Archive of Our Own

Harry had done what he'd been born to do and killed Voldemort.

Sirius could hardly believe he'd lived to see it. He'd taken great relish in bringing Bellatrix down before the end; and he had narrowly avoided her killing curse before he'd managed it. The makeshift celebration at Grimmauld Place was now rolling into the wee hours of morning and Harry had wandered off with Ginny Weasley at some point. Ron and Hermione were tangled up together on the loveseat and the rest of the Order was drinking to their health and sorrows. Sirius stumbled off alone after a screaming match with his mother's portrait and he found himself in the drawing room, staring at the charcoal splotch where his name had once been.

He flopped down on the doxy-eaten couch across from the tapestry and traced the golden threads with his gaze. He brought his Firewhisky up to his mouth and dampened his lips. “This hardly looks like much of a celebration.”

Sirius started at the voice and he turned to find Malfoy standing in the doorway. Dislike festered in his gut and he felt a sneer curl his lip. He stared at the boy leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed elegantly over his chest. He had the Black good looks, haughty and aristocratic, as well as the svelte frame and soft-silk hair. “Still surprised you didn't sell us out in the end, kid,” Sirius said, raising his glass. He was, too. Malfoy had proven to be just as difficult and nasty as Harry had always painted him but, where it mattered, he'd been on the right side.

Malfoy kicked off the doorframe, pushed Sirius' legs off the end of the couch and sat down next to him. Sirius' mouth tightened at Malfoy acting as if he owned the place. He went back to staring at the tapestry and drinking heavily when Malfoy finally spoke up. “You always were a bit of an inspiration.”

Sirius choked on his Firewhisky and his nostrils burned. He tore his eyes away from the blackened spot that hid the words 'Draco Malfoy' underneath it. “Sorry?” he said, still spluttering a bit.

“It was never hard to believe in all that pureblood supremacy rot when we were in the thick of it, was it?” Sirius didn't quite know what to say, or why Malfoy's voice suddenly lacked the cool venom it'd always had when he spoke to him. He thought about mentioning something along the lines of, at least Malfoy's family had become blood traitors with him - his eyes darted up to the two blast marks above Malfoy's name - but Malfoy spoke before he could. “Being at Hogwarts was like being in a whole new world.”

Sirius knew exactly what he meant.

Malfoy was watching the tapestry. “It was near impossible to keep up those same beliefs. The purity of blood simply didn't seem important, not when a Mudblood had proven to be so intelligent and a half-blood could fly on a broom as though he was born to it.” The reminder of James smarted and Malfoy met his flinch with a steady gaze. “I knew your story of course. Mother told it to me often. It was a grand cautionary tale and I despised you, as I was meant to, for your betrayal.” Sirius let out a knowing and dismissive little huff of laughter. That was a Malfoy he recognized. “As time went on and I started to question what I'd once thought of as truth, I began to envy you.” That wasn't.

“You envied me?” Sirius repeated in disbelief.

Malfoy chuckled. “You'd run away. You'd got out, bought a house of your own out from under your family's thumb. You'd started to question the very things I was questioning and you'd come up with a more honorable answer than I'd thought possible.”

“I went to Azkaban a murderer,” Sirius retorted. Was he insulting himself while Malfoy defended him? His head felt fuzzy.

“As a wrongfully accused murderer who'd done everything in his power to protect his best friend and a Mudblood,” Malfoy corrected. At Sirius' murderous look, Malfoy waved a hand. “It's habit not hatred now. Don't get your knickers in a twist, Black.”

Sirius' blood was still surging from hearing that word from Malfoy's lips, but he could at least understand why he'd said it. Mollified, he fell back against the cushion again.

“Toujours pur,” Malfoy said suddenly. “When did you know what a load of bollocks it was?”

Sirius smirked. “It was Moony actually. One of the best friends I'd ever had, and if my mother'd had her way he would have been put down like a dog.”

Malfoy's lips quirked at that and he stood, patting Sirius' knee as he went. Sirius glared at him, torn between confusion and vigilance. “They'd be ashamed of you if they could see you now,” he said as he made his way to the door. Sirius frowned, unsure if he was meant to feel insulted or not. Malfoy's brow perked and a smirk settled over his lips as he turned back just long enough to add, “Makes you kind of proud, doesn't it?”

Post-Voldemort everything was meant to fall into place. The yardstick by which success was measured was the phrase 'once Voldemort is gone'. Now that he was, it was becoming increasingly obvious that while Voldemort may have been the disease, the symptoms were still spreading. Internationally, there were still those who legitimately agreed with his principles, if not his methods.

The Order of the Phoenix was only just beginning to get a handle on exactly how many Death Eaters had been out there, placing foreign Ministers under Compliancy potions and Imperius curses. The whole thing was a public relations nightmare as they had no way of knowing who was resisting this new democracy of their own freewill and who was the victim of a as-yet-to-be-imprisoned Death Eater's mind games.

Sirius had volunteered for one of the more dangerous missions, which would take him happily to Norway. He was always willing to take on the riskier assignments after having been locked up in his family's awful home for the past four years. Any opportunity to breathe fresh air was a good one in his mind.

The Norwegians' ambassador to the United Kingdom had been shirty over the Floo the last time Sirius had contacted him, and their Ministry's actions were becoming less and less even-handed. Sirius had been sent to ferret out the truth between the mounds of misinformation the Ministry was tossing out, hopefully with some token resistance upfront - it'd been awhile since he'd gotten to indulge himself in an honest-to-goodness wandfight.

What he found waiting for him was quite a bit more than 'token resistance'. Not to mention, the Death Eaters had the unfair advantage of a three to one ratio.

Some clever thinking and ingeniously placed flagpoles were all that kept him breathing. But it didn't keep his wand in his hand. He Apparated blindly, transformed into Snuffles and ran as fast as his four legs would carry him. Trees whipped past and gales of cold wind blasted through his fur, but Sirius didn't stop until he was sure no man could have followed.

He burst into a clearing, swung around and bared his teeth. He backed away carefully, his ears drawn down, and he waited. As the wind howled over the tops of the spruce trees and the trunks creaked, his panting finally started to level into deep and even breaths. Only then did he really feel the cold.

It was December and he was in some remote forest with no idea of his exact location. Apparating panicked and wandless, he was surprised he'd managed to find solid ground at all. He wondered if he should really be feeling all that grateful that he had. It had to be below zero degrees centigrade wherever he was now but at least he wouldn't freeze to death as quickly in his Animagus form.

That was a grim thought. Even for him.

He plodded off at a slow and pouncing sort of pace, designed to keep him both alert and exert as little energy as possible. He kept his gait steady but even so the weather and the distance were beginning to wear on him. The sun had sunk down below the tree line when he finally found shelter. It was an overhang halfway up a mountain that had been hollowed out just enough to be called a cave. Sirius snatched up as many fallen branches as he could in his mouth and ran up the snowy side of the hill.

He melted back into human form long enough to create a spark, instantly feeling the cold bite into his fingers and toes. He pushed as much magic as he could into his fingertips and rubbed the sticks together the way he'd seen Muggles do on the telly. It didn't take long to make himself a fire and he almost regretted how quickly he'd managed it - it was the only plan he had. He transformed back into Snuffles, lay down by the fire and fell into a fitful sleep, hoping morning would bring both warmth and hope with it.

“Bloody hell, it's cold.”

Sirius' shaggy head snapped up to see bare fingers clutching at the entrance to his cave, trying to pull up the body below them. Sirius lumbered over and stared down at a hooded head. There was fur all around the lining of it and Sirius couldn't see the person's face, even when it looked straight up at him.

A startled sound ripped from the man's throat and he nearly lost his grip. Sirius grabbed onto his forearm before he could fall. He wasn't certain he'd ever made the change from canine to human so quickly.

