It starts first because Sirius is the only one in Number 12, Grimmauld Place who talks to him.

Well, no, that isn�t strictly true � Bill and Charlie speak to him, when they�re there, but that isn�t very often, so he usually spends the rest of the time feeling damn lonely. He deserves it, really, he supposes, considering how he treated his family and Harry for the last year.

Humble pie tastes very bitter.

They don�t ignore him, exactly, but they aren�t friendly, either. They rarely speak to him; his opinion is never asked for. It isn�t important anyway, he tells himself, but he knows it isn�t true. These people were his whole world once.

And he tossed them aside because of his own stupid ambitions.

Well done, Percy, he often tells himself at night, when he huddles in his bed and wishes that he isn�t too old for his mother to come in and hug him and tell him that everything will be all right. Well done. You take first prize for the most stupid, colossal mistakes ever made. No one else could turn the majority of his siblings against him as thoroughly as you did. Jolly good.

The only reason he doesn�t cry is that he manages to convince himself that he�s too old just before the tears threaten to spill over.

Number 12, Grimmauld Place, is a gloomy house, despite the massive clean up everyone partook in this time last year. (When you were in London, preparing for Harry�s downfall, he reminds himself severely.) The cool mood that has settled over the household since he came here doesn�t help matters, but Percy knows better than to say anything. No one will listen, anyway. Isn�t hard to forget that you aren�t important when everyone mostly acts like you�re invisible, is it?

So it comes as a complete shock when one day Sirius Black sits down beside him and says hello.

�Hello,� Sirius Black says, flopping down beside him and grinning.

Percy looks up, blinks, then says, �Hello.� He blinks again, before quickly looking away.

�So. You�re Percy, right?� Sirius continues after a lengthy pause. He doesn�t seem concerned by the fact that Percy appears to be struck dumb. Perhaps someone warned him that he doesn�t talk much anymore.

After a moment, Percy nods. �And you�re� Sirius Black.� Even now, it feels wrong to say the name, two words that he�s been raised to fear. Of course, he�s been told the full story before coming here. Had to, considering that this is technically Sirius� house. He won�t admit it, but sometimes he thinks over what he�s been told and actually struggles to completely puzzle it out.

It seems that in being accepted back into the Weasley family also means that he has now lost his intelligence as well. Or, at least, that is how it feels.

Sirius grins, a bright width of smile. �That�s me. Lighten up, will you? Smile a little. Though, considering the state of this dump, I can�t blame you for being depressed.�

Percy only manages to crack a vague smile. He knows what the others have whispered, not realising that he was eavesdropping. He knows that Sirius himself has been depressed for most of the previous year, cooped up in this misery of a building with no escape. No wonder he�d reacted like he did. True, he nearly caused the deaths of many people, but Percy can understand how he feels.

This house is now his prison, too.

Still, he has to admire Sirius� efforts to keep his mood up, especially considering that Dumbledore has basically told him that if he so much as glances at the front door, he�ll kick his arse. Well, he was politer than that. Almost.

�Feeling miserable?� Sirius asks after the silence lasts for another few minutes. Percy can only nod. �Join the club,� Sirius sighs, stretching out his legs as he surveys the opposite wall.

All right, maybe Sirius isn�t really as cheerful as he makes himself out to be.

Before Percy can think of anything to say, Sirius glances at him and grins, a grin that like-minded people (or, in this case, the grin of people who find themselves in vaguely familiar situations through different circumstances) grin at each other. His eyes twinkle.

Percy grins back. He can�t help it.

�My mother looks at me, sometimes, like she�s not sure where she went wrong with me� Percy begins, eyes thoughtful as he studies the cup he holds in his hands. �I know she�s glad to have me back, but I also know that she wishes I�d just stayed away. Things were easier when I wasn�t around and everyone avoided mentioning me name.� Bill has let a few things slip.

�I don�t believe you,� Sirius states, eyeing him with mock-distaste. �Your mother just says things before they make sense. She usually regrets them afterwards. I should know � she�s said plenty of things to me.� He pauses to take a sip of tea. �Besides, at least your mother loves you.�

Almost on cue, there is a crash by the front door and Mrs. Black�s screeches fill the house. They both shudder.

�Remus is annoyed with me,� Sirius announces, as if it�s something that will change the entire world. Maybe to him, it will. �He thinks I acted like a prat in the Department of Mysteries. �Course, he�s right, but I�m not going to tell him that.�

Percy reckons that Sirius is one of those strange adults who just refuse to grow up and take responsibility. He�s completely different from him, but this is a good thing, he�s sure of it.

