Archive of Our Own

i.
Sirius had long sought solace by pacing the floors of Hogwarts, though back in the day his preferred pacing spot was on the seventh floor, in front of that beloved blank stretch of wall which showed itself with a door that led to a cozy room outfitted with a huge grand piano.

The wall he was pacing in front of now wouldn’t change to beckon him into a safe haven, but to a lion’s den. Sirius glared at the stone gargoyle as he passed it once more. He’d set a meeting up with Dumbledore for seven-thirty and the damned thing wasn’t budging even a minute early. He had half a mind to just blast it out of the way and storm up there. He only barely held himself back.

When the gargoyle finally moved aside, Sirius had mostly managed to calm himself down. He took a deep breath and focused on letting the panic slide off his shoulders, leaving only the logical truth behind: a student was in trouble and needed his help. Everything else could wait, his own feelings about it didn’t matter. He smiled as he knocked on Dumbledore’s office door. Remus was right, the money he’d spent on mind healing was the best money he’d ever spent (second only to his and Re’s wedding rings, but he wouldn’t tell him that).

“Come in,” Dumbledore called.

Sirius pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the office that was largely unchanged since the days he visited it as a boy. Fawkes was still happy on his perch, preening feathers that were currently a rich orange. It wouldn’t be long until he was born once more into a new animal, for all he’d have the same face.

“Sirius,” Dumbledore looked at him from over those half-moon spectacles and Sirius had to bite down on a surge of irritation. “You wanted to speak to me?”

He took the seat he was offered and ran through what he wanted to say one more time before letting the words slip through his lips. 

“There’s something you should know about Draco Malfoy,” he began. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and leant forward minutely in his chair. “He needs help. He’s been forced to take the Dark Mark, and Albus -” Sirius looked Dumbledore straight in the eye, “Voldemort has ordered him to kill you.”

“Is that so?”

Sirius frowned. ‘Is that so?’ Was that really all the headmaster of a school was going to say to the news that a student was being forced into a Dark army and told to become a murderer at sixteen?

“I want to help him and I think the Order should as well,” Sirius carried on, still frowning at the impassive, almost pleasant, look on Dumbledore’s face. “I’ve already spoken to him to understand that getting out is what he wants. And obviously no attempt on your life has or will be made.”

Dumbledore leant back in his chair and linked his hands together over his long beard. One of them was still grey with some sort of curse, not that Sirius had been told what it was.

“Oh, I know that. Young Mr Malfoy does not have the appetite or ability to actually harm me, no.” He chuckled a little, “this task is not meant to harm me, but Lucius.”

“You know about it?”

“Oh yes.”

The irritation that had been steadily ramping up throughout the short interview suddenly and without warning snapped into anger.

Sirius couldn’t quite believe it. Dumbledore had known about what Draco was going through and hadn't so much as tried to steer him in the right direction. His own thoughts toward his old headmaster had long been uncharitable, though he’d thought the apathy and indifference he’d been shown by the ‘greatest wizard of their time’ was unique to him, not indicative of who he was as a person.

A thrill of fear than through Sirius. This was the man who ran the Order, who told them where to be, how to fight, who they could protect and who they had to leave to fend for themselves. They’d all just taken it for granted that he had everyone’s best interest at heart. No, Sirius corrected himself, Remus hadn’t taken it for granted. He’d long had his suspicions even if no one else had. What would it mean then, if under every order was a hidden motivation? Sirius thought back to those early Order meetings when Dumbledore had given Remus the order to go underground and they’d just gone along with it. The time he and Remus let the Order tell them how to parent Harry, how Dumbledore had looked them in the eye and told them to keep their godson in the dark. And for what? He and Remus had been right - keeping Harry in the dark had done nothing but put him in danger.

Sirius kept eye contact with Dumbledore, “as a teacher I think it’s my duty to try to help Draco. And if you won’t let me act as a teacher, then I’ll act as his cousin. The Black family has already lost too much to Voldemort.”

Dumbledore regarded him silently for a moment before nodding his head just slightly. It wasn’t acquiescence. Sirius knew enough about this man to know he wouldn’t give in so easily, but it wasn’t an outright order to stop.

“There is a fine balance in everything Sirius, and sometimes we must let fate run her course for the bigger picture. Interfering in things that have already been set on their natural path long before can have dire consequences.”

It was Sirius’ turn to incline his head, but he wasn’t giving in easily either. “Lack of interference from the people who matter can impact more than one person’s fate.”

Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed at that. It was the closest Sirius felt comfortable to alluding to the role, or lack thereof, that he’d played in all of their lives.

“We help who we can, when we can -”

“When it suits our needs,” Sirius cut in. He stood up, more than ready to leave. “Thank you, Albus. I think I’ve heard everything I need to hear.”

“He’s becoming more like you every day,” the words made Sirius freeze. He turned back slowly to face down twinkling blue eyes and a self-satisfied smile. “Young Harry. Headstrong and overzealous. Kind, too, like his parents. Brave.”

A mixture of fear and fury coursed through Sirius. He didn’t like those words coming out of Dumbledore’s mouth. They weren’t meant as a compliment, they were meant as a warning. 

A knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” Dumbledore said without breaking eye contact. Sirius didn’t turn to greet the interloper.

“Detention, is it? Or did you finally take my advice and fire him, Albus?”

