Chapter 7: Day 7 - 23:49

Grimmauld Place was silent, as it was want to be. And yet contrary to its usual silence, the muteness of intentionally hushed voices, the quiet that embraced it on New Year's Eve was of a different kind.

Sirius had never much been one to celebrate New Year's Eve. Not that, in his youth, he hadn't taken any opportunity that presented itself to party and drink until the roof became the floor. But embrace the revelry as he had, it had been in spite of the fact that, to him, New Year's Eve was simply a celebration that rode upon the coat tails of the jubilation Christmas entailed.

The Weasleys had made a celebration of sorts out of the evening. Sirius hadn't particularly partaken, had simply watched with quiet appreciation, a firewhisky in hand, as Fred and George let off stream after stream of fireworks from his front garden rainforest. Molly had actually released her steadfast grip upon her disapproval of any Wheezes products for the night and had even appeared to appreciate the show somewhat. She had, however, enforced that they cease with the vibrant explosions by eleven o'clock that night to avoid "disturbing the neighbours". As if one, the neighbours wouldn't be up late for New Year's Eve anyway and two, said neighbours weren't Muggle and hence unable to see anything that went on in the unplotted grounds of Grimmauld Place. Even the skies were masked from view.

Still, the twins had largely obliged, pushing the bounds of their mother's limits only by a minute or two simply because they could. And by eleven-oh-five on the dot, everyone had filed back indoors. It was a good thing, Sirius supposed, for the snowfall had begun to thicken and the chill seep through even his heavy coat.

Fred and George had disappeared immediately, and Sirius didn't think he had to be a genius to deduce that their New Year's revelries were hardly finished for the night. He had a soft spot for the boys that had rekindled after his affront from the two days before had dwindled. He certainly couldn't stay mad at them for long, approving of their commitment to mischief-making as he was. Ron, Hermione and Ginny had similarly retreated upstairs, though Sirius was less sceptical as to the nature of their 'retiring' than he'd been for Fred and George.

Arthur and Molly had turned to the lounge – dusty and gloomy as it was, it was still better than the kitchen – and Remus had withdrawn with them to chat quietly and superficially over a bottle of mead. Sirius had joined them for a time, before declaring himself tired and taking himself up to bed.

After stopping by the kitchen, that is, because… well, for some reason, he felt the need to check the time. And given that he'd long since destroyed the pocket watch his father had once gifted him – it was coming up to twenty-years since he'd pulverised the thing with a Blasting Charm – and every other clock in the house was simply annoying, the kitchen one was the only option Sirius had.

Surprisingly, the room wasn't empty when he eased himself through the door. "Oh. Hello, Hermione."

The Muggleborn girl squeaked and spun on the spot at Sirius' greeting, her bushy hair seeming to stand on end like that of a startled cat. Holding a hand to her chest as though calming her racing heart, she sighed. "Sirius. You scared me."

Sirius offered her a smile. "Sorry. Is it so unexpected to have someone else come into the kitchen at midnight for a snack?"

Hermione smiled uncertainly in reply. Sirius was discomforted to see that uneasiness; he'd seen it a bit too much on the faces of his younger friends of late. "Is that what you were doing, then?"

"Something like that," Sirius replied, his gaze flickering to the clock. Eleven fifty-one. It had been a little over an hour since Harry had gone back to the Malfoys. He'd taken a brief visit from their estate – alongside Draco and an escort of Lucius, naturally – to spend New Years Eve with Sirius and the rest of the temporary residents of the household. He'd even been present for a good portion of Fred and George's fireworks show, and Sirius had been given the chance to actually talk to him without the listening ear of his boyfriend who was, blessedly, distracted by Ron and Hermione. He'd appreciated those brief moments, his mood remarkably lightened by them. Even if it had been slightly uncomfortable for the simple reason that the chill of winter, the constant fall of snow that had whitened the ground around them, that bit icy teeth through thick jackets.

