Chapter 5
To his eternal gratitude, he wasn't awoken the next morning until breakfast time, at about nine, meaning he had a chance to sleep off the cider. Breakfast consisted of eggs, bread, beans and mushrooms. Almost a full english.
To his eternal astonishment, breakfast also included Harry turning his gaze on Draco and saying “what d’ya think of yesterday?” It was said with so little softness that Draco half expected Harry to follow up with ‘because you’re a posh little twat who has probably never been to something similar’ but he didn't.
“I really enjoyed myself. We don't have things like that, but I wish we did. There's no real sense of community where I live”
His reply was appropriate it seemed, as he smiled at Draco and nodded. “I can imagine. Life seems so fast-paced in London. I much prefer it here”
Draco nearly found himself agreeing, which was odd. Apparently a week in the countryside was enough to convert him to farm life. Instead, he nodded and said that he too was enjoying the peace.
Then Remus was hurrying Harry out of the door for more work and the conversation was over. Draco returned to his living room and tried to read but ended up over-analysing every facial expression Harry had made whilst Draco had spoken.
When that made him feel too pathetic, he instead turned his mind to writing the postcard for his mother. Purposefully only his mum and not his Father, who Draco took every opportunity to undermine, such as pretending he didn't exist.
He wrote that Sirius was kind and that the farm was nice. He omitted the festivities of the day before, knowing that his mother- and father, who would inevitably also read the postcard- would see such activities beneath them. The only traditions Draco’s parents honoured were traditions borne of wealth and status, such as every Malfoy man attending Cambridge, and wearing Saville Row suits.
The traditions of ‘poor people’ as his parents would automatically class people who lived in a village such as Hogsmeade would be laughable to his parents, and Draco wanted to keep his experience sacred and his own, instead of letting them step all over it. He wrote instead of visiting the nearby village and reading in his ‘quaint little sitting room’.
Once done, he found a new book and decided to sit on his little porch in the sun instead of spending the day cooped up inside, and made his way out and curled up on the step, feeling the fresh air fill his lungs. In such a short time, he had grown to love where he was, which he hadn't expected to do for the months he was to stay there.
The months that stretched before him were still daunting; as much as he loved the place he was in, the people still presented a problem. Of the three his age only one seemed to like him to any degree, and it was clear that he would never achieve the closeness with Hermione that she shared with Harry, or even Ron. Sirius and Remus were kind, but they were also twenty-odd years older than him, and he didn't really want to spend his summer and autumn third wheeling an adult couple when he was just a teenager. The other Weasley brothers were kind and polite too, but they were also much older, and their kindness often felt a little bit like pity.
God, how he wished Pansy was there to complain with him and cuddle up with him on the chilly nights and discuss the others with him. He resolved to be more open about how much she meant to him when he returned, and also enquire as to whether she could come and stay for a weekend during the summer sometime. He also needed to ask how the post worked here.
He heaved himself off of his step and went to the farmhouse in search of Sirius, who seemed to spend a lot of time indoors. The door opened with just a twist of the handle. It made sense, but still shocked Draco somewhat, as he was used to London, where thievery was rife and you had to lock your door just to step out and chat to a neighbour.
He walked into the hall, and called Sirius’ name, and received a reply from an open door near the bottom of the stairs. He walked into the room and found himself in a family living room. Entirely ignoring Sirius’ presence for a second, he let his eyes roam the walls, taking in the soft sofas and armchairs and the pictures adorning the walls. They mostly depicted Harry at different stages of life; a five-year-old Harry perched on Remus’ shoulders, both of them with wide grins on their faces, Remus looking visibly younger, the earring still glinting in his ear. A pre-teen Harry and Sirius standing by a cow; Sirius’ arm around Harry's shoulders and Harry’s arm around the cow’s neck.
There were pictures of Harry and Ron, wet and smiling in swim trunks by a river, Harry and Hermione standing in school uniform with massive backpacks and too-big blazers, more of Harry with Remus or Sirius or both. Pictures of Harry with the grandma that Draco had met.
The most striking was of Harry as an infant. He was held in the arms of a beautiful woman with rosy round cheeks and long curling red hair. Next to her stood a man who looked identical to Harry, yet his skin was just a few shades darker, an arm around the woman and smiling down at Harry. It must have been Harry’s parents, or ‘real’ parents, as it was clear that Remus and Sirius considered Harry to be a son, and Harry considered himself their son as well. They looked so happy and Draco wanted to know more than ever what had happened to them.
“James and Lily, Harry’s parents” Sirius’ voice startled Draco. Draco turned and Sirius nodded back to the photo. “James was like a brother to me. I miss them every day, we all do”
“I’m sorry” Draco said. He could assume that they had died from that, but he had guessed that already. He now knew who the James was that Effie had mistaken Harry for, and brought back painful memories of the past.
“So am I” Sirius said, eyes sad. “There were four of us at school. James, Remus, Peter and myself. Peter left for America after we graduated. Didn’t even come back for the funeral, the bastard” he elaborated. Draco was taken aback by the venom in Sirius’ tone when talking about Peter.
