Chapter 6: Day 6 - 15:58

The kitchen had become Sirius' abode. He hated that slowly ticking brass clock at the far end of the room, but it was better than any other clock in the house. The stooped old grandfather clock in what had once been – but was very decidedly no longer – his father's old study was even worse than that above the dining table. It seemed to chuckle with each slow, lazing chime of its pendulum.

Unfortunately for Sirius, he had discovered that not watching the clock made time move even slower still. After nearly three days of watching it, and in spite of coming to hate it, he'd decided that kitchen clock was his only solution.

He'd begun a sort of rhythmic tapping of the table with each tick. Before each tick, actually. It had become something of a game he'd resorted to, tapping closer and closer to the tick, as close as he could get, and then slamming his fist onto the table a split second before the pendulum sounded its gong. He'd gotten rather good in his timing, actually, at predicting the microsecond before the sound reached his ears.

Tap-tick… tap-tick… tap-tick… tap-tick…

GONG-SLAM!

"Dammit," Sirius grumbled beneath his breath, his fingers scrunching the top piece of parchment of the Carrow's report stacked neatly before him. Unread, of course. He glared at the offending pendulum as it resounded with a trio of successive gongs to announce four o'clock. He was in a bad mood. He knew he was in a bad mood, and also acknowledged that it had a lot to do with the fact that Harry hadn't replied to his letter yet. Which meant that he was stuck fixating upon the clock and simply… waiting.

And ignoring his Order mission report.

And engaging it in a competition of speed that he was fairly certain the clock was unaware it was involved in. "So close. Fucking clock, it bloody well cheated and it knows it." Wonderful. Now he'd have to wait for another whole hour before he got the chance to beat the gong again. Next time he would –

"Sirius, what are you doing?"

The sound of Remus' voice drew Sirius' attention from his glaring match with the clock. Turning slowly, he fixed his gaze upon the ever-weary figure of his childhood friend.

Time had not done Remus any favours. He had always appeared worn, tired, strained as if the weight of his lycanthropy gnawed at him like a dog worrying a bone. It didn't help that he constantly attired himself in drab wear, patched and far removed from current fashion trends. Sirius had offered to lend him the money to more adequately support himself, or at least to get himself a new wardrobe, but Remus had always been proud. He'd rather dress himself in a potato sack and live out of a shoebox than accept charity.

Remus looked even more worn these days with the weight of Order work resting on his shoulders. True, the Death Eaters had been oddly quiet of late since the debacle at the Ministry but as Sirius was want to bemoan, "There's always work to be done with the Order". Sirius had recommended that he take a break once in a while – it was Christmas, after all – but as was typical of Remus and his back-breaking work ethic, he stubbornly refused.

Few people knew how stubborn the man was. Sirius attributed it to his general aura of affability and quietness. Remus was deceptive like that.

Pursing his lips, Sirius leant back in his chair and dropped his eyes to the table. He didn't like the mixture of amusement and puzzlement and just a hint of exasperation on Remus' face. He liked it even less that said expression was directed at him. "What do you mean?"

Shaking his head, Remus stepped into the room. Closing the door behind him, he skirted the basement dining table until he was directly opposite Sirius and leant casually upon the back of one of the empty chairs "You've been in here all day, Sirius."

"And?"

"And all day yesterday."

"Your point?"

"And most of the day before, too."

Sirius growled beneath his breath and kicked the leg of the table. The resulting thump wasn't nearly as satisfying as it should have been. "What are you trying to say, Remus?" It was a struggle to meet his friend's gaze. That amusement still lingered, not abated in the least by Sirius' expression of frustration.

Sighing, shaking his head once more, Remus offered Sirius his crooked smile. "You need to stop this, Sirius."

"Stop what?"

"Brooding."

Sirius scowled. "I'm not brooding."

Remus dropped his chin to his chest and leant more heavily on the back of the chair. It took Sirius a moment to realise that he was laughing at him. His second kick to the table leg didn't feel any better than the first. "Really, Sirius, I was trying to spare you." He glanced up at him once more, his smile widening. "Stop your sulking."

