A/N: Comments, critique, opinions, all welcomed and appreciated.
"You're really going to go through with it?" Sirius asked, picking up a pale blue pamphlet from the desk.
"Martin's father works at the French Ministry and he doesn't think there'll be any problems," Thomas said, snatching the pamphlet back from Sirius. "And if he's in France, then maybe he won't keep colouring his hair and hoping that one day he'll wake up with a different face."
Sirius collapsed on the chair in front of the desk, sucked his lower lip to his mouth and chewed on it, making small distressed noises like a worried dog. Thomas had the impression that if he'd been Padfoot right now his tail would be between his legs, and his ears would be hanging. He looked pitiful, but in an oddly endearing way.
"He's not doing it as much as he did," Sirius pointed out.
"And maybe he'll stop one day," Thomas said. "But I can't let him go to Hogwarts knowing what it'll do to him. You know what he's like. He'll try to do what everyone else wants him to do. With how they've built him up I wouldn't be surprised if he'd convince the Hat to place him in Gryffindor."
"There's nothing wrong with Gryffindor!" Sirius yelled, outraged. "Would you rather have him as a slimy Slytherin?"
"That's probably where the Hat would sort him," Thomas said. "But he wouldn't accept the Hat's decision, he'd fight it until it put him somewhere else, and that would most likely be Gryffindor, considering he doesn't really value Hufflepuff because of a certain someone, and isn't academic enough for Ravenclaw."
"So you're sending him to Beauxbatons?"
"It's better than Durmstrang," Thomas answered, smiling. "Besides, Martin's going to Beauxbatons and Harry wants to go to school with him."
"Martin could go to Hogwarts." Sirius suggested, but Thomas was already shaking his head before he had even finished the sentence.
"His father only agreed for Martin's mother to have custody of the boy if he went to school in France. Elaine would never risk losing her son."
Sirius arched an eyebrow and smirked suggestively. "Elaine, hmmm? Things going well between you, then?"
Thomas gave Sirius a look that suggested he'd just said something profoundly idiotic, which was a standard expression on Thomas's face, when Sirius came to visit. "Don't be a fool, Black. I can't get involved with anyone."
"Why not?" Sirius asked. "I don't think Harry would mind even if you did and everyone needs someone. When was the last time you got laid?"
"Despite what you think Black, not everything in my life is about Harry," Thomas spoke his biggest lie so far. "And when I've gotten laid is none of your business."
"That long, huh?" Sirius asked, still grinning and Thomas rose up, his hands fisted on the desk. "Hey, I get it. I spent years in Azkaban, not a lot of action there and it's hard to get back on the saddle. You know I've got some free time this Friday. What do you say we go out, check out the ladies in London? Harry's staying with Martin anyway so you won't have to worry about him."
"I'm not going drinking with you Black," Thomas said, walking around the desk so he could go loom over Sirius, who unfortunately wasn't at all intimidated.
"What's it going to take for you to start calling me Sirius?" the man asked, his tone and face suddenly grim. "I know it isn't because you don't like me. No one could spend this much time around me and still stand against the power of my charming person."
Thomas snorted, an unintentional grin tugging at his lips.
"Let's go have a pint on Friday. No harm in just having a pint at the pub, right?"
Thomas knew he should say no, that absolutely nothing could come of a Sirius Black combined with alcohol, but it had been too long since he'd gone out and he had nothing else to do on Friday.
He leaned back against the desk, tilting his head so he could stare at the ceiling and wouldn't have to look at Sirius and his almost pleading face. "Just for a pint?" he asked, and though he was sure it was just his imagination, he swore he could feel the other man's victorious grin.
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Just how big a mistake going out drinking had been dawned on Thomas after the third pint when he found his eyes glued to Sirius' throat when the man swallowed. He should've remembered that In Vino Veritas and stayed at home watching the flames flicker in his fireplace, because the truth had never brought him anything but pain.
"Found anyone you like yet?" Sirius asked after finishing his beer.
"Not really," Thomas muttered and stood, leaving almost half his beer. "It's late and I have a headache. You stay, the blond over there's leering at you."
"It's not even ten yet!" Sirius protested, but his gaze wondered to the blond and he winked. "I'm sure she's got friends," he suggested half heartedly.
"More for you then," Thomas muttered and walked out of the bar and into the brisk night air where he tried to clear his head by pressing it against the cool stone wall of the bar, ignoring the yelling and laughing people that pushed past him, the bar door opening and closing.