Snivellus. Of course. Sirius wheeled around to face him. The man who no doubt knew about Draco being Marked months ago and hadn’t even paused to help.

“Draco Malfoy,” Sirius schooled his voice, said the name pleasantly and with no trace of the anger he was feeling, but Snape still narrowed his eyes and squared his shoulders like he’d issued a challenge. He was right then - Snape did know.

“Congratulations,” he drawled, “you worked something out for yourself.”

“Don’t lower yourself to schoolboy jabs, Severus, you know it was never you who came out on top with those. You knew about Draco Malfoy being forced to take the Dark Mark.” Sirius didn’t phrase it as a question. It wasn’t one. “And you didn’t do anything to help him.”

“Don’t talk about what you don’t know,” Snape snapped. Sirius felt something mean and vicious inside of himself cheer. He’d managed to get under his skin with two sentences - not his personal best but satisfying all the same. “I’m doing more to help that brat than you could ever do, holed up in your classroom or your Estate. I imagine it’s a nice place to hide out in while the rest of us fight.”

Sirius clenched his wand. It would be so easy to curse him. Too easy.

“Didn’t I tell you to give up on the schoolboy taunts?” Sirius smiled, cold and charming. “What does Draco know about you?”

“Nothing.” The word hurtled out, cracked in the quiet of the office. Sirius raised his eyebrows. “He does not know about my work with the Order and he will not know.”

“Okay,” Sirius said, holding his hands in the air.

“I’m serious, Black. I will not have that entitled brat knowing a single thing about my loyalties.” Snape’s hands were clenched tight into fists. “It would put everything in jeopardy.”

“Fine.” Sirius said, and he meant it. He wouldn’t sell out a valuable spy, no matter how much of a git he was, and no matter that telling Draco wouldn’t be selling him out at all. But it wouldn’t hurt to mess Snivellus around a bit first. Sirius looked him in the eye, something he’d successfully avoided doing for a while now, and smirked his most obnoxious smirk. “I won’t.”

Snape practically snarled in response, his thin lips curling, “you can try all you like Black, but you cannot take the Death Eater out of a Malfoy, just like you cannot take the cruelty and arrogance out of a Black.”

Sirius contemplated the man in front of him. No matter how big of a target his nose was, the consequences of giving into his anger and breaking it (for the third time, he hadn’t forgotten the previous two) were probably too great to excuse any action.

“We’ll see.”

With that, Sirius headed for the door without bothering to excuse himself or say goodbye.

Running down the stairs, Sirius let out his frustration through his pounding feet, picking up speed with each flight until he was practically jumping down onto the landings.

“Oi!”

“Watch where you’re going, mister!”

“Go get ‘em son! I’ll meet you there, c’mon Ginger gee-up!”

The portraits spurred him on in his haste, some comments so curmudgeonly or so ridiculous that they managed to break through the haze of anger that had taken him over.

By the time Sirius burst through the castle doors he’d calmed down, though not so much that he could resist aiming a kick at every snow drift he passed on the path to Hogsmeade.

Snape, he’d expected. In a way he could even understand his hesitance for anyone else to know about his work for the Order, even if he didn’t trust it. Dumbledore, he’d naively expected to be on side. Merlin knew why. Time and time again he’d failed not only him, but Remus too, and Sirius had suspicions about his treatment of Harry as well after those comments. He tried to keep an open mind about the man, after all he was without doubt one of the most skilled sorcerers around and it was impossible not to respect that, but if Sirius was honest with himself a lot of his effort to like Dumbledore came from James. James had looked up to Albus, practically revered him, from the moment he’d learnt about him as a child. He’d never understood Sirius’ reticence to believe in him too. It had been one of the only things they’d ever really fought about.

Sirius wished James were with him now to help him with this. He’d look at the situation and lay things down in that way he had which shouldn’t have made sense but somehow did (even if it was only the two of them it made sense to, as was often the case). He’d be right by his side with a gleam in his eye and a serious smile as he said, “this time we’re really going to make a difference, Padfoot.” Then his smile would widen and his eyes would rove up and over Sirius’ head until they met Remus’, “make sure he doesn’t go off the deep end with this one, won’t you Moony?” he’d say. And Remus would reply, “you know I can’t promise that Prongs,” and they’d laugh at him in the way that didn’t feel like being laughed at at all, but felt a lot like being known and loved by the only people who truly mattered.

ii.

“Any luck talking to Draco today?” 

Sirius startled. Thinking back to that same morning when he’d set off for work with a smile, a kiss, and an ‘I’ve got a feeling today’s the day he’ll trust me’, felt like a lifetime ago. How could it be that so much had changed, Sirius’ perspective so shifted from where it had been only twelve hours prior, with Remus none the wiser?

“Yes,” Sirius said, then winced at the hopeful look on his husband’s face. “But Remy, it’s not good.”

Remus shifted them from their position curled up on the sofa in front of the fire until they were sitting up, facing each other. He pulled the sleeves of his woolen jumper over his hands, toying with the fabric in that familiar, beloved, way he had.

“What happened?”

“Voldemort is using Draco as punishment for Lucius not getting the prophecy. He’s given him a job,” Sirius carried on, ignoring Remus' muttered curse. If he didn’t say it in one piece he would just have to go over everything later. Better to just rip the bandage off in one go. “His job is to kill Dumbledore.”