With Sirius' help, the man pulled himself up and his hood fell back.

“Malfoy?” Sirius yelped in surprise. Malfoy looked just as shocked to see him and that had the odd effect of calming Sirius down. He tipped his head forward and tilted his chin to stare at Malfoy from below as though he still didn't quite believe it was him.

“Black?” Malfoy said cautiously. He seemed just as doubtful. This was hardly a rescue mission then. “What are you doing in Vardø?”

“Where?” Sirius asked as he steadied Malfoy with a hand on his shoulder. The boy let out a rattling wheeze.

“Vardø,” he repeated, covering his mouth with a fist and coughing into it. His whole body was racked with shivers and he cast a hasty Warming charm over himself with a wave of his wand.

Sirius snatched it out of his hand without ceremony and followed suit. Malfoy didn't fight him and neither did his wand. In fact it seemed to thrum happily in his hand. Malfoy was now doubled over, his fingers buried in the loose snow, hacking red onto white. “What happened to you?” Sirius asked, his brows a deep vee and his hand absently placed on Malfoy's back. His mind swung from suspicion to concern. Malfoy was on their side, damn it.

Malfoy shook his head. “Ambush. Death Eaters were waiting for me in Askim. I Apparated to the first place I could think of.”

“At least you managed to keep your wand on you,” Sirius told him sourly.

Malfoy sat up, taking in deep, pained gulps of air. He was wearing a long, brown coat that reached down to his knees. It was lined with dark fur and fastened with hound's-tooth fastenings. His trousers were made of nylon and his boots had thick heels and laced halfway up his calves. Malfoy frowned. “At least you managed the fire.”

Speaking of, it was nearly out. Sirius used the wand he still had hold of to stoke it. In the new light, Sirius could see the stain of red on the front of Malfoy's coat that had blended in the dark. He pressed his hand to it and Malfoy made a squelching sound. “How bad is it?” His tone had gone low and clinical.

Malfoy took a fortifying breath and pressed his ribs harder into Sirius' hand. “I think it nicked a lung.” Malfoy's voice had the same clinical detachment Sirius' had.

“You'll live,” Sirius said. It wasn't reassurance, just fact. Sirius wasn't going to let him die, period. Malfoy's breath shook through him under Sirius' fingers. “I know enough for a patch.” Sirius opened Malfoy's coat and the boy shivered terribly. He was cut up worse than Sirius had been led to expect.

He'd managed a few crude bandages for some of the lesser slices but the one that had gotten Malfoy's lung was bleeding profusely. The boy was soaked and Sirius could see even the waistband of his trousers was red and glistening. That couldn't be helping with the temperature.

“You have to stay conscious,” Sirius told him while Malfoy's teeth clacked. The boy nodded shakily as though he had some control over it.

Sirius used one hand to press tight against the wound and with the other he cast the most advanced Healing spell he knew, one that would stitch him together inside and out. He didn't know how to replenish the blood Malfoy had lost without the potion, and he had none on him. “You'll be weak but you'll live,” he said again.

A roaring squall passed over the mouth of the cave and sent a gust of cold tearing through their clothes. “You're healed up enough, as good as I can get you anyway. We have to Apparate you someplace warm and dry, with a Healer preferably hanging about with nothing to do.”

Malfoy grabbed onto Sirius' sleeve. “We can't.” Sirius stared at him, his eyebrows jumping halfway up his forehead. “Not yet,” Malfoy clarified. “They followed me. They'll track the Apparition to the next place we go if we leave now. We have to wait them out.”

“How long?”

Malfoy shook his head. “Cast a Detection spell.”

Sirius followed the instruction and Malfoy's wandtip glowed. An image of a fire and three burly shapes wrapped in Warming charms sketched out before his eyes. Malfoy's own were shadowed and Sirius knew he'd been hoping they'd given up the chase already as well.

“They can't stay forever,” Malfoy said, and there was more hope than certainty to his voice.

Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair. He wished Moony was here. He was hardly one for plans and he barely had experience taking care of himself let alone someone else. “I can last longer than you, but a few days more and the elements will do us both in before they can, wand or not,” he said bluntly. He also wasn't very good at cushioning blows. Thankfully Malfoy seemed just as willing to be realistic about their situation as he was.

Malfoy nodded and turned on his side, towards the fire, pressing his hand to the wound just under his right nipple. “How did you come to Vardø?” he asked, his eyelids already drooping.

Sirius wasn't sure if he should let the boy sleep or not. “I'm as surprised to find myself in it as you are. I Apparated without any destination in mind. Ended up here.”

The boy gave a muted sort of smile, the firelight flickering against the shine on his lips. Sirius resisted chastising him for licking them. “Apparated into a blizzard. Clever.” He blinked up at Sirius. “Kismet then.” It sounded as if there'd been more to the sentence but the rest of it had been taken by the wind.

“How do you mean?” Sirius asked as he leaned forward, buttoning the boy's jacket back up since he didn't seem inclined to.

“Vardø, or its Old Nordic name, Vargøy - 'wolf island'.” Malfoy's voice was lilting, walking the line between asleep and awake.

Sirius cast a shield over the maw of the cave to block out the continued blasting gusts of snow and wind. “It's a dog,” Sirius told him, and then to prove the point he Transfigured himself and laid down against Malfoy's back, curling himself around him as best he could. He looked out past the mouth of the cave. Even with his improved sight it was still pitch dark the way only true wilderness could be. The moon and stars were too faint to be much help and the tree line blended in with the night sky. It was as though the blackness was swallowing everything around them, saving the two of them for last. Sirius placed his head on Malfoy's neck and was rocked into sleep by the rhythmic rise and fall.

He awoke to the sound of his own great whuffing breaths. He eased back into the form of a man and cast the Detection spell once he'd found Malfoy's wand.

He lowered his hand, disappointed.

The sun was just beginning to glint off the frozen hills and the effect was nearly blinding. Sirius shielded his eyes and turned his back to the cave's entrance. He settled into his former position and spooned himself up against Malfoy's frigid back. Sirius thought about waking him but he was too afraid he wouldn't be able to. He regretted having let a boy on death's door fall asleep but keeping him awake to the cold and the bleakness of their situation had seemed crueler somehow.

He stroked his hand down Malfoy's arm. He may not have been overly fond of the boy but acting like enemies could only hurt them now. Besides, any company was better than none out here, and Sirius had warmed to the boy since their talk in the drawing room all those months ago.

Malfoy shifted as though shaking off sleep and Sirius let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. “All right?”

Malfoy blinked sleepily. “Are they still here?”

Sirius nodded and added, “As of a few minutes ago,” after realizing Malfoy couldn't see him. Malfoy turned into him and his icy nose pressed into Sirius' chest. He bundled his arms up and kept them inside the cage of Sirius'. He was cold, much colder than Sirius was. “There must be another way out,” Sirius said, his frayed nerves making the words shaky.

Malfoy's mouth opened against his chest. Only a light tee stood between his lips and Sirius' skin. It was too much effort to hold onto more clothing than that between transformations. “We're on an island, Black,” Malfoy said scornfully and it was the first time he'd sounded like himself since he'd found Sirius. He pressed his face harder into Sirius' chest and Sirius saw the red patch of skin on his cheek. He was getting frostbitten. “There's an undersea tunnel that leads to the mainland but if it isn't already snowed in then it'll be ice by now. There's no way out but magic and there's no magic with them on our tail.”

Sirius bundled him up closer, casting his strongest Warming charm on the boy. “Can't we just Apparate in succession? It'll be harder for them to pinpoint the destination.”

“Difficult but not impossible,” Malfoy said with a grateful shiver. “They're expecting that besides. They'll be waiting to track it.”

