Before we move on to the next chapter I want to take a moment to thank you ALL for the reviews that you send my way. I no longer have the time to answer them individually but know that I read every one of them and truly see them as precious little gifts. You are truly so amazing for sticking with this story! Let's finish it in 2015.

Chapter 29 – Awkward Conversations

The air in the bedroom was stuffy. To Harry it seemed that it was especially chilly in here. The rain from earlier had moved on but the room was gloomy nonetheless, the daylight certainly not being helped by the perpetually grimy windows that refused to let it through.

Harry sat hunched over on his old bed. He wished he'd taken a jumper, or that he could hide under the covers, perhaps. That way he wouldn't have to face them like this.

"You knew, didn't you?"

Ginny vacated the opposite end of Harry's bed. She had pulled her knees up to her chest and now she met her brother's accusing scowl over them steadily. "Yes."

Harry felt bad for her. This was definitely not her battle to fight.

"So why didn't you tell us?"

"Because I was going to tell you..." said Harry miserably, finally managing to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

"Yeah?" Ron only snorted. "Were you really, mate? And when were you planning on telling us? After you married him or what?" He was on his feet, not really pacing but not standing still either. It made Harry even more nervous.

"I..." Harry forced himself to look up at him. To not look away. "I... don't know. I'm sorry."

Ron's face was all hard lines and angles. "Right. Bloody sorry, I see."

"I am! But we... had to figure it out first..."

Hermione, who barely had uttered a word since their arrival, leaned in a little. Her face – in comparison to Ron's – was hard to read. "Harry, we're your best friends! We figure things out together."

But not this, he wanted to say. This was his and Sirius' thing. It was... private.

"I know," he said instead.

She was hurt, he was beginning to understand. Ron was hurt too but he hid that behind his anger.

"I wanted to tell you," Harry continued unhappily, while the old anxiety from their first days in Grimmauld Place clawed its way back into his belly. "I did – from the very beginning. But you had your own stuff going on and we just..."

"You told my sister!" A chunk of ginger hair fell into Ron's face as he rounded on Harry. He angrily brushed it away.

"Yes," Harry admitted in a voice that sounded very weak to his own ears. "Because I was going out with her, Ron..."

"I appreciated it, if that helps," Ginny slanted Harry a look that was almost, almost sprinkled with the tiniest hint of humour.

"It makes so much sense now..." Hermione's eyes had gone a bit distant but there was a deepening furrow between her brows. "You two breaking up... And how you refused to talk about it, Ginny... It makes sense..." Her gaze focused on Harry again, sharply, somehow painfully. "In a really strange way."

Ron only grunted. Then he turned his back on Harry.

It had not taken long after Mrs Weasley's departure for the flames in the fireplace downstairs to flash green once again and then, one by one, it spit out the three of them: Hermione first, then Ron, and last came Ginny, looking like she had been dragged into the whole mess by somebody else's will. Very likely that someone was Ron.

Sirius had melted away into the shadows as soon as the fire flared up. Harry'd had the sense to Accio his shirt and button up his jeans but he still felt naked. For a good long while all four of them had been standing quiet, the space between them feeling like an endless void. Then Hermione had gathered up her sense of purpose and stomped off towards Harry's and Ron's old bedroom. As soon as they were inside, she'd slammed the door shut and with no finesse told Harry to sit down and explain.

So far, he was not doing very well. "Do you think it's disgusting?" It was not exactly what he had planned on saying next but there it was nonetheless.

The question hung uncomfortable between them.

Hermione's eyes widened and her mouth fell open a little. She sat cross-legged on Ron's bed. "Disgusting?"

"Yeah..."

Ron had swirled back around. This time he actually caught Harry's eye. "What?"

Harry swallowed. "Well, you know... Two blokes..."

"You think I think you're disgusting?"

"I was hoping you didn't. It's just..." He gave an awkward one-shouldered shrug. Some heat was stinging his cheeks.

There was a long moment of silence after that.

"I'll tell you what I think," Ron said finally. "I think it's bloody creepy. I mean, he was your dad's best friend and he's your godfather. You're practically related."

"They're not related, you idiot," Ginny supplied.

"I know that!" Ron countered immediately. "I'm only saying it feels like they are."

