Hello!
Yes, this is the first thing I've actually posted in like forever. But it's a one-shot so you don't have to worry about me updating it.

It takes place in the Christmas holidays of Harry's fifth year, when Harry feels that he is Voldemort's secret weapon and that he will lead Voldemort to the Order. In the book, he contemplates running off but is stopped by the mockings of the blank portrait in his bedroom. In this story, Harry really does runaway for a short time. This begins the minute he leaves Grimmauld Place and ends with a meaningful conversation with his godfather.

Anyway, it's rated K+. (see last time I posted something I think was with the old rating system….that makes ME feel old…not really.) But this is just because I love the word hell in expressions and Harry has an ale.

So basically, I'll stop rambling so you can start reading. It's not very long.

Enjoy.

Harry was seated on the curb, his face buried in his arms, which were collapsed on his knees. The time seemed to tick by so slowly, in fact, he had no idea how long he had been in that spot. He thought about calling the Knight Bus, but was unsure where he should go. He had no where to go. There was the Dursleys, the last resort of his. There was a hotel, any hotel, but he was unsure how long he would be staying and if he had the funds to sustain it. What other options did he have? While trying to figure his situation out, he just sat there, his trunk heavy before him, Hedwig hooting curiously in her cage beside him. Turning back, he had decided, was not an option.

By then, the dusk had settled upon London and was beginning to fade away. The horizon was red with the color of the setting sun, and he sighed. It was going to get dark and even colder soon, and he had no where to go. He was lucky the snow already on the ground was minimal.

As he sat still and darkness descended, he could see his breath fogged out before him as he shivered. He was alone and freezing and could not decide where to go. He finally determined that hitching a ride on the bus would not have been a bad idea. Perhaps he could go to the Leaky Cauldron, rent a room, collect his thoughts.

He raised his wand and the double-decker appeared beside him, chugging out smoke as it went along. It stopped abruptly, a loud 'oomf' from one of the passengers echoing as a result. The doors shot open and the conductor peered about. "Where to, young man?"

Harry tilted his head. This was not Stan Shunpike. He was an older man in the same bus uniform, with blue eyes and a heavy coat about his shoulders. "I'm going to the Leaky Cauldron," stated Harry, stepping aboard. This reminded him of the night he left Privet Drive before his first year. He just hoped that he wouldn't run into the 'Grim' again.

The doors shut as he paid the conductor and he was thrown backward onto a bed by the sudden speed of the bus. He rubbed his head and checked the clock above the driver's seat. It was eight o'clock, on the dot. He could feel a heater beside him and he warmed his hands by it gingerly. The air from the outside was still biting at him a bit.

He was unsure how long he had drifted away from the bus, but it seemed like only a moment or two later that the conductor was shaking him awake. "Young man, your stop is next." Harry opened his eyes groggily and watched as the man made his way down the aisles shouting, "London! Leaky Cauldron, next stop!"

Harry grabbed his trunk, a little too roughly perhaps, for Hedwig snapped at him. Then he made the jump from the bus step to the ground, heard the clack of the doors behind him, and stood to face the bustling pub. Stepping cautiously inside, he felt his wand in his pocket and kept it at the ready.

As he opened the door, a blast of hot air hit him and a clash of loud laughter, speaking, and singing. Apparently, much of London's wizarding population was crammed inside of that little pub, chattering and losing themselves over a few ales.

He went up to Tom, the barkeeper, but put his hood over his scar so that he was unrecognizable. Tom was much too busy to notice any similarities between this boy and 'Harry Potter'. He poured him a mug of ale and, after Harry slipped him some gold, slid a key to a room across the table.

Harry took the ale up in his hands and stared at it with slight trepidation. He had only had butterbeer before, never this hard of an ale. He lifted it to his mouth and took a sip, spitting it out and groaning. A man beside him with wild, bushy, black hair and a crooked smile slapped him on the back. "There, there laddie!" he said roughly. "Take it easy! Ye' know, me first pint was like that."

Harry smiled, but discomfortingly as he took several more short sips from his ale, managing to do so without sputtering. He then left his glass half full and took his things up to his room. He stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down at the pub. It was the most crowded he had ever seen the place before.