�He is still not really talking to you?� Percy asks, and sighs when Sirius slowly nods. Their friendship has now descended to cool civility with mild politeness. Sirius feels like he�s losing his mind, especially since he doesn�t know how to fix it. It�s bad enough that Remus refuses to hardly speak to him, never mind that most of the Order view him with contempt. Snape is practically having a field day.

�Look at us, eh?� Sirius drawls. �Two royally messed up people who hardly anyone is speaking to. Dumbledore must wonder where he finds us.�

Percy can only agree. There is no other answer.

It starts because Sirius is the only one who will talk to him. Percy doesn�t know when it begins to feel like something else.

He�s never thought about men that way. Never, ever, ever. It�s strange, and not something he does, and he can�t figure out why it�s happening to him now, of all times. He suddenly finds himself watching Sirius� mouth as he talks and wanting to kiss it � kiss him.

The dreams are the worst. In them, Sirius takes control and does things to him that Percy will never admit to out loud. Even worse is the fact that all those things make him excited. He wants Sirius to do those things to him.

But it�s Sirius. A guy. Not the opposite sex, remember?

It doesn�t matter. He stills likes it. He dreams are nice. He wakes up in the morning, smiling, filled with fading images of Sirius touching him, and fondling him, and kissing him, and doing things to him that make him smile and blush.

Percy feels himself beginning to grow hard again.

�I�m sorry for the way I treated you last year,� Percy says slowly, shifting uncomfortably. He wishes he were anywhere but here. �I was� a fool. I�m sorry.�

�It�s okay,� Harry replies, not looking at him. �I know you didn�t mean any of it. Really.�

He doesn�t, but he�s not going to say anything else, of course. He�s loyal to Ron; he�s been seeing Percy as invisible for the few weeks he�s been here.

�I�m glad,� Percy lies, also not looking at Harry. This isn�t the apology he imagined, but somehow he can�t find it in himself to be surprised.

�I notice you and Sirius have been talking a lot,� Harry remarks after a while, then grins slyly at Percy, who finds himself flushing before he can help it. For a moment, he hates Harry with a clear passion, though he�s not sure why.

�Yes,� Percy says, smiling. �Your godfather has been very nice to me.�

�He�s a good man,� Harry says absently, an uneasy expression flickering across his face. Percy instantly feels ashamed for his earlier feelings of dislike; Sirius� close call with Bellatrix scared Harry. He hasn�t much family left. No wonder he�s terrified of losing any of them.

But then Percy happens to glance at him out of the corner of his eye, and sees an expression of intense hunger cross Harry�s face as he watches Sirius. And then Percy wonders if Harry has been having the same dreams as him.

For a brief moment, Percy feels the stab of intense jealously, and he�s viciously glad that Sirius doesn�t see Harry as anyone more than his godson.

Percy kisses him on a perfectly ordinary day. To his surprise, Sirius pauses for a moment, his eyes wide, before kissing him back. It�s nice and warm and wet, and definitely better than his fantasies. In fact, Sirius is so good at kissing that Percy finds himself making a sound almost like a whimper in the back of his throat.

It doesn�t matter that they�re in the kitchen and anyone could walk in at any moment. It doesn�t matter that Percy has his arms locked around Sirius' neck or that Sirius is grinding himself frantically against him, making growling sounds in his throat. It doesn�t even matter when Sirius hands dip lower and go places and do things that he really shouldn�t be doing. It especially doesn�t matter that Percy spreads his legs and begs.

It still doesn�t matter when Sirius tugs him up the stairs and into his bedroom, dumping himself onto Percy in a way that makes him gasp because all the air is gone from his lungs. It doesn�t matter that neither of them really know what they�re doing, because just doing it is the important thing. Percy doesn�t mind that Sirius often fumbles and hesitates and keeps asking permission with his eyes. He is young and he is willing, and that�s all that matters.

And when he finally tenses to that point, his back arching painfully and his mouth open wet and wide, he knows that though Sirius doesn�t really know what he�s going, by God he can do it well. And when he comes, losing control for one blissful, shining moment, he doesn�t care that Sirius is a guy and that he�s a guy and that they�re having sex. All he cares about is that this is wonderful and he doesn�t want it to end.

Afterwards, when they curl up together in the bed and Percy is dozing, he finally asks the question that�s been plaguing him since the first time it happened. Sirius thinks about it for several minutes, brow creased in thought, before he finally answers.

�I wanted to see what it was like, too,� he says.