Disclaimer: No I do not own Harry Potter
Something Significant
(Sirius and Harry - Godfather/Godson)
Harry stared hard at the large, wooden table in the Hogwarts staff room, wishing for all the world, that he could be somewhere else.
Damn Hermione's sisterly concerns.
Damn McGonagall's Head of House rights.
Damn Umbridge and her stupid Blood Quill.
Damn Madame Pomfrey's insistent plucking and prodding.
And damn Snape's damn, gloating face.
Not that he was feeling sorry for himself or anything, it was just everybody's bloody meddling.
They had all left him for most of the summer without so much as a scrap of news, and now here they were hounding him to tell them everything.
Well, Harry had made up his mind.
If they wanted to keep him in the dark then so be it, but he wasn't going to give them the same courtesy that had been refused of him.
Maybe they'll give it up if I sit here with my mouth shut long enough.
He thought dejectedly, resisting the urge to flee from the room to get away from Snape's penetrating stare, Madame Pomfrey's disapproving gaze, and Professor McGonagall's unending speech.
He scratched his finger nails across the back of his left hand before dropping both hands flat against his trousers, trying to cease his fidgeting and assume a look of nonchalance.
"-it is for the best, Mr. Potter."
Harry's mind zoned in and out, only catching phrases of what McGonagall was saying.
"Perhaps Mr. Potter believes he is above you assistance."
Harry kept his eyes trained on the table, he didn't need to look up to see who had spoken -he would know that oily voice anywhere.
Harry scuffed the heel of his trainer, reining in his temper before answering, "There's no need for any assistance."
He kept his voice as composed as was possible, especially when his great bat of a teacher was trying to get a rise out of him.
"Mr. Potter, I must insist that you tell us what is happening during your detentions with- her."
The pause before her would have been amusing, but Harry couldn't bring himself to notice.
"Ms. Granger appeared to be quite concerned about you, though she would tell us what it was exactly that had occurred."
Professor McGonagall's words irked him more than Snape's bile, though he wasn't sure why, it incensed him more than anything else any of them had said.
I must insist.
The words rang loudly in his ears, mocking his anger, bringing his nearly uncontrollable rage and resentment to the forefront of his mind.
Ms. Granger appeared to be quite concerned about you.
Well maybe I don't want their damn concern; maybe I just want to be left alone.
Come to think of it, I don't even know what I want, other than getting out of here that is.
And he didn't, Harry wasn't sure whether he wanted to be alone, or surrounded by his friends, everything was so confusing.
All he knew for sure was that he was always angry, even when he didn't know why, and that he hated Umbridge, of course he was sure about that.
"Enough of this."
His Potions Professor's deep voice cut through his derisive musings.
"I have more important things to do than stand here all day and listen to Potter's plights," he sneered across the table at a quietly seething Harry.
"I'll just be going then," spat Harry through gritted teeth, he knew he was playing with fire here, but he couldn't help the irritation that seeped into his voice.
"You, Mr. Potter, are staying right where you are until we get to the bottom of this, and I get a full examination," Madame Pomfrey interjected.
She had both hands on her hips and her wand protruded from her infirmary robes, Harry thought it best not to argue with her.
He slumped in his chair, resuming his table gazing, and just when he had decided that he wasn't going to get out of this without telling the truth, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.
She crossed the length to the door in three quick strides, opening it when she reached it, and Harry's heart soared for all of three seconds.
"Severus, Poppy, if you'll join me outside for a moment."
The door shut behind them, but not before Snape could grant Harry one last withering glare.
Harry let out an explosive sigh, when the bloody hell would he catch a break.
He slumped in his chair; scuffing his shoe against the floor, he was sure his voice would be hoarse from lack of use.
Why did they want to know anyway?
And what the hell was Snape doing here?
He knew for certain that the great, greasy git didn't give a Shite about what happened to him.
Maybe they're just creating new ways to drive me into real insanity, he thought dejectedly; alright maybe he was feeling a bit sorry for himself.
He picked up his head, before letting it fall back on the head rest with a dull, thunk.
Once. Twice. Three times, his head was beginning to hurt, he let his head fall one last time, and then trained his eyes on the door, waiting for his professors to come charging back in, new ideas of torture in hand.
Harry sighed again; the back of his hand prickled and itched.
Almost as much as his scar was prickling and itching, he mused idly.
No matter, he decided, his scar had been stinging and prickling and twinging all the time, these days.
He was used to it.
Another dejected sigh, more fidgeting.
