DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter or anyone associated with him
except for Dr. Nora Tallahand. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner
Bros. I'm just using them to amuse myself, without making any money. No
infringement is intended.
A/N: For those of you who haven't read The Last Straw, don't worry. You don't really have to in order to understand this story. For those of you who have, it's a sequel/sister story. The whole thing is from Sirius's point of view; as he cares for Harry in their new home he looks back on the time when he rescued his godson from the Dursley's and how ill he'd been those following few days.
On with the story:
There was only one disturbance in the warm and welcoming atmosphere of Sirius's mansion that first night. He didn't mind having woken up to it; his peaceful contentment with the freedom to live in his old home with his godson overrode the slight displeasure of awakening at whatever ungodly hour it may be.
Silence for a moment. Sirius let the corners of his mouth twitch upward as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness, the thick wrinkles in the black canopy above him ever so gradually coming into view.
Sirius sat up in bed when the terrible coughing began again. *Poor kid, * he thought morosely as he listened to its deep intensity ~ it hurt just to hear it.
He stood up and lit the candle on his bedside table with his wand. The light sent faint, ghostly shadows dancing across the walls and around the furniture. He followed the yellow path it laid down for him to the bathroom, where he opened the cupboard to retrieve a bottle of lavender potion and a small goblet.
The sound hesitated for a second as Sirius crept silently down the carpeted hall. Harry's room was only two doors down from his own; Sirius had chosen this room for Harry knowing that their being close together would soothe his worries at night and make his job taking care of his sick godson much easier.
Harry began to cough again just before Sirius reached his door. Opening it made the sound much clearer and caused Sirius to flinch at how painful it sounded. He set the candle on Harry's nightstand and drew the curtains of his four-poster slowly, so as to avoid startling him.
The poor boy was curled up into a tight ball ~ his pale face facing Sirius ~ under a single white sheet. It looked as though he had thrown his other blankets to the end of the bed during the night. He shivered between each deep cough and groaned hoarsely when the awful fit finally stopped.
Sirius set down the bottle and goblet and spread the discarded quilts over Harry's shaking body. His godson turned his face carefully upward and let his tired green eyes focus on the man standing above him.
"Sirius?" Harry rasped. Sirius nodded.
"Here," he said quietly as he poured some of the lavender potion into the goblet, "This will help with your cough." Sirius carefully helped the poor teenager sit up, letting Harry rest against him in his arms as he slipped the goblet between his godson's chapped lips. Harry felt unnaturally warm even through his pajamas; after Sirius had set him back down he checked the wristband the boy wore for his temperature.
"Was I keeping you awake?" Harry whispered weakly.
"No," lied Sirius gently, pushing Harry's damp bangs off of his fevered forehead. He knew most fifteen-year-old boys would resist this kind of childish treatment, but in Harry's case he had been deprived of affection for nearly fourteen years, and his illness put him in great need of someone to care for him, even if like a child.
Harry's eyelids began to droop, and Sirius smiled. After Harry had fallen asleep Sirius found himself reminded of that night he had found the poor boy lying in a similar way on the floor of the Dursley's living room.
The Dursleys. Sirius had to smile. He wondered if they regretted their harsh treatment of their nephew yet. He found himself unable to care. They'd deserved what he'd given them. Just wait until he told Harry.
Sirius stood watching over his godson, letting himself slip into the dream-like memories.
It was Tamerin's return with empty talons that had sparked his alarm. He'd been worrying about Harry all summer, but the fact that Tamerin had no letter when Sirius had requested a reply in his birthday card to Harry struck a nerve. Harry wouldn't have thrown away the opportunity to talk to his godfather like that, would he?
After two days of pacing around Lupin's living room, looking for but not expecting Hedwig to come through the window, Sirius finally decided that he would take the risk and go to the Dursley's himself to find his godson. He knew Remus would agree to it, as the other man had been almost as concerned as he had. They arranged to have Sirius leave for Privet Drive on Buckbeak in the morning ~ if he tried to apparate the ministry would be able to find him ~ and hopefully arrive by around eleven o'clock that night. Remus would apparate into the woods behind the Dursley's house at that time, and they would meet to decide on what action to take next.
Tamerin's round-trip journey had taken roughly four days, so they planned on Buckbeak being able to manage the ride over in one. They were right. Sirius's mind never once left his godson as they flew; his thoughts seemed to urge his Hippogriff to fly faster, and they found themselves over Harry's neighborhood twenty minutes ahead of schedule.