Sirius flinched, straightening abruptly in his seat. "I- I am not sulking!"

"Really?"

"Really! There's just nothing… nothing to do around here. I'm just…"

"You could Floo call Moody. He's the one that's handling the missions at the moment."

"No, but –"

"Don't you have a stack of reports that McGonagall sent you to annotate over a week ago."

"Yes, but I can't –"

"In failing that, you could join me when I go down to East End this afternoon. Tonks can't come despite desperately wanting to. I could use the company."

"I can't –"

"No, of course you can't," Remus interrupted him once more. Amusement still rang thickly in his tone. "You simply don't have the time to spare from all your sulking. You've only committed," he glanced towards the clock at the far end of the room, "nine hours to it today already."

Sirius spluttered, struggling to grasp for an objection. "I… you… How do you even know how long I've been in here?" He realised as soon as he'd spoken that he'd as good as admitted that he'd been 'sulking'.

"Because, Sirius," Remus said slowly, and the condescension was thick in his tone. Sirius felt his long-held habit of twitching eye arise like an unshakeable itch. "Everyone in the house is aware of how miserable you've been the last couple of days. Even Hermione has resorted to asking Kreacher to directly bring food to the dining room so she doesn't have to come into the kitchen."

Sirius frowned. People had noticed he was sulk- that he was brooding? He'd barely spoken to anyone these past days, had barely even seen anyone since Christmas for closeting himself either in his room or the kitchen with his clock. How did anyone even know he'd…? "Well, you'd all be wrong."

"What?"

"I'm not miserable." At the disbelieving expression Remus adopted, Sirius frowned more deeply. "I'm not. What would I possibly have to be miserable about?"

Remus' long, narrow fingers tapped a rhythm on the back of the chair he leant upon. He regarded Sirius silently for a moment, and Sirius was left with the distinct impression he was deciding whether or not to douse him in cold water. "We're not fools, Sirius. None of us. Everyone knows what's going on."

"What do you -?"

"Stop moping about Harry and get out and do something."

And there was the cold water. Eye twitching almost painfully, Sirius pushed himself to standing. Propping his hands flat upon the table he leant towards Remus with an unblinking glare. "I am not moping."

"It's perfectly fine to miss his presence, Sirius," Remus attempted soothingly. "I know you had plans for this holidays to spend time with him. Obviously it's upsetting that you –"

"Of course it is! This was supposed to be the first real Christmas we spent together and –" Sirius abruptly cut himself off. He'd done it again, agreeing with Remus before he even realised it. Pressing his lips firmly, he drew himself up from his lean upon the table. "I'm not upset."

Remus snorted. That damned amusement swelled once more. "Wonderful recovery there, Sirius." He held up his hand as Sirius opened his mouth to reply. "Look, I can understand you are feeling his absence. I know you care for Harry deeply and you simply wanted the chance to get to know him a little better this year –"

"Damned right I do."

" –though why you decided that this Christmas was so much more important to do so than the last is beyond me –"

"You know the circumstances of last year -!"

"- but you're being selfish." Remus paused and his eyes widened meaningfully to silence Sirius' attempt at interruption. "Selfish and childish."

The twitch in Sirius' eye really was painful this time. He struggled to ignore it. Affront didn't even begin to cover how he felt. "Selfish? Selfish? I'm being selfish?"

"Yes, you –"

"If anyone's being selfish it's that Malfoy brat! He's the one that bloody well took Harry off to whoop-whoop! Christmas is supposed to be a time for family and he is completely monopolising Harry's attention."

Sirius didn't like the expression Remus turned upon him this time any more than he had his amusement. It was weary, and the exasperation was more pronounced, but there was also a hint of fondness that put Sirius in mind of a parent listening to the illogical rationalisation of a child. "Are you even listening to yourself?"

"… what?"

"Listen to your own words, Sirius. Honestly."

