Frustration. That's what Sirius felt. A powder keg of frustration that burned up his throat all day, everyday. It made him feel claustrophobic, like he had been ignited and had no outlet; he would either explode out of control or implode in on himself. Most days he paced around Grimmauld Place like a caged wolf, his mind going in circles with no distractions to keep his anxiety abated.
Occasionally Tonks or a Weasley would show up to chat and bring food for him, but that only served to make him feel like a kept pet of the Order. Some days Moony would show up and have a glass of firewhisky, or sit and read with him and these were the only days he felt any sort of calm. The rest of the time he was full of turbulent emotions.
He used to have moments of peace during the makeshift library nights with Hermione, but the unease he began to feel from hearing about the school from his godson culminated until the night he looked into the mirror to find Hermione's tear-stained face. The rage he felt, the utter helplessness that he couldn't do more than provide placating words for this girl who had given him hope in his hapless situation, ate at him.
He was sick of not being able to be there for the people that mattered most. He couldn't be there for James and Lily when they needed him most, he couldn't be there for Remus for all these years, and he was unable to be there for Harry or his best friend. Was his entire existence to be locked away, unable to care for his people?
He wished he could live up to his reckless reputation. If he could abandon his prison to storm the castle and curse everyone who dared lay a finger on his family, he would; but he couldn't do that without putting them at greater risk. Instead he was stuck pacing up and down the stairwell, trying to expel some of his restless energy and shift his focus from what he couldn't control to a near meditative state of constant movement.
When Remus entered the gloomy house, Sirius could feel the eyes of his friend scrutinize him from below as he reached the 5th floor landing and turned around to make his way down the stairwell. Reaching the foyer he wordlessly moved to the library assuming his friend would follow. He stepped over to the drink cart that held a crystal decanter of firewhisky and poured out two fingers worth into the tumblers. He turned to his friend and held out the lowball.
Remus moved to take the glass and took a sip, moving to his preferred armchair and draping himself into it. One leg over the armrest in a casual move that most would find uncharacteristically relaxed for the werewolf; but to Sirius it was an old familiar habit that made him recall many hours spent in from to the hearthfire in the Gryffindor common room doing homework or planning pranks.
"Are you alright?" Remus asked, taking another sip.
Sirius reclined into the couch, feeling the burn in his thighs from the many repetition of stairs. He gazed into his glass hanging in his hand, the amber color seemingly fascinating though he wasn't even really seeing the glass as he contemplated his answer.
"No. Not really," he sighed, closing his eyes as he brought the glass up, knocking back the drink in a way that was over practiced.
Moony frowned and hummed a response and stared into the fire. They sat like that for a while, in companionable silence.
"How was the full moon?" Sirius asked eventually, sliding his eyes to look at his friend. Remus looked tired, but there weren't any fresh wounds or scars that were apparent from what he could see.
"About as good as can be," he replied, tilting his head back against the wing back of the chair and closing his eyes. "Dumbledore still has Severus making Wolfsbane for me so I don't have to be locked up."
At least his friend wasn't suffering more than he had too, although he couldn't help the disgusted scowl that pulled at his face at the thought of relying on Snape's goodwill for anything. Sirius wished he was able to accompany Remus again on full moons. Wished he could do anything but sit in this house rotting uselessly.
"You'd seemed in better spirits the last few times I've seen you… what happened? Is it the kids?" Remus inquired, holding eye contact. Brown eyes searched Sirius' storm grey ones.
"Yeah," he confirmed. "I had gotten the sense that things were tense at the school from Harry, but he's been sugarcoating it for me apparently." He watched Remus' eyebrows furrow in concern as he told him about his mirror meeting with Hermione the night before and her more honest and complete account of how the school year was going.
As expected, the news that Delores Umbridge was their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher had Remus sitting up in alarm.
"How could Dumbledore let a person like that to teach at Hogwarts?" He asked, incredulously.
"Well, Dumbledore has been letting Snape teach so we can't completely rely on his judgment," Sirius said dryly, reaching for the decanter and pouring another two fingers. He held the bottle out towards Moony and cocked an eyebrow in question.
Remus shook his head 'no'. "I have a feeling he wasn't given a choice in the matter."