Sirius tethered Buckbeak to a tree, and with a soft "I'll be back soon," left him there to graze contentedly. He approached the Dursley house through the woods as a silent, black dog, snapping to attention immediately upon hearing noises.
They came from the front yard. Sirius crept forward with the stealth that only a Marauder knew, and found cover in some bushes on the lawn. Had he been human he would have gasped aloud at what he saw.
Harry lay on his back, clothed in his black cloak, on the damp lawn. He held the tiny owl Sirius remembered giving to Ron in a hand that was shaking so hard Sirius's canine eyes noticed it from where he was positioned.
The outrage brewing in Sirius's veins had not time to register, for it was at that moment that none other than Vernon Dursley chose to storm out the front door with a crash certain to wake the neighbors. Harry's uncle didn't seem to care. Pigwidgeon flew away, shrieking, as the burly man grabbed Harry by his shoulders and practically dragged the weakened teenager up the front steps into the house.
At first Sirius thought Harry's eyes to be closed, but he caught a glimpse of Harry's face for an instant before they disappeared inside. Their eyes met ~ had Harry seen him? ~ and the illness-dampened fear in the young wizard's eyes sparked a rage like nothing Sirius had felt in years.
Luckily his anger did not blind him to caution enough that he transform right there in the open, but he thought nothing of bounding to just outside the bay window, a strange black dog no one had seen before in perfect view of every house on the block.
Harry's uncle, his purple face contorted with fury, raised a brown, knobbly stick over his head and bellowed something even Sirius's keen dog ears were unable to catch. He froze for a moment; his anger coupled with the fear for his godson grabbed him with strong arms and wouldn't let his move while he watched Vernon strike the Boy-Who-Lived on the temple.
Harry's glasses broke and slid off from the impact, and Sirius was jerked from his temporary paralysis. He bared his teeth in a frightening way and let the cool glass meet his thick paws. The window shattered ~ Vernon was too blinded by his anger to notice ~ as the bear-like dog leapt through to the Dursley's living room. Petunia, having crept downstairs upon hearing the commotion that was Vernon and his nephew, shrieked when she saw what her husband hadn't.
It wasn't until Vernon had smacked his nephew on the forehead a second time and Harry had fallen to the floor that the sturdy man noticed Sirius ~ or, rather, the black dog standing in his living room.
With one fluid motion, Sirius bounded across the room and pinned the man who was not nearly worthy to be called Harry's uncle to the floor. His white teeth bared menacingly just inches from Vernon's face, which by now had been completely drained of all color. His wife and son clung to each other at the foot of the stairs, Petunia too frightened to speak and Dudley howling like some sort of sick cow.
Sirius grasped the stick in his jaw and with neck muscles like liquid steel, flung it through the shattered window. Though his paws were nowhere near Vernon's throat, the beefy man gaped at the huge canine as though unable to breathe.
"Leave them to me, Sirius," said a voice behind him, "You tend to Harry."
Harry. Sirius felt a twinge of guilt at neglecting to tend to his godson; he'd been too preoccupied with the boy's pseudo family. He turned his shaggy head to see Arthur Weasley in the doorway, wand out and pointed straight ahead of him, and immediately backed off of the petrified muggle and transformed. All three of the Dursley's cried out in shock.
"Meant to come sooner," said Arthur, not at all his usual, jovial self, "Something came up at work and I couldn't leave until just now."
Sirius nodded and in a flash was kneeling at Harry's side. He didn't catch what Arthur was saying to the Dursleys, only noticed the sharp tone of barely controlled anger.
Harry's face was white as the moon. His lips were slightly parted and shaky rasps of breath emitted from his throat. His chest rose upward with every labored breath he took, but other than that the boy was motionless.
"Harry," Sirius placed his hands on the unconscious boy's shoulders and begged him in a whisper, "Harry, wake up. Come now, Harry. Speak to me. Say something. Wake up, please." He tapped Harry's cheeks hard and noticed how warm they were. He placed a hand on the boy's pale forehead.
"He's burning up," Sirius said in a shaky voice.
"We'll need to get him to a doctor," said Remus from behind him. Sirius did not turn around.
"Nora," he said quietly, "We've got to contact Nora."
"Take Harry into the backyard," Remus replied affirmatively, "Arthur and I will meet you there."
