Chapter 11: Day 11 - 08:15

Despite his largely and quite unexpectedly sleepless night, Sirius did not, as he had made a habit of doing, wake up in a bad mood.

Pensive. Pensive was a very good word to describe how he felt come Saturday morning.

He'd been staring thoughtfully at the ceiling, watching the sunlight peeking through the sliver exposed through his heavy curtains, when the knock came to his door. It was a quiet knock, almost but not quite tentative. Sirius' eyes drew towards the doorway, staring momentarily before he pushed himself up to sitting on the edge of his bed. "Come in."

The door opened slowly, hinges creaking like a groaning old man. Harry peered through, fingers picking at the frame as he propped a hand against it. He was already dressed and ready for the day, in the casual yet actually appropriately fitted Muggle clothing style he'd taken to wearing of late, hair as unkempt as ever. The only thing that was missing were his shoes, only a pair of white socks in their place. It was likely why Sirius hadn't heard him coming up the stairs at all. He usually had the ears of a fox for that kind of thing.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Harry adopted a casual lean against the doorframe. "Morning. I wasn't sure if you were still asleep. You weren't down at breakfast, even though you're usually up early, so I figured…"

"No, I'm awake." Sirius scuffed a hand through his hair, striving to adopt an expression of morning dopiness despite feeling no such haziness. "What's up? Something wrong?"

The shake of Harry's head wasn't entirely heartfelt in its denial. "No, nothing wrong."

A brief silence ensued as Sirius paused. "But?"

"But… I just wanted to talk to you about something. Just for a second." Harry was fiddling with his hands, with the hem of his t-shirt in a way that Sirius had come to realise was the combined effects of awkwardness and nervousness. In an attempt to alleviate even a little of such fears, he strove to smooth his features and keep them open and unassuming. Or at least as open as he could. "Sure. Fire away, kiddo."

Harry gave him a grateful half-smile that quirked slightly in his uneasiness before dropping his eyes to his toes. "Thanks. So, um… so. I just wanted to talk to you about Draco. If you don't mind."

Here it is, Sirius thought. Just as he'd anticipated a confrontation between himself and Draco, so too had he expected one with Harry. Perhaps not quite a confrontation but certainly a conversation. An airing of thoughts. Given his own perspective on the matter, Sirius had held his tongue in wait for Harry to be the one to initiate such a conversation. Mostly because he felt it more than likely that he would lead with the words, "So, about your arsehole of a boyfriend," which he didn't think would go down all that well.

Sirius had wanted to talk to Harry nonetheless, however. Had hoped that Harry would actually broach the subject sooner. He'd wanted to state his stance, to give his reasons as to why he felt so dubiously of the situation. To ask how Harry had disregarded the past he'd shared with Draco, the past of the Malfoys themselves and their allegiance to Voldemort. He could not fathom how Harry had overcome such monumental barriers to a relationship and had longed to ask – to demand – his reasoning.

Now… he wasn't so sure where he stood. The previous night had changed Sirius' perspective quite unexpectedly, drawn it in directions he couldn't have anticipated. And it wasn't because of any explanation he'd overheard. It wasn't because he'd become instantly convinced that Draco was a good person, that he'd never truly been 'evil' and never truly would be. It wasn't even because he'd come to realise that his role in what Harry and Draco shared was far removed from what he had unconsciously suspected. That it wasn't that Draco was pulling Harry away from his friends, from Sirius, to covet him like a miserly dragon does his gold. Because apparently Sirius didn't even factor into the equation at all.

No, his stance had been so changed because of what he'd heard and how it had sounded. Not the words themselves, exactly, but the meaning behind them. The tone of voice and the affection interlaced within it. And following that, the gentleness of each touch, the soft adoration that Sirius doubted even the boys had fully realised they so easily expressed, the simple yet immensely complicated act of lovemaking. Not sex; it had definitely been making love that Sirius had witnessed.