The cold. Of course that was the only reason for discomfort.

Strangely enough considering their volatile past, the Draco actually seemed to get on relatively well with the pair of Gryffindors. Better than relatively if the genuine laugh that had burst long and hard from Ron at an unheard comment was anything to go by. He didn't even seem concerned to be landed with their company. Not in the slightest, in fact.

Unfortunately, however, Lucius had spirited the two boys away at half-past ten. Something about the Malfoy family having a tradition of sharing the first seconds of the new year together or some such bollocks. What about Sirius? Didn't he get a say in the matter? Sure, he didn't have any 'traditions' in place exactly, but he could bloody well start some. Besides, Harry wasn't even a part of their family. Why did he have to go too?

Sirius would have objected, would have pouted – or pouted more – at the unfairness of the matter had Harry not smiled so happily at Draco when the pointy-faced boy had informed the Weasley's of their plans for departure. He hadn't been the only one to express his approval for such family traditions; Molly had been nearly crying as she beamed at the Malfoy brat. And seeing that smile on Harry's face, a smile of genuine happiness, had brought Remus' words to mind. Are you really going to jeopardise his joy…?

So Sirius hadn't said anything. He'd wanted to – sorely wanted to – but had restrained himself. It had been difficult, certainly, but he'd managed. Somehow.

He put it down to his soured mood, however, that he'd seen fit to withdraw from the lounge before midnight had even struck. It wasn't like he was truly participating in the conversation between Remus, Molly and Arthur anyway.

"Can I… help you with something?"

Hermione's query drew his attention to the fact that he had been regarding her silently for a moment. Much to her evident and continued unease, he realised, as he watched her shift from one slippered foot to another. She was dressed for bed already, nightrobe atop flannelette pyjamas, and was tugging idly at the cuffs of her sleeves in a typical display of nervousness.

"What?"

"Something to eat," Hermione clarified. "Kreacher isn't here; I don't know where he's gone but… he's not around if you'd…"

Sirius shrugged, stepping towards the pantry to make good his claim of 'getting a snack' though he hardly felt the inclination for one at all. "That's alright. He most likely wouldn't get me anything should I ask it of him. And if he did, it would probably be something mouldy or maggot-ridden."

Hermione gave a neutral "hmm" in reply that Sirius took to mean "I don't agree with the disrespect I perceive from your words but I can't exactly fault your reasoning". The girl was as heartfelt as ever about her stance on house elf rights, despite the dubious opinions of her friends. Malfoy included, in fact, if what Sirius had overheard of their brief yet volatile discussion at Christmas was anything to go by; apparently the little snot considered that house elves had a right to serve if they wanted to, and that it would be cruel to deny them that desire.

It was probably the only thing that Sirius and Draco agreed upon. Would ever agree upon. Sirius had, in that moment, made the resolute decision to never bring up house elves in the very unlikely chance of a civil conversation with Draco. He couldn't risk having to agree with the boy.

"Did you have a nice night?" Sirius asked over his shoulder as he rummaged through the pantry. He popped open a tin to the smell of sugar and shortbread and filched a handful of biscuits from inside. They were, thankfully, free of mould. Keep the conversation neutral. Away from Harry, away from Draco, he chanted in his head.

Hermione had settled herself to lean back against the kitchen bench. She'd picked up a cup of tea from behind her – what she'd evidently come to the kitchen for in the first place – and was cradling it between her hands gently. "Yes, thank you. Fred and George's fireworks were fantastic."

"They've got a knack for them, that's for sure," Sirius agreed around a bite of biscuit. He leant back against the pantry door and tried to ignore the stilted tone of Hermione's voice. He didn't need the memory of Remus' words to understand the nature of her awkwardness; he'd deduced that his… behaviour was something of an uncomfortable wall between himself and the rest of his houseguests at present. "Its no wonder their shop's going so well, really."