He placed his hand on his door handle, shaking. Placing the key in the lock, he opened it and quickly bolted the door behind him. As he lit up the dingy room, he realized what he had just accomplished.

I just ran away from #12 Grimmauld Place.

He placed Hedwig by the window and fed her several owl treats. She looked out the window, which peered across the currently darkened Diagon Alley, ruffling her feathers.

By now they'll all be looking for me, wondering where I am or why I left.

He pulled back the covers on his bed and sighed with displeasure at his situation. Tucking his wand deep into his pocket, he turned off the lights and crawled into the sheets, listening to the loud sound of the lively room below him as he fell asleep.

-

When he opened his eyes, he could hear the sound of music down below him, of laughter, of crowds. Christmas shoppers were darting through the sparkling decorations and stopping every so often to admire the large tree in the center square, of which Harry had a perfect view.

He crumpled his hair in his hands and stared out at the joyous scene very forlornly. He had slept on it, as most would say helped, but no good came to his mind on what he should do next. The only thing that he could think of would be to spend another night there, perhaps explore Diagon Alley a bit.

But then he remembered why he had run in the first place and he felt like screaming. Voldemort. Voldemort could find him. If Voldemort was possessing him, Voldemort would be able to go right to his doorstep. He was safe no where.

There's no where I can go!
There's no one I can talk to!

And he fell on his back onto the mattress, feeling hot tears run down his face.

What do I do now?

He felt his wand in his pocket and thought bitterly about his future. Education, he'd even forgotten about that. Was he to return to Hogwarts, only to face Umbridge again? What education was that?

He tried to comfort himself by listening to the voices down stairs. There was one man, with a long, humming voice that sweetly spoke of his family to a younger girl with a high-pitched voice. Then there was that gruff man who had sat next to him when he had his ale the previous night. He was talking about, well, ale. Then he heard Tom, whistling as he cleaned the wine glasses, taking care to tap each one delicately on the outside to make that sharp, harmonious sound before placing it carefully back on its rack.

Then he suddenly did not feel comfort and felt his heart hollow. He recognized the voice speaking. It was Lupin.

"I'm looking for someone," he asked wearily of the woman talking to the man about his family. "Have you seen-"

"Ah, she's my girl, can't you see?" the 'family' man shoved with his words. "Get out of here."

Lupin's voice sounded even more stressed as he went to Tom and asked the same question. "Have you seen a boy, about fifteen, that might have come in here last night?" Tom must have shaken his head because Harry could hear the glasses being squeaked clean again and Lupin asking another man.

Don't find me… Harry thought hard. Please don't find me.

"…Aye! There's a boy here, had his first ale las' night! E's staying here I'm guessin'!" and the gruff man continued drinking.
Harry's heart pounded. He could hear light talking downstairs but was too anxious to hear what was said. He packed up all of his things, grabbed Hedwig and his trunk and pulled out his wand. No one, he decided, was going to find him. He glanced out the window down at Diagon Alley, but there was no possible way that he could get down there. Flying, perhaps, but there was no telling what kind of bad attention would come to him from that. Then, he looked at the door, of which the handle began to movie. There was no going back now.

Harry stood outside the door and watched the door jiggle but not open.

Then there was a knock. "Hello?" asked Lupin.

At first, Harry did not answer, but then he said, "Professor Lupin?" He said this very weakly. It was too late. He had been caught. He unbolted the door and opened it a crack to see the haggard, worn face of his once professor.

"I'm sorry Professor," Harry launched. "It's hard to explain-"

"Just bring your things and we'll quickly leave," stated Lupin quietly. "We've no time. The Death Eaters are watching you. Grab my arm, we'll perform assisted apparation." Harry obeyed and felt the world spinning about him, the sensation clouding his senses. He doubted that he could recall what it was like, however, he was so worried. He hit the ground very hard, Lupin by his side, pulling him up, and the two walked toward the house that sprung up before them.

Lupin knocked delicately.

After the first knock, Harry found himself in Sirius Black's arms, although he could have sworn that Mrs. Weasley would have gotten there first if she hadn't been the one to open the door.

"Where the hell have you been?" and Sirius nearly crushed the boy as Lupin brought in the heavy trunk with Hedwig into the house.

