, he told himself. You even told Draco Malfoy – of all people!

But he just... couldn't.

Hermione was accepting tea from Sirius with every courtesy, no doubt already thinking ahead to assignments and examinations. What would she say if she knew? How would she see Sirius then?

Ron was lounging beside him, enthusiastically envisioning upcoming Quidditch practices. "You'll support Gryffindor, won't you, Sirius? I mean, of course you will, right?"

And Sirius was smiling at him, warmly, like a brother, or a father almost. "I wouldn't dare anything else."

And Ron was clapping Harry on the back, saying how he was the greatest Seeker of all time and Sirius was agreeing that, yes, naturally he would love to see Harry – see them both – play.

What would they say if they knew?

He drank his tea obligingly, never tasting it.

"Mum and dad support you," Ron was saying to Sirius. "I mean, mum threw a fit over the articles at first and she could barely do much more than splutter, but when she calmed down enough to speak properly she said she supports you." He grinned. "Bill says it's the best idea McGonagall's ever had and Charlie and George agree."

He did not mention Ginny. Harry could only guess what she might be thinking.

"As a matter of fact, we're kind of grateful, mate," Ron went on, more earnestly now and leaning forwards in his seat a little. He grimaced at Sirius, "Mum needed something else to think about..."

Sirius gave a half-smile. "No problem," he said, simply.

Hermione had been quiet for a little while, sipping her tea thoughtfully but now she voiced her concerns. "Where's Kreacher, Harry?"

Harry glanced over at Sirius. For a moment his godfather's mask of easy-going amiability slipped just a fraction. "Um," Harry said, "we... we're not exactly sure, to be honest."

She frowned. "You're not sure where he is?"

Sirius shifted in his seat. "We had a bit of a... Well, we had a falling out of sorts. I suppose you could call it that."

"You argued? About what?" She set down her cup with a clatter, worry making her anxious. Anxiety making her voice a tad shrill. "You know what he is like, Harry. He could be, oh I don't know, doing something!"

"We didn't send him off, Hermione," Harry said quickly. "He's still in the house somewhere. He has to be."

"It's fine," Sirius reassured her. "He'll be out and about again in no time." He smiled.

"If you had an argument you had best not have him 'out and about'," Hermione declared. "You know what happened last time!" Too late did she realise what she had said and clamped a hand over her mouth, brown eyes wide. "I'm so sorry," she breathed, her voice muffled. "I didn't mean to..."

"It's OK," Harry told her. "It turned out all right in the end." When he dared to look, Sirius' gaze was soft on him.

"It did," Sirius echoed him quietly, eyes not leaving Harry's face. "It certainly did."

"Well..." She cleared her voice, hands now firmly clasped together in her lap. "You will still want to know what he is up to."

Ron waved a hand dismissively at her. "All that's over, Hermione. They will want to know where he is so that they know if they can expect dinner. Because I've never seen Harry cook in my life. Nor you, Sirius, to tell the truth."

"We manage," Sirius grinned at him. "The trick is to think less about food and more about... other things. Keep your mind of it, you know."

Ron looked at him as if he had grown a second head. "Other things? Than food?"

"Yeah," Harry said, pulling his racing thoughts back from the memories of that morning.

Ron's face was a perfect picture of bone-deep disbelief. "That's crazy talk," he muttered. He shook his head as he sank back into the sofa. "Crazy."

TBC