“Don’t mess, Siri.” Remus laughed, though it was nervous and stuttered like he knew it wasn’t a joke at all. When Sirius shook his head the laughter cut out, replaced by a sharp intake of breath. “You can’t be serious.”

“I spoke to Dumbledore.”

“You wouldn’t be so down if that had gone well.”

“No,” Sirius let his body fall forward into Remus’, needing his familiar comfort to surround and ground him. Remus’ arms circled around his body immediately to grant him the touch he so needed. “He doesn’t want me to help him, let alone the Order. Knew all about the plot from Snivellus and isn’t going to do anything about it.”

“The cruelty he opposes is so apparent in himself,” Remus’ voice was far away. Sirius squeezed him and his next words came out biting, “fuck him. Entitled bastard.”

Sirius snorted, “d’you know what he said? ‘Sometimes we must let fate run her course. Interfering in things that have already been set on their course can have dire consequences.’ Bullshit.”

“Enlightening,” Remus said, his voice still clipped, “truly. Explains why he was so happy to let fate have her way with you and I after he’d so helpfully set us on the path he’d chosen.”

“Don’t let Prongs hear you talk like that.”

“Prongs isn’t around to hear it anymore, is he? So what does it matter if we’re honest about his hero, not like it can hurt him.”

Sirius didn’t want to hear that just then. Couldn’t bear to listen to Remus when he started to talk like this, like James and Lily were the lucky ones for getting to escape the cruelties of their world. He pulled back from Remus’ embrace and looked away, into the fire.

“Jamie would know what to do.”

“James didn’t have all the answers,” Remus softened his voice in apology.

“We’d have worked it out.”

“I know.” Remus linked their hands together. Sirius looked back into his eyes. “You still have me. Forever, remember?”

Sirius nodded and focused his attention on the press of Remus’ ring on his fingers, of the feel of his own ring and how its weight was so natural to him already. He felt some of the fog clear from his mind as he breathed out, and the room came into closer focus. A portrait of James and Lily waved at him from across the room and he let himself smile. He hadn’t slipped like that for weeks, and it had been months since a mention of James being gone had affected him so much.

“Forever,” Remus said again and kissed their linked hands. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Sirius said, his voice a little croaky. “Just tired. Stressed.”

“Just about Draco?”

“Draco. Harry. Regulus. Everything.”

“We’ll do nothing but sit here for an hour, then we’ll deal with it.” Remus had to do this sometimes, had to make a decision so that Sirius could focus on it. It was good. Sirius never had anyone look after him like that until Remus came along, and back then they’d practically taken it in turns to be the one breaking down and the one putting the pieces back together. It was a dance they were depressingly good at, or so James had once said, and one that Sirius had come to rely on. “And Sirius? You aren’t responsible for Regulus.”

“Okay.” Sirius settled back into Remus’ arms, this time with his back pressed to his chest so that Remus’ hands came to rest on his stomach, fingers tangled together with his own. “Love you.”

Sitting like that, Sirius could almost believe that he hadn’t been the reason for Regulus becoming who he became. For him dying at eighteen, alone and way too young. He could almost picture himself helping Draco and it turning out well. He couldn’t take the Dark Mark off his arm or the pain out of his memories, but maybe he could add a bit of hope into his future.

“Love you too.”

Sirius was the one to broach the subject again when he felt the last finger of frost relinquish its grip on his mood.

“Harry and Draco almost had a fight today.”

“Almost?” Remus pressed a kiss to his head but otherwise didn’t mention the passing of the episode. “It was an almost daily occurrence in their third year. Minerva and I would bet on who the instigator would be every morning.”

“It was very firmly Harry today,” Sirius recalled the event with a laugh. In retrospect it was amusing the way he’d jumped straight into a fight like that. He must have been watching Draco for his reaction to the news; Sirius hadn’t heard what had sparked it all off until the fourth years (and by that he meant Michelle, Erin, and Clare) laid it all out for him blow for blow.

“He’s taking after you,” Remus laughed. He said that whenever Harry did something a bit over dramatic or rebellious (Sirius insisted that ‘spirited’ was the better descriptor) and usually it made Sirius grin, but today it just reminded him of what Dumbledore had said to him that evening.

“Dumbledore said the same thing this evening. That Harry was becoming more like me every day.” Sirius twisted so he could see Remus’ face. “He said it like a threat, or some type of warning.”

“You don’t think you could ‘help’ Draco into succeeding on his mission, do you?”

Sirius couldn’t hold back his laughter. Sarcastic Remus was one of his favourite Remus’, and when it was paired with protective Remus it always led to great things.

“I swear if that man has been using Harry again, I’ll -”

“You’ll what?” Sirius grinned, “go all big, bad wolf on him?”

“Does that make him the Red Riding Hood in that scenario?” Remus crinkled his nose.

“I was thinking more along the ‘evil grandma’ path.”

“I don’t think the grandma is evil in that one, Pads.”

“Let me have my fun,” Sirius whined and flopped back against Remus’ chest. “But really, I will need to get them to play nice.”

“Harry and Draco?”

“Mmm.”

“Good luck, darling. I’ll miss you when you’re inevitably struck in the crossfire.”

“Hey! I got Percival and Rosalind to chill out on their whole nemesis thing in sixth year.”