“You can't take much more of this,” Sirius said softly what they were both thinking. He rolled onto his back and Malfoy pulled his hood back up around his face and stood. Sirius looked up at him with wide eyes and Malfoy lost his balance and stumbled. “What are you doing?”

“We need firewood,” Malfoy snapped back at him with an unhandsome sneer.

Sirius pulled him down unceremoniously and Malfoy toppled over hard. “And I'll be the one to get it,” he growled. The idiot was going to kill himself trying to pretend he wasn't dying. Malfoy got up on his elbows and glared. “What about your massive amounts of blood loss are you not getting?”

Malfoy scowled at him but didn't try to stand again.

Sirius bounded down the hill as Snuffles and searched for anything that wasn't white. He found a downed tree that thankfully hadn't been lost to the snow yet. He did his best to amputate the branches cleanly with powerful snaps of his jaws. It took four trips until he felt he had enough - until he felt the supply would outlast Malfoy if it came to that.

“All right?” he asked as he shrugged his big coat back on. Malfoy had been using it as a blanket most the night. Malfoy nodded but it was weak. Sirius walked over to one of the branches, brushing his fingers over the teeth marks and saliva his mouth had left. He plucked off two stiff leaves from the top of it. He dropped down heavily next to Malfoy, picked up the wand and slowly the points of the leaves lengthened and grew three-dimensional until he was looking at a pair of veined, green gloves. He shoved them onto Malfoy's reddened hands. “Here,” he said, “they're not going to win you any beauty contests, but hopefully they'll save your fingers.”

Malfoy's surprise and gratitude was written all over his face and he seemed at a loss for words. He reached up a gloved hand, curled the warm stitching around Sirius' neck and pulled him down onto his mouth. Sirius' eyes popped open in astonishment but he gave in to the heat Malfoy's mouth promised.

His hands hadn't lost the warmth from his Animagus form and he pulled at Malfoy with them. His canine body protected his extremities above all else while his human one worked to seal off the blood flow and protect his core temperature - that's what Malfoy's was doing now.

He shoved his still-warm fingers up the back of Malfoy's shirt and coat and drew him closer. Malfoy shivered and pulled back, rising up onto his elbows. “I could believe you actually wanted me to live,” he said through huffing breaths.

Sirius leaned back to accommodate him and guided Malfoy's gloved fingers down to the front of his trousers. “If only to take care of this,” he agreed.

Malfoy reared back in disbelief. “How have you managed that already in this?” He jutted his chin out toward the opening.

Sirius clenched his jaw and shot him a penetrating look.

Malfoy's mouth dropped open and he whispered as though someone would overhear, “You haven't? Not at all?”

Sirius growled out through gritted teeth, “There hasn't been much opportunity.” And as long as he was getting some sort of adrenaline high - usually through a life-threatening situation or two - he found he didn't think about fucking all that often.

“I'm not sure that's what I would call this,” Malfoy pointed out smartly.

Sirius let out a bark of laughter as he maneuvered Malfoy onto his back, staring into grey eyes that were so like his own. “It'll be like a shot of heat for you,” he said, his fingers playing along the fastenings of Malfoy's coat.

Malfoy grinned up at him, firelight glinted off his teeth. “My surprise shouldn't be equated to a refusal. I don't need convincing.”

“No?” Sirius asked with a grin. He couldn't quite believe his own boldness but Malfoy was something else, something that reminded him of his youth and a softness that he had never quite captured. He had the patrician good looks all the Blacks had but he also had an innocence to him that made a man want to protect and guide him. Sirius had always looked superior and arrogant, but Malfoy didn't show that in his face - it wasn't until he opened his mouth that he gave that away.

Malfoy smirked and his grey eyes twinkled. They looked almost like flakes of snow. “You no longer look like death warmed up,” he said. His fingers trailed into Sirius' shoulder-length black hair. It was curled from going to wet to dry so often. Malfoy pushed back the long streaks of white-grey that only framed Sirius' face. His action was made stubby and graceless by his gloved fingers but Sirius found that he didn't mind it. It had been so long since he'd been touched like this - with intent. Malfoy's hand dropped down over the robustness of his cheek and lingered on his mouth. “You'll do,” he finished off quietly.

Sirius took that opportunity to tear into the boy's mouth, gripping his shoulders to pull him closer. He knew his fingers were probably leaving bruises but he couldn't bring himself to care. He wanted Malfoy. Badly. He pulled his trousers and pants down and hooked them under his sac, unwilling to leave any more of himself exposed to the cold. It was less than comfortable but it wasn't slowing him down any either. Malfoy dragged his own trousers to his knees and shoved up his coat. Sirius pressed against him, his cock pushing into Malfoy's warm stomach before Sirius moved, drifting down further to find Malfoy's half-hard cock with his own.

He thrust up against him and Malfoy let out a low sound, grabbing him around the back. His stubby fingers fisted Sirius' shirt as his erection grew hot and heavy under Sirius'. Sirius grunted and thrust harder, feeling Malfoy's cock jump against his own. Malfoy twisted and the sticky head of Sirius' cock brushed up against the side of Malfoy's. Anticipation ran down Sirius' back like spider's legs and he rutted harder into the boy, trapping the heat between them, and Malfoy groaned deep in his chest. Sirius' fingers tightened over Malfoy's biceps and he held the boy down as he came hard against his stomach.

Malfoy tried to sit up but Sirius shook his head, biting his lip. His cock hadn't deflated in the least. Malfoy bit off his right glove and used a toasty hand to reach down and stroke the skin behind Sirius' sac. Sirius let out a sharp breath and his forehead fell onto Malfoy's shoulder as the boy caressed and gently tugged at him. “Fuck, you don't--” Malfoy shut him up by gripping his cock and stroking him hard. “I want to fuck you,” Sirius heard himself say.

Malfoy nodded eagerly and bent his knees, pushing his trousers down enough to make the action comfortable. A new wave or regret for where they were washed over Sirius. He wanted to see if Malfoy was really that pale and perfect all over. He wanted his skin flushed from something more than the biting cold. As it was, the bottom two fastenings of Malfoy's coat were undone and his bloodied shirt, which was now stiff and dry, was pushed up just above his bellybutton.

Malfoy took his hand away from Sirius' cock, reached blindly for his wand and cast a Lubrication charm. It slicked both him and Sirius and he tried to urge Sirius inside. Sirius held Malfoy off and unceremoniously shoved a finger inside him, trying to gage Malfoy's readiness but Malfoy wouldn't have it and shoved his hand away. He panted, his breath stolen by his excitement, “Your cock, Black. Bury it inside me.”

Sirius bit his lip and pressed in slow while Malfoy let out a groan as though he'd longed for nothing more. He arched his back and splayed his hands over the small of Sirius' back to pull him all the way in. Malfoy was unbelievably tight and hot inside and Sirius hunched over, breathing warm breaths over Malfoy's neck that left a chill in their wake. His muscles were quaking from how taut they were stretched in his effort not to come while Malfoy clenched around him.

Malfoy moaned and his fingers tightened. “Fuck me.”

Sirius whimpered and pulled back. He thrust once and his toes curled. “Fuck, shit, goddamn motherfuck,” Sirius shouted as he came deep inside Malfoy. His fingers dug into Malfoy's hips as though afraid they'd be pried away.

Malfoy let out a breathy sort of chuckle and brushed his freed hand over the side of Sirius' stubbled jaw. “It's been something like two decades. I'm surprised you've made it this far.”

“Stuff it, Malfoy,” Sirius snarled, slowly moving back and forth inside Malfoy as his erection pulsed, not losing any of its tumescence. Malfoy's breath caught on a groan and he tilted his hips up into Sirius' thrusts as they gradually gained speed. He wasn't going to come too quickly this time. He tugged Malfoy's trousers all the way off and the boy wrapped his legs around Sirius' waist while Sirius bent over him and fucked him harder.