"Then stop feeling that way," she told him, flatly. "That's stupid."

"Easy for you to say. You've had time to think about this, remember? Which we would have had, too, if Harry had told us about it." He glared at Harry.

"I'm sorry, all right," said Harry, heart sinking deeper and deeper in his chest.

But Ron only made a face. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

Hermione was chewing on her lip. "How old is he again?"

"Thirty-eight," mumbled Harry.

"I suppose it's not that old," she said thoughtfully. "What?" she asked when Ron snorted again, "he's only–"

"Twice our age," Ron finished for her. "And Harry's bloody godfather!"

Hermione sighed. "How did this happen, Harry?"

Harry gave another of those shrugs that didn't explain anything. "I dunno. Honestly." Hermione's eyes were keen on him. Her earnest attempts at understanding made his reluctance to talk about Sirius retreat somewhat. "I just know that I love him... That I'm in love with him." His cheeks were definitely burning now. "And that he feels the same about me."

"So you're, what, a poof now?"

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed.

"What?"

"That's really offensive!"

"I don't know what I am," Harry said, truthfully. At Ron's more-than-obvious scepticism he shook his head. "I guess I haven't thought about it like that. I... I fell in love with Sirius. That's all I know. If that makes me..." He floundered.

"Gay," Hermione offered charitably.

Harry swallowed. "Gay," he managed, "then I suppose I am."

"There's nothing wrong with liking men, Harry," Ginny grinned. "I do it and I feel just fine. In any case," she went on, ignoring Ron's splutter, "I don't see why it should matter." Then she sat up a little straighter. "Maybe you're bisexual?"

"Listen, I really don't think..."

But Hermione cut him off, "We're not disgusted, Harry." She glanced over at Ron warily. "We only need some time to adjust. And…" her gaze fell to the bed, "I guess it would have been nice if you'd trusted us enough to tell us."

Harry was about to apologise, tell her that he did – really, he did trust them – but Ron crossed his arms over his chest, blue eyes hard on Harry. "So have you ever fancied me?"

Harry gaped at him. "I'm sorry?"

"Yeah. Like, we've been in the showers together, you and me. Did you ever want to feel me up or something?"

"No!" Harry shook his head vigorously. "No! Of course I didn't!"

"You sure?" Ron's eyes had narrowed.

"Honest to Merlin," Harry told him with as much emphasis as humanely possible.

"What about Fred and George, then? Or Oliver Wood? After Quidditch, in the locker room when we all stripped to shower."

Hermione groaned, "Oh, come on, Ron...!"

But Ron didn't bother to pay her any attention. "Or Neville? Seamus? Dean? We all slept in the same dorm..."

"Oh, please!" Ginny rolled her eyes and slumped back against the peeling wallpaper. "Everybody knows Dean and Seamus are shagging their brains out. Harry wouldn't have got a word in between."

"They're what?!"

Three pairs of eyes fixated on her. Ginny sighed. "Oh, you lot... You know, you've been far too obsessed with saving the world during these past years to notice anything that's perfectly normal and utterly mundane."

Harry felt his world spin. "I had no idea..."

Ginny smiled sweetly at him. "I'm not surprised."

It took them a while to digest that bit of news. Eventually, Ron nodded.

"Fine." He pushed back his shoulders a little. "Fine. You're with Sirius."

Harry looked up and met his gaze. It had softened a little and that was hopeful. "Are you sure you're OK with it?"

"I don't think you're disgusting or anything. But... at least think it through, yeah?"

"I have," said Harry. "I am – it's all I'm doing. Believe me."

"You and Sirius have really talked about this?" Hermione asked carefully, as if she was not entirely sure that Harry was capable of talking about... adult... stuff that had nothing to do with Dark wizards and impending tyranny. "I mean, are you in agreement? About... it?"

"Yeah." Harry could not help that smile that caught him completely off-guard. "We are." Then he sobered. "So... what did your mum say?"

They exchanged glances. Hermione cleared her throat. "Well... Mrs Weasley was not... very happy... She sort of, well..."

"She screamed a lot," said Ginny. "And called Sirius some names."

"Dad didn't seem so surprised, though," Ron added, almost like an afterthought. "Although, it's futile to compete with mum when she throws a fit over something."

