"He's impossible! Intolerable! Utterly insufferable!"
"And your newly expanded vocabulary is incredible," Sirius teased, earning a pout from his godson.
Harry had finally decided to take Sirius' advice (order) and use the mirror.
"You're supposed to be on my side."
"Harry, love, I'm always on your side," the man reassured, mouth quirking upwards into an indulgent smile. He stood the mirror up against the quill stand on his desk. "I hope Filch isn't being too much of a pain."
"He mostly leaves us alone since he had to take that stupid cat of his out in the evening for fresh air." Harry found the caretaker and his cat ridiculous.
"So apart from all those wonderful adjectives you mentioned, the detentions are okay?"
"They're not totally awful. There was a time yesterday when I thought I was going to throw myself off the owlery."
Not bothering to hide his grin, Sirius sat back to patiently listen to his godson rant about how impossible Draco was.
"Potter, this corner is tricky! Potter, should I change the water or is it not filthy enough yet? He had to mop the floor, and yet he made me demonstrate how. Five times!"
Sirius snorted. Draco was Narcissa's son alright. Although he had to admit that other than annoying Harry to the limit, the boy was fine.
There may yet be hope for him.
"You poor thing." It was nearly eight thirty. "Are you heading to dinner now?"
"In a bit," Harry replied, switching the mirror to his left hand.
"Make sure you eat some vegetables," Sirius advised, hardly believing the words that came out of his mouth. "We'll talk soon. Love you, kid."
Harry paused to look around the Gryffindor common room to make sure no one else was around. "Love you too," he whispered. He was still a respectable twelve year old after all.
It was about a week after the whole fight on the Quidditch pitch and Draco was almost positive that he was losing his mind. It was a slow, maddening descent towards insanity. That was it. The only logical, reasonable explanation for his current train of thought.
For there was no way Draco Malfoy was envious of Harry Potter's apparently unrivalled skill at sweeping the bloody floor.
He glared accusingly at his corner of the classroom that was still layered with dust and then at Potter's portion of the room that was downright sparkling.
He was obviously not cut out for this sort of work and yet it irked him beyond reason that Potter was irritatingly good at it.
Despite everything, he had to admit that the last couple of days had been... not deplorable. He firmly refused to think about his father, the events still raw in his memory. His mother had written to him though and her letter showed she wasn't upset, at least not anymore.
It didn't help that after the meeting, his father had called him outside and torn him a new one. Lucius always did have a scathing tongue that could destroy almost anyone in its path.
While that particular trait had miraculously vanished in Sirius Black's presence, it had returned tenfold to verbally lash Draco until he was left feeling worse than before.
Lucius' reaction had made him evaluate his own stance on the entire matter, his actions, their impact and the subsequent consequences.
Guilt was an unfamiliar emotion, something he'd never had to deal with before. He was Draco Malfoy after all, what did he have to be guilty about?
And yet, he was guilty. Of many things. One of those however had been nagging him from the moment he had left Mcgonagall's office.
Draco glanced at Potter who was nearly done with his work.
"Potter, I—"
"No, I'm not showing you how to sweep the corner again and no its not tricky."
Draco closed his eyes and counted to three. Of course the other boy would make this harder for him. It didn't help that Draco was absolutely pants at apologies in the first place.
"There is... there is something I need to say."
That made Harry look at him and Draco was met with equal parts confusion and wariness. He took that as his cue to continue.
"The other day, I said things that were less than honourable. I will not make any excuses for my behaviour. I... I regret my words. I shouldn't have called you an—" Draco swallowed "—orphan. It was unacceptable and cruel and... I apologise...I'm sorry."
There.
He'd said it. And he meant it.
Calling Potter an orphan had been a low, dirty shot. Even for him. He couldn't possibly begin to understand what it must've been like, growing up without parents.
Potter still hadn't said a word. He was looking —no— gaping at Draco.
"You're not... you're not joking."
It took Draco a few seconds to comprehend the words and he was almost offended. "Obviously not."
Harry continued staring as though Draco had just spouted gibberish and uneasiness wormed it's way into the blond's mind before the other boy finally spoke again.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Well, the things you said weren't okay, but its clear you feel bad about it. Besides, everyone deserves a second chance."
That's it? He was more than a little taken aback. He knew that had their roles been reversed, Draco wouldn't have been quite as magnanimous. He would've definitely made Potter grovel a good deal.
Forgiveness wasn't his strong suit. A family trait, according to his mother.
"I'll forgive you. On certain conditions."
That was more like it.
He gestured for the other boy to go on, mentally preparing himself for whatever embarrassing task Potter would ask him to do.
"Don't do it again."
"I swear I won't."