“Bloody hell,” Sirius gasped out as Malfoy started to rock back into his thrusts with the same force. “Fuck, Malfoy, that's--” he panted out, his grip on Malfoy's arse cheeks tightening as he raised the boy up to meet him.

He pistoned his cock in and out of Malfoy's clutching hole and shoved his tongue down the boy's throat as the muscles in his abdomen started to tense. “Close,” Sirius managed to get out, unable to believe how pathetic his stamina had gotten.

Malfoy nodded, his sweaty hair dragging against Sirius' cheek. “Me too,” he gasped, his hand flying over his own cock. His entire body tensed, his hole clamping down and Sirius pitched forward with a howl, determined to ride out Malfoy's orgasm. Malfoy's body rose in an arc and held before dropping back to the stone floor, his chest heaving, his sweaty hair sticking to his neck and cheeks, and a light sheen dotting his abdomen.

The picture he made was enough to steal Sirius' third orgasm.

“Fucking hell,” he moaned out as he came deep inside the boy.

Malfoy panted out his agreement. Sirius collapsed on top of him, feeling hot and satiated. He buried his face in Malfoy's neck and Malfoy stroked his bare fingers through Sirius' soaked hair. Minutes passed as they regained their breath and Sirius shifted back up onto his elbows so as not to crush the boy beneath him. Malfoy let out a desperate sort of whimper. “Oh Salazar,” he puffed out disbelievingly. “You're not done yet?”

Sirius ducked his head with an uncertain grin, half-embarrassed and half-pleased with his cock's unrelenting enthusiasm. “I could go again,” he admitted as he moved over more to his left side and Malfoy gasped. Malfoy groaned and rolled them over. Sirius was still grinning even as he laid back and let Malfoy ride him.

They fucked twice more. A personal best for Sirius that, despite everything, he felt quite proud of. His staying power had improved exponentially as well, which had been a relief - he had been beginning to wonder if he'd just forgotten how to do it right.

The sun had disappeared and the blue-black of dusk was quickly deepening to that all encompassing darkness of nightfall. “I think I'm in love with you,” Sirius said with a laugh as Malfoy pulled himself gently off his cock, holding his bits in his hand and moving gingerly.

Malfoy chuckled as he eased into a sitting position. “Hmm, it's good to know how to subdue you at least.”

Sirius pressed his hand to Malfoy's back as he turned to pull on his pants. “In all seriousness,” he said, “I don't know if I've just forgotten how good sex could be or if it's honestly never been that brilliant.”

Malfoy settled onto his back with those same careful movements and closed his eyes. Sirius might've worried he'd fucked the boy too hard if Malfoy hadn't been urging him on every step of the way. “Definitely the latter,” Malfoy said, “I'll take that ego inflation.”

Sirius laughed quietly as the boy fell into a doze. The sex had been perfect and so had the closeness he'd felt with Malfoy. It didn't even bother him that he and Malfoy were related. He pulled a face. Still, it was probably best not to remember the whole cousin angle while his torso was still coated with Malfoy's come. He ran his fingers over his stomach and held his hand up in front of his face, studying the dark shape in the fading firelight. That was the last thing he remembered before he slipped into a deep and restful slumber.

Sirius woke before Malfoy the next morning. He grabbed up Malfoy's wand to cast the Detection spell and let out a whoop of joy.

“Malfoy,” Sirius urged, gripping his shoulder, “Malfoy, come on.” He turned the boy over, eager to tell him that their pursuers had given flight. “Malfoy!” He gripped the boy's coat to shake him properly and he pulled his hand away in shock. The red streak on Malfoy's coat was wet like it had been that first night. He ripped it open and found that his patch hadn't held. “Fuck.” He heaved Malfoy over his shoulder, grabbed the boy's wand and Apparated them to Grimmauld Place. Poppy would fix him up. He would be fine. Poppy could heal anything.

Malfoy survived his injuries and recuperated down the hall from Sirius' bedroom. They hadn't spoken about what happened between them in Vardø and Sirius didn't think they ever would. The circumstances had been extraordinary and it wasn't as if they were likely to come about again.

The sex had been mind-blowing, but Sirius wasn't interested in anything more than that, and certainly not with Malfoy. Thankfully Malfoy didn't seem to be either and they fell into a friendly, superficial sort of relationship that Sirius enjoyed immensely.

Malfoy's parents visited as soon as he was recovered enough and tried to entice him into flitting off to their French estate but Malfoy declined. He seemed unwilling to leave everything so broken, not when he felt he had the ability to glue some of it back together again. Sirius was secretly pleased that he hadn't left. It was nice to have company in Grimmauld Place. Harry technically lived there as well but he was spending more and more time at the Burrow with Ginny. That wasn't quite the blow it could have been as Sirius was a bit burnt out hearing Harry and Malfoy fight.

Remus came back towards the end of the month and stayed in Regulus' old room while the Order pussyfooted about trying to decide where to send him next. Sirius was grateful for the extra time, as he and Moony had barely had the chance to reacquaint themselves with all that had happened. All Sirius knew about Remus since he'd escaped Azkaban was that he'd taught at Hogwarts for a year and he'd lost his pregnant wife, Nymphadora, in the war and was still reeling from it.

Sirius was pleased that he wasn't nearly as vulnerable from that as he could have been as he wasn't the most sensitive bloke. Especially with Firewhisky added to the mix. “I'm telling you I could hire you a prostitute to help you get over that dead wife of yours.”

Remus shot Sirius a half-affronted, half-fond look. His scarred cheeks were red from the alcohol and full from how hard he was laughing. “As if I trust your taste, Padfoot.”

“I seem to remember you liked it well enough in school,” Sirius reminded with a wink.

“One, one time!” Remus belted out, as though setting the record straight. “And everyone wanted Gemma Dwyer. She was gorgeous, top of our class…”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Only you would care about that, Moony.”

Remus waved away the words. “Regardless, she was the exception that proved the rule.”

Sirius was far from convinced, but he let it drop in order to tease Remus about the soul-destroying crush he'd had on Eliza the Ravenclaw in their sixth year.

The next afternoon when Sirius went to ask Remus for a game of Gobstones, he realized exactly why Moony had seemed so uninterested in his offer the night before. He stared unapologetically through the crack in the door with unblinking eyes. Remus' hands were curled around Malfoy's elbows, subtly drawing him closer while he took Malfoy's tongue into his own mouth. Their eyes were closed and Remus' face was relaxed. Malfoy was standing on the balls of his feet and his own hands were placed around Moony's neck. The strokes of their tongues were practically visible.

Something about the tenderness of the moment made Sirius' chest burn. He told himself it was the result of a night of drinking with the chaser of not enough sleep. He grinned after a moment, looking forward to teasing Remus about shagging a former student.

Liestal still had an abundance of Bavarian architecture but despite the somewhat hokey feel of it, Sirius found himself settling in nicely. He'd found a nice place on the edge of civilization, the little of it there was in Liestal, and he'd made himself at home there. He spent his days working with the Swiss Minister's cabinet to weed out those that were under foreign influence, and his nights he spent out behind his property as Snuffles, galloping through the heavily forested area, hunting rabbits and other small game and swimming in the lake he'd found on one of his explores. The sleepy, Basel province was proving perfect for letting Snuffles roam.

He'd been there nearly a month and even without the Lingua-philtrum, he was picking up quite a bit of the language, at least enough to tell off the local vendors in German when they tried to swindle him due to his accent. He was hardly lonely though. Harry came by often enough and if sometimes in the broken light just after dawn, after a fair few Firewhiskys, he called the boy by the wrong name and those green eyes turned hazel, well, that didn't mean he was stuck in the past.