Harry fiddled with a loose thread in the bedspread. "Do you think she'll... come round?"

Ron grimaced. "Not any time soon, I wager. Sorry, mate." Then he plopped down beside Hermione. It was a relief to have him sit down.

Harry remembered Mr Weasley's face after the funeral when he had looked at Harry and Sirius. "I think your dad figured it out somehow,"

Ron threw up his hands. "Great. Dad knew before us." Then he suddenly sat up straighter and fixed Hermione with a hard stare. "Oi! What about you? Shouldn't you have figured it out with that mastermind of yours?"

"I do not have a mastermind," Hermione said sourly. "I read a lot, that's all."

"Whatever. You should've known."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Ronald. I suppose Harry and Siriuswas something I would never have imagined and thus the idea never even crossed my mind." A faint smile brushed her lips as her eyes locked with Harry's. "After everything we've seen, this was… a little too fantastic for me."

Harry's crumpled heart expanded just the slightest at that but Ron only grumbled. "Fine. Dad knew. Who else knows, eh? Old Aberforth perhaps? Buckbeak?"

Harry was pretty sure that had been mostly a rhetorical question but now he bit his lip. "Professor McGonagall." Before their exclamations turned into questions he preferred never to answer (because who really snuck in behind some trees to snog their godfather at a funeral?) he hurriedly gave them an edited account of their meeting with her. "She overheard us talking," he said, which was true, "and worked the rest out for herself. Then she offered Sirius to come and teach at Hogwarts because, well, I didn't want to go without him... But also because he's really brilliant at duelling," he hurriedly added.

They did not look wholly convinced but at least they took pity on him and refrained from any follow-up questions. Hermione and Ginny did exchange a small, unsettling sort of smile, though, but Ron, true to form, only groaned.

Sirius chose that moment to reappear. The knock on the door made them jump but it quickly slid open to reveal his godfather, dully illuminated in the meagre light from the outside landing. He'd had a change of clothes and possibly a quick wash and he looked much more composed than Harry felt.

Sirius did linger in the doorway for a bit, however, obviously trying to gauge the general mood. Eventually, though, he licked his lips. "May I come in?"

Harry nodded, suddenly unable to speak.

Sirius did not smile but a fraction of tension left his shoulders. He stepped inside and then closed the door again behind him. Harry felt a twinge of anxiety deep in his belly as none of his friends said a word.

His godfather took a small step forward. "So," he said quietly, "I assume you have been talking?" Grey eyes scanned their visitors. If he had expected a response he was let down. "I just want to make it clear that this took me by surprise, too..."

One more step. Another. He was making his way over to where Harry sat at the foot of the bed. Harry's heart picked up an irregular beat at his approach. This was it, he told himself even before it happened. This was the moment when everything stopped happening only in Harry's world but began happening in everybody else's worlds too.

Sirius came to stand behind him and he lightly placed one hand on Harry's shoulder. Ron's eyes widened until they were almost round as Galleons. Sirius gave Harry's shoulder the most modest of squeezes. "I've always known I was into blokes but I've never before..." He audibly swallowed. "This began after my Return. I've never had these feelings for Harry before that I have now. I just want to make that clear to you all."

It was surreal, Harry thought dizzily as Hermione nodded in the stony silence that followed this proclamation. Yet, there was something reassuringly familiar about it, something almost academic about her movement. Like she was accepting this information and storing it away in her mental vault of knowledge. Like she believed it.

Sirius' hand hesitantly slid off Harry's shoulder. When Harry dared to look up at him he gave a pale smile. "Well, that was my speech."

Even more silence followed. Harry could have counted his own breaths, they were so few. He wished desperately that something would happen, that somebody would say something. He would even have approved if Kreacher appeared and croaked out some vile accusations or curses. It was odd how Sirius' presence, something that he normally longed for more than anything, right now made him feel more apprehensive than happy.

In the end, it was Ron who broke the silence. He gave an awkward jerk of his head at them. "So you're...?"

"Yeah," Sirius said softly. "We are."

"Right."

Sirius shifted his weight beside Harry. "Just like you and Hermione."

Ron's ears went a bit red at that but he didn't reply.

"I should have seen it," said Hermione, brown eyes drifting thoughtfully from Sirius to Harry and back to Sirius again. "I should have figured it out after you broke up with Ginny and then just..."

