Lucius raises his head as Harry steps out of the fireplace, but Harry ignores the man's widened eyes and obvious surprise, stepping past him and into the living room. All he needs to hear is the quiet thunk of his trunk following him through the Floo, and he doesn't want to linger and chat to Lucius. Remus and Sirius are hunched over a game of chess, Sirius winning by a landslide, but as soon as he sees Harry's face he knocks over his king.

"I don't want to stay here," Harry says bluntly. "Can we go to your flat?"

"Sure," Sirius says immediately, standing up. He doesn't ask any questions or fuss over Harry or try and talk to him. He just says, "Give me ten minutes." and rushes to make his way up the stairs.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Remus asks, setting the chess set away with a wave of his wands, and he looks concernedly at Harry, gaze flicking over his dirty, petal-covered dress robes, and Harry twists his lips. He hears the sound of the fire flaring in the next room, and he hears Lucius asking someone a question. It's Snape's voice that responds. Remus moves into the dining room again, and Harry hovers behind him, his arms crossed over his chest.

"- brawling in the flowerbeds," he hears Snape finish. Lucius' nostrils flare, and there's a pink, angry tinge on his face as he stands, buttoning up his outer robe and summoning his shoes. For a second, just a second, Harry is half-terrified that Lucius is going to turn his obvious fury on him, but Lucius doesn't seem to have remembered that Harry exists: he ties back his hair, grasps his cane with a white-knuckled grip, and he sets his jaw.

"Come then, Severus. I'll be speaking with him." Harry watches as Snape inclines his head, and when the two of them step into the flames of the fireplace, Harry feels himself relax.

"Draco cursed Hermione," Harry mutters to Remus, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Come on. I'll explain upstairs."

By the time Harry is sat on the sofa in Sirius' living room, his trunk beside him and a steaming mug of cocoa in his hands, he's explained the whole story, and Sirius has an ugly scowl on his face. Remus is frowning, his arms crossed over his chest: he and Sirius inhabit the loveseat across from the wide, five-seater sofa, and where Remus leans back against the seat with his long legs dangling from the arm, Sirius is hunched forwards, frowning at Harry with his chin on his hands.

"The bastard," Sirius says. He shakes his head, scowling, and then glances at Harry for a few moments. "You thought Lucius was going to yell at you?"

"No," Harry admits. Despite his momentary fear, he doesn't think Lucius will actually snap at him if it was Draco who initiated the trouble - Harry isn't, after all, some Gryffindor Lucius doesn't know, even if Draco is more precious to him than anything else in the world. "But I thought Draco might decide to come home for the holidays, just so Hermione doesn't murder him."

"That's good thinking," Remus says thoughtfully. "He might well do that." Remus is looking at Harry in the concerned, slightly tired way he always seems to, as if he wishes he could put Harry in a box and keep him away from everything in the world that might annoy him; Sirius, by contrast, is drumming his fingers against his thigh and looks like he's plotting revenge. Harry sighs, setting his cocoa on the coffee table and sitting glumly back in his seat, and Remus watches him before asking, "Something else on your mind?"

"Draco said Luna was kissing Eddie Carmichael," Harry says, heaving a sigh.

"Is Luna the girl you, ah-" Sirius whistles, giving Remus a side glance. Remus, who guesses immediately what the noise means, rolls his eyes.

"Stop doing that when you talk about sex," Harry says irritably. "And no. That was someone different. But I, er. I didn't tell her. That I was with someone else, as well - that's why Luna went to the Ball with Neville, as friends, and was kissing Eddie Carmichael instead of me." He feels guilt twist thickly in his stomach, guilt and anger and jealousy and a want to crawl under his covers and sleep for the rest of the Christmas holidays.

"You've been dating two girls at once?" Remus asks, but he doesn't sound judgemental. If anything, he looks amused, and on some level that infuriates Harry. Harry feels guilty for what he's been doing, and the idea that Remus and his godfather might find that funny upsets him.

"Not dating," Harry says. "We've just been- you know. Snogging. Snogging, and, uh-"

"And whistling?" Remus suggests. Harry groans, and Sirius coughs behind his hand, smacking Remus' side. Remus turns very slowly to look at Sirius, narrowing his eyes, and asks, "I suppose you knew this was going on?"

"No," Sirius lies smoothly.

"He taught me some contraceptive charms, Remus," Harry says. "He's been very responsible." Remus considers this for a moment.

"Good," Remus decides, and he ignores the way Sirius' jaw drops as he stares at him. Harry has suspected Remus would be just as casual about this as Sirius, but Sirius looks utterly floored by the fact. "And the other girl - what's her name?" Harry hesitates for a second, thinking about the way Sirius had smacked Lindon Sartorius that summer.

"Uh, Blaise," Harry says awkwardly. "Blaise Zabini." Sirius, who'd just been taking a sip of his Fanta, spits orange all over his face and his chest. Remus pats Sirius hard on the back as he coughs, wiping his face with a handkerchief and putting his can on the table. His eyes are watering, and his expression as he stares at Harry is almost wild. Harry stays frozen in his place, unsure what to say: fear settles thickly in his chest, and his breaths are shaky.

And then Remus says, “Of course, there’s no issue with that, so long as you’re being safe.” Relief floods through him, but somehow it doesn't surprise him that Remus is being so accepting. Sirius’ head whips in Remus’ direction, staring at him. Remus resolutely stares at Harry’s face, and for a long, terrible second, Harry wonders if Sirius is going to just walk out on both of them.