And in witnessing it, Sirius had felt almost criminal. The act itself was so private, so intimate, that it practically forbade the rest of the world from peeking with onlooking eyes. Sirius felt physically thrust from his position as observer, and not because he felt ashamed at an act that some would consider horrendously voyeuristic of him. Sirius wasn't a prude; quite the opposite in fact. He'd always been very open with his relationships and sex life, ever since he'd lost his early teenage years. It probably helped that he had such an avid partner in crime – or at least an avid listener and appreciator – in James. Voyeur he would not say he was, but neither was Sirius ashamed to admit that he'd once kept quite an admirable collection of porn magazines too.

No, it wasn't embarrassment that drove Sirius hastily to his room like a scolded dog. It was simply… he'd felt he was intruding by staying. Not to mention that watching his godson doing the dirty was kind of messed up. Even if, he admitted to himself, there wasn't really anything all that dirty about it. He'd never seen, nor experienced for himself, a less kinky act of physical intimacy in his entire life. Quite honestly, that reality astounded Sirius as much as anything. He'd always sort of considered, somewhere in the back of his mind, in the part that simply made assumptions without waiting for his conscious input, that Harry and Draco would be sort of… well, volatile. Heated, and angry and aggressive. At least teasing and bantering, light-hearted and pursuing pleasure simply for the act itself.

He hadn't anticipated that. There was a very real affection between the two and, dare he consider himself a mimic of Remus' words, even possibly love. No, Sirius had certainly not seen that coming.

It was with his revised mindset that he approached the long-awaited conversation. And surprisingly, even to himself with his knowledge of that change, it wasn't accusation of Draco's potential for civility that arose on the tip of his tongue first. "Is it all going alright?"

Harry blinked, back straightening slightly and even his tugging fingers pausing in the act of their nervous fiddling. "What?"

"You and Draco. All smooth sailing?"

"I… yeah. Yeah, I guess it is." Harry frowned. It was an expression of thoughtful confusion, however, rather than accusation or even annoyance.

"Not a problem, then?"

Slowly, Harry shook his head. Even more slowly, his frown began to clear. "No, not a problem. I just…" He paused to lick his lips. "I guess I just wanted to… to thank you. Yeah, thank you, I guess."

Eyebrows rising, Sirius was momentarily silenced into surprise. "Thank me?"

Harry was more resolute in his stance now. When he nodded his head it was with decisiveness, sharp and swift. "Yeah. I mean… look, I don't want to sound like a sentimental prat or anything –"

"Never," Sirius said with a grin. Harry flashed him a smile back.

"Yeah, well. I mean, I know it's kind of awkward between the two of you. Seriously, I'm not that much of an idiot that I haven't realised you… don't like each other."

"That's an understatement.

Harry smiled once more, though it was a little regretfully this time. "Yeah, I know. It makes it… kind of awkward, I guess. Especially seeing as he's been practically living in your house this holidays. I just…" He paused, and the glance he offered to Sirius was faintly sad once more. "I wanted to say that I really appreciate how great you've been with it all. Really."

Sirius was silenced. Despite the stumbling nature of his words, there was a certain maturity in Harry's approach. Not even so much that he acknowledged and sought to voice his acknowledgement of Sirius' supposed leniency, his 'kindness' but that he overlooked all of the times that Sirius very definitely hadn't been so. Because those instances, those days, certainly outweighed those in which he'd simply strived to ignore Draco. Because ignore was about as generous a term as Sirius could attribute to his behaviour. Now, in hindsight and as abruptly mellowed as he was about the situation, he could see it. Could see those attempts to ignore Draco had been little more than an alternate and more passive form of aggression. That he was only replacing one form of discontent with another.