Harry's attempt at a smile felt weird on his lips. Probably it did not look too flattering either. "You can't figure everything out, Hermione..."

She grimaced. "Still. Ron's right, I should have. But I suppose it just never crossed my mind that you would be…" She trailed off, but the furrow between her brows would not go away.

"Well, for what it's worth I don't mind," said Ginny from her corner. "I'm over you, Harry."

This time it was easier to smile. At his side, Sirius did the same. "I'm glad to hear it," he said.

Ginny only shrugged but her brown eyes had brightened and it made Harry easier.

"So... would you like to stay for lunch?" Sirius asked before the silence had time to settle again.

Ron ran a hand through his hair. "Thanks, mate, but, um..."

"We should be going," said Hermione, shooting to her feet. "We need to..."

There was a twist in the vicinity of Harry's heart. He watched them all gain their feet and carefully avoid each other's eyes. Feeling numb, Harry, too, slid off the bed.

"Of course." Sirius' hand was suddenly on Harry's neck, fingertips brushing his hair. "Another time perhaps?"

The touch came as such a shock that Harry flushed. All of a sudden it was hard to breathe. He wanted Sirius to remove his hand and he wanted it to stay in place.

But most of all he wanted Ron and Hermione to look at him as they had done before.

"Sure," Hermione sounded distracted as she tore her gaze from Sirius' arm and hand. "That'd be lovely, thank you."

They filed out of the bedroom with not another word, Sirius gently steering Harry before him with a hand on his lower back. It was enough to make Harry's insides squirm and his throat go dry.

The stairs creaked dismally as they descended the steps towards the drawing room. Judging by the gloom it could just as well have been in the middle of the night. Harry's spirits sank with every step he took and this time not even Sirius' touch could comfort him. It was only when they had reached the ground floor that Ginny brushed past him and gave him a small grin. As the others trooped into the drawing room she pulled him a little to the side.

"It'll be OK, Harry," she said quietly. "You just need to give them some time. It is a bit of a shocker, you know."

He nodded mutely. Her eyes were soft on him.

"Really, it'll be fine."

"Thanks," he mumbled.

She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "I may be over you," she almost whispered, "but I still love you. And they do too."

He could not find the words so he hugged her instead.

o.O.o

Draco Malfoy's eyes were veritable pools of glee. He was leaning back against the wall with an almost blissful smile plastered onto his pale face. "That. Is. Amazing. Potter." He lifted his hands as if trying to catch hold of something but then let them fall back to his lap. "I can't even... I can't even picture it!"

"What?" Harry grumbled from his corner on the bed that Draco had allowed him as a reward for disclosing what had bugged him since yesterday.

"Her face, you git." Malfoy shook his head. "Of course, I am the first to admit that I'm never one to pine for your company, Potter–"

"Thanks."

Draco ignored him, "But I do regret not being there to see it for myself."

"It's not funny, Draco. She's really upset."

"Why? Her precious almost-adopted son – the Hero of the Wizarding World, the Treasure of Britain and Most Esteemed Holy..."

"Shut it."

Draco smirked. "Fine."

Harry ran a thumb along the edge of the bed frame. "She hates Sirius."

"So what?" Draco looked genuinely curious.

"Well, it isn't exactly good, is it?"

"Not everything in life is good, Potter. You of all people should know that."

"Yeah but..." Harry dropped his gaze back to the bed. "I just want them to get along. I mean, I know Mrs Weasley never liked him... Not really. But they did get along, once. Sort of."

Draco's silence told him more than he wanted to.

"But Ron seems OK with it," Harry continued instead, trying for a more hopeful angle. "At least, I think he is..."

"Of course he is. Whatever mess you'd get yourself into you always could count on Weasley to help you out of it. Stupid. But loyal, I guess."

Harry looked up. "Ron and I haven't always got along..."

Draco shrugged dismissively. "Whatever. In the end, he's there for you." His thin lips twisted into a half-grimace. "I might have been a tad jealous."

Harry's eyes widened. "You?"

"I'm human, actually," said Draco.

"Wow..." Harry tried a smile. "I never knew."

"Fuck you, Potter."