He imagined Sirius talking with the blond, laughing, smiling, kissing her and pushing his hand up her shirt. He imagined himself in her place and groaned, hit his head against the wall and hoped the ground would split open and swallow him whole.
How long had this been building up? Had he thought about Sirius even as a kid, when he'd kissed Ginny, made plans for their wedding? What if the attraction didn't stem from there, what if it came from the other set of memories, from the budding Dark Lord that enjoyed watching his classmates shower, who dreamt of strong, muscled limbs twitching under the Cruciatus, of male voices begging for mercy, kneeling before him, kissing his fee-
"Hey buddy, no passing out in front of the bar," the bouncer, shaking his shoulder ordered.
"It's okay, he's with me," Sirius, coming out of the pub told the man and waved him off. "Why didn't you say anything if you felt like throwing up?" Sirius asked, frowned and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"What are you doing?" Thomas asked, trying to sound angry, but it came out mostly as pathetic and needy, and he'd never in his life wanted to hit himself more.
"Taking you home, apparently," Sirius answered, looking worried. "If I'd known you can't handle even a few beers I wouldn't've dragged you out."
"It's not the beer," he snarled, pushing past Sirius. "It's the company."
"The fuck is your problem, Potter?" Sirius seemed to have finally reached his limit, jerked Thomas back by his shoulder and slammed him against the wall.
"Hey no fighting! Take it somewhere else!" The bouncer was back, glaring at both of them now.
Thomas pushed off the wall, shoved Sirius so he stumbled off the sidewalk against a parked car that's alarm went off, turning everyone's attention to them. Thomas glanced at the gathering crowd that was watching interestedly at the beginning fight, and intended to walk away, but Sirius once again jerked him back and this time he kept his grip around Thomas's arm.
"I want to know what your problem is, Potter!" Sirius screamed it at his face, his breath warm against Thomas's face and smelling of mead and salt, and Thomas wanted to taste in his mouth, just like he wanted to taste the sweat on Sirius' skin on his tongue, bite down and break skin, lick away the blood.
"I already told you what the problem is Black," Thomas hissed and wrenched his arm free. "Don't fucking follow me and if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from the house for the next few weeks."
He started walking, almost running from Sirius and could still hear him yelling when he turned a corner. "Thomas! Get the fuck back here Thomas and tell me what the hell just happened!"
Sirius caught him just as he was about to wave a cab, took hold of his arm and throwing him against a wall again. Thomas's breaths came quick and shallow, almost panicked and he stared at the man standing over him with his hands fisted, mouth drawn together tightly, and prayed he could think of anything else but how good he looked.
"Did someone slip you something in your drink? Is that it? Because you look like you're running from ghosts or something. Are you seeing things?"
There was worry mixed in the fury now, and Thomas let out a strangled sob before pushing his palm against his eyes, hoping, praying that when he opened his eyes the only thing he would see was Sirius Black, the godfather of his ward, the idiot.
Yet that man was gone and in his place stood this man whose laughter made him smile, who made him laugh helplessly in both horror and amusement, whom he wanted see lying in his bed beneath him.
"It's all gone to hell," Thomas said and then laughed when Sirius only stared at him in confusion.
"That's it, I'm taking you to bed," Sirius told him, making Thomas's laugh louder, with an edge of panic. And when Sirius drew him up Thomas sagged against him, pretending to be drunk so he could inhale the scent of the other man's skin and feel the press of his body against his. "If I'd known you can't handle your liquor, I never would have taken you out drinking."
Thomas closed his eyes and let out a startled yell when he felt the pull of apparition. "Where the hell are we?" he asked, when he looked up and saw a dark street.
"My home is at number Twelve Grimmauld Place," Sirius said.
"I know that," Thomas answered, frowning and then turned around to look at the old house. "You took us here, remember?"
"Yeah, I remember," Sirius told him and dragged him up the stairs to the front door and to the lobby, where to Thomas's surprise a certain portrait was missing, along with the dust and grime. "Things have changed since then."
"I can see that," Thomas muttered and shrugged Sirius' arm from around him so he could turn around and get a better look at the place. "You've cleaned." There was amazement in his voice and outright disbelief when he looked at Sirius who didn't seem to appreciate his lack of fate in the other man's abilities. "You live here?" Thomas asked and started to walk towards the stairs with a step that was much steadier than before.
"I do," Sirius answered from behind him, his forehead creased, staring at the other man with some confusion. "Kreacher… he's been a lot more accommodating since the locket. After Dumbledore spoke to him and then destroyed it. I never knew he liked Regulus that much."