“Siri, sweetheart. They ended up in the hospital wing for days after that. Appeasing people just isn’t your strong suit. You’re too…”

“Too what, Remy?” Sirius would have glared, but he was really too comfortable to move. He didn’t even have the energy to make his faux annoyance sound vaguely convincing.

“Too dramatic.”

Sirius grumbled, “if you’re the expert, tell me what you’d do then.”

“Break the news to Harry gently. You and I both know he’s, well, let’s say hot-headed, about Draco Malfoy. Best to keep them separate if you can.”

“How are they ever going to work out their differences if they don’t even see each other? Remy, babe, this plan is -”

“The one we’re going with.” Remus rolled his eyes, “honestly, imagine what would have happened if you were told that Snape was on our side at sixteen and you had to be civil to him overnight?”

“I’d have been a joy about it.”

Remus snorted.

“Fine, I concede,” Sirius said, “but Draco is nothing like that greasy git.”

“Lord have mercy on us if he was.” Remus shuddered. “Will you tell Harry tomorrow?”

“I better do, before any rumours start flying. It’s only a matter of time before someone sees Draco come to my office. He isn’t very subtle.”

“‘I am saddened to hear of your continued convalescence’,” Remus quoted in his best imitation of a posh English accent. It was truly terrible. “You did thank him for me, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Sirius said, then in a much quieter voice, “in a manner of speaking.”

“Let me know how it goes tomorrow.”

“I’ll send a patronus.”

“And give Harry a hug from me. I miss him.” Remus was still feeling guilty about not being able to visit Harry at all, not even for his quidditch games. It was hitting him hard to have to watch things from a distance again like he’d had to in his year as the Defence Professor. “And tell him that if he wants Ron and Hermione over at Christmas we can organise it. Ginny too.”

“I will.” Sirius pressed a kiss to the side of Remus’ lips. “He misses you too, you know. Everything is ‘tell Moony I said hi’, ‘you did deliver my last letter to Remus didn’t you?’ ‘how’s Moony doing Padfoot?’ It’s all very cute.”

Remus went a little pink in the cheeks. He still couldn’t take a compliment after all these years. He still didn’t, and probably never would, understand how important he was to him and Harry.

iii.

Sirius had been in a good mood all day despite everything. He’d organised to have dinner with Harry that evening which was something they didn’t do half as much as Sirius would like, what with Harry being the man of the moment - Quidditch Captain, supposed Chosen One, and head over heels for a girl. Actually, Sirius chuckled, if you took out the ‘Chosen One’ schtick he was a lot like James in seventh year.

Sirius was still smiling to himself as the door to his office was pushed open and Harry’s messy head of black hair peeked around. When he caught sight of Sirius, he smiled and walked into the room. He had his hands tucked deep into his pockets as he leant against the closed door. How Sirius hadn’t seen how much Harry was picking up his likeness, he didn’t know. His heart squeezed painfully as he really took it all in. Here was a boy he’d held at mere hours old, who fate had forced him to leave for twelve years, who suffered so much but still had his parents’ kind and loving hearts. And Sirius was his role model. It was scary and humbling all at once.

“You alright, Padfoot?”

“Fine,” Sirius smiled and pulled him into a hug. Harry hugged back straight away. For all his newfound teenage bluster he was still the same scrawny kid who just wanted someone to love him. “Shall we have dinner here? I was thinking we could use the Room of Requirement.”

Harry’s eyes lit up, “great idea. I’ve not been back there since Umbridge discovered the DA.”

“Really? I’d have thought you and Ginny might use it for dates. Remy and I used to do that all the time.”

“What! No! Padfoot I do not want to hear about what you and Moony got up to at school.” Harry shuddered, his cheeks darkening in mortification. “Gross.”

Sirius laughed, a huge belly laugh which tipped his head back and hurt his stomach. 

“Merlin, Harry.” He stopped laughing long enough to straighten up, but at the look on Harry’s face he was off again. “If you must know, we mainly went for a bit of peace and quiet away from your dad. We’d read and talk and I’d play piano for him.”

“Oh,” Harry said, “sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Sirius chuckled again, “though good to know how gross you think your godfathers are. Good thing too, I was just about to tell you about the time we really were -”

“Oh my god!” Harry laughed, though it was more of an outraged scream, “have I not suffered enough?”

Sirius snorted and led them up the stairs to the seventh floor. That was one of Remus’ sayings. It seemed Harry wasn’t only taking after him after all.

When they reached the blank stretch of wall Sirius gestured for Harry to walk up to it.

“Think of a nice place to eat. I’ll let the elves know we’re here.”

The room, when he entered it, was like something from a picture book. Everything was light and airy and patterned with gold swirls. The chairs were padded with pastel velvet cushions and the huge bay windows seemed to be looking out over a quidditch pitch. Harry stood in the middle of it all, a bemused expression on his face as he poked suspiciously at the very great number of forks bracketing each plate.

“I don’t think ‘I want a nice place to eat’ was specific enough,” he said before plonking himself down in one of the chairs. Merlin, but he hadn’t learnt any of Sirius’ grace, that was for damn sure. “How’s Moony?”

“I knew that would be the first thing you asked. He’s good. Misses you a lot.”

“I miss him too,” Harry mumbled. “I wish he could watch one of my matches. The last time he saw me play I fainted off my broom.”

“Please do not remind me,” Sirius had a sip of the wine that Dobby had given him, then offered the glass to Harry. He turned it down with a crinkled nose. “I’m glad the most exciting thing that happens at your matches now is Lee’s commentary getting a little ruder than Minnie would like.”

