Chapter 9: Day 9 - 17:17
Sirius had done a fantastic job of ignoring the Malfoy brat for the past day, even if he did say so himself. It had been difficult, seeing as he wanted to spend time with Harry and the blonde ferret – a name he'd adopted from Ron after overhearing a rather delightful conversation that morning in reference – was nearly always at his side, but manage he did. And other than the too-frequent presence of said ferret in his line of sight, he'd quite enjoyed himself.
It helped that Harry appeared to be in a genuinely good mood. Sirius was pleasantly surprised by the fact; especially when compared to how he'd been last year, what with the issue of Voldemort literally pressing on his mind, he was positively jovial. And in spite of the fact that Sirius was beginning to fully appreciate that, for some unfathomable reason, Draco had something to do with his agreeable humour, he was happy for him in turn.
It was merely a shame to have the conversation he'd shared with Narcissa – and the ever-present reminder or his lingering discontent in the figure of the blonde, snotty little brat – hanging over his head. Sirius tried to keep in mind all that he had come to understand over the past few days, all that he had realised through both reflection and the none-too-gentle prodding of the combined efforts of Remus and Hermione. And, true to his private vow, Sirius considered that he was doing a marvellous job of ignoring his distant relative. It actually made for a far more enjoyable mealtime when he deliberately blotted the smug face of Draco Malfoy from his vision. He found he could actually smile in the boy's presence now, even laugh, regardless of the fact that it had nothing to do with the boy himself.
He maintained his studious disregard. And it did work. At least until Draco sought to deliberately step from the blindspot that Sirius had placed him into.
Trotting up the steps with a cup of tea in hand on Thursday evening, Sirius wore a smile. It was one of many he'd been able to assume over the past twenty-four hours, and he wore if for no other reason than that he was simply in a good mood.
Things were looking remarkably positive, even if just in regard to his relationship with Harry. They'd shared a wonderful conversation over lunch that had descended into an easy chat that extended a full two hours into the afternoon. There was nothing particularly consequential about their discussion; what was happening at school that year, what was to be expected next term; "your Apparating lessons? Oh, you'll be fine, you'll get the hang of it eventually. There was this one time when James and I…" Nothing remotely triggering and even better nothing to do with Harry's love life. It still left Sirius uneasy, even knowing as he did that they would need to discuss the dragon in the room eventually. He was putting off the conversation, he knew, but how could he not? Everything was going so well as it was, what with Sirius' attempt to be anything but aggressively objectionable towards Draco.
Unfortunately for Sirius, that wellness was abruptly shattered as he stepped onto the landing on the second floor. He froze in step as he nearly walked into Draco, and had to tighten his grip on his mug to withhold the urge to toss the scalding liquid into the boy's nonchalant face.
Sirius took half a step back – just so that he wouldn't be contaminated by their proximity – and paused as he waited for Draco to move aside and allow him to pass. Draco didn't move. Not immediately and, as Sirius observed his slowly fold his arms across his chest, he didn't look likely to any time soon.
It was happening. The confrontation.
Sirius had suspected it was on the horizon. Had wanted it to happen, really, but hadn't been able to push himself to interact with even a semblance of civility to approach his heinous brat of a cousin to initiate it himself. Had it been left up to Sirius, such a 'confrontation' would most likely have begun with a fist to the face and a knee to the groin. Sirius made no attempt to conceal the fact that he fought dirty; grinding the boy to a pulp in less than five seconds? No, he wouldn't feel guilty about doing so in the slightest.
Even less so because, Sirius realised in the seconds that they silently stared at one another, the 'boy' was hardly a boy at all. He was only about half a head shorter than Sirius' more impressive height, and though he was still evidently easing into his mature body, it wasn't with the gangly clumsiness that someone like Ron was undergoing. Draco Malfoy maintained his decorum even when undergoing the frightening and often unhinging experience of growth and puberty. And he seemed to drift through it easily. Almost too easily. Draco appeared entirely comfortable in his skin in a way that Sirius recognised as being reminiscent of his own ease in adolescence, something that certainly Remus and even James hadn't quite been able to assume. It did nothing to endear his cousin to him that they shared such a similarity. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Draco regarded Sirius just as intently as Sirius did him. His flat grey eyes, so reminiscent of his father's, stared at him unblinkingly. It wasn't disconcerting, Sirius told himself. Draco could reach for the intimidation that his father breathed – yet too, Sirius was not intimidated by – but he would fall short. Perhaps always, but certainly at least until he was an actual adult. For he wasn't, not yet, regardless of the fact that he very obviously considered himself as much. Sirius gave a mental snort. Really, the boy – the youth – was once again wearing robes when he wasn't even in school. What kind of a teenager these days actually wore robes when out of a formal setting? It was positively archaic. Even Sirius rarely wore such when not on official business of some kind.
"We need to talk." Draco finally spoke, interrupting Sirius' silent degradation of his cousin. "It's been a long time coming."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Sirius replied. Purely to be objectionable, of course. He knew exactly to what Draco referred, had already concluded that it was going to happen eventually whether Sirius wanted it to or not. But he wouldn't agree with Draco. Never intentionally and never out loud.