He followed Thomas up the stairs and to the third floor where the man started opening doors and looking through the bedrooms with interest that seemed anything but casual, with eyes far too focused for a man that had only a few moments ago been heaving against a wall outside a bar.
"You're not drunk at all, are you?" Sirius asked and when Thomas turned the look at him, and blinked, looking dazed.
"Just a little," Thomas answered and backed inside one of the bedrooms. "Mind if I spend the night?"
Sirius shrugged and Thomas shut himself inside the bedroom, leaving Sirius standing in the hallway, staring at the closed door. Inside the room Thomas sagged down on the floor and pushed the heel of his hand against his forehead. If Sirius hadn't followed him, if he hadn't gone drinking with him, if he'd never allowed Sirius to see Harry, if he hadn't returned to Britain, if he'd…
Eventually he got up from the floor and turned towards the bed. It was large with dark blue curtains, and the sheets were white and pristine with small pale blue and silver flowers. It seemed much too feminine for Sirius to have picked out the fabrics.
He walked to the closet and opened it, finding nothing but empty shelves. But when he turned there was a long white nightshirt on the bed, a dark blue robe on the back of the chair and a pitcher with water and a glass on the bedside table.
Kreacher really had become much more accommodating.
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Thomas woke to the sunlight. It nearly blinded him when he opened his eyes, so he pulled his arm over his head and turned around trying to fall back asleep, but it was useless. He could feel the light warming his back and some bird had landed behind the window. It would impossible to fall asleep again.
Still blurry eyed Thomas climbed off the bed and reached out for the light blue robe and pulled it on. He tied it close and decided to see if he could get some coffee, or at least tea in the kitchen. There wasn't a watch in the room and pulling his wand from somewhere from the pile of his discarded clothes seemed like too much work, so he had no idea what time it was, but he doubted Sirius was up yet.
He was proven right when he passed the sitting room and heard Sirius' snores, glanced inside the room and saw the man sleeping on the couch with a bottle of scotch on the table.
Stifling a yawn under his hand Thomas headed to the kitchen, mussing his hair and trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. He blinked and smiled dreamily when he saw a full pot of coffee. He was still too tired to care where or how the coffee had appeared, was just glad it was there.
He reached up to the cabinets, opening a few before finding the one with the mugs and then poured himself a cup. He walked over to the cold cabinet, pulled out some milk, mixed it with the coffee, closed the cabinet, leaned against the counter, and with his eyes closed nearly drained the whole cup.
And then someone cleared their throat.
Thomas opened his eyes and stared at the group of people gathered around the kitchen table, most of them painfully familiar and among them, beaming at him from over his half moon spectacles was Dumbledore. Yet the one Thomas suspected of the throat clearing had been Molly Weasley, standing beside her husband.
Remus Lupin had covered his mouth and Thomas suspected he was hiding a wide grin behind it, and Mundungus Fletcher didn't even bother to hide the wide smirk on his face. Alastor Moody stared at him suspiciously, his fake eye whirling and beside him were Kingsley and an unfamiliar woman. Snape and McGonagall, both in garb similar to their teaching robes, were frowning at him, yet Snape's glare was almost murderous and Thomas had no doubt his identity had been discovered.
"Thomas!" Sirius yelled, running into the kitchen. "There's some people coming, so maybe you should-"
"Ah, Sirius," Dumbledore's jovial voice interrupted him. "Nice of you to join us. Though we weren't expecting you to bring a guest." There was a subtle reprimand in his voice and Sirius grimaced.
"Giving out the secret just to anyone, Black, what were you thinking? He could be a spy!" Moody grunted.
"Clearly, he was not thinking, as usual," Snape sneered.
"This is my home, and I'll invite whomever I wish!" Sirius growled at Snape, avoiding both Dumbledore and Moody's gaze. "You can leave whenever you want!"
Thomas scowled at his coffee, wishing he could take back the last few minutes. He could have stayed quite comfortably hidden in the four poster bed, or even joined Sirius in the sitting room, instead of running into the kitchen in the midst of what looked like an Order meeting.
He glanced at the group of people and evaluated the different looks he was receiving. Most were uncertain, Snape's hostile, Remus' amused, yet the most frightening was the smile Molly was giving him. There was something maternal in that look and any minute now he expected to hear an offer to have some breakfast.
"You want something to eat?" Surprisingly this came from Sirius, not Molly, though the woman did radiate approval.
"I should probably just head home and let you go on with your secret meeting," Thomas muttered and placed his half drank coffee on the sink. The stares directed at him were starting to feel uncomfortable and he just wanted to leave the kitchen, the whole house.