Harry laughed at that and helped himself to a serving of the beef stew Dobby had brought up for them. They settled into a comfortable silence as they ate, both of them eating like they would never see food again. There were some scars you didn’t recover from, no matter how faint they might now be, and Sirius ached that Harry had experienced this one too.

“How are things with Ginny?” Sirius pushed his empty plate away. Harry had told them about his new romance two weeks ago, but he never spoke about it unless prompted. Not that he could blame him. Sirius remembered being sixteen and in love; that heady feeling of wanting to shout from the Astronomy Tower that the person you love loves you back, but at the same time knowing it was precious and wanting to keep it to yourself.

“Good. Great.” Harry’s smile was small and bashful. “She’s amazing.”

“Moony and I talked, and if you want we’d love to have her over during the Christmas holidays.” Harry’s eyes lit up. “Just for the day.”

“I’d like that,” he said, somewhat shyly. “I’d like for you and Moony to know her. As my parents, not our teachers.”

They seemed to realise what Harry had just said at the same time.

“I-I mean, I don’t, I…” Harry stammered, looking anywhere but at Sirius, which probably wasn’t a bad thing considering how misty eyed he’d just become.

“We’d love that,” Sirius said, cutting Harry’s babbling off. “And you can show her all the portraits of your mum and dad.”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

“It’s a plan then.” Dessert came and between that and the wonder Sirius was still feeling at Harry’s comment, Sirius completely forgot why they were meeting in the first place. Until Harry took it upon himself to rudely remind him.

“And I know I shouldn’t be duelling people at school, but come on Padfoot, it was Malfoy and he deserved it anyway! You should have seen the way he just did not care at all about Madame Malkin, I mean he literally set the paper on fire! And I know he wears her robes even though he’s a posh twat.”

“I need to speak to you about that actually,” Sirius said, ignoring the ‘posh twat’ comment for the moment. “You’re not going to like it, but just keep an open mind and hear me out. Please.”

“Okay…”

“I’m helping Draco.”

“Helping?” Harry was staring at him like he’d just turned into a particularly vicious boggart. “Draco?”

“Open mind, remember? He’s been targeted by Voldemort because his father failed to get that prophecy. He made him take the Dark Mark.”

“Made him? He was telling people about getting the Dark Mark on the first day of term! Sirius, he’s using you! He’s probably feeding everything you say back to Voldemort.”

“The first time I realised what was going on, I saw him having a panic attack.” Sirius said. “I was Padfoot at the time. He didn’t recognise me.”

“Bullshit. Everyone knows who you are.”

“Panic does weird things to your head. Things you might know you forget. Things that may be obvious in one moment are gone completely when you can barely breathe. I believe him and I’m going to help him.”

“How can you trust him after everything he’s done?”

“Can I tell you a story?” Sirius usually kept this particular anecdote to himself, reliving it only in the safety of his mind healer’s office. Dragging it up would be hard, but it could be the only thing to contextualise it for Harry. “When we were at school things were bad, like they are now. And I did stupid things like any other kid, but I did cruel things as well.”

Sirius took a deep breath. The formal dining table shrank and in its place stood two squashy armchairs, the same as the ones they had at home, and a pensieve. Sirius eyed it warily. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

They moved into the new sitting area and Sirius stared at the glassy surface of the pensieve, avoiding Harry’s questioning stare.

“When I was fifteen I still lived in Grimmauld Place. I was so scared all the time, and so angry. So angry. I had to listen to my family revere Voldemort every time I went home, but that summer was worse than it had ever been. They weren’t just anti-Muggleborns and anti-werewolves, they were anti everything I liked at all.” Sirius ran a hand through his hair. “And then when we got to school, Remus and Lily were made prefects. People started talking. It’s easier to notice when someone doesn’t show up for class at least once a month when they’re singled out with a badge. It was Snape who put the clues together.”

Harry shifted, no doubt remembering that night in the Shack.

“He spread rumours about Remus and got obsessed with trying to prove that he was right. Remy wouldn’t let us do anything about it. I think he thought he deserved it. But I couldn’t let it slide. I was so angry.” Sirius let the memory wash over him. The insecurity and anger of those years still lived in him, closer to the surface than they should be. Logically, he knew that was thanks to the dementors (‘stunted emotional development’ his arse), but on his bad days he thought it might just be that he was too broken to ever truly heal. “So I did something cruel.”

“What did you do?”

“I told Snape how to get past the Whomping Willow. I provoked him, said that if he really wanted to see what we got up to then he should follow us out there.”

“But - Moony, he’d -”

“I know.” Sirius felt sick thinking about what could have happened that night, but a small bubble of pride rose in him at Harry’s goodness. He would never make the same mistakes that he’d made. “If something had gone wrong then he’d have carried that guilt forever.”

“But nothing happened? How?” Harry rested his hands on his knees and leant forward, wanting answers. “I’ve seen what a transformation looks like.”

“James. Your dad, he saved us. Snape came into the Shack and he managed to get him out. He’d already seen Remus though.”

“Is that why he hates you so much? Why he hates me?”

“In part.” Sirius looked at Harry seriously. “What I did that day was awful. I was young and scared and angry and I made a stupid decision that could have affected everyone I cared about in the worst ways. They gave me a second chance though. Merlin knows why, but Moony and your dad, they’re better than I am. I was never so good at giving people second chances back then.”