Sirius didn't like Draco Malfoy. He never would. But he could appreciate that there was certainly something between Harry and the Malfoy scion that he hadn't realised. Something that had, he'd realised in his pondering throughout the night, been large enough and important enough to drive Draco's shift in loyalties that Narcissa had referred. Something that had made him, if not kinder, than at least less cruel, and capable of showing slight affection for Harry. Maybe even more than slight. And Sirius had realised, too, that such a lessening in cruelty, Draco's almost cordial attitude, hadn't abruptly arisen after he'd said he would act as such to Sirius two days before.

Draco really hadn't changed at all since he'd spoken to Sirius. It was all simply in Sirius' perspective. And Sirius was both self-deprecating and faintly exasperated that he'd been fool enough not to realise it before.

So no, Draco would never be his favourite person in the world. Would likely never even make his list of those he found tolerable enough to enjoy the company of. But tolerate he would. Because for Harry, at least, he needed to.

Shaking his head, Sirius dropped his own gaze to his hands. His fingers interlocked, rubbing against one another in slow, contemplative motions. "You don't have to thank me, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe not have to, but I want to all the same. I really appreciate it, Sirius. I do."

"You're giving me too much credit."

Another shrug from Harry. "You could see it that way. Or you could see it as acknowledging that you've been pretty lenient when I've kind of forced you into a corner with my own decisions."

Sirius' lips quivered in the beginnings of a smile. How accurate such a description was. He lifted his gaze to meet Harry's. "Maybe. Then, in that case, I accept your gratitude, unfounded as it is." He paused, frowning slightly. The urge to voice his thoughts was rising in the back of his throat, even when he wasn't sure how Harry would respond. An instant later his tongue spoke for him, regardless. "You know, Harry, this house is as much yours as mine. I do consider you a part of my family, you know. Probably the only one I have left."

Quite without his deliberate intent, Sirius found himself mimicking the words he'd overheard the previous night. He could see by the startled expression Harry adopted that he'd realised the same, even if he didn't know that Sirius was aware that his thoughts mirrored his own.

Not to feel embarrassed or regretful for speaking them, however, Sirius firmed his jaw and continued. "What's mine is yours, you know. You should feel able to bring anyone you want into this house without fear of reprimand, least of all from me. Even if that person is a Malfoy."

Harry stared at him silently for a moment. Sirius felt himself tense under that study but didn't continue, letting his words sink in. At least Harry wasn't fiddling awkwardly anymore, didn't appear eager to hasten from the room at the first opportunity. His confusion faded into something else that Sirius couldn't recognise. Until he did. Gratitude. Heartfelt gratitude. It was almost embarrassing to see, to be to recipient of such genuine thanks.

"That really means a lot, Sirius," Harry finally said. The widening smile on his face was everything Sirius had been hoping to invoke over the past few days. Genuine joy to accompany his genuine thanks.

Sirius shrugged, brushing aside the awkwardness. "Don't thank me yet. You're my godson, and as such I see it as my duty to ensure that you don't get hurt by some arsehole of a boyfriend."

As he'd intended it to, Sirius' light-hearted words succeeded in lightening the heavy mood. Harry groaned, closing his eyes as though pained for a moment though his smile still remained. "Please no."

"No, really. It's my responsibility. One sideways word, one backstabbing, undercover act of unfaithfulness and," Sirius made a moderated kicking motion in the air. "Right up the arse."

"Draco is really not likely to do that," Harry shook his head, meeting Sirius' gaze with dancing amusement in his own. "I know everyone generally thinks he's a tosser, but I really couldn't see him cheating on me."

Smiling a little ruefully, Sirius shook his head. "You know, oddly enough I think I can believe you on that one. Honestly, I couldn't see it given how lovey-dovey you two are with one another."

Harry raised an eyebrow, seemingly torn between bemusement and horrified incredulity. "Love-dovey?"

His smile becoming teasing, Sirius raised a mimicking eyebrow. "I'd have thought it to be a bit more of a battle of wills between you, considering your past. Love-to-hate and all that."