"Mmm." Hermione took a sip of her tea. "It's just a shame that Harry and Draco had to leave so early. I mean, their finale was pretty spectacular. I wonder how they managed to change the colours like that?"

Sirius fought the urge to flinch at the mention of Harry. Well, so much for his decision to steer clear of the topic of his godson – a topic that was just about permanently affixed in his mind at present. He knew that should he start he would likely conclude with a long-winded rant to the girl concerning her 'friend'. And not the Gryffindor one. "Yes, it is a shame, isn't it? But then… I suppose if he really wanted to go back to the Malfoy's house…" It was like a physical strain to push the consideration from his lips. A struggle and dammit, Sirius truly wished he could deck the Malfoy brat. Just once.

Maybe twice.

He took a savage bite of his biscuit.

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she observed him over the rim of her mug. Her lips quirked in a tell tale sign of thoughtfulness, and Sirius knew he had to prepare himself for what was to come, even without expressly guessing her words. "That's… a very mature way of seeing things," she said slowly.

Sirius snorted in a spray of biscuit crumbs. "You sound like Remus."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No. Just that I've heard it all before."

There was a brief moment of silence between them, broken only by the quiet sounds of Sirius' crunching and Hermione's sipping. She lowered her steaming mug again after a minute or two. Sirius was surprised to notice that, quite abruptly, that uneasiness that had lent tension to her posture had eased somewhat. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Sirius paused mid-bite. "Talk about what?"

"About Harry and Draco."

Another pause. "Why… would you think I wanted to talk about it?"

"Perhaps 'want' is the wrong choice of words," Hermione muttered, eyes dropping down towards her tea. She tapped one finger lightly upon the side of the mug, the ceramic ringing faintly. "I just figured, as an outside observer to their relationship myself, you might find it easier to talk to me about it than to Harry." She paused. "Or Draco."

Sirius barked in surprised laughter. "Yes, you might be right about that." Certainly about Draco, he thought. Talk? To Draco? Willingly? Not likely.

"Well?" Hermione glanced up at him once more. Her expression was expectant, curious, and yet somehow not intrusive. It was a strange visage, and one that Sirius had observed before, if only from a distance. He attributed its nature to that of one possessing an undying thirst for knowledge; she seemed entirely capable of observing a situation without becoming emotionally invested.

Sighing, Sirius slumped more heavily upon the pantry door. He probably shouldn't talk to Hermione about it all; Harry – and Draco, for that matter, mind-boggling as it was – were her friends. She shouldn't have to hear of his… difficulties coming to terms with the nature of their relationship. And yet Sirius felt within him the sore and desperate need to get his woes off his chest. Remus, for all of their shared history, wasn't sympathetic towards his plight. Or perhaps it was because of their shared history that he lacked sympathy.

For some reason, Sirius felt as though Hermione wouldn't be quite so hard-hearted towards expression of his woes. That thought, like a plug pulled from a bath, loosed Sirius' thoughts in a blurting release. "How can you stand him?"

Hermione blinked in surprise for a moment before a small smile settled on her lips. She tried, and failed, to hide it behind a sip of her tea. "Draco?"

"He's insufferable! Smug, self-centred, sarcastic little shit. And on top of that he's a Malfoy. It's common knowledge that they're a bunch of two-faced, lying, manipulative bastards. Everyone knew that when I was in school. And you guys were enemies before this year, weren't you? Because he was a right arse? What happened to all of that? Dammit, he's a mean kid. How can you even tolerate him?!"

Sirius hadn't realised how loud his voice had become until his finished his brief tirade and the echoes of his words still rung through the empty, dimly lit kitchen. He felt no inclination to withdraw them, however. Even almost crass and perhaps a little too honest as they were, he felt them entirely honest and justified. Maybe he shouldn't have said as much to Hermione – what with the whole friend issue – but… well, she had asked.