“But Malfoy’s a Death Eater, Sirius. You were a good person who made a bad choice, but he’s a bad person who’s always made bad choices. It isn’t the same.”

“It isn’t the same,” Sirius said. He could see Harry trying to piece everything together into his neat box of right and wrong that he’d relied on for so long.

“And being young isn’t an excuse to do anything.”

“No, it isn’t, but it does give you perspective. The world isn’t black and white, Harry. It isn’t as simple as us and Death Eaters. There are shades of grey that all of us fit in. What you need to decide is how you want to judge people, and how they’re going to fit into your scale of right and wrong.” Sirius sighed and pulled Harry into his side. It was a hard lesson to learn, but one he wished he’d been taught as a kid. “It’s part of growing up, knowing that people aren’t always good but knowing that doesn’t make them all bad either. People are still worthy of love and second chances even if they’ve done bad things in their past, so long as they’re truly remorseful.”

“I can’t trust him.” Harry clenched his jaw stubbornly, but rested his head on Sirius’ shoulder all the same. “I don’t want you and Moony to be in danger because he’s tricked you.”

“Give me some credit, Prongslet. And think of how you’d judge me. Or your father - neither of us were saints,” Sirius laughed. “And you and Draco are like different sides of the same coin. You’ve grown up with opposites - you without a loving family for twelve years, him with only doting parents for company; you entered the Wizarding World at eleven and were surrounded by Light immediately, Draco grew up with Dark magic around him; you in Gryffindor, him in Slytherin. What do you think you’d do in his shoes? Isn’t the fact he’s asked for help all that matters?”

“Fine,” Harry interrupted him and sat up, eyes roving around the room. “Help Malfoy. I can understand it, even if I don’t like it.”

“Thank you, Harry.” Sirius felt relief hit him like a bottle of his favorite wine. Having Harry on side in this was more important than anything. 

iv.

Sirius sought Draco out the very next day, but judging by the gauntness of his face he’d have thought it had been more like months since he’d last seen him.

“Merlin, Draco.” Sirius itched to reach out and comfort the kid like he would have done with Harry, but he held himself back. Draco wasn’t Harry, he would not appreciate that sort of gesture. That didn’t stop Sirius voicing his concerns. “Have you been eating at all?”

Draco ignored his question entirely and opted to swan past the classroom door and into Sirius’ office to sit primly in one of the armchairs. That was a definite no then.

“Did you speak to Professor Dumbledore?”

“Yes,” Sirius sat in the armchair opposite. He’d wanted to broach the subject more gently but he should have known better than to think Draco would go along with that.

“And?”

Sirius wouldn’t let himself get annoyed at Draco’s frostiness. Everytime a jolt of irritation hit him he looked over, about to snap back, but the sight of him in that chair stopped him. Draco: too thin, too exhausted, too stressed. It was like looking at himself from the past (not that he was ever so dreadfully blonde).

“He’s glad he knows and obviously glad that you don’t want to follow through on the orders -”

“But?”

“But,” Sirius did allow himself one warning glance which Draco ignored imperiously, “he isn’t going to reach out and he doesn’t want our side to help either.”

For all Draco embodied the pureblood ideals, there was one thing he hadn’t quite mastered: masking his emotions. Upon hearing those words he tensed, his posture becoming impossibly taller, his shoulders higher, his face more drawn. It was painful to look at.

“That doesn’t change anything with Remus and I. We’re still going to help you.”

“Oh great,” Draco said faintly, “two of the most wanted men in Britain are on my side.”

Sirius did reach over to comfort him then, just a small squeeze on the shoulder. He knew those words belied gratitude so deep it was hard to put into sincere words.

“Lucky you,” Sirius said, and smiled.

“Lucky me,” Draco echoed. He looked up then and laughed as their eyes met. It was more an expression of disbelief than anything else, but it was the first genuinely happy sound Sirius had ever heard from him. “So what do we do now?”

“I guess we need to figure out what you’ll do when term finishes. Where you’ll go and the like.”

Draco’s happiness, small though it was, vanished in a breath. “Where I’ll go? I’ll go home.”

“Draco, you cannot expect me to happily let you wander back into Voldemort’s waiting arms.”

“It’s not your decision to make,” Draco snapped, this time his voice devoid of anything except fury. “I will not leave Mother and Father there to suffer for my absence.”

“So you’ll go so you can, what - suffer together?”

“Yes.”

Sirius regarded Draco for a moment. He was still the anxious, exhausted boy he’d been when he’d first sat down in that chair, but there was something else about him now. The tension in his shoulders wasn’t just fear, it was strength. Stubbornness and loyalty.

Sirius put his head in his hands and laughed weakly, “you really are a Black.”

Draco didn’t say anything, but when Sirius sat up again and looked over, most of the tension had left his body.

*

They continued to meet like that a few times a week, and each time Sirius wished there was more he could do for Draco other than just being someone for him to talk to. He itched to actually do something, to steal him away to the Estate for Christmas (with Narcissa and Lucius if it came to that), or to charge into Malfoy Manor himself and just end it once and for all. It was stupid and fantastical and it didn’t help Draco, but Sirius couldn’t help but think like that.

“How did you deal with it?” Draco asked. It was a week after they’d spoken about Dumbledore and Draco hadn’t asked him many questions about his past since.