Once the door was shut behind them, Sirius still did not let go until Mrs. Weasley took him from the man. "Oh, Harry dear! We've been so worried!"

"Honestly," stated Sirius to Mrs. Weasley. "I was hugging my godson. You're my hero, Moony." And he threw Lupin into a hug too, who wheezed lightly in pain. "Get off of me." He weakly smiled, causing Sirius to frown in worry.

"Oh, I'll go make some hot cocoa to warm you up!" Mrs. Weasley stated brightly. Then she bustled off to the kitchen.

"Back to my question," Sirius stated after she had left, leaving just Lupin, Harry and himself in the room. "Where the hell were you?"

Harry swallowed with difficulty and stared at the stone floor. How was he going to explain this one? He decided to start with, "I'm sorry."

"That wasn't my question," replied Sirius sharply.

"The Leaky Cauldron," Lupin stated to Sirius, who raised a brow in confusion. "He rented a room there."

"I had my first ale," said Harry jokingly, but he could have sworn Sirius was about to slap him for a moment the man was so angry; although it was not the fact that Harry had enjoyed an ale, it was more the fact that Harry was actually enjoying this at all. "A-Alright…but you're going to think this is stupid or you're not going to believe me."

"Try me," both Lupin and Sirius ordered simultaneously.

And Harry told them his feelings, about how he felt he was being possessed by Voldemort. And here and there Lupin and Sirius shook their heads with doubt until Harry spoke of the weapon and how he thought that he might be the weapon the Order spoke about.

"You shouldn't have told him, Sirius!" scolded Lupin. "I knew as soon as you said it you shouldn't of! Now look where this has gone!"

Sirius turned pink and sighed. "Harry, none of this is happening. Trust me. Think about it, do you look like a weapon? You're not possessed; believe me, I think this is actually a good thing. You're seeing into Voldemort's plans. This is something you need to take up with Dumbledore."

"But he won't listen to me!" protested Harry.

"Trust me," stated Sirius certainly, "He'll listen to you on something this important. Now just try not to think about all this, won't you? It's nothing to fret about, honestly."

"Alright, thanks Sirius." Harry smiled softly. "That helped."

And Sirius hugged him again. "You really shot a scare through me, kid. We'd thought that Voldemort had got you."

"You did?" Harry stated shortly. He felt guilty. "I'm sorry."

Sirius waved his hand in nonchalance. "It's over. But Harry, don't you ever run off on me again! Honestly, I was so worried I started to look like Molly."

"Ahem!" came a voice from behind Sirius, who felt a hand pull him up by the ear. He grinned sheepishly. "Hello Molly."

She scowled, "Sirius, Sirius!" before turning to Harry. "Your cocoa is ready in the kitchen. Come down with me. Ron and Hermione are there too."

"I think Harry would like some ale." Sirius stated roughly, grinning, but although Harry laughed, Mrs. Weasley didn't.

And neither did Lupin.

Sirius sighed and put a hand to his forehead as Harry and Mrs. Weasley left the room. "I am so glad that is over with." But he gasped. "What the hell happened to you! Your arm is-"

Lupin groaned. "Sirius, I was attacked. Several Death Eaters were on Harry's tail and I met up with them on the way to the Leaky Cauldron…. I just need to rest, that's all."

"So they could find him?" Sirius's brow furrowed as he studied Remus's arm, the blood seeping onto his hands as he examined it. "They knew where Harry was, even before we did? Honestly, Remus! They got you good. You should be glad they didn't pull an Unforgivable on you…"

"I'm fine, Sirius," but Lupin looked far from fine. "Go on, I know you want to get back to Harry. Besides, we've got a meeting to call forward. And I must attend."

Sirius sighed reluctantly and finally agreed, "Alright, just let Molly look at you, will you? She knows a lot about healing." Then Sirius helped him gingerly down into the basement kitchen, where he helped the man be seated on a chair closest to the door. He could feel Lupin wheeze as he sat down. "Molly?"

Mrs. Weasley glanced up from placing hot chocolate in front of Harry and stated, "What do you want?" She said this curtly. Apparently, Sirius and she had argued not long before Harry had arrived. The sting was still in her voice.