To her credit, Hermione didn't seem fazed in the slightest. She failed to hide her widening smile behind her mug once more. "I can understand where you're coming from. We did used to be, um… well, I suppose 'enemies' is as good a term as any, but I think schoolyard rivals probably fits the bill a little better." She shrugged. "And you're right. We had our moments. Many moments that I can recall only too well, and certainly unfavourably. In a lot of ways Draco is smug, and selfish and a bit of an arse. And he's most definitely sarcastic; I don't think I've heard more than a sentence from him that didn't at least have undertones of sarcasm."

"Then why?"

Hermione shrugged. "Because through all of that, even considering that a lot – and I mean a lot – of our opinions differ, and that he was a bit of an arse to me when we were younger, he's not actually bad person."

Sirius snorted. "You've got to be kidding with me."

"I'm not," Hermione said with a shake of her head. "He's really not all that bad. And Lucius and Narcissa… well, I don't exactly have as much faith in their goodness as I do in Draco's but they're making a concerted effort to be less… um…"

"Evil?" Sirius supplied.

Hermione raised a hand to her mouth to hide her laughter. "I suppose that's one word for it."

Sirius stared at the young witch incredulously as she blew on her tea. "Am I missing something?"

"Hmm?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Harry told me last year that you'd all been rivals since the very first day of school. That you'd all but hated one another. He told me how Draco would always taunt and bait him, tease him and disrupt their classes. They used to duel in the hallways between classes, for Merlin's sake! What about the incident with Buckbeak? Wasn't that right after Harry had just had such a great time with the him, like he did it deliberately then, just to be an arse? What about all of that?"

Hermione cringed slightly at the mention of the Hippogriff. Understandably; everyone knew Buckbeak was a sore spot for Sirius. He'd gotten close to the beast over the years. She composed herself a moment later, however, and surprisingly it was to replace her cringe with exasperation. "Yes, there is that. All of that. But think about it, Sirius. If not hatred, what do all of those actions tend to suggest?"

"What? How is it anything but hatred?"

"Looking at it from a purely objective point of view," she continued as though he hadn't spoken. Her words, the turn-a-phrase, suggested that such a perspective was one she'd assumed on countless occasions before. "If you were told that no, in fact, Harry and Draco didn't hate one another, what would that behaviour look like to you?"

She paused, peering expectantly at Sirius. He stared back uncomprehending. "What does it look like? What do you mean?"

Hermione sighed. Her eyes drew to the ceiling as though she questioned the heavens. "Am I really the only one to have made this connection myself?" She shook her head and turned her attention back towards Sirius. "It's attention seeking behaviour at its finest, Sirius. Mostly from Draco, mind. He was trying to get Harry to notice him."

"Trying… to get Harry…"

"Draco's been infatuated with Harry for years. And I'm pretty sure Harry's been the same, even if he hasn't realised it."

Sirius was stunned. His mouth opened and closed in a feeble attempt to speak but no words came forth. His twitch began to tweak in one eye but he barely even noticed it. "What? No way –"

"Yes way," Hermione countered. "Really, isn't it obvious? Think about it, Sirius; how many times in your life have you teased or picked on a girl you like to get her attention?"

"I didn't…" Sirius began before trailing off. Yes, actually. When he considered it, he recalled that persistent attempts to poke fun at the object of his desires had been a prime mode of gaining attention. Because any attention, even bad attention, was better than none at all. It had been a technique unconsciously adopted by many of Sirius' schoolmates, too. Hell, James had done exactly the same with Lily, and everyone had known for years before they'd actually gotten together the reality of the situation. "Are… are you serious?"

Hermione nodded. "Draco actually admitted to it. He's surprisingly shrewd when it comes to reading behaviours, even if they're his own. In retrospect, though, of course. I doubt he knew any more than anyone else what he was doing at the time. But he admits that yes, he's probably fancied Harry for a long time now."

Sirius shook his head. "That's not how enemies work."