“Being different to the rest of my family?” Draco nodded in response. “Badly. It was different for me though. I’d been different from them since the moment I could talk. I was always the disappointment, the one they wished they could hide away. I think it was my mother’s greatest regret that I was the eldest, the heir to everything, while Regulus was simply the second in line. You remind me of him.”

“I thought the whole point of these meetings was to stop me following that path.” Draco smirked, “fun though these chats are, I’d hoped their greater purpose was in preventing my untimely death rather than giving us a chance to share our various traumas.”

“I take it back. Reggie would never have been so insolent.” They snickered for a moment, but Draco’s eyes were still serious. He hadn’t answered his question. “Remember when I told you that I offered Regulus an out?”

“You said he was too scared to take it.”

“To say my parents weren’t kind would be an understatement. To say they believed in corporal punishment would be an even bigger understatement.” Sirius felt his mind scream at him to stop talking. He ignored it. “I’d always been different and they’d always punished me for it. First it was me being a kid - wanting to play and rebel a bit instead of submit to the endless pureblood lessons. Then it was the whole Gryffindor thing which almost started a civil war. Then they found out I was gay, then somehow that I not only hung around with Muggleborns and blood traitors at school but was in love with a werewolf. All that while I openly hated Voldemort and wasn’t shy about telling them.”

Sirius stood up and paced around his office, needing to let some of the anxiety coursing through his body out.

“So, yeah, I dealt with it badly. I intentionally angered them, they hurt me, then I lashed out at them, at myself, at other kids at school I didn’t like. Minnie - Professor McGonagall - helped, but in the end I had to get out of there, so I ran away.”

Draco nodded. He looked distraught.

“You’re not in the same situation that I was, Draco. Your parents love you. They’re not exactly the best people in the world, but they do love you.” Sirius grinned at the glare Draco sent his way. “I also found turning into a dog at will helped. Hard to feel anxious about your mad parents when the majority of your brain just cares about food and shelter.”

“My parents aren’t mad,” Draco snapped reflexively. Before Sirius could do more than raise his eyebrows at that, Draco was looking at him with interest. “Becoming an Animagus really helps? I’ve read about it of course, but I always thought it was more trouble than it was worth. Especially considering you can’t choose your animal form. But I do like the idea of running from my problems without consequence.”

“It’s not easy and it’s not a replacement for proper mind healing.” Sirius warned, though he couldn’t help the fizz of excitement he felt at passing on the joy of the skill, “but it is really fun.”

“You know, you really should be discouraging this.” Draco shot him a dirty look which almost instantly melted into a grin. “I’ve never broken the law so flagrantly. I positively radiate Gryffindor already.”

“It’s not really breaking the law.” Sirius, without thought, repeated the words he’d used to appease Remus when he’d first found out what they’d done. “Besides, you won’t master it for ages.”

“Please,” Draco scoffed, “you managed it when you were fourteen. You said yourself that I’m smarter than you. I give it a few weeks.”

“There’s more than one type of smart,” Sirius turned to the bookshelf he kept in his office. “I don’t have the books I need here. I’ll have to get them this evening, then we can start tomorrow.”

“I bet I’ll be something much better than a dog.” Draco said as he sauntered out of the office. “Perhaps an eagle or a tiger.”

Sirius laughed. It wasn’t often that Draco was happy and calm enough to let his guard down and joke around with him.

“Get out of my sight, snake.” Sirius clapped him on the shoulder as he left, “and remember -”

“Yes, yes,” Draco said with a sigh, like he did everytime, “be good and don’t hex Potter. You know, you wouldn't have to issue that warning if your godson wasn’t such an insufferable -”

“Talk your feelings out with someone else,” Sirius snapped his winter cloak up, “I’m going home.”

“Spoken like a true mentor,” Draco grumbled under his breath.

*

“Okay, don’t get angry but I may be embarking on a slightly illegal project.”

They were curled up in bed together, Remus with his face tucked into Sirius’ neck, his breathing slow and even. It was the full moon the next day; Remus was only ever clingy the days around the moon, when his bones seemed to ache constantly and his brow was always creased in pain. Sirius buried his nose into his red curls. There were grey hairs dotted carelessly about now, creeping slowly to prominence, and Sirius didn’t know when they’d first appeared. This physical manifestation of stress that he’d come home to after leaving behind a man of barely twenty-one. Remus hated it, and Sirius knew he’d glamour them away if he was the type, but he wasn’t. Sirius was glad for it. He didn’t want to gloss over any of their history, and besides, he thought it made him look stately and wise.

“Why,” Remus groaned, “would you tell me this now. I’m too tired to deal with Sirius-ness.”

“Exactly. I’m being smart - crafty if you will - and telling you now when there’s a lower chance of me being hexed for it.”

“Sneaky,” Remus stretched out so he was pressed on top of Sirius even more, “go on then. Horrify me.”

“I’m going to teach Draco how to become an Animagus.”

“Oh, well that’s not really illegal.” Remus said. Sirius was triumphant; he’d known that if he said that enough it would stick. But before he could enjoy his genius he was cruelly poked in the ribs. “I’m being facetious. Of course that’s illegal, you prat.”

“It’s only illegal if he doesn’t get registered.”

“Is he going to register?” Sirius didn’t have an answer to that, which Remus knew full well. “Why must you always put yourself in danger?” He yawned, his words slowing down, “stupid boy.”