"No more rude remarks about Ron and his family. They're good people."
"Understood."
"The name calling has got to go. Hermione and the other muggleborns don't deserve that. In fact, enough with all the bullying. That includes Neville too."
Draco mentally winced when he remembered Longbottom. He wasn't sure when or why he had started picking on him in the first place. It had been amusing at first and then it just... stuck.
He nodded once. "Of course."
"Lastly, say one nice thing about me."
What?
That was certainly unexpected.
"A nice thing?"
"Nice. A relatively new concept for you, but it shouldn't be too hard." Potter was grinning like an idiot, clearly enjoying himself.
"You're an—"
"Nice, Malfoy. Remember, you want my forgiveness."
Draco scoured his brain for something, anything that qualified as nice. These last few days, he'd arrived at the conclusion that he didn't hate Potter.
Once he was able to deal with the guilt, envy and resentment, he'd discovered that Potter was a pretty decent person.
"Your um... your Quidditch skills are not... not pathetic."
Understatement.
Potter rolled his eyes. "Nope. Try again."
Fine. Fine.
"You're a bloody fantastic Seeker and a damn good friend and when you aren't being an impossible git I sometimes wish I could be more like you. Are you happy?"
There would be no turning back after this.
He dared a glance at the dark haired boy who had apparently been stunned into silence by Draco's words.
Ten agonising seconds passed by before surprise gave way to a wide grin that nearly split Harry's face in two. "Very."
"You breathe a word about this to anyone I will deny it. Do we understand each other?"
"Absolutely."
"Did you miss me?" The door to the boy's dormitory was thrown open as the newcomer breezed in and threw himself into an armchair.
Blaise Zabini. Oftentimes the most annoying person Draco had come across.
It was a shame the Italian happened to be Draco's best friend and one of the few who saw right through his snobbishness.
"I heard you lost yet another battle to dirty cauldrons and mops."
Instantly, he felt his face getting warmer. "How the hell do yo— Potter. I should've known."
The worst thing Snape could've done was pair Potter and Blaise together during Potions for that term.
Much to Draco's chagrin, the two of them had hit it off immediately, given that Potter was an affable idiot and Blaise could talk to just about anyone and anything.
"I'm glad one of us is having a laugh," he grumbled, throwing himself on to his bed.
There was a rustle of parchment from the other bed but no other sound. A whole minute passed without any response from Blaise.
"Blaise?"
"It's all about those little moments, mate," there was a heaviness in his voice that hadn't been there seconds ago.
Frowning at the tone, Draco sat up to get a better look at Blaise. The other boy was sitting on his bed, reading a letter that was clutched a little too tightly in his hand.
"They finalised the divorce. I suppose that's ciao to stepdad number four."
"Ah."
Alana Zabini was an old friend of his mother's. Since they ran in the same circles, Draco had met every ex-husband of hers except for Blaise's father who'd died shortly after his son's birth.
"Sixteen months. Shortest marriage so far."
"Blai—"
Abruptly, Blaise shoved the letter aside and conveniently busied himself with straightening the already made bed.
"It's fine, I never really liked him anyway."
"Are y—"
"Have you decided what you're going to say to Granger?"
Message received. Blaise would talk when he was ready.
"Perhaps you can help me out."
"I'm not the one who acted like an arse."
And wasn't that the truth.
One thing that Draco had discovered was this whole becoming a better person process was harder than it looked.
But that didn't mean he was going to quit. He'd made a promise, one that he intended to uphold.
These last few days have been... enlightening to say the least. He had apologised to Potter, bravely (barely) survived a fortnight's detention and made amends with Weasley. He hadn't even laughed the other day when Longbottom tripped over his own two feet while heading to Potions.
Only one thing remained.
Draco wasn't nervous, despite what Potter, Blaise and Theo had stated.
Vehemently. Repeatedly. Whilst laughing at him.
He had expected at least Theo to be on his side.
Draco barely paid any heed to whatever Sprout was going on about. Most of his attention was focused on the bushy haired girl at the front and what he would say to her once the class was over.
He'd rehearsed the words in his head an embarrassing number of times. He wasn't going to back down now.
No sooner had Sprout dismissed them, he dashed after Granger before he could change his mind. For someone with an unreasonable number of thick hardcover books stuffed into her bag at all times, she was surprisingly fast.
"Granger!"
She halted so abruptly at his voice that Draco almost ran straight into her. She stiffened as she turned, squaring her shoulders defensively.
"Granger, I... I uh... I j—"
Brilliant.
Now that she was looking at him guardedly, his impressive elocution conveniently decided to abandon Draco in his time of need.
Somehow it had been easier with Potter. The two of them had already spent days bickering so much through detention that all traces of their previous animosity had worn off in the process.