"I don't know what you mean –"

"Firstly," Remus held up a finger. "While Christmas may be, in some circumstances, a time for family, you are not Harry's family. Much and all as I'm sure you both consider yourselves such," he raised his voice at Sirius' attempted objection. "What Christmas is truly about is spending time with those you care for, your loved ones. So Harry is spending time with Draco because he cares for him."

"Cares more for him than for me?" Sirius grumbled.

Remus paused, his face flattening for a moment. "Sirius," he said, and that was all. That single word was enough to induce a cringe in Sirius, to highlight the petulance of his question. Perhaps his comment had been a little immature.

"Secondly," Remus continued, as though his listing hadn't been interrupted. "Draco didn't 'take' Harry anywhere. Harry went because he wanted to. He's become quite companionable with the Malfoys, I believe. Quite remarkable given their history, but then…"

"He does not like them," Sirius ground out. "It's called being polite. I would have thought you'd at least have been able to distinguish politeness from affection, Remus. Didn't you see them together after Christmas dinner?"

"I'm sure I didn't observe them quite so closely as you did," Remus nodded, humour resurfacing in his smile once more. "But I did see them conversing for quite some time. And what I saw was…" He paused, though whether for contemplation or in the face of Sirius' glare was uncertain. He held Sirius' gaze for a long moment before finally shrugging. "Fine. Have it your way, Sirius. If that belief will make you happy."

"It does."

"You deserve happiness at Christmas."

"I do," Sirius agreed once more.

"Everyone does. Even Harry, though some people obviously object to such a possibility."

"I…" Sirius frowned. "Of course he does. Who… why should he not be happy?" If anyone even considered upsetting Harry, Sirius would be upon them with bared teeth and sharp claws.

"You really don't see it, do you?" Remus' smile was almost pitying. Sympathetic? No, definitely more pitying. Sirius' eye twitched indignantly. "You really don't see what you're doing?"

"What? What am I doing?"

Remus dropped his chin to his chest once more, leaning in a rock of his heels into the back of he chair. He muttered something that sounded exasperated beneath his breath, but Sirius couldn't quite make it out. When he finally lifted his gaze once more, it was with a resolute expression. As though he'd very deliberately put the previous conversation aside to move onto something else. "Sirius," he said, and his voice had a ring of demand to it that Sirius had rarely beheld but had always struggled to bow down to in the past. "Harry is happy. With Draco. He is happy. Surely it is not so difficult for you to be happy for him?"

Sirius blinked slowly at his friend. Warily. Was this a trap? "It's not…" He pressed his lips together once more. "I just don't understand why it has to be Malfoy? I mean, what is it about the little shit that Harry find so attractive anyway? He's a right little bastard, rude and mean, not to mention they've had nothing if not a tumultuous past –"

"I believe," Remus cut in, interrupting him as he was so making a habit of that afternoon. "That it is not our place to know why, but to simply accept the reality of what is. Harry is happy, Sirius, and Draco is a big contributor to that happiness. Are you really going to jeopardise his joy by maintaining and expressing your hatred for the boy?"

Sirius had no reply for that. For the first time in their conversation – in their argument – he was left without words. Slowly, he lowered himself back into his seat.

Remus watched him silently for a moment. His head was tilted in contemplation, as though studying an abstract piece of art, and his fingers had taken up their tapping rhythm once more. Then, evidently considering his work finished, he pushed himself from the back of the chair and slowly made his way back around the table. He paused by Sirius' side as he passed him to the doorway. Sirius didn't spare him a glance, his gaze affixed on the table, and flinched only slightly when Remus clamped him affectionately on the shoulder.

"Just think about it for a bit. You've certainly got enough time on your hands." And removing his hand with a brief squeeze, Remus left the room.

"I…" Sirius began, even though he knew Remus was too far gone to hear him. His mind replayed the words his friend had said: are you really going to jeopardise his joy by maintaining your hatred…? A war of confusion, anger, indignation, sadness and horror waged within him, shrouded in blank detachedness. Sirius' eyes drifted once more to the distant kitchen clock.

Four twenty-three.

He began to tap once more. It was remarkable, really, how that little hand seemed to move so much faster to Sirius for having something on his mind while regarding it.