"Remus is hurt," replied Sirius. "Death Eaters, they got his arm a bit. I'm not much of a healer."

"Oh dear!" Mrs. Weasley took her wand and quickly took a seat beside Lupin, taking up his arm and examining it. She tutted now and then as she tapped his arm, muttering spells.

"Death Eaters?" asked Harry quickly. "Where? When?"

Sirius sighed and poured himself a glass of red wine that was set upon the long, wooden table. He watched it as it swiftly fell into the glass before taking a sip. "When he was searching for you. He found them waiting outside the pub. Lucky Moony was there, you were."

"I'm so sorry, Professor." Harry stated quickly, watching the man wince as Mrs. Weasley did her best to heal him. "I didn't mean-"

Lupin smiled lightly to show his forgiveness, but was much too busy gritting his teeth at the slight pain to say anything in reply. A moment later, the motherly woman had his arm wrapped in bandages.

"So…" stated Harry to break the awkward silence that had come upon them all. "Where is everyone else?"

"Harry!"

Harry nearly jumped out of his seat in surprise at the voice behind him. Sirius shattered his wine glass and Lupin jerked his arm, causing him to groan in pain.

Tonks threw him into an overly tight embrace and stated jokingly, "If you ever send me to the darkest depths of London to look for your dead body again-!" She didn't finish her sentence. Her eyes immediately darted to Lupin. "What happened?"
Harry could have sworn that he caught a blush in Lupin's pale cheeks. Glancing at Sirius, who had a very discreet smirk on his lips, he motioned to Tonks.

When he was behind both their backs he mouthed very dramatically, "Love!" Harry silently laughed.

"…it's just a scratch Tonks…" Lupin begged as she scrutinized him. "Nothing more…"

He blushed even more profusely until Sirius finally interrupted to stop the man from rambling like a schoolboy. "Er…Harry? Let's put your things upstairs."

Harry followed him out of the kitchen. As he turned a corner he found that Sirius had seated himself on top of his trunk in the entrance hall and was surveying the room with distaste. He was frowning. They were in silence until Harry broke it. "Didn't think I'd get away without a lecture. Although I had bets on Professor Lupin…"

Sirius shook his head, although he managed a weak laugh. "That's not what I'm on about. It's…it's just so…" the word spilled out of his mouth like poison. "-familiar." When Harry did not answer, he continued, running a hand through his hair distractedly. "I ran away from this house when I was sixteen."

"But our reasons are so different." Harry interrupted. "Your parents were horrible to you."

"But Harry," Sirius's brow stitched. "Can't you see? I left because of hate…and you left because of…love."

Harry was silent, so silent that he could hear what was being said in the kitchen about Mrs. Weasley's fabulous chicken stew and about how she used extra salt the last time she brewed it. He could hear the echoes of footsteps from up the stairs, coming from the room that he and Ron shared. Then, he heard the sounds of scurrying, as if Kreacher was working in the attic.

"So…what I'm saying," and Sirius seemed quite unsure if he did in fact know what he was talking about. His words broke the quiet like an axe on ice. "-is that…I'm, well, grateful."

"I didn't do anything but scare the hell out of you," Harry corrected, folding his arms in discomfort.
"Well," Sirius shook his head and continued. "You might not be able to see the sacrifice but I can... And if you really think about it-" he tapped the boy's scar. "It's not much different than the sacrifice that was made for you."

"Sirius…" Harry lowered his head and grimaced. "It's not-"

"That's how we'll win this war, Harry. I know it…See, that's our weapon…Voldemort can't love." Sirius nodded as if in confirmation of his own words before finally stating, "But in the meantime."

"I won't run off again." Harry replied, feeling himself pulled into a tight embrace. "Sirius?"
"Yeah?" asked the man, his head buried into the boy's neck.

"When this is all over with and your name's cleared and everything… I know I've said this before but...I really want to live with you."

Sirius looked up and ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "Of course"
"Promise?" the boy asked.

The man laughed. "A big house in the country. I promise."

I hope you enjoyed that. Please review! Oh, especially on my Sirius. I love him so much, but I've been trying to write with him in different ways in different stories and this is one of the ways I picked….so yeah. Does it suite him? Thank you for reading!