He'd been in Liestal six months when Remus showed up on his doorstop. “Verträumt?“ Sirius said in surprise.

He hadn't seen Remus since the Order meeting he'd been forced to attend a few months before. Halfway through, Remus had leaned over and covered Malfoy's hand with his own, his face giving away nothing but intent concentration on what Kingsley was saying. All eyes had turned to them and Kingsley had stumbled over his words. Sirius had smirked. That was just like Moony really, with his quiet and ordered little rebellions. There had been a few unhappy faces in the crowd - Harry's and most of the Weasleys' sprang to mind - but no one had dared say anything about how Moony had chosen to cope. No doubt Remus had counted on that.

Remus' smile was wry. “Deutsch, Sirius?” he asked, amused.

“Bitte.” Sirius waved him off. “What are you doing here? Last I heard you were in Szeged.”

Remus nodded and stepped inside. “Still am. I'm here to ask you to come back with me actually,” he added as he turned in the foyer and looked at Sirius straight on.

Sirius furrowed his brow. “What would you need an ex-convict for, Moony?”

Remus' half-smile matched the one Sirius wore. “It's Draco actually.”

Sirius swallowed and hung on tighter to the door handle. This was idiotic. So what if he'd wanked to the thought of that night in Vardø more than he'd have liked, he was almost certain that it didn't mean anything. “Malfoy?” he said, fortifying himself with a heavy breath.

“He could use your expertise.” Remus had moved further inside, drawn in by the kettle going off. He poured the both of them a cup of tea and twisted the handle of Sirius' mug towards him. “He's looking to become an Animagus and I figured who better to teach him than a man who's accomplished it.”

Sirius blew on his tea, the steam still rising off its surface. “What's he looking into that for?”

Remus shrugged. “I'm sure he thinks it will be useful. Right now, he's looking for a way to get around the Hungarian security around the embassy. An Animagus form might help in that regard.”

Sirius took a steadying sip of his Earl Grey. “Can't argue with that then, can I?” This might actually be good for him. He'd been romanticizing Malfoy in his memory and maybe reminding himself what a sour, nasty bugger Malfoy could be would get him thinking straight again.

Szeged was lovely but Sirius was having a hard time paying attention to his surroundings. “It’s beautiful,” he said, looking at his companion. A waiter came to clear away their bowls of halászlé. Sirius looked up with a word of thanks. The man grinned, undoubtedly not understanding the English. Sirius squinted even under the fan of their umbrella and asked aloud, “Doesn’t it ever get overcast?”

Malfoy placed his napkin on the table with delicate fingers and said with a wry smile, “Napfény városa.”

”Sorry?” Sirius asked, turning back to him.

Malfoy’s smile smoothed into a smirk. “The city of sunshine,” he clarified.

Sirius nodded and watched the passersby. There were a fair number of foreigners due to the city’s rather prestigious university and he and Malfoy hardly looked out of place.

“You cut your hair,” Malfoy remarked.

Sirius startled a bit, they’d been quiet for so long. “The Swedes required it. Long hair is apparently for hippies and criminals.” His hair was cropped short now with a continental part that swept a few strands down over his forehead. It was a smart-looking cut and now that he’d become accustomed to it he could admit that it made him look more professional, if a bit older.

Malfoy laughed. “One for two then.” He looked at Sirius critically and frowned. “Shame,” he decided after a moment. Sirius’ face felt warm. Malfoy thankfully didn’t notice as he paid the check. “I was thinking about the Minorite Church. Most of the staff are wizards and they’ve agreed to share the basement level.”

“For what?” Sirius said, feeling as if he’d missed part of the conversation.

Malfoy looked at him askance. “For your Animagus lessons. I figure we’ll need more space than mine and Lupin’s tiny flat allows.”

“Good thinking,” was all Sirius said. He didn’t like thinking of Malfoy and Moony living together. He immediately felt guilty for the uncharitable thought. Remus had lost his wife and Sirius was begrudging him the one bit of happiness he’d managed.

“It’s close enough that we can walk if you’re ready.”

Sirius nodded and they set off. It was a nice day for the middle of August, not too warm or too cool and Sirius found himself comfortable in the light jacket he was wearing. He stared at the scattered capsicum fruits as they walked and he kicked a few with the toe of his boot. Malfoy was true to his word and he was standing outside a truly impressive cathedral before he ‘d even found his preferred pace. Malfoy conversed with one of the men at the door in rapid-fire Hungarian and moments later they were led downstairs by an attractive woman that barely came up to Sirius’ shoulder.

The underground level was just as striking as the cavernous entryway had been and Sirius found himself staring at the intricate, gold leaf designs with something like reverence. Finally they branched off and stepped inside a smaller, but by no means claustrophobic, room that could have fit Grimmauld Place inside of it at least five times over. Malfoy said something to the woman at the door and she left them with a slight curtsey.

All along the walls were windows that had been charmed to reflect the sky outside and artificial light fell into the room in slats. Sirius could see particles of dust dancing in the slanted rays. Underneath the windows were mosaic paintings. They had been done in strong bursts of color that added to the gripping warmth of the room. He tipped his head back and stared up at the high ceiling, lines of filigree outlining every outcropping.

“How did you find this place?” Sirius heard himself ask.

“Lupin and I took a tour of the city when we first came to Szeged. I kept coming back here.” Malfoy was staring up into the vaulted ceiling as well. “It’s not just the beauty but also the feel of it. The magic here swells and rocks like waves.”

Sirius nodded agreeably. Malfoy was right. The room had a lazy Saturday afternoon sort of feel to it. It reminded Sirius of sitting out by the Hogwarts’ lake with Remus and James while the giant squid’s tentacles lolled in the shallows, swaying with the water.

Sirius shook himself, realizing belatedly that he was staring at the pale column of Malfoy’s throat. “So, becoming an Animagus.” Malfoy’s attention snapped back to him. “There’s a lot of theory involved which I understand you’ve been reading up on?” Malfoy nodded. “But there’s also a physical and mental component to it. It’s about finding what’s inside of you and animating it.” He found himself grinning, easing back into the playful teasing they’d had between them at Grimmauld. “So what do you think it’ll be?”

Malfoy’s lips quirked to the side, a smile hiding under the expression. “Hopefully something that’s not ostentatious and big as a bear like some people I know. I’m looking for discreet.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and reminded him, “You don’t get to choose your animal, Malfoy.”

“Still,” Malfoy put in with a snobby inflection to his voice, “I’m sure I’ll be something dainty and alluring. And quick. And intelligent. And powerful. Like a Snidget.”

Sirius perked a dark brow. “You want to be a Snidget?”

Malfoy knocked him flat on his back with a quick hex while Sirius laughed. Malfoy helped Sirius to his feet once he’d composed himself and motioned for him to take center stage. The first lesson was painfully unproductive and Sirius could tell Malfoy was unaccustomed to not getting something right away and his frustration was nearly palpable.

The next few lessons followed the same pattern and Malfoy had no problem laying the blame for it at Sirius’ feet. He also seemed to have no shame over the positive tantrums he threw. As his frustration grew, so did the amount of name-calling and accusatory finger pointing. Sirius found the whole thing rather amusing.

And if he was reliving that night in Norway far more than he should then that only meant that he needed to get laid. And soon. It was getting more and more difficult to stay in the same flat as Malfoy and Moony, to share their meals and sleep in the room next to theirs. As time wore on, his attraction to Malfoy was getting to be a real effort to ignore.

At the start of September, he finally snapped and put a crack in the table after seeing Malfoy and Remus share their customary goodnight kiss with a bit more tongue than usual. Malfoy hadn’t seemed to notice and he went off to the bedroom he shared with Moony without a care. Sirius hadn’t gotten as lucky with Remus. And this wasn’t another exploded glass that he could pass off as a strong grip.