“I’m sorry” Draco said again. What else could he say?
“What did you need me for?” Sirius asked, and Draco was glad for the change in subject.
“I wanted to ask how I can post things home, and also if it would maybe be possible for my friend Pansy to come up for a weekend? I totally understand if she can’t stay though, I appreciate that I am here to work, not spend time off with friends.”
Sirius sighed. “I had hoped Harry would be a friend to you, but unfortunately he seems to believe the poison in my family has spread to you- no offence”
“Poison?” Draco asked, uncomfortably aware of why his family might be referred to as such.
“You know what they’re like, Draco. Homophobic, racist idiots who care only about the money in their immediate vicinity” Sirius said sternly, as if admonishing Draco for being on of them, even though he did not include Draco in that sentiment.
Draco’s shoulder’s slumped when he thought of his father’s homophobic tirades, and how he would never be able to both find love and have his father in his life.
“Yeah. I know what they’re like.”
“I can’t help but think that is why your mother sent you to us” Sirius said, his tone growing warmer. Draco looked at him in confusion.
“I know you’re gay, Draco. It's not exactly subtle, not to someone who’s also gay. I also know that your mother knows that I’m gay, even though your prick of a father doesn’t, excuse my language.”
“He’s more than a prick,” Draco muttered before he even thought about what he was saying. He flushed red, instinctively expecting to be scolded, but he was pleasantly surprised when Sirius just laughed.
“That he is. And of course your friend can stay. I’m sorry Harry hasn’t been more forthcoming but like I said, he probably lumps you in with the people who kicked me out at sixteen, who I’m fairly sure you’ve never even met.”
Draco was astounded, both at Sirius’ kindness and his confession. He had always known his family were not perfect, the opposite in fact. He still hadn't realised they were capable of such mindless cruelty.
“I’m sorry” Draco said yet again, feeling like a broken record.
“I’m just glad it’s a fate you avoided. Narcissa was always on the nicer side. Nowhere near Andi, of course but… better than Bella at any rate”
“The bar's in hell if it means being better than aunt Bella” Draco said and Sirius snorted and gestured for him to sit down.
“I love this. I finally have someone to gossip with” he said, leaning forward towards Draco, his light eyes twinkling. Draco noticed that they shared the same grey irises.
“How long since you last saw them?” Draco asked.
“I haven’t, since I was sixteen. You’re the first Black in decades” Sirius replied. Draco felt a sadness weighing on his heart. As much as he hated his father, he loved his mother and he doesn’t know what he would do without his little family unit, as cold, stiff and unaffectionate as it is. His turmoil must have shown on his face.
“It’s okay to love them, You know. I have a brother, Regulus. I adore him with my heart and soul. He hasn't spoken to me since I left. He’s some hot-shot CEO now and I can stalk him on facebook, make sure he’s still alive but…”
Sirius trailed off, and the pain in his silence was almost too much for Draco to bear.
“I always wanted a brother” he offered into the raw space between them. “I thought,” he coughed, voice breaking a little. “I thought that maybe if I had a brother Father might leave me alone a bit more. I always had to do and be everything, and god, it was the worst feeling in the world. I was just never good enough.”
Sirius raised his hand an inch, as if he wanted to reach out and comfort Draco, but then his hand dropped, the air between them charged with understanding, and sympathy.
“I was the older brother. I always had to do everything better. I bore the brunt of all their anger, all their dysfunction. I tried to save him from so much and then I left him there. He had four years in that house without me and I dread to think of what they would have done to him.”
“I think I met him once. I was young, and hiding from Bella, and he found me. He was kind to me. He said he hated being there too, but that we could leave soon. He was kind to me.” Draco repeated the last part. He didn't know why, but it felt important. He looked up from his hands to see a sheen of tears in Sirius’ eyes.
“Maybe I didn’t fail him, then” Sirius whispered. Draco took a deep breath to say something, anything, but then Remus walked in. He could obviously feel the tension in the air but before he could say anything Sirius turned around and grabbed his hand with a watery laugh.
“What do you know,” he said, some tears spilling onto his cheeks, “Draco hates the Blacks too. I’m not alone against them anymore”
Remus’ eyes filled with love and Draco had to look away for a moment. His Father had never looked at his mother like that.
“I don’t know what your future plans are, but if you don’t want to go back to them, the cottage is yours, if you want it.” Sirius offered. Draco felt the unsaid ‘if you want us, instead’ that should have followed the end of the sentence.
“I- thank you, Sirius” was all he could muster up, and Remus nodded at him, before announcing that he was off to make lunch. Sirius then fished his cane up from where it was lying on the floor, and used it to push himself up to standing.
“Do you need a hand?” Draco asked, before wincing at how condescending he must have sounded.
“I’m fine. It’s osteoarthritis, a result of all the inbreeding” Sirius explained, winking at Draco.
“Same place the grey eyes come from, I suspect” Draco replied, inexplicably happy when Sirius threw his head back and laughed a deep hearty laugh in response.
“I’d hoped I’d like you” Sirius said, face shining with mirth as he walked into the kitchen, Draco on his heels.