"I'll spare you the trouble, Malfoy. I'm aware that Mcgonagall's asked you to apologise." She scoffed at the last word as though she found the very idea of it ridiculous.
"Don't bother. I'll tell her you did as instructed and we will stay out of each other's way. I don't need empty words from you."
Oh for the sake of Merlin!
"Granger if you'll just listen to me for one moment!"
She raided her eyebrows in suspicion. "Why?"
"Because I was an arse."
That wasn't part of the script he had practiced in his head.
"Oh." Her suspicion turned to mild confusion so Draco took that as a positive sign to continue.
"I've come to realise that everything that happened on the pitch that day was my doing. When I called you a mu— that word, it was insulting and disrespectful. I see that now. I am truly sorry for what I said to you."
"Then why did you?"
Her posture was still defensive, like she half expected this to turn into a big joke.
"I was raised a certain way, to understand how things are supposed to be on our side of the world. I'm not using that to justify anything, only that because of it, I never realised how wrong, how blinded I was. I see it now."
We are far better than they can ever hope to be, Draco.
Draco wasn't sure if he believed that anymore.
"It will never happen again. I promise."
She was considerably shorter than him, but that didn't seem to deter her from staring him down. He must have said something right because she lifted her chin and nodded.
"Alright. I will hold you to that."
"You should." He fiddled with the strap of his bag. "I'll go now."
"Malfoy?"
"Hmm?"
"Did you even bother to participate in the tryouts for the Slytherin team?"
Draco swallowed, the shame creeping up on him again "No."
Granger raised an eyebrow in question "Then how did you simply decide that you weren't good enough?"
This was the second time (of the week) that a Gryffindor had left him at a loss for words.
Stupid Gryffindors
She shrugged, her mouth quirked upwards in a hesitant half-smile. "You won't know until you've tried."
Maybe not so stupid after all
"Does that mean we're alright?"
"We're alright."
Sirius was able to wrap up work for the day only after nine. On his way down to the common floo, he made a stop at the DMLE. Similar to the Auror department, the entire floor was empty, save for a few house elves on clean up duty.
He dropped the files off at the reception and was about to leave when he noticed the light on in the office to the far left.
Amelia was sitting at her desk, going over three different documents at the same time. Judging by the calculating purse of her lips and the sharp set of her brows, she was about to rain righteous hellfire on some bastard who'd probably earned every bit of it. She had tied her usually impeccable chestnut waves into a low knot at the back of her neck.
"Burning the midnight oil?"
She started at the interruption and move to slam the files shut before she recognised him and her shoulders relaxed.
"I could ask you the same thing, Black."
Sirius leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. "I was just leaving. You on the other hand look two seconds away from bloody murder."
"If only it were that easy. Barty Crouch Senior is one tough nut to crack."
All levity vanished the second he heard that bastard's name. From the day Sirius had been born, there were many who'd tried to ruin his life in different ways.
Bartemis Crouch was one of the two people to have actually succeeded.
The bloody bugger.
He'd nearly forgotten about the investigation into Crouch's dealings. That very investigation which had been launched because of Sirius' unfair imprisonment.
"Any progress so far?" The question didn't sound as nonchalant as he'd hoped.
"Nothing good enough to actually build a case against him. The DMLE is looking into it but if we do not find anything substantial, we will have to drop the inquiry."
"I see."
Two little words that spoke volumes.
Amelia met his eyes, contemplating her next words before she relented.
"I stumbled upon a few minor cracks around the edges, tiny details that don't quite seem to add up."
Well well...
A minuscule detail was still something.
Sometimes, all it took was a little crack to reveal the uglier, sinister reality behind a person's spotless facade.
"Sirius?" Amelia was still looking at him though her expression morphed into something more gentle.
"I know you despise him for what he took from you. I don't know what this investigation will uncover, but I can promise you that if there's something to be found, I will find it."
For some reason, Sirius believed her.
The inquiry into Barry Crouch was an internal affair. Malfeasance in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was a matter that lay beyond Sirius' area of jurisdiction as a Senior Auror.
However, he was more than willing to make an exception for Crouch. At the very least, he had to try.
A small but dangerous thrill of anticipation sparked Sirius's mind, a hundred different ideas— possibilities unfurling all at once.
He smirked at Amelia, a determined gleam in his silver eyes.
"Would you happen to have room for one more on this mission of yours?"
And scene...
As usual, leave a review. Let me know what you liked in this fic because I absolutely adore all of your comments.
I have a few more ideas up my sleeve for the Meeting the Godfather universe, although I'm not sure how soon or often I'll be able to update.
Once again, thanks a ton for being so appreciative.