"It doesn't matter how she got there, just that she's there and she's tormenting kids. It can't be legal, what she's doing," Sirius ground out. Some guilty part of him knew that if it weren't for Harry and Hermione being involved he wouldn't be as incited. He'd be angry for sure, but it wouldn't be personally invested.
"I know," Remus said almost resigned. "But there's nothing we can do about it. We're in the same boat there."
"That's not what I want to hear." His lips flattened out into an angry line.
"The only suggestion I can give you is to let Dumbledore or McGonagall know at the next order meeting."
That didn't appease Sirius at all. The next order meeting wasn't for a while, and there was no guarantee anything would, or could be done.
"Regardless of that it won't help anyone moping around here about it," said Remus, silently summoning a stash of chocolate he kept in the kitchen.
Sirius scowled at his friend and said with sarcasm "Oh sure. And what, pray tell, else am I supposed to do?"
Remus didn't pay any mind to the venom in his friend's voice. Just sucked on a bit of chocolate as he considered the question.
"There hasn't been anything done in terms of renovation in this place since summer. You could spend some time cleaning it out, especially getting rid of some of the cursed objects," he suggested after a moment's thought. "You could even redesign some of the rooms so they are less…" he thought a moment for a good adjective. "Antique?"
"I think you mean 'evil,' or 'Slytherin elitism'? Perhaps 'pureblood prat-ish'?"
Remus snorted a laugh at this which caused Sirius' mouth to tick up in a slight smile.
"Yeah, that," he confirmed lightly, tossing a square of chocolate at Sirius.
Taking the piece of chocolate and popping it in his mouth, Sirius thought on the suggestion.
Sometime that evening after Moony left, Sirius was pacing once more through the five story townhouse. He looked through the gloomy rooms, its ancient peeling wallpaper, tarnished brass sconces, garish paintings, and vile cursed heirlooms. Maybe Moony had a point. If he was going to be stuck here he may as well make it into some place he didn't hate. Cover up the bad memories with somewhere he could see good memories forming.
The memory of Hermione's fierce expression as she sternly informed him of his worth, of his role as Harry's home, came to the forefront of his mind.
"You gave Harry a home."
"You are Harry's home."
Maybe this is something he could do to act in that role. Maybe he could turn this dreary, abysmal place into a safe haven for Harry to come back too. Somewhere they both could be a family together.
The idea broadened. Maybe this could provide stability for Moony, a place where he could live with people who loved him regardless of his affliction.
And maybe somewhere Hermione could feel safe, away from pureblood bias and politics. The image of library nights by the fire burned in his mind; the smell of clove and cedar, and peppermint wafting from her precariously balanced mug on her knee, her golden-bronze curls crowding under his nose as she leaned against his shoulder.
Suddenly a purpose lit in him - settled him. He was going to make this place a home for his family. Even if Harry had to stay with the Dursley's part time, even if Remus continued to only stop in every now and then, even if Hermione already has a home, he was going to make this place their home. A place where if everything else fails them, they could come to without question and feel assured that they had a place in life.
Eager to get started he walked into a random room, a gaudy study behind a stained oak door with a window seat that looked out at the tree lined street and the quaint park across from the row of townhouses. He conjured some extra light and began rummaging through the junk, careless of the artifacts that his mother would claim as priceless.
Later that evening he set himself up in the library; peppermint tea, and cedar chips in the fire. He had showered off the grime from all the dust he had kicked up in the study and was in well worn lounge pants and an old band shirt that had been preserved in the boxes Moony had saved for him.
He held the mirror in one hand that hung over the arm rest as he perused through Dune with the other as he waited for Hermione to contact him It was a much denser novel than what he was used to reading on his own. Or maybe it was just because it was an unfamiliar genre? For all the Astronomy he had had to learn, he had never read a book that was set on another planet, or even considered it as a possibility.
The literature Hermione had introduced him to was so full of wonder that he couldn't help but think that muggles had a way of seeing magic in a way that most magic folk had lost. It was like the Wizarding world was so used to magic they lost their imagination. Whereas muggles created totally unique magic out of nothing or even their own understanding of the potential of science.
He had just reached the part where Hawat and the Lady Jessica confront each other about the Harkonnon spy when he heard a soft voice calling from the mirror tucked in his hand.