Remus placed his cup of tea down on the side table. He pulled his wand out of his robe’s lining and tapped the split wood twice. “Do be careful. That is mahogany,” Remus said reprovingly. The rent pieces of coffee table carefully stitched back together and the crack sealed itself. Remus cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat. “You’re wound awfully tight,” he observed.

“Malfoy and I fucked last year.” No use beating around the bush. Still, he hadn’t meant to throw that out there quite so bluntly.

“Ah,” was all Remus said. He was the picture of infinite patience.

Sirius scrubbed at his hair, making it look as untidy as James’. “And I’ve been thinking about it more than I should,” he admitted.

“You still want him,” Remus hazarded.

Sirius gave a shake of his head that became a nod about halfway through. He wasn’t sure if he still wanted Malfoy or if he wanted him for the first time. He made himself ask, “How serious are you?”

Remus drummed out a staccato rhythm with his fingers on the arm of his chair. “He’s hardly the love of my life if that’s what you mean,” he said carefully. “It’s more about the comfort and companionship of being with him.” He stared at Sirius steadily as the man hung his head between his knees and fisted his hair. It had obviously cost him quite a lot to admit what he had. Remus took a fortifying breath. “I have no problem with it should you decide to approach him. But it’s his decision.”

Sirius’ head popped up at seeing Remus’ unflinching expression. He swallowed and said hoarsely, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With Remus’ blessing, Sirius tried to grab his Gryffindor bravery by the short hairs but he found it impossible to broach the subject with Malfoy. Every time he tried, Malfoy would mention something he’d shared with Lupin or Sirius would linger on Malfoy’s age or their consanguinity and his guilt would choke him up. A week after his talk with Remus, during one of his and Malfoy’s training sessions, he grabbed Malfoy up by the small of his back, shoved him against the wall and forced his tongue down the boy’s throat.

Malfoy was far more than cooperative and Sirius discovered that finally getting to look at Malfoy properly naked was well worth the wait.

Sirius had completely forgotten the brilliance that was fucking Malfoy and he made it his mission to never forget again.

Still, even on nights when he fucked Malfoy into the mattress, the boy would slip out of bed while Sirius was asleep and end up back in Remus’ arms before sunrise. Sirius tried not to let that bother him and instead held onto the fact that he could make Malfoy scream.

His physical attraction to Malfoy was being sated and he shouldn’t need anything more than that. He could more than handle the little twinge in his chest he felt when he saw Moony and Malfoy together in exchange for getting to throw him down on any flat service he pleased and have his way with him.

“Almost as big as a bear,” Sirius teased as Malfoy stood panting in the middle of their training room. He hadn’t quite accomplished a full transformation but Sirius could tell, whatever his Animagus form was, it was quite a bit bigger than a Snidget.

“Shut up,” Malfoy ordered, smacking him in the arm. “It is not.”

Sirius held his hand up parallel to the ground at about nipple height. “At least up to here.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

Sirius grabbed him around the middle. “You still haven’t managed to complete it. I bet it turns out to be an Erumpent.”

“I hate you.”

Sirius pressed his lips to Malfoy’s quickly. Malfoy bit Sirius’ lower lip between his teeth and didn’t let go. “Mmm, I hate you too,” Sirius murmured against his mouth. They didn’t get any further with Malfoy’s transformation that afternoon.

Eventually Malfoy fell asleep on the floor of the practice room while Sirius watched the rise and fall of his chest and stroked his hair back from his face.

Sirius knew something wasn’t right when he returned from his afternoon at Dömötör Tower. It was probably his years in prison that had honed his senses to the point where he could simply feel when things were off. It was how he’d always known when the dementors would come. After a while in Azkaban you didn’t feel the cold to warn you anymore. A sick slither would crawl its way up his spine and leave him weak and shaking. He felt that now in the empty flat. There was something sinister about its stillness. The more time that passed without any word from Malfoy or Remus, the more certain Sirius became that they wouldn’t be back.

At half two, something scratched up against the door. Sirius shot up from where he’d been sitting and staring at the kitchen table and tore it open. Malfoy and Remus all but fell inside. Malfoy had Moony around the middle, an arm thrown over his shoulders as he supported the both of them.

“What the hell happened?” Sirius barked, turning accusatory eyes on Malfoy.

“Help me get him to the bedroom,” was Malfoy’s only answer.

Sirius pulled Remus’ other arm up around his neck and helped Malfoy to carry him to the bed. Malfoy went off, mumbling something about warm water and Sirius settled Remus back against the pillows. His lip was dribbling blood and half his weathered face was bruised. Sirius eased him out of his robes and he could see now that the man’s leg was mangled and there was a large gash that spanned his side, front and back. Remus’ bloodied mouth curved into a slick smile. “The werewolves are not forgiving.”

Sirius started to move down the bed to Remus’ leg when Remus grabbed his sleeve and tugged. He coughed and then managed, “Be kind to him, Sirius. He doesn’t handle things like this well.”

“Things like this?” Sirius parroted, covering Remus’ hand with his own in a show of solidarity.

“The threat of losing someone he loves,” Remus forced out. Sirius felt the words like a shot to his chest. Remus’ gritted teeth were blood-covered. “He’ll shut down if you let him,” he wheezed.

Sirius swallowed and nodded. He left to find Malfoy. The sink in the kitchen was overflowing and Malfoy was staring at the running faucet without really seeing it. His hands were splayed on either end of the basin and his hair was lank around his drawn face. Sirius snapped his fingers in front of the boy’s face. Malfoy blinked and shook his head. “Go. I’ll take care of this. Call Poppy.”

Malfoy seemed surprised by the mess but he nodded gamely, his face ashen. He walked away like he was moving through a fog. Sirius heard the Floo flare a moment later as he turned off the faucet and spelled away the mini flood Malfoy had caused.

Poppy came quickly and she stitched Remus up as best she could but he still spent the next three days unconscious. Sirius found Malfoy out in the sitting room on the fourth. A book was open in his lap and he was staring blankly into the empty grate. Malfoy still hadn’t managed to set foot inside Moony’s room since the night they’d carried him into it. He’d been falling asleep on the couch instead and Sirius would carry him to bed when the time came.

“Are you all right?” Sirius asked as he settled into the rocking chair across from Malfoy.

Malfoy’s smile was grim. “Don’t I look it?”

Sirius watched him for a long moment before he stood up, stopped in front of Malfoy and brushed the limp hair back from his face. It was still wet and wavy from his shower. “You can handle this. You’ve handled worse.” He caught Malfoy’s eyes and he knew then that Malfoy understood him. His hand dropped down to press against Malfoy’s ribs. “It’s a shame it scarred.”

Malfoy’s lips quirked. “No worse than Potter’s curse.”

“He wants to see you,” Sirius told him softly. He knew Malfoy was trying to change the subject, provoke him into defending his godson and normally it would have worked, but Sirius had to say this. Because Remus had asked him to.

Malfoy’s chin fell, his damp hair falling into his face. “I can’t,” he croaked.

Sirius knew he wouldn’t get any more from him that night. All he could do was walk away and carry Malfoy in to bed when it got late enough.

That night when Sirius rolled over and spread his hand out across the sheets no warm body was waiting for him. His first thought was that he was in with Remus but that proved untrue. He eventually found Malfoy out in the back garden, laying with his hands behind his head in the grass and staring up at the stars.

It was early enough that the dew was already sprinkled on the blades of grass and Sirius’ back got damp as he lay at Malfoy’s side. “Did you manage to go in today?”

“Didn’t even open the door.”

“Well done.”

“I thought you’d be proud.”