From the expression on Draco's face, barely changing yet taking on just a hint of infuriating condescension in the faint lift of his eyebrow, he knew what Sirius was doing. Knew, and disregarded his attempts at acting the objectionable. "I'd much rather you simply accept that it's going to happen rather than tossing your head and digging your heels in stubbornly. I can assure you, I've no more inclination to speak to you than you do to me."
"Oh, you've no idea, kid," Sirius grumbled. His grasp on the handle of his mug was achingly tight, but it was better that then risking burning the buggery out of Malfoy. Harry might be a bit upset at that, especially given that should such a possibility occur Sirius doubted he would have the coolness of mind – or the inclination – to heal the burns before they descended to a permanent scarring stage. Such a shame it would be, to melt the smug expression permanently from Draco's face. Such a shame.
"Regardless," Draco continued as though Sirius hadn't spoken. "It needs to be done. Not for your sake, or for mine, but for Harry's. It's necessary."
"And you know what's necessary for Harry so well, do you?" Sirius had to speak through gritted teeth.
Draco shrugged. "It doesn't take a deductive genius to determine the necessity, especially when Harry has, in an admittedly roundabout way, expressed his concerns for the matter."
"He has?" Sirius blurted out before he could stop himself. He could have cursed his tongue in that moment, and did profusely in the privacy of his head. It was bad enough that Harry had deemed it acceptable to inform Draco and yet not Sirius of his 'concerns for the matter', but that Sirius had admitted that he wasn't party to those concerns? Unacceptable.
Surprisingly, Draco didn't smirk assumingly and leap upon the slip like a cat on a mouse. He inclined his head, a juvenile attempt at mature sobriety, before meeting Sirius' gaze. "In short, I've reached a conclusion: we need to get along."
Sirius snorted. "That's not going to happen."
"Not with that attitude it isn't."
"Oh, very good, very smooth. Condescension is really your forte, isn't it, Malfoy?" Sirius' lip curled.
The beginnings of his smug little smile curled the corners of Draco's lips. "I have had a lot of practice."
"I'm sure you have. Too many victims of your superiority at school, are there?"
"Hardly victims," Draco said with a wave of his hand that mirrored his mother's gesture exactly. "They recognise their inferior status. It's suitable for all of us involved."
Shaking his head, fighting to still the familiar rising twitch in his eye, Sirius took a step towards Draco. Frustratingly, the boy didn't retreat as he should have, leaving them discomfortingly close. "See this? This is exactly your problem. This is why people have a problem with you, Malfoy." Or at least one of the many reasons, he corrected silently.
"And by people you mean you?" Draco asked, cocking his head slightly in his bird impression. Bloody ferret.
"No," Sirius ground out. "I mean everyone."
"Pray tell, who is this everyone of which you speak? To my knowledge, the other guests of Grimmauld Place are quite accepting of my general attitude."
"Only because you've got them all caught beneath your charm."
"Do you consider me charming, cousin?" Draco's smirk widened. "How gratifying."
Sirius couldn't even reply to that. It took every ounce of his self-control to withhold a growl and a bearing of his teeth. He wasn't fully successful with the latter, but figured Draco might be able to mistake it for a sarcastic smile. Maybe.
"This is getting us nowhere," Draco said after a moment. Sighing, he took a step backwards. Sirius blinked. Draco had… he'd actually taken a step backwards. As if he'd – "I've chosen to come and talk to you because I realise it's necessity. It need only be brief; I haven't much to say, and even less inclination to say it. But the sooner this is over with the sooner you can go back to ignoring me as you have admittedly done such a good job of doing so far."
"Your recognition of my skills warms the cockles of my heart," Sirius growled, smile-snarling because that was indeed the best he could do. And he would do his best, at least for as long as the very brief confrontation would last for. He already had one up on the Malfoy brat in that Draco had taken a step backwards. "Fine. If that's what you want, speak away. Get it over with, then."
Draco inclined his head. "In short, do what you're doing. Ignore me, if you will. Be the godfather that Harry so wants you to be. You seem at least capable of that to some degree."
Sirius couldn't contain his growl this time. "I know that –"
"We don't have to be friends. We don't even have to be acquaintances, really. I admit that I want absolutely no association with you other than that which must be endured for Harry's sake."
"Damn right! You're not the only one who –"
"I would entirely ignore you as well if I could," Draco overrode him. Sirius nearly choked in his rising fury. What was it with everyone in the world speaking over the top of him lately? "It's no secret that I can't stand you. I'm sure that, even wishing otherwise, Harry realises it too. But I won't act upon that. And if it means that I have to at least attempt to play nice with you for his sake, then I will. Whether you choose to do the same or not."
Sirius' jaw worked in an attempt to reply. He opened and closed his mouth, pathetic little strangled sounds the only vocalisation he could produce. Draco regarded him flatly; his smirk had vanished and even the smugness was gone from his expression. And, somehow, through his boiling indignation and the simmering heat of his anger, Sirius registered that fact. Registered it and understood its meaning.