Sirius nodded and eased the boy gently into his arms. He did not trust himself to look back as he stepped out the front door, Harry curled up in his embrace.
A/N: For those of you who haven't read The Last Straw, don't worry. You don't really have to in order to understand this story. For those of you who have, it's a sequel/sister story. The whole thing is from Sirius's point of view; as he cares for Harry in their new home he looks back on the time when he rescued his godson from the Dursley's and how ill he'd been those following few days.
On with the story:
There was only one disturbance in the warm and welcoming atmosphere of Sirius's mansion that first night. He didn't mind having woken up to it; his peaceful contentment with the freedom to live in his old home with his godson overrode the slight displeasure of awakening at whatever ungodly hour it may be.
Silence for a moment. Sirius let the corners of his mouth twitch upward as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness, the thick wrinkles in the black canopy above him ever so gradually coming into view.
Sirius sat up in bed when the terrible coughing began again. *Poor kid, * he thought morosely as he listened to its deep intensity ~ it hurt just to hear it.
He stood up and lit the candle on his bedside table with his wand. The light sent faint, ghostly shadows dancing across the walls and around the furniture. He followed the yellow path it laid down for him to the bathroom, where he opened the cupboard to retrieve a bottle of lavender potion and a small goblet.
The sound hesitated for a second as Sirius crept silently down the carpeted hall. Harry's room was only two doors down from his own; Sirius had chosen this room for Harry knowing that their being close together would soothe his worries at night and make his job taking care of his sick godson much easier.
Harry began to cough again just before Sirius reached his door. Opening it made the sound much clearer and caused Sirius to flinch at how painful it sounded. He set the candle on Harry's nightstand and drew the curtains of his four-poster slowly, so as to avoid startling him.
The poor boy was curled up into a tight ball ~ his pale face facing Sirius ~ under a single white sheet. It looked as though he had thrown his other blankets to the end of the bed during the night. He shivered between each deep cough and groaned hoarsely when the awful fit finally stopped.
Sirius set down the bottle and goblet and spread the discarded quilts over Harry's shaking body. His godson turned his face carefully upward and let his tired green eyes focus on the man standing above him.
"Sirius?" Harry rasped. Sirius nodded.
"Here," he said quietly as he poured some of the lavender potion into the goblet, "This will help with your cough." Sirius carefully helped the poor teenager sit up, letting Harry rest against him in his arms as he slipped the goblet between his godson's chapped lips. Harry felt unnaturally warm even through his pajamas; after Sirius had set him back down he checked the wristband the boy wore for his temperature.
"Was I keeping you awake?" Harry whispered weakly.
"No," lied Sirius gently, pushing Harry's damp bangs off of his fevered forehead. He knew most fifteen-year-old boys would resist this kind of childish treatment, but in Harry's case he had been deprived of affection for nearly fourteen years, and his illness put him in great need of someone to care for him, even if like a child.
Harry's eyelids began to droop, and Sirius smiled. After Harry had fallen asleep Sirius found himself reminded of that night he had found the poor boy lying in a similar way on the floor of the Dursley's living room.
The Dursleys. Sirius had to smile. He wondered if they regretted their harsh treatment of their nephew yet. He found himself unable to care. They'd deserved what he'd given them. Just wait until he told Harry.
Sirius stood watching over his godson, letting himself slip into the dream-like memories.
It was Tamerin's return with empty talons that had sparked his alarm. He'd been worrying about Harry all summer, but the fact that Tamerin had no letter when Sirius had requested a reply in his birthday card to Harry struck a nerve. Harry wouldn't have thrown away the opportunity to talk to his godfather like that, would he?
After two days of pacing around Lupin's living room, looking for but not expecting Hedwig to come through the window, Sirius finally decided that he would take the risk and go to the Dursley's himself to find his godson. He knew Remus would agree to it, as the other man had been almost as concerned as he had. They arranged to have Sirius leave for Privet Drive on Buckbeak in the morning ~ if he tried to apparate the ministry would be able to find him ~ and hopefully arrive by around eleven o'clock that night. Remus would apparate into the woods behind the Dursley's house at that time, and they would meet to decide on what action to take next.
Tamerin's round-trip journey had taken roughly four days, so they planned on Buckbeak being able to manage the ride over in one. They were right. Sirius's mind never once left his godson as they flew; his thoughts seemed to urge his Hippogriff to fly faster, and they found themselves over Harry's neighborhood twenty minutes ahead of schedule.