They didn’t talk much more that night, just watched the stars twinkle and argued over whose constellation was better before lapsing into a companionable silence. It didn’t take long for Sirius to realize that Malfoy had fallen asleep again and he resumed his resident duty of carting Malfoy off to bed.

The longer Malfoy went without seeing Remus, the more he seemed to cling to Sirius. Sirius didn’t know if that was Malfoy’s way of guarding him so he didn’t go off and get himself nearly killed too or if he was simply lonelier without Remus around. He knew which he preferred.

Soon they were spending not only every day together, but every night too and their relationship had gone from superficial to one of the most deep and meaningful of Sirius’ life. They talked about everything and there was nothing too taboo or too infantile.

Malfoy was lying out in the grass again, Sirius at his side as he so often was, when he asked, “Do you think magic comes from the soul? That Muggles are lesser evolved forms of wizards?”

Sirius had heard the theory more than once from some of the more mainstream pureblood families. They used that logic to hide all manner of sins they committed against Muggles. Sirius scoffed. “Magic is in the brain. We’ve accessed a greater range of it than most are able to, that’s all. As for why that is, there’s the mystery.”

Malfoy rolled over onto his side and dug his elbow into the dirt so he could prop his head up on his hand. “What do you think?”

Sirius shrugged. “I think some people’s destinies are louder than others. I think magic is how they accomplish them.”

Malfoy frowned. He flopped onto his back again and decided, “My destiny seemed a bit evil, didn’t it? But not even proper evil, more like childishly disruptive.”

Sirius sniggered before he added earnestly, “Who’s to say your destiny’s even come about yet?”

Sirius returned from the market with an armload of groceries and he was surprised to find that Malfoy wasn’t waiting in the kitchen for him. When he’d finally gotten everything in its proper place and Malfoy still hadn’t greeted him, he decided to go off in search of him. Sirius couldn’t find him in any of his usual spots and he figured he must’ve gone off on his own somewhere. Shrugging his shoulders, he set off down the hall, wondering if he might bound out into the backyard and give Snuffles some exercise when he passed Remus’ door. It was open a crack, which was unusual.

Sirius peeked inside and saw Malfoy leaning over Remus, one hand resting on the side of Remus’ face and the other caught in his grip. “Hey,” Malfoy said in a soft, warm voice Sirius had never heard him use before, “not dead yet then?”

Remus smiled up at him and it made his whole face look more youthful. “You’re here,” he said in a low voice, as though afraid to spook him.

Malfoy’s eyes crinkled. “About as surprising as the whole ‘not dead’ thing, eh?”

Remus chuckled. His eyes were bright with that laughter. “I know how you handle any sort of unpleasantness.”

Malfoy fingered a strand of Remus’ thinning hair. “I may have gotten a pep talk or ten.”

Remus’ smile deepened and he said softly, “Tell Sirius I said thank you.”

Sirius pulled back as Malfoy leaned down. Something inside him broke as he watched their easy intimacy and he suffocated the pain of it in a deep and fervent denial. That night when Malfoy came to bed, Sirius fucked him so hard that Malfoy passed out when he came. Sirius stayed awake next to him, biting at his own swollen lips.

Malfoy went back to splitting his time between them evenly and Sirius was having a hard time adjusting to the loss of him. Especially as Malfoy seemed so unbothered by it. They no longer had those moments where it seemed like they were the only two people in the universe. Sirius shuddered at his own thoughts. Somewhere along the way, he had let himself become grotesquely attached to a snobby little rich boy.

“What is your problem, Black?” Malfoy carped at him as Sirius became more and more belligerent as time carried on, snapping at Malfoy in the practice room during the day and fucking him with unapologetic roughness each night. He was beginning to realize that he didn’t really think of Malfoy as that snobby little rich boy anymore and he missed the certainty he’d felt then.

“I don’t have a problem, Malfoy,” he retorted just as viciously.

Malfoy refused to speak to him for the rest of the night and just as the flat settled into that quiet that spoke to the bedding down of its inhabitants, Remus shuffled out into the sitting room and took the seat next to him. “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” Sirius chastised crossly.

Remus nodded as though in agreement. He was wrapped up in a crocheted blanket that would do nothing to keep him warm and Sirius felt himself grow that much more irritated. He indicated Sirius’ untouched cup of tea and Sirius shrugged helplessly. Remus took a grateful sip and smacked his lips. He relaxed into his seat as it swept through him. He dampened his lips and said carefully, “Last time you were this upset it was because you’d been suppressing your attraction to Draco.” Remus smiled evenly. “I know that’s not the issue now.”

Sirius stiffened. “I’m not upset.”

“You broke my lamp,” Remus pointed out. Sirius flushed. Malfoy had been fluffing Remus’ pillow and laughing about some amusing encounter he’d had on the Tisza riverbank – a story he hadn’t felt the need to share with Sirius. In the next instant, the bulb in Remus’ reading lamp had sparked and all but exploded. Malfoy and Remus had instantly turned around and caught him in the doorway before he could scuttle off.

“That was an accident,” Sirius muttered mulishly, hunkering down in his chair.

“Sirius,” Remus admonished and Sirius scowled at him. Remus held up a hand and relented with a put upon sigh, “Fine, we won’t discuss it.”

Sirius gave a sharp nod of his head and the two of them sat in the most uncomfortable silence they’d ever shared until Remus got up and joined Malfoy in bed.

Sirius broke the fireplace poker in half.

Even Harry seemed to notice something was off. And he was hardly as subtle about it as Remus had been. “Jesus, Sirius, what crawled up your arse and died?” he blurted out after Sirius’ bad mood showed no signs of lifting.

“I’m fine,” Sirius gritted out.

“Like hell,” Harry retorted.

“Drop it, Harry. I mean it.”

Harry seemed to hear the undertone of danger and he backed down with a huffy, “Fine.”

“It’s almost there, isn’t it?” Malfoy was saying a little breathlessly as he came out of the half-transformation. “I just can’t seem to hold it long enough to—”

“Be with me.”

Malfoy froze. “What?”

“I want you to myself. You’re not in love with Remus,” Sirius said defiantly, jutting out his chin, half-afraid that Malfoy would contradict him.

“No, I’m not,” Malfoy agreed cautiously. Sirius let out the breath he’d been holding. “But he’s good for me. He’s stable and settled.”

“I can be those things,” Sirius said confidently. He slid Malfoy’s hand into his own. “Obviously we already get on well,” he tried, grinning a bit.

Malfoy’s hand slipped away and Sirius’ tentative grin went with it. “And that’s all there is to us,” he continued in that same careful tone. “But I’m not asking for more either,” he added quickly to head off Sirius’ ready retort. The corners of his mouth turned down. “You’re still stuck in your early twenties mentally and why shouldn’t you be? Those years were stolen from you.”

Sirius’ hands clenched into fists. “Then I’m the perfect match for you, aren’t I?” he said angrily. His voice was shaking and he tried to calm himself.

Malfoy offered him a weak smile. “I feel a hundred. The war fast-forwarded things. Somehow you avoided that. I almost envy you that. But it means we’re on different sides of things now.” Malfoy swallowed and didn’t quite meet his eyes. “You’re immature, and the only thing that seems to be driving you is seeking out anything and everything that feels good, and that’s fine for a bit of fun but it doesn’t make for a relationship.”

“Oh,” was all Sirius could bring himself to say. He’d agonized over this moment for weeks, planning what he’d say and fantasizing about how Malfoy would respond. The reality of it left him torn between anger and a gaping depression.

He hadn’t realized that Malfoy cared about things like that. And why should it concern him anyway, Sirius thought angrily. So what it he was still the Order’s go-to for the ‘certain death’ assignments? He’d bested them every time and he enjoyed the thrill of it besides. Why should he have to apologize for that?