Draco was willing to put aside old hatred for his boyfriend. For Harry. And he wasn't necessarily asking Sirius to do the same, but simply laying out the reality of the situation, to avoid any possibly confusion. It was almost… no, it was… it was almost decent of him. Almost as though he really…
Almost as though he really cared. Cared enough to 'play nice' with Sirius. For Harry's sake.
That was… unprecedented. Unbelievable. Inconceivable. Not that someone would go to such lengths for Harry – Sirius would be the first to proclaim that his godson was a great kid and well worth it – but that Draco Malfoy would do so. It was –
"Have we reached an understanding?"
Draco, evidently feeling that Sirius' extended silence had lasted long enough, spoke once more. His flat expression remained for an instant longer, dark eyes staring unblinkingly into Sirius' in a wholly disconcerting manner, before it dissolved. And that hated smirk resumed its place upon his lips.
Scowling, Sirius dropped his eyes briefly. They had barely engaged in a confrontation. Draco had entirely dominated the conversation and was concluding it just as purposefully. And Sirius, for all that he objected to the manner of said confrontation, couldn't dispute the speed at which it ended. His hand was nearly trembling for the strain to took him to refrain from blinding Malfoy with a toss of his cooling tea.
"You want to attempt neutrality," Sirius said lowly, because he had to say something. He couldn't simply let Draco direct the entirety of the proceedings. "For Harry."
Draco didn't reply, didn't even nod his agreement. Sirius couldn't blame him, given that he'd deliberately made his words devoid of query.
"And this entails… what? No arguments when you're being a little arsehole? No fists through your nose when I deem you're acting too great of an insufferable brat?"
"I believe that in both of those instances your actions would be based entirely upon subjective opinion," Draco said pompously.
Sirius' scowl intensified. "Do you always feel the need to act like a stuck up little git?"
"Of course not. Only on Thursdays," Draco replied, completely blank-faced. Sirius blinked, startled from his scowl by surprise. Did Draco just… did he just make a joke? It was hard to tell for sure but… Draco Malfoy? Just made a sort-of joke?
Shaking himself from his brief stupor, Sirius firmed his jaw. "You act like an arse, kid, and I won't let you get away with it. The off-hand comment or little snide remarks I can allow, but you even think about taking it too far, even consider acting to hurt anyone, and you'll get a fist to the face so hard that you can taste your pudding from last Christmas."
"I'm not sure that entirely makes sense," Draco said with a raised eyebrow. "Not to mention that what you deem 'taking it too far' is similarly subjective. As for hurting anyone, it would depend upon whom I am –"
"Think for a moment about hurting Harry, even incidentally, and I'll make you rue the day you were ever born." Sirius took silent satisfaction in being the one to override Draco this time. It was only a slight dampener that Draco didn't seem fazed by it in the slightest.
Instead, he regarded Sirius silently for a moment before slowly inclining his head. "On that, we actually agree upon." And without another word, Draco turned on his heel and headed back down the hallway. Back towards Harry's room, Sirius realised. The door clicked shut quietly behind his passage.
Sirius was left staring alone in the hallway. Despite having a say, he'd lost the last word. And yet though some part of his mind objected to his defeat of sorts, a greater part fell into silent contemplation. Considering. Thinking and…
It was true. Draco had spoken with a modicum of decency. And should he actually act according to his claims… There was no guarantee that he would, and personally Sirius doubted that a Malfoy even could act so selflessly, but just the possibility was strange. Astounding, even. Draco Malfoy, playing nice? Resisting the urge to descend into discord with Sirius should the opportunity arise?
And doing it for Harry?
No, strange wasn't a large enough word to describe the situation.
Turning slowly to continue in his climb of the stairs, Sirius frowned. His good humour hadn't been erased entirely, but was largely replaced by wary consideration. He still hated the Malfoy boy, still felt no more generosity towards him than he would to a disagreeable and unshakeable wart. Draco was still a snide, cruel, selfish little shit; there was no denying that. And Harry would still definitely be better off without him.
But that consideration remained. That wary thoughtfulness that Sirius couldn't quite describe, couldn't quite understand the nature of… it was the same consideration, he realised, which had arisen at numerous times since Christmas, most recently at the Malfoys country cottage. He simply hadn't realised what it had been at the time.
Trudging slowly, head bowed, towards his room on the fourth floor, Sirius frowned at his feet. This was a new development, one he hadn't anticipated and hence hadn't prepared for. But then, something within him told Sirius that he didn't particularly need to. That he didn't have to prepare because maybe, maybe he wasn't directly involved. Maybe it wasn't his place to interfere, even if it was from a protective point of view.
Sirius sat long and silently at the desk in his room, face affixed in a frown as he stared blindly at the pockmarked wood. His tea had long since become cold enough to warrant a Warming Charm, but Sirius didn't bother. He forget he even held the mug at all.