"I think that's the whole point. They weren't ever really enemies. Or at least, their antagonistic behaviour was acting out for other reasons. In Draco's case, a little bit too far at times. But I don't think those reasons got a chance to show themselves until this year; when Draco saved you, I think it was almost an excuse to put aside years of mutual 'hatred' and try for something else."

The twitch in Sirius' eye became more pronounced at the mention of Draco's 'heroic behaviour'. He fought to swallow back the distaste that arose with the mention of it. "It still doesn't change the fact that the kid's a right little arsehole. He doesn't deserve Harry."

There. He'd said it. Sirius wondered instantly that it had taken him so long to verbally announce his true objection. His ultimate conclusion. It was so obvious. He realised, in that moment, that he'd never actually voiced his exact thoughts on the matter. But there it was: as simply as that, Draco didn't deserve Harry. Surely the situation, Sirius' opinion and his justified perspective, would be apparent to everyone now?

Not, apparently, to Hermione, he realised as his attention drew towards the young woman regarding him quizzically. She looked considering, contemplative, as though a thought hitherto disregarded had arisen to the fore once more. She took a sharp breath to speak but paused for a moment longer before utterance. "Is that… why you have such a problem with their relationship?"

"What?" The answer to Hermione's question was so obvious Sirius almost didn't know how to reply. "Because I think Draco's not good enough?" At Hermione's nod he stuttered with the speed his words tumbled from his lips. "Of course it is! The little bastard doesn't… he doesn't… he can't…"

Hermione raised a quelling hand. She looked far older and wiser than her years would suggest. "I didn't mean it like that, Sirius," she said calmly. Almost soothingly, to Sirius' disgruntlement. He wasn't a wolf with hackles raised to be so placated by a gentle pat to the head. "I just meant that, other than that, you don't have a problem with it?"

"Other than that?" Sirius blinked in incredulous confusion. "Other than that? What more could there bloody well be? Malfoy's a right little tosser, his family's a lying, cheating bunch of Death Eaters, and he doesn't deserve Harry!"

Contrary to the vehemence of his words that Sirius registered was almost aggressive, Hermione smiled. It was a smile, surprisingly, of approval. "Oh, there is a surplus of other reasons, Sirius, I can assure you. And Harry was really worried about… some of them in particular. It was why he took so long to tell you he was dating Draco in the first place."

Sirius flinched at the reminder. He hated the notion, was physically pained by the idea that Harry hadn't told him that he'd been seeing the Malfoy brat until a full two months after they'd officially been 'together'. And when he had, it had been through a letter so riddled with ums and ahs, dancing around the actual subject and admittance, that Sirius had only truly understood what he'd been trying to say after a third read.

It had floored him. Horrified him. Malfoy? Draco Malfoy? Of all the sodding kids at school, out of all of his peers, Harry had to choose Malfoy to date? It didn't matter that Harry said the boy had changed, was changing, for the better. It didn't matter that he'd acted directly against his father orders from Voldemort earlier that year, had hastened to the Ministry when he'd realised Harry and his friend's were going to the site of ambush and somehow managed to arrive just in time to divert his crazy aunt's attack upon Sirius. It hardly mattered that he'd used his knowledge of his father's supposedly unwilling involvement in undercover operations to help the Order and, in doing so, thwarted Voldemort once more.

Those facts actually made it all the worse. It almost made Harry's decision seem reasonable. Which it wasn't. Of course Sirius would be disgruntled by the fact. What else would anyone expect?

Evidently, Hermione was thinking something else, had another concern in mind. "What are you talking about ?" He asked with a frown.

Hermione bit her lip, fiddling awkwardly with her mug. "I probably shouldn't say… Harry wouldn't want me to –"

"Oh, spare me, Hermione. If you truly felt such qualms then you wouldn't have brought up the subject in the first place."

The glare the girl directed towards Sirius came straight from Mrs Weasley's repertoire. He didn't let it faze him anymore than Molly's did. "Fine. If that's how you're going to be about it, Sirius, then I won't spare your feelings."