His words were so close to those Remus had said in fourth year when he’d still tried to stop them joining him on full moons that Sirius had to squeeze his eyes shut.

When he opened them again he saw the grey in Remus’ hair, the cheerful opulence of the Potter Estate, a portrait of them with James and Lily at graduation, and a photo of Harry from their wedding. Sirius couldn’t breathe for a moment. There he was, lying in a house inherited by his godson, with the boy he’d loved all his life in his arms, preparing for another full moon and another war. The two things that seemed to pull Sirius’ life forward one yank at a time.

And despite everything, he was happy. He held Remus close as he drifted into sleep and looked at that photo of them all at graduation. They had a better future ahead of them, he was sure.

When Sirius woke up the next morning it was to Remus fast asleep beside him and a huge pile of books on his bedside table.

They were books on Animagi, Sirius realised with a smile. Trust Moony to show his support like that. Sirius smiled down at him. He hated leaving on full moon days, but it couldn’t be helped and he’d be back for the evening. As it was, the best thing he could do was let Remus sleep. Even with wolfsbane he had a hard night ahead. So he packed up the books and in their place left a bottle of pain potion and a note reading ‘take it easy, big bad wolf! Love you x’

v.

The Christmas holidays rolled around in the blink of an eye, and before he’d really had time to plan anything it was the last day of term. Sirius was distracted all day until he managed to talk to Draco after the Christmas lunch that had the rest of the castle in a stupor.

“Here, I have something for you.” Sirius got straight to the point. No doubt someone would realise they were both mysteriously absent from the Yuletide celebrations if they took too long.

Draco took the wrapped parcel in his hands with a frown, considering the plain packaging carefully.

“I didn’t get you anything.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sirius waved off his manners, “it’s a practical thing anyway.”

Draco folded back the paper until the shiny surface of the mirror reflected back his questioning look.

“It’s a two way mirror,” Sirius answered the question before it had to be asked, “so we can keep in touch over the holiday without you being in danger. Remus, Harry, and I all have part of it, too. All you need to do is look into it and either call one of us specifically or just the Potter Estate and one of us will answer. It’s totally secure. What do you think?”

He was still holding the half unwrapped mirror carefully, staring at it like he wasn’t quite sure what to think. Sirius watched as he nodded and ducked his head.

“Thank you, Cousin.”

It was the first time Draco had referred to him as family in any kind of positive way. It felt odd to acknowledge this boy as part of his new family with all of his pureblood customs, all of the ways in which he was everything that Sirius had run from as a boy. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d fit in just yet, but despite himself he already knew that his heart had shifted to accommodate another cherished soul.

“You’re welcome.” Seeing the mirror in Draco’s hands was a balm on his anxieties, but nothing could truly make the worries go. “A last attempt to persuade you to stay with us won’t work, will it?”

“No.” Draco covered the mirror back up with the brown paper and toyed with the ripped edges of it. “I’ll be okay.”

He seemed to be saying it more for his own benefit than Sirius’, so he let the comment sit in the air between them. They both knew it was a lie. Draco would come back to school in January with new scars; physical ones he’d cover up with glamour charms and long sleeves, and mental scars he’d mask from everyone. Sirius would be able to see them though. The shapes they’d leave were known to him.

Haunted grey eyes would be the thing to greet him through that two way mirror and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Don’t let them see those books,” Sirius had given him the Animagi books days before, finally giving into the constant demands to let Draco study them alone.

“I’ve already transfigured the covers.”

“Don’t try the transformation without me there to help.”

“Do you believe me to possess no modicum of intelligence?”

“Use the mirror if you need anything.”

“I will. You’re stalling.” Draco was already retreating into his mask of indifference. “I will be fine. I’ve dealt with this before.”

“And look where it got you! That is not exactly a comfort, Draco. Merlin.”

Draco shrugged, one angular shoulder twitching up towards his ear and back down again sharply. “What else can happen?”

“Let’s not tempt fate.” Sirius let the worry settle more comfortably on his broad shoulders. He might as well get used to it, caring for self-sacrificing boys like he did. “You should get going. The train leaves at three.”

Draco nodded once and turned away, walking out into the quiet corridors that were bedecked with holiday cheer that neither of them quite felt.

Sirius turned back to his own belongings. He didn’t have much that he needed to bring home for the holiday, but he tucked his photographs into his bag nonetheless. He’d carry the smiling photo of him, Remus, and Harry with him everywhere given the choice.

He smiled and ran his thumb over their small figures. Harry was beaming at the camera, but he and Remus only had eyes for each other. You could take a photo of them from any year and Sirius bet they’d be making some variation of that hopeless expression. They never had a chance in hell, the two of them, at existing without the other. It was always them, would always be them. Lily had called them her night sky: her moon and her star to guide the way. She was romantic like that. Jamie just called them lucky bastards. Whatever way he looked at it, Sirius knew that Remus was his soulmate and he was Remus’. Whether it was luck or fate that brought them together, he didn’t really care.

Since their wedding, Sirius always carried a bit of Remus’ magic with him wherever he went, and he tapped into it now. It felt like love. The worry about Draco was still present, but it was easier to deal with when he thought about going home. Home to celebrate his wedding anniversary with his family (and Christmas, though that came second).

Hope despite fear. That was what war was.