Sirius tethered Buckbeak to a tree, and with a soft "I'll be back soon," left him there to graze contentedly. He approached the Dursley house through the woods as a silent, black dog, snapping to attention immediately upon hearing noises.
They came from the front yard. Sirius crept forward with the stealth that only a Marauder knew, and found cover in some bushes on the lawn. Had he been human he would have gasped aloud at what he saw.
Harry lay on his back, clothed in his black cloak, on the damp lawn. He held the tiny owl Sirius remembered giving to Ron in a hand that was shaking so hard Sirius's canine eyes noticed it from where he was positioned.
The outrage brewing in Sirius's veins had not time to register, for it was at that moment that none other than Vernon Dursley chose to storm out the front door with a crash certain to wake the neighbors. Harry's uncle didn't seem to care. Pigwidgeon flew away, shrieking, as the burly man grabbed Harry by his shoulders and practically dragged the weakened teenager up the front steps into the house.
At first Sirius thought Harry's eyes to be closed, but he caught a glimpse of Harry's face for an instant before they disappeared inside. Their eyes met ~ had Harry seen him? ~ and the illness-dampened fear in the young wizard's eyes sparked a rage like nothing Sirius had felt in years.
Luckily his anger did not blind him to caution enough that he transform right there in the open, but he thought nothing of bounding to just outside the bay window, a strange black dog no one had seen before in perfect view of every house on the block.
Harry's uncle, his purple face contorted with fury, raised a brown, knobbly stick over his head and bellowed something even Sirius's keen dog ears were unable to catch. He froze for a moment; his anger coupled with the fear for his godson grabbed him with strong arms and wouldn't let his move while he watched Vernon strike the Boy-Who-Lived on the temple.
Harry's glasses broke and slid off from the impact, and Sirius was jerked from his temporary paralysis. He bared his teeth in a frightening way and let the cool glass meet his thick paws. The window shattered ~ Vernon was too blinded by his anger to notice ~ as the bear-like dog leapt through to the Dursley's living room. Petunia, having crept downstairs upon hearing the commotion that was Vernon and his nephew, shrieked when she saw what her husband hadn't.
It wasn't until Vernon had smacked his nephew on the forehead a second time and Harry had fallen to the floor that the sturdy man noticed Sirius ~ or, rather, the black dog standing in his living room.
With one fluid motion, Sirius bounded across the room and pinned the man who was not nearly worthy to be called Harry's uncle to the floor. His white teeth bared menacingly just inches from Vernon's face, which by now had been completely drained of all color. His wife and son clung to each other at the foot of the stairs, Petunia too frightened to speak and Dudley howling like some sort of sick cow.
Sirius grasped the stick in his jaw and with neck muscles like liquid steel, flung it through the shattered window. Though his paws were nowhere near Vernon's throat, the beefy man gaped at the huge canine as though unable to breathe.
"Leave them to me, Sirius," said a voice behind him, "You tend to Harry."
Harry. Sirius felt a twinge of guilt at neglecting to tend to his godson; he'd been too preoccupied with the boy's pseudo family. He turned his shaggy head to see Arthur Weasley in the doorway, wand out and pointed straight ahead of him, and immediately backed off of the petrified muggle and transformed. All three of the Dursley's cried out in shock.
"Meant to come sooner," said Arthur, not at all his usual, jovial self, "Something came up at work and I couldn't leave until just now."
Sirius nodded and in a flash was kneeling at Harry's side. He didn't catch what Arthur was saying to the Dursleys, only noticed the sharp tone of barely controlled anger.
Harry's face was white as the moon. His lips were slightly parted and shaky rasps of breath emitted from his throat. His chest rose upward with every labored breath he took, but other than that the boy was motionless.
"Harry," Sirius placed his hands on the unconscious boy's shoulders and begged him in a whisper, "Harry, wake up. Come now, Harry. Speak to me. Say something. Wake up, please." He tapped Harry's cheeks hard and noticed how warm they were. He placed a hand on the boy's pale forehead.
"He's burning up," Sirius said in a shaky voice.
"We'll need to get him to a doctor," said Remus from behind him. Sirius did not turn around.
"Nora," he said quietly, "We've got to contact Nora."
"Take Harry into the backyard," Remus replied affirmatively, "Arthur and I will meet you there."
Sirius nodded and eased the boy gently into his arms. He did not trust himself to look back as he stepped out the front door, Harry curled up in his embrace.