"Please, go right ahead and fill me in," Sirius replied with a roll of his eyes. He honestly didn't care about Hermione's stung pride and discontent in that moment; he was on the verge of discovering why Harry had felt the need to withhold the changing nature of his relationship status from him. Even if it was with Malfoy Junior, surely he should have been able to tell Sirius?

Hermione huffed, very deliberately turned and placed her mug down on the counter, folded her arms and lifted her chin haughtily. Sirius almost acted upon his urge to roll his eyes once more until she spoke. "He didn't want to tell you – or anyone for that matter – because he was worried you'd be disgusted by the fact that he was dating another boy."

Silence ensued.

There it was. Just like that, Hermione explained it all. In such a short phrase, she summed up the apparent reason for Harry's hesitancy.

Static silence crackled in the air. The ticking of the clock on the wall above them was the only sound that broke through their face off. Hermione's gaze was resolute, daring Sirius to speak a word wrong, while Sirius…

Sirius felt like he'd been hit by a Confundus Charm. Confused didn't begin to cover it. He didn't… what? What Hermione had said, the reasoning… it didn't make sense. "Why… wha- why would he think that?"

In the part of his mind that wasn't short-circuiting at an absolute loss, Sirius registered that Hermione strove to maintain her haughtiness. Tried and failed, obviously deflected by Sirius' response. She sighed heavily. "I tried to explain this to him, but he had difficulty coming to terms with it. I can hardly blame him; the situation's appears different when it directly concerns you as opposed to observing as an outsider. I'm sure that if I was in a similar fix, I'd be just as worried as he was."

"What are you talking about?"

"I mean, Sirius," Hermione enunciated with slow, deliberate words. "That Harry was worried you'd hate him for coming out as gay."

Sirius shook his head in a spasm, the words ringing uncomprehending in his head. "Why would he even think that?" The sentiment baffled him.

"It's not entirely irrational to consider," Hermione argued, frowning as she defended her stance. "It's not a problem in the Wizarding world, but to many Muggles being homosexual is considered a sin."

"A sin?"

"Unnatural. Wrong. A heinous crime. You get the idea." She shrugged, though her shoulders were tense. "I personally can't comprehend it; to me, gender has very little to do with the degree or nature of affection one person holds from another. But other people? Other Muggles or even Muggleborns?" She shook her head. "From what he's said of the Dursleys, I get the impression that his Muggle relatives fall into the category of 'disgusted persecutors'."

A sharp spike of hatred arose within Sirius. For a moment his vision blacked out and all he could see was his long-ago, distant and blurred memory of the Dursleys from Lily and James' wedding. Hatred unlike any he'd felt for… for a long time arose. Different to that he felt for Pettigrew. For Voldemort. Not any greater – no, that would be impossible – but very definitely hatred all the same. He bit back the urge to spin from the room and charge over to Little Whinging to pay the bastards a visit. "And Harry was worried I'd think so too?"

Hermione's frown became more worried than disgruntled. "I don't think, in his heart, he truly believed you would."

"Well, so he shouldn't –"

"But it was very definitely a fear nonetheless, even irrational as it was," Hermione continued, speaking over him without regard. Sirius suppressed the urge to grunt his disgruntlement at her presumption. Whatever happened to respect for one's elders?

"He doesn't think so anymore, though?" When Hermione hesitated, he frowned. "He doesn't, does he?"

Slowly, Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't think so." At Sirius' deepening frown, she shook her head with more certainty. "No, I'm sure not. But it must be hard, going back upon years of thinking anyone would be shunned for simply being that way."

It was incomprehensible to Sirius. Hating someone, being disgusted with someone, for their sexuality? Where did such a notion even come from? What right did anyone have to judge others relationships?

And Harry thought that Sirius had a problem with it? What the…? Sirius was very definitely straight, but that didn't mean he hadn't experimented a little in his youth. It would not only be irrational but entirely hypocritical to express aversion towards Harry's relationship for such a reason. Especially when there were so many other reasons to object.