"You sure?" Sirius looked so much like a puppy that Thomas had the sudden urge to pat him on the head. He even felt his hand twitch up, but aborted the movement before it could even start.
"I'm sure," Thomas said, and after one last sideway glance at the group gathered around the table, he fled. As his feet touched the stairs he heard shouts and yells erupt in the kitchen as everyone tried to talk at once. Yet the most prominent sound was Remus' laughter.
Thomas nearly ran up the stairs and once in the bedroom he'd spent the night in, he practically tore the robe and nightshirt off him, and only wearing his boxers searched the room for his clothes. He eventually found them cleanly folded on an armchair, his wand on top off them.
He was just about to pull his shirt over his head when Sirius rushed in, looking just as scruffy as he had in the kitchen, with bags under his eyes and his jaw unshaven. "I'm sorry," he said, ruffling his hair and standing uncomfortable at the doorway while Thomas pulled the shirt on. "I forgot they were coming today."
"It's fine," Thomas assured and pulled his jeans form under the jacket and then searched for his belt, frowning when he didn't see it right away. "I shouldn't have gone out with you in the first place."
The door slammed close and Thomas turned, the jeans still hanging from his grip. Sirius stood with his arms crossed across his chest, a dark scowl on his face. "Why not?" he asked, sounding petulant, more than anything else, and it occurred to Thomas that perhaps he shouldn't have said anything.
"I just meant…" Thomas sighed, frustrated and pulled his jeans on and focused on buttoning them close, but the last one was still unbuttoned when Sirius' shadow fell on him and he looked up, finding Sirius' face far too close to his own. Uncomfortable Thomas took a step back only to realise that right behind his back was the wall. "You mind backing up?" he asked, annoyed that he had to look up to see Sirius' eyes.
"I want to know what happened last night," Sirius said.
"Nothing happened last night," Thomas answered and pushed against Sirius, but the man refused to move.
"Something happened and that something made you act like an asshole," Sirius insisted.
Thomas gritted his teeth, pushed Sirius harder and managed to move him enough so he could reach and pick up his jacket and wand that were still lying on the chair. "I had a headache," he snarled between his clenched teeth, glaring at Sirius. "That makes me irritable."
"That wasn't irritable," Sirius shouted. "That was-" he flung his arms wide and stared at the ceiling, lost for words. "Well it was something!" he finally yelled when any other words refused to come.
"It doesn't matter," Thomas – who had almost convinced himself that his attraction to this man had been his imagination – muttered.
Sirius, who wasn't prepared to give up tried one more time. "Thomas," he said and took Thomas by the shoulder, his fingers brushing against the skin on his neck. "Thomas?"
Thomas smacked Sirius' hand away and yelled, "Don't touch me! Just… don't touch me!" He moved to stand by the bed and muttered "I need to get out of this house."
"I could-"
"I think you have your hands full with the secret meeting," Thomas interrupted before Sirius could offer his help, and turned to face the man. Sirius was frowning, that frighteningly thoughtful look in his eyes, and Thomas forced himself to stare back, despite how much he wanted to hide from the look.
"It's really not as pathetic as you make it sound," Sirius, said, and grinned crookedly, after it was clear that Thomas was not willing to speak about last night. "How'd you know it's a secret meeting?"
"You must be joking?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, relieved Sirius was letting him change the subject, yet still nervous, knowing it was only temporary. "You have a Fidelius and the one with the freaky eye practically confirmed it by screaming at you for giving out the secret."
Sirius shrugged. "You've got a point," he conceded.
"Have you," Thomas licked his lips. "Talked to them about Harry?"
Sirius shuffled nervously and glanced at the closed door. "Not in this house, Thomas. It's mine, but I've opened it up to a lot of people. It isn't exactly," he grimaced, "private anymore."
Thomas smiled in relief. "I'm glad," he said.
"That I have no more privacy?" Sirius joked, and because Thomas knew Sirius had understood him, he remained silent.
There was a knock on the door and Sirius glanced at Thomas who shrugged. No point in pretending he wasn't there when everyone he should have avoided had seen him crawling into the kitchen for a cup of coffee.
He tensed when Sirius opened the door, and wondered if it would be Dumbledore or Molly Weasley on the other side. It would be more difficult to face the Weasley matriarch, than the old man with his clever words and small smiles.