“Yeah, Harry,” Sirius says. “That’s fine. Hell, I fucked half a dozen boys at school.” Harry and Remus both stare at Sirius, whose eyes go slightly wide, and then he shrugs his shoulders.

“It’s just sex. It’s normal to shag attractive people.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Remus demands harshly, his hands tight in balls as he stares at Sirius, who flinches back slightly. Remus looks suddenly angry as he looks at Sirius, angrier than Harry would have expected. “Did James know? Did Peter?”

“No,” Sirius says, tone defensive. “James did, but not Peter.” There’s an expression of utter betrayal on Remus’ face, and Harry feels like he’s gotten himself too deeply into this conversation. There's a hidden depth to this conversation that's beyond him: Sirius looks panicked and slightly nervous, and Remus looks all but wild, his lips twitching, his eyes flickering one way and then the other as he thinks.

“So neither of you have an issue with it?” Harry interrupts, slightly hoarsely.

“‘Course not,” Sirius says, shrugging his shoulders with a forced nonchalance. “It’s just sex, isn’t it? You know you couldn’t marry him or something?” Harry feels tension in his body as he leans slightly forward, pressing his hands against his knees.

“You hit Lindon,” Harry says. Sirius glances at him, his lips parting. “Back in the summer. Because he’s gay.”

“Gay?” Sirius repeats, bewildered. Remus mutters something in his ear, and then he says, “Oh. No. Because I thought he was going to try and shag you, and you’re about twelve, and he’s about fifty.” Remus lets out a rueful half-laugh.

“Why? He’s not going to try and shag me, Sirius.” Sirius leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re friends. He’s like- he’s like Lucius, or Narcissa, or- or Snape. Do you think one of them is going to shag me?” Sirius gags. “Exactly!”

“Men like him, Harry-”

“Men who’re attracted to men?” Harry prompts.

“They don’t do it like we do, Harry, it’s… They want to take advantage. It’s just how most of them are-” Harry feels anger flare through him.

“What?”

“I think,” Remus breaks in hurriedly, putting his hand on Sirius’ chest and stopping him short, “Harry should go to bed. You’ve had a long night, right? Go have a bath and we’ll let you sleep in tomorrow morning.” There's a thick, uncomfortable density to the air between Remus and Sirius, and Harry feels like a kid who's caught his parents fighting. Sighing and shaking his head, he leaves the living room, closing the door behind him…

Before he sits down on the floor beside the door, murmuring a spell to let him hear better. He can hear the sound of Sirius’ boots on the floor, pacing back and forth, but judging by the sound of his voice, Remus is still sat down.

“Just explain your logic to me, Sirius,” Remus says in the dry, mildly sarcastic voice Harry has grown used to hearing. “Why is your attraction to men different to Lindon Sartorius’?”

“Oh, shut up. This is why me and James kept it to ourselves at school!” Sirius says sharply, and Harry’s eyes widen.

“You and James…?” Remus repeats in a whisper, sounding ill, and Harry feels the same uncertainty - it's not disgust, exactly, but the idea of Sirius and his father... God. It's weird.

“What? No! Not like that!” Sirius snaps, breathing slightly heavily. “No, James wasn’t- James just liked girls, but he understood my interest in men. The reason we didn’t share it with you and Peter is because you wouldn’t have understood. Bloody- Look, for Purebloods-”

“Oh, this is about blood status," Remus says, voice rising slightly in anger. "I should have realized-” Harry hears one of them let out a loud huff of breath, but he doesn't know if it's Sirius or Remus.

“It’s not like I was lording it over you and Peter, but-”

“You constantly lorded it over me and Peter, the both of you!” Remus growls, his deep, hoarse voice even lower than usual. "At every opportunity!"

“It was different for us! Don’t you understand that!? It was always different. And you just wouldn’t have understood, neither of you. Liaisons with men are perfectly common, but they’re to be kept behind closed doors: it’s about sex, and nothing more. One couldn’t possibly have such a relation and think it a romance. Halfbloods and Muggleborns, they twist matters, they believe-"

"I can't believe I'm listening to this," Remus says exhaustedly. "It's like you're living in 1978, Sirius, that's not how things are."

"Of course it's how things are! Do you think you should be able to just pick a man and marry him!?"

"Why shouldn't I be able to!?" There's an extended pause. Harry can hear Remus and Sirius both breathing heavily: Sirius is no longer pacing back and forth, but is utterly still. Harry can't so much as hear the leather of the sofa crinkling. Harry's stomach twists, and he feels sick. It's one thing to know that Sirius might have shagged a few blokes here and there, a comforting thing at that, but what he doesn't understand is Remus' stance.

What Harry doesn't understand, actually, is Remus.

"I don't..." Harry hears Sirius say. There's another long pause, and Harry wishes he could see Remus' face, see Sirius' face, and understand what's wordlessly passing between them. "I'm going to bed."

"Moony, don't, that's not-"

"I'm going to bed," Harry hears Remus say again, and he rushes down the corridor to slip into his room. He moves quickly, stripping off his outer robe and throwing it onto the bed. He sets a bath running in the next room, and then he opens up his trunk, scattering a few things around to make it look like he's been unpacking.

There's a quiet knock at his door, and he says, "Come in." Remus opens the door, hovering in the doorway, and he watches Harry for a second. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Remus murmurs. He doesn't look fine. His skin is a little paler than usual, his lips thin. "Harry?"

"Mmm?"

"You left petals and dirt outside the door. I know you were listening." Harry opens his mouth, and then closes it. When Remus smiles at him, the expression is soft and warm, and he says, "Good night, Harry. Go to bed."

"I will," Harry says, and Remus pulls the door closed.