"Don't worry, Sirius," Hermione interrupted his thoughts. "It's nothing against you that he thought that way. You know that I only found out by chance? He didn't even tell me or Ron himself. We had to just find out." She paused, a deprecating smile touching her face briefly. "Well, I found out. Ginny had to tell Ron because he was so oblivious."

"Ron didn't guess?"

"No. Oblivious," Hermione repeated. "It was even more embarrassing for him because he and Harry spend every other minute at school with one another. It would have been impossible for him to miss that Draco was simply around more."

Shaking his head, Sirius dropped his gaze to his hands. They were curled into fists, and he detachedly noted that the last of his biscuits were crushed to a crumbly pulp between his fingers. When had that happened?

"Don't feel bad about it, Sirius. It's not like anyone's at fault –"

"I know," Sirius said. It annoyed him that Hermione felt the need to comfort him, but he couldn't seem to put any heat in his words. "I know. I'm not angry."

"Upset?" Hermione asked. Sirius flickered his gaze towards her. How did she get so detached from the situation? She observed him with curiosity, almost dispassionately, as though she hardly considered the emotion blow he'd just undergone.

"I… no, not upset. Just… thinking." Yes, thinking. He had a lot to think about. This changed a lot, this simple yet vastly complex fact that Hermione had provided him with. Because Harry had been nervous about telling Sirius he was dating Malfoy not because it was Malfoy but because Draco was a boy. He'd been scared, even, of what his friends would think of him for coming out as gay. Which meant that his choice of partner was more specific than simply taking on anyone who cared to give it a go. Hesitancy in seeking a partner, for whatever reason, didn't manifest itself in willy-nilly pleasure seeking and casual relations.

And couple that with Remus' words, about Harry's happiness… Sirius was thoroughly disconcerted.

This added an entirely new dimension to the circumstances. Not only was Sirius to face the difficulty of the fact that his godson was dating a complete arsehole, that said arsehole monopolised his time and very deliberately – Sirius was sure – bereft Harry of the chance to spend time with his other friends and family, but Harry had chosen him. Specifically. As though yes, as Remus had said, Draco Malfoy made him happy.

It was wrong. Sirius knew this much. There was so much wrong with James' son dating a Malfoy that he couldn't even begin to start with compiling an explanation, even in the privacy of his own thoughts. Potter and Malfoy were like… they were like… chalk and cheese. Black and white. Total opposites on the social spectrum. Harry, removed from the Wizarding circles and any overt complexity they harboured, wouldn't understand that, Sirius was sure. Which left Sirius as the only one to break it to him, as evidently the Malfoys didn't see fit to do so themselves.

Unfortunately, Sirius couldn't quite find it within himself to do that. Not quite yet, anyway. He wasn't entirely certain that such a conversation would benefit his situation with his godson. It might, quite contrarily, cause a rift. And Sirius didn't exactly have the leeway to fall prey to an argument between them. He wasn't, much to his distress, quite close enough to Harry risk the distance that even a brief spat could induce.

"Sirius?"

Blinking back into awareness – how long had he been lost in his thoughts? – Sirius glanced back up at Hermione. She was frowning, her objective detachedness discarded and a tinge of concern colouring her features. She leant towards him slightly, peering at his face as though attempting to read his thoughts from his expression. "Are you alright?"

Alright? Sirius wasn't sure. He wasn't sure if he'd truly been alright for a long time, though admittedly the cause of his distress had been for very different reasons in the past. Voldemort, his friends' deaths, Pettigrew, Azkaban… Then the situation with Harry and the Malfoy brat. When he considered it, it sounded entirely ridiculous to put something as commonplace as his godson's relationship on the same level with everything else. With the entire list of his other worldly worries.

It was all relative, though. Because in that moment, with the threat of Voldemort present but distant and untouchable, Pettigrew out of sight, Azkaban put firmly behind him, it was the worry that was most immediate. And now another layer of distress had been added to that worry.