Yet it was neither that stepped into the room but Remus Lupin, who despite his prematurely greyed hair looked far younger and cheerful than Thomas remembered him. His robes that Thomas remembered as worn were now, though not new, well kept. There wasn't a single patched tear or a hanging thread in the dark blue fabric, and his shoes shone of newness.
Getting back a friend when he'd thought he'd lost them all had done Remus well and Thomas was happy, even if it meant that the man Thomas had known was gone. But perhaps here Remus Lupin wouldn't die and leave his son without parents. Maybe now, Teddy Lupin wouldn't even be born.
He'd twisted the lines of fate and disturbed not only his own life, but others. Perhaps some children wouldn't be born and others that had lived would die. But he couldn't regret it, not when he could look at Harry and see him happy, free of the Dursleys and the expectations of a whole nation and hear Sirius laugh freely without an edge of insanity.
"Hey," Remus said and grinned at both of them, looking for some reason extremely uncomfortable. The reason soon became apparent when he turned his focus on Thomas and spoke. "Dumbledore wants you to come downstairs and talk with us."
Thomas lowered his head and glanced at Sirius, noticing the grimace on the other man's face. "This isn't the first time he's asked," Thomas spoke, certain of it.
"You've made it clear you want nothing to do with Dumbledore," Sirius answered. "And I've respected that. But now that you've appeared before him, it's…"
"Difficult," Remus finished for him. "He won't leave before you've talked to him."
"I'd rather not deal with this now," Thomas told them both, uncrossing his arms, making it easier for him to draw his wand if it came to it. Both Remus and Sirius tensed, perhaps understanding what the shift in his stance meant, or just reacting on instinct honed to perfection by the paranoia of a war fought ten years ago and never quite forgotten, even in self-induced isolation or inside the walls of Azkaban.
"You don't have to," Sirius said and moved to stand beside the wardrobe. "Close the door," he told Remus, and once the door was closed, Sirius slid his hand along the wall, fingers stretched. Then he pushed on a certain spot, and the wall on the other side of the wardrobe, behind Thomas slid aside, revealing a dark passageway, surprisingly free of dust.
"There's a secret passageway in this room?" Thomas asked.
Sirius grinned. "I think it belonged to a mistress once upon a time. The corridor goes past the master bedroom."
"Fine room you chose for your guest, Sirius," Remus commented, eyebrows far enough on his forehead so they competed with his fringe.
To Thomas's amusement Sirius turned bright red and pointed a finger at Thomas. "He chose it!"
"Ah, the lady doth protest too much," Remus grinned victoriously, only causing Sirius' flush to deepen and spread to his neck, making Thomas laugh.
Sirius grunted, clearly embarrassed, but the look he gave Thomas held a question the man could not read, yet it brought back all his earlier thoughts of Sirius with a rush, and forced heat on his face. Flustered Thomas gestured at the opening with his hands. "Does this lead outside?"
Grateful for the change of topic Sirius nodded. "To the backyard. You can get to the street from the garden gate."
Thomas licked his lips and glanced at Remus once before stepping inside the passageway. He looked back at Sirius after a few steps and said, "I'll… see you again in a few days, or…"
Sirius grinned, less boisterously than earlier but with a lightness that Thomas had come to appreciate. Nothing too grave could happen when there was such ease in Sirius' smile. "It might take a while. Dumbledore's not an easy man to discourage."
Thomas nodded and kept his eyes on Sirius when the wall panel slid back in place, and he was left in the darkness of the passageway. Once sure no one could see him Thomas allowed himself to sag against the wall and his face twisted into an ugly sneer.
It was so easy to let go and like Sirius, to desire him. There was no one more charming and only a few as good looking. Even with all his faults Sirius was someone Thomas could easily see himself remain friends for a long time, and every moment they spent together he found himself thinking that perhaps there was a possibility for more than friendship there. But that was foolish and dangerous, to imagine things based on nothing but friendly banter and a few looks and smiles that hinted, but never explicitly said anything.
Looks, smiles, they could all be explained away, even the jokes were something that could be waved off and they would be. Thomas could not afford to act on them, not if he wished to keep Sirius in his life, in Harry's life.
Because he could not bare losing Sirius, not even this man, who was different version of the man that had fallen through the veil. Attraction could vanish just as easily as it had grown.
Sirius had been right. He needed to get laid.
"Master says Kreacher must lead master Potter safely, undetected from the house," Kreacher announced his presence and Thomas was pulled from his grim thoughts. He straightened and lifted his chin up.
"Lead the way, Kreacher," he told the elf, glaring at it. It looked happy to be on the receiving end of disdain from a wizard, twisted little thing as it was.