Setting the book down he pulled the mirror up to his face and peered into the glass to see the blue cast face of Hermione. He was relieved to see her spirits were much higher than the previous night. She was smiling brightly, her curly hair filling out the entire frame of the mirror.
Sirius felt some of the anxiety he had been feeling since the night before lift away. "Hey, Kitten." He smiled back at her. "How's your ankle? And your hand?"
"Better. My ankle is basically all healed up, looks bruised but it doesn't hurt at all. My hand is mostly scabbed up now," she waved her bandaged hand briefly in the mirror. "Madam Pomfrey showed me a cooling spell so I can ice it when it starts to feel sore."
Something on his face must have shown because Hermione quickly reassured him. "It's fine. Really. Pomfrey said it shouldn't even scar if I keep treating it with the healing ointment she's prescribed."
"She really can't just heal it?" He asked, peevishly.
Hermione shook her head. "No. Cursed object."
Sirius scoffed. "Damn toad." He had several other adjectives he would like to apply to Umbridge but refrained.
Hermione bit her lip for a moment, contemplating something. "What is it, Kitten?"
"Well," she said hesitantly. "You might not approve and I'm not sure if the others would be happy I told you, but today at Hogsmeade we formed a group. A secret group." She then proceeded to tell him about Dumbledore's Army, a student led secret club that aims to teach it's members proper, practical Defense Against the Dark Arts; to be led by his godson, Harry.
Sirius couldn't help but be concerned about the possible repercussions if they were found out, but pride overshadowed it. They weren't taking things lying down. Neither the current situation at Hogwarts nor the silence of the Order, could completely hide what's going on. These kids knew that the fight would reach them - had already reached them in small ways - and refused to be cowed.
When she finished explaining, she watched him with a concerned look on her face, like she expected a reprimand.
"I can't say I'm not worried." Her head dipped slightly, as though ashamed, and her mouth opened - most likely to apologize or explain more- but Sirius didn't let her get far. "But I wouldn't expect anything less from my favorite Gryffindors. You should be prepared. Much of the upcoming and ongoing power struggles are happening at Hogwarts, and I have my misgivings about it's supposed safety. As much as I respect the majority of the staff, they aren't infallible and neither is the institution."
Although the crestfallen expression on her face had subsided at his tacit approval, she looked subdued at his thoughts.
"I agree," Hermione affirmed. "Anyone who believes Hogwarts is safe hasn't been paying attention these last 5 years."
Sirius cracked a smile at her. "What? You mean like a madman escaping prison and breaking into the school to kill Harry Potter and loiter over boys beds?"
That broke the tension that had coiled around them and Hermione snorted out a laugh. "Oh lord, the panic over seeing 'the Grim,'" she said in an exaggerated spooky voice and rolled her eyes.
"Not my fault I'm so intimidating. I just exude power," he said, tilting his chin and looked down his nose into the mirror at her.
Hermione snorted again. "Oh yes, very intimidating, until they learn about your weakness to ear scratches. Honestly, I've met more intimidating pomeranians," she teased, her mouth quirked up into a mischievous smirk.
Sirius gaped at her, affronted. "You take that back! I am much more intimidating than those pampered little puffballs! Fought a werewolf and lived to see the day, I'd like to see those purse accessories do that!"
She just looked at him, her face quivering with the need to laugh at his indignant face. They just stared at each other until she finally broke into laughter. Sirius had a feeling of triumph bloom inside him at the sound. "Fine, fine. You win. You're a terrifying omen of death. Now do you want to find out how Bilbo breaks the dwarves out of prison?"
"Yes please!" He eagerly nodded his head and settled into his seat in preparation to continue the book. They hadn't been able to read together the night before and Sirius had been waiting since Wednesday night to find out what happened next.
There was a little sense of loss as he listened to her soft voice. He missed her physical presence; the reassuring weight of her against his side, or her hand running through his hair; her Christmas smell and warm hugs. He even missed her cat, who was his friend independent of his friendship with Hermione, but was the only other creature that shared library nights with them, warming their necks with his little heat pads for paws and purring loudly on the back of the sofa between them. But, her continued presence regardless of the distance- because she wanted to see him, not because she was obligated- was like an unexpected buoy after swimming in the open ocean with no land in sight.
He hoped that she would come to Grimmauld Place for Christmas, at least part of it.