That was when it happened: Harry's grin widened into a smile all on its own. "You wish, Malfoy."

He wouldn't have believed it only a day ago but before his very eyes, Draco Malfoy's sour expression reluctantly melted away and he gave a grin of his own. "Don't you dare try."

"I promise I won't." Harry held up his hands. "Look, not touching."

Draco only rolled his eyes. "I thought you were here to plan my defence?"

"I was!" said Harry, apologetically. "I am."

"I'll believe it when I see it. I'm getting sick of this cell, Potter."

"Right," Harry began, pulling himself together. "So, listen, I've been thinking that I might–"

"So... who's the top?"

Harry blinked. "What?"

Draco's eyes were curiously – unsettlingly – bright. "Who tops?"

"What are you talking about?"

Draco leaned back against the wall. "I'm serious. I've been thinking about it. Sorry – not really, though – but it's true." He did not look contrite at all. "As you know, this place does not happen to be brimming with fascinating activity so I need to occupy myself with something." He gave a new smirk. "So. I've been trying to figure it out."

"Figure it out?" Harry echoed him, not really understanding anything.

"Yes, because you can't deny that you would be the ultimate bottom, Potter. I mean, Black is obviously deranged. And – I'm assuming – quite daunting. Just look at that horrid picture of him in the Prophet for reference. On the other hand..." Draco frowned and tipped his head to the side. His grey eyes were sparkling far too devilishly for Harry's taste.

"On the other hand, you always get your way, don't you?" Draco mused. "I'm excellent proof of that myself seeing as I am submitting myself to your schemes, whatever they are. Meaning that you do undeniably wield some kind of power of persuasion. Which means – in turn – that you might possess some qualities that would make you a natural top."

Harry stared at him while closing his mouth that had apparently fallen open. "What the hell are you talking about, Malfoy?"

At this, Draco frowned. "What do you mean 'what am I talking about'?"

Harry made an exasperated gesture. "This. What are you going on about?"

Draco's eyes widened drastically. "Oh, no, Potter..." He held up a hand in warning. "Don't tell me..."

"Tell you what?"

"That you've never... Oh God... Seriously, Potter, you're pathetic. You've never heard the terms 'top' and 'bottom' before?"

"No..." Harry said hesitantly, feeling as though he were making a fool of himself but having no idea why.

Draco took a deep breath and seemed to collect himself. "All right, let me phrase it differently for you. Who is fucking whom?" His grey eyes glittered. "Or, to be more precise, is it your dick that's up Black's arse, or is it the other way around?"

Harry's body decided that the best course of action was to stop functioning properly. Slowly the words were sinking into his addled brain. Burning tendrils of heat were creeping up his throat and cheeks at the gleam in Draco's eye. "I don't..." he mumbled, finding that his tongue didn't really want to participate in communicating. "It's not..."

"Oh, I thought it was?"

"Yeah... but..."

Draco seemed to keep waiting expectantly for a reply as Harry got off the bed, feet fumbling for purchase on the floor. "I think I'm... We'll do this another day, yeah?"

"Whatever." But Draco looked more amused than anything as Harry prayed for the cell door to just burst open. His smile followed Harry over the threshold. "Really," he said," pathetic."

The door swung closed with a thud and the corridor enveloped Harry in a cool stillness. This time the stony shadows helped ease his breathing and he gratefully placed one palm on the wall for some kind of support.

He could imagine his godfather, sitting back, swirling Firewhisky in his glass and saying offhandedly with that broad grin of his that, sure, of course it was he who...

No. No, no, no, no.

Harry fervently pushed away the imaginary words. It felt wrong, somehow, to even think them. What he and Sirius had was so... theirs.

A part of him had almost been happy Draco had wrangled the information about Mrs Weasley's surprise visit and the talk he'd had with his friends from him earlier because it had proved something of a relief to talk about it. To get it off his chest. But this...

Oh, but he really was that pathetic, wasn't he?

With a sigh, Harry pushed himself off the wall and started down the corridor. He had almost reached the stand with the box that contained his wand when he heard a shuffle from somewhere behind him. He spun around on the spot, heart exploding into his throat, but there was nothing there, only more shadows.

"Pathetic, Potter," he muttered to himself when he was breathing again. He went to retrieve his wand.

TBC