Harry smirked back at him. "Oh, there's plenty of that, I can assure you. We just tend to take our competitiveness and frustration with one another with angry sex."

There was a pause. A small pause that grew longer and longer. Until Harry apparently finally realised what he'd said – or perhaps to whom he'd said it – and mortification flooded that silence.

Sirius found himself laughing. His incredulity, the surprise that had stilled his tongue dissolved into disbelieving snorts of merriment. He would never have expected Harry, James' Harry, blunt and guileless yet ultimately innocent, to have come out with such a statement.

"Oh my god, too much information," Harry mumbled. Or Sirius thought that was what he said. He couldn't quite make it out from behind the fingers that didn't quite manage to hide the fiery red flush of embarrassment on his godson's cheeks.

"On the contrary, not enough!" Sirius laughed. "Please, do go on. Don't spare me the details. Trust me, I've absolutely no judgement for what goes on in the bedroom; your dad and I used to exchange tales of exploits as a matter of course."

He laughed harder, nearly falling backwards onto his mattress as Harry groaned in a further expression of horror and turned to butt his head into the doorway. Again and again in heavy thuds. "Please, my ears. I didn't want to hear that."

"I would be more than prepared to share my own stories, if you'd like," Sirius offered between barks of amusement.

Hands dropping from his face to reveal cheeks still flushed and eyes wide behind his glasses, Harry half turned and uttered a choked sound. "I… you'd… you mean…"

"There was this one girl when I was in fifth year," Sirius began. And that was apparently as much as Harry could take. A second later he was gone. Quite contrary to his quite approach of the room, he fled in a stumbling run, disappearing down the hall and clattering down the distant stairs. The afterimage of his horrified face hung suspended in the air behind him like a spectre.

Shaking his head, Sirius allowed himself to fall back onto his bed this time. Releasing a heavy sigh, shoulders still trembling with laughter his eyes drifted to the ceiling. And even though Harry had disappeared and Sirius' amusement gradually faded, his good humour remained. Surprisingly, he registered. He hadn't been in a terrible mood despite sleeping barely a wink the night before, but a week ago he knew that any discussion he shared with Harry regarding Draco – more than that, Harry's intimacy with Draco – would have ended either badly or with barely suppressed discontent. Sirius was, as Remus had called it, brooding. But it was not a sulking brood. More… contemplative.

As though conjured by a thought, Remus stepped into the doorway. He was still dressed in a nightrobe thrown over patched pyjamas, still rubbing sleepiness from his eyes. He'd likely just rolled from the bed in Regulus' old room that he'd adopted and hadn't fully awoken yet. But there was a faint smile rising on his face, as though the humour of the morning had infected him. "What was all that about?"

Rolling onto his side, Sirius adopted a casual expression, head propped up on one hand. "What are you referring to?"

"I refer to the stampede that just disappeared down the hallway. I doubt anyone in the house managed to sleep through that except perhaps Tonks."

"Tonks spent the night?" Sirius asked, deliberately diverting the topic.

Remus wasn't fooled. "Sirius? What did you do?"

Rolling back onto his back, Sirius shrugged. He couldn't keep the grin from returning to his face, however. It had been an incredibly good morning after a not-so-good night; a good, albeit brief conversation with Harry that had ended in laughter, even if it was mostly from Sirius. The day was looking up. Finally. It was about time that a positive light was cast upon one of his days that Christmas. "Nothing much. Just having some fun."

Remus' smile grew. "Really? That's…"

"Remus? Shut up."

Chuckling, Remus shook his head. "I wasn't going to point out the obvious. It is, after all, obvious."

"Good. If you've finished, you can see yourself out, then."

With another chuckle, another shake of his head, Remus did just that. And Sirius was left to his contemplation, a satisfied smile upon his face. No, he might never like Draco Malfoy, but all things considered, it wasn't so bad. Harry was certainly happy enough, and that was the important thing. Right?