Drabble fic, Mad!Sirius/Harry, Non slash.
It could have been the isolation, but Dumbldore said it was the house with its chill, damp bones. Whatever it was, Sirius's mind had cracked. Harry was left with him in frount of a fire as Sirius begins to laugh. "Sicks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me."
ADB= The charecters belong to J.K Rowling, etc, etc. All are hers but for the writing, which belongs to Hum'.
The fire in Grimmulled place burned low, it barely dispelled the damp and chill that permanently emanated from the bones and walls of the house. The coal highlighted the face of Harry as he stared at his godfather with worried eyes. Sirius's face was gaunt and unhealthy, his eyes like two dark pits in his face, his teeth and eyes glinted with the reflected fire, giving him an unearthly, dark quality.
"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." Sirius gave a wild laugh, eyes manic and staring. "Stick and stones may snap me like twigs. Flame and fire may burn and crack me. Sticks may bruise me, beat me and bloody me. Stones my grind me, scar me, wound me, strike me. But words will never hurt me." And then he laughed. It was a dry laugh that escalated in pitch and intensity until it seemed like the laughter was all there was, broken and manic. "Words will never hurt me!" crowed Sirius s he continued to laugh, "Words will never hurt me Harry! They will not break bones, they will not draw blood! Words will never hurt me!"
And then he stopped laughing and drew closer to Harry, as if to confide in him a terrible secret. "Words will never break my bones, Harry, but they have cut my soul, they have maimed my heart, they have scored into my mind so they run, Night after night after NIGHT!" Sirius yelled his voice harsh and broken. With a bang, the curtains covering his mother's portrait flew open and her screams started to echo through the house, as Sirius began to laugh again.
The house, with its cold, damp bones and dark, dingy history echoed with the laughter of a mad man and the screams of a mad woman.
"Come on Sirius," Harry muttered when screams had been silenced, and Sirius's mad laughter had stopped, and the manic look in his eyes had faded. "Come on; let's get you up to bed. I'll bring you up your bottle of Poppydream-whisky; just please, come to bed. It's late, just come to bed."
And Sirius, with a look like that of a tiny, frightened child, had been helped up stairs by his teenage godson who held a full bottle of Poppydream-whisky in his hand; it was only thing that could keep Sirius under control nowadays. The Dumbeldore said that house with it memories had finally managed to do what the dementors had almost achieved; to beak his mind. No matter what spell Harry tried, or potion Snape made, Sirius was well and truly gone.
Poppydream-Whisky = an addictive alcahol which, depending on the strength of the drink, imbues the drinker with feelings of warmth and happyness. The stongest Poppydream drinks can take the drinker back to a memory of a happier period in their life. Over consumption of Poppydream has an addictive affect, which, if not fufilled, can have detrimental effects on the drinker over time. (Like LSD or Crack) Poppydream is my own invetion.
Drabble, first Potter fic, reviews?