“You don’t want something serious now,” Malfoy told him and Sirius tried to believe that, to take heart in how certain Malfoy sounded about how he felt. “Live up your twenties, Black. Drink too much, stay out too late and sleep around.”

Liestal was just as charming as Sirius remembered and the house he’d made his home was still happily vacant as though it had been awaiting his return. He spent his days tearing through the backwoods as Snuffles, running until his legs felt like jelly and panting as though he’d never catch his breath again.

At night he would go out to the local pubs, pick up a blond boy, bring him home and call him by the wrong name.

Soon he was drinking more than was healthy just like his father, sleeping late into the day and staying awake until the sun’s first rays were breaking in through his window. None of it brought him any solace. But at least he was doing as Malfoy had told him to.

At the tail end of October, an elf owl delivered a letter from Malfoy about his first successful transformation. He all but ordered Sirius back to Szeged to see it for himself. He’d cleverly refused to tell him what type of animal he’d become, knowing Sirius’ curiosity would get the better of him before long.

Sirius Apparated just outside the Minorite. Malfoy was waiting for him when he reached their practice room, a huge smile on his face and Sirius felt as if the air had been punched out of his lungs. Malfoy said the spell and slowly he started to turn.

Sirius let out a breath and approached Malfoy carefully. He stroked a hand down a strong side, the wings lifting a little so he could feel the pelt beneath it. “I’ve never known them to be this light,” Sirius said softly as the Granian brayed.

All Granians were grey but this one’s pelt seemed to shine almost silver when the light hit it. The winged horse tossed its head and Sirius grinned. He lifted the head with his hand under the horse’s chin and stared into what were unmistakable grey eyes. “I’m proud of you, Draco.”

The horse melted back into Malfoy and his chest heaved as he caught his breath. “Sirius,” he said, his tone rich with emotion.

Sirius cleared his throat and tried to steer them back into safer waters. “I told you it wasn’t small.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Practical though,” he pointed out, “with the wings and all.” He sat down cross-legged on the floor and frowned. “I’ve animated what’s inside me into a horse. What does that say about me?”

Sirius barked out a laugh. “Not a horse. A Granian. It’s much more distinguished.”

“That is true,” Malfoy agreed stoutly. He fell back onto the floor and stared up at the ceiling. Sirius lay down next to him so their shoulders were touching and neither of them said anything for a long time.

It was getting dark when Sirius broke the moment. “I think I’m done with my twenties,” he said starkly.

Malfoy stirred next to him with a sad sigh. “Sirius,” he started softly. Sirius didn’t let him finish.

“I love you.”

Malfoy’s eyes were sad and his only response was a slow shake of his head.

Harry, Ron and Hermione showed up at the start of December to recruit him for a trip to Lanzhou that sounded as dangerous as it was inconvenient. Sirius held up his hands to show the knitting needles and yarn that had somehow gotten knotted around his fingers. “I’m clearly very busy,” he pointed out, trying – unsuccessfully – to shake the string loose from his hands.

For some reason, Harry and his friends had decided to stay and watch him as he attempted to get on with his jumper. Harry was sprawled out in the armchair across from him and he looked unimpressed with Sirius’ newfound hobby. He still seemed grinnier than usual despite that. “Are you attempting to turn that ball of yarn into a less organized, more tangled ball of yarn?” he asked after he’d watched Sirius throw down and pick up the knitting needles on no less than three occasions.

“This is supposed to be cathartic,” Sirius growled in frustration as he tried to pull out the massive knot he’d somehow gotten in one of the rows.

Harry perked a doubtful eyebrow. “How’s that working out for you?”

Sirius shot him a dark look.

“What’s with the sudden need for catharsis anyway?” When Sirius didn’t answer right away, he added, “And the colors?”

Sirius huddled down in his seat, trying to hide the green and silver threads. “Nothing behind it,” he said evasively.

“Right, mate,” Ron put in. He was lounging on Sirius’ couch, looking boneless. He thrust a purposeful finger up in the air. “People take up knitting every day.”

Sirius nodded distractedly. “Exactly.”

“You know,” Hermione started tentatively, leaning over from the chair next to his. She pointed at the tangled mess of mismatched and uneven stitching. “I do know a good spell for that.” Harry chuckled and muttered something about ‘house-elf hats’ while Ron sniggered. Hermione shot them a quelling look before explaining the charm that would straighten out his stitches and keep the yarn from splitting as it seemed intent on doing. Sirius listened intently while Hermione explained the wand movements in elaborate detail.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Draco grumbled as he made his way to the door where the annoying, successive pounding was emanating from.

Draco tore open the door and blinked into the brightness. “Potter?” he squawked in disbelief.

Potter rubbed the back of his neck. “Er, sort of forgot about the time difference, Malfoy.” Draco squinted, trying to help his eyes to adjust, and Potter cleared his throat. “Remus told me you’re the one to thank for Sirius,” he said, sticking out his hand.

Draco didn’t even notice it. His eyes narrowed and he asked suspiciously, “What about Sirius?”

Potter offered him a tentative sort of smile and lowered his outstretched hand to brush off imaginary dirt from the thigh of his trousers. “I honestly didn’t think he’d live to see my nineteenth birthday the way he was going. I know if anyone deserved to move at triple speed it was him but he was going to drive himself into the ground the pace he was at, picking all the most dangerous missions, never content to sit still for even a moment.” Draco pulled his robe closed and crossed his arms over his chest. Potter shrugged. “I guess I wanted to thank you for slowing him down.”

Draco’s brow furrowed. “What are you on about?”

“You,” Potter reiterated. “Suddenly it’s like he doesn’t need to do everything on fast-forward because whatever he had with you was enough living to make up for all that life that he’d lost. I mean, forget the fact that you’re related which is just… “ Potter shuddered and hurried on at Draco’s dark look, “And it’s kind of… nice.”

Draco had no idea what to say to that. Luckily Potter wasn’t finished yet anyway.

“I don’t know why you’ve split but I do know that he cares about you, Malfoy. Really cares.” Potter looked up at him earnestly and gave a one-armed shrug. “Maybe you could think about forgiving him for whatever he’s done and letting him have another chance? I know he’d rather go back to Azkaban than muck it up again.”

Draco opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again but no words came and Potter shifted anxiously on his step.

“Well, er, that’s all I wanted to say, Malfoy,” Potter said finally, adding, “I’ll see you around,” before he Disapparated with a crack.

Draco closed the door and stood staring at the wood for a long, quiet moment.

At least until Remus called smugly from the bedroom, “Told you so!”

Two days before Christmas, Sirius sent off the tangled mess of stringy yarn to Draco with a note tucked into the poor stitching.

Draco,

I knitted you a jumper. Well, a scarf. It was meant to be a jumper but knitting has not turned out to be my strong suit. Hopefully it’ll do the job of keeping you warm regardless.

The next morning, Sirius opened his door to find Malfoy standing on his stairs. A green and silver mass of knotted and snarled yarn was wrapped around his neck. It looked like a horde of fuzzy, deformed pygmy puffs were trying to strangle him.

Sirius couldn’t help but feel buoyed by the sight.

“Merry Christmas, Black,” Malfoy said with an infectious little grin. Sirius just stared at him, biting his lower lip to keep from reacting to the sight of him. “So Lupin and I are finished,” he added casually, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his shoulders hunched up.

Sirius closed the door carefully behind himself. “You’re wearing the scarf,” he said slowly.

Malfoy placed his hand over a length of it. “I am,” he agreed. “Though you’re being very liberal with the definition of ‘scarf’.” Sirius couldn’t hold back his grin any longer and he grabbed Malfoy around the waist and kissed him dizzy before either of them could ruin the moment with any more talking.

He wasn’t quite sure if he’d grown up enough for Malfoy or if Malfoy had grown down for him but he suspected they might have met somewhere in the middle.