So alright? No, Sirius was not truly alright. He doubted he'd be alright until the day that Draco Malfoy very firmly announced that not only would he never set foot in Grimmauld Place again but that he would get his undeserving arse out of Harry's business. But Hermione didn't have to know that.

"I'm fine, Hermione," he muttered. His voice was faintly hoarse but he cleared it nonchalantly and swallowed the distaste that had settled on his tongue. He wanted to grumble, to dispute, to bemoan the added complexity to his situation with Harry, a complexity that only seemed to only grow with each arising hurdle. But he wouldn't do that to Hermione. Not because it wasn't fair to the young woman so much as because… it was just a little embarrassing, to express such discontent to a girl so much younger than him. It made him seem almost childish. "Thank you for your help, Hermione. It has been an enlightening conversation."

Hermione narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at him. "That's quite alright. I mean…" And all of a sudden her maturity seemed to waver and she became a stuttering schoolgirl once more. "I mean… I just thought that… well, maybe if you understood a little more you'd maybe…"

It was a struggle, but Sirius managed to produce a strained smile. "You're right. It did help. I really appreciate it." His smile became easier as he continued reflectively with, "even though you obviously felt uncomfortable doing so. Am I really so hard to talk to?"

Hermione's cheeks flushed and she glanced to the side uncomfortably. "It's not… it's not that you're hard to talk to. It's just that…"

"Yes?"

She shuffled slightly in her lean against the counter, her slippers scuffing the ground. "You just seem a little averse to talking to people lately."

"Really?"

"Really," she nodded fervently. "I get the impression you've had a lot on your mind lately."

Well, she wasn't wrong. Sirius forced himself to shrug casually. "Maybe. But I do appreciate you taking the time to talk to me. Thanks."

Hermione's flush faded into a beaming smile. "You're welcome. Any time."

"I might hold you to that," Sirius muttered, but he wasn't sure if Hermione even heard him. Turning back to the counter, she remained in the kitchen only long enough to quickly rinse her mug and set it on the drainer before smiling to him once more and shuffling from the room. The kitchen door clicked shut behind her as she disappeared into the hallway.

Sirius didn't move immediately. He was lost in thought, staring blankly at the stained tiles of the floor beneath. The grittiness of crushed biscuit in his hand gradually dissipated as his fist lost its tension, scattering the floor with crumbs. He barely even notice. There was far too much going on in his mind, too many questions, considerations, thoughts to ponder. An upwelling of feelings he hadn't even considered arose, with guilt and remorse at the forefront. Was his relationship with Harry so tenuous that he didn't feel like he could share his thoughts and feelings with Sirius? Did he truly think that Sirius would think any less of him for dating a boy? Had Sirius been so inept as a godfather than Harry would have so little faith in him?

Lost as he was in his thoughts, Sirius was entirely detached from his surroundings. Anyone could have come into the kitchen, even Kreacher with his distinctive grumbling, and Sirius likely wouldn't even have noticed. It was only when the jarring GONG of the pendulum from the clock on the wall sounded that he drew himself from his listless staring. He glanced at the offending source of the noise.

One o'clock. He'd missed the rollover for the new year. Missed it by a good hour, in fact. He hadn't even heard the pendulum sound its twelve chimes of announcement, so absorbed had he been in conversation with Hermione.

That was saying something. Sirius had become rather attuned to the sound of that gong over the past few days.

Shaking his head, mind abuzz with thoughts and considerations perhaps even more thickly than had been the day before after Remus' words, he turned from the room. Sirius didn't expect to fall to sleep immediately. He would be surprised if he got much of a semblance of shut-eye at all that night. He had a lot to consider, some thoughts to put in order. And, unfortunately, a good portion of those thoughts involved, at least to some degree, Draco Malfoy. Sirius was coming to the conclusion that he'd find himself with such unfortunate circumstances when considering Harry for at least a while ensuing.