Merlin he wished he could get out of here, he had mountains of homework, an achy hand, and by the way the itch in his scar was now leaning towards a burn, he was certain he'd have a vision soon, and the last thing he wanted to do was pass out in the teacher's staff room.
The door was opening, Harry eyed it warily.
Professor McGonagall stepped inside, though she didn't close the door behind her, Harry noticed that neither of his other inquisitors came back in.
"It seems, Mr. Potter, that we must reconvene this meeting in the Headmaster's office."
Harry's Head of House's thin lips were drawn in a tight line, making it clear to him that she was determined to squeeze the details out of him.
His heart dropped to his stomach, Dumbledore's office, really?
He swallowed the outburst that had risen to his throat.
Harry still wasn't quite sure why, but Dumbledore had been ignoring him lately, so he bloody well was not going to go complaining to him about Umbridge.
The thought of being in Dumbledore's office at all, was making him angrier, he wanted to rant and rave about the unfairness of it all, but with very calm acceptance, that was most unlike him, he nodded his head and pushed out of his chair, walking determinedly out the door.
Dumbledore's office was what he expected, but, as it turned out, Dumbledore, was not who received him.
Harry gasped in shock, his godfather's face, was in Dumbledore's fire.
What the bloody hell was going on here.
"Harry."
Sirius' baritone voice penetrated his jumbled thoughts.
"Sirius." He whispered, striding quickly to the fireplace and dropping on his knees.
"Well, what do you know? He speaks." Harry looked behind him, his teachers stood in front of the door watching him. Snape, who had made the comment, had a particularly sour look on his face.
"If you'll give us a moment?"
Harry turned back to his Godfather, "What are you doing here? Umbridge is watching the fires! You should go. Quick!" His sentences came out in rapid succession, vaguely, Harry wondered if his Sirius could even understand what he was saying, but that did not stop him from continuing on his rant.
"You'll get caught! What are you thinking? Oh no! What if she already knows! Did something happen? Did someone die? Is it Remus? Oh Merlin, it is, oh G-"
"Harry."
"Harry, Harry. No of course not, HARRY!"
Harry jerked in surprise; Sirius was staring at him through the flames, an exasperated and somewhat amused expression on his handsome face.
"I wanted to talk to you. No wait," he said when Harry tried to interrupt. "Snape tells me something happened with Umbridge? Her detentions?"
Harry's face burned, he turned around to glare at his potions professor but found that room was now empty, save himself and Sirius, of course. "It was nothing, I'm fine." He denied, though his guilty expression bellied his words.
Sirius frowned, "Come on, step through... come on!" He urged when Harry made no move to follow his command. "But what about-"
"Harry, do you really think I would put your life in jeopardy? Now come through."
Harry had been about to retort that it wasn't his life he was worried about, but Sirius had pulled his face out of the fire and was waiting, presumably, on the other side.
And so, with a long suffering sigh, Harry took a pinch of floo powder from where it sat on a bowl atop the mantle, and stepped into the fireplace.
"Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!" He shouted and spun away through the network.
"Oomph!" His shout came out muffled as he pitched forward and crashed head first, into another body.
"Do you always come out like that?"
Harry scowled as he straightened himself; there was no need for such amusement in his opinion. He yanked his arm from his godfather's grip in a fit of childish pique.
He immediately repented his actions as Sirius' face fell. Harry shoved his hands in his pockets, offering his godfather a rueful look before turning his gaze to the grimy, stone floor.
Harry winced when Sirius sighed gustily; he wasn't sure what was wrong with him these days.
Was he trying to make everybody angry with him?
Stupid, of course not.
He was just… irritated…
Barmy, more like.
"Come on then."
Harry looked up, Sirius had extended an arm as though to place it across his shoulders, Harry's heart lifted a bit, but Sirius seemed to think better of his movement, for he reclaimed his arm, letting it swing pointlessly at his side.
His godfather jerked his head in the general of the parlor, then turning with a grimace, left Harry to follow in his wake.
As it turned out the sitting room wasn't any better for this conversation then standing in front of the floo or sitting in the Hogwarts Staff Room.
Harry sighed quietly.
"Now what's this Snape tells me about torture detentions with Umbridge?"
Sirius was leaning forward in the armchair across from Harry, who was seated on the sofa in what could only be called a slouch.
"It wasn't torture, Snape's exaggerating," he replied indignantly, impulsively pushing his hands beneath his thighs.
"Then let me see your hand Harry, no the right hand."
Harry dropped the hand he had offered, and with an angry grunt, thrust out his right hand, dropping his gaze to the ugly carpet covering the floor. He traced the designs with his eyes.
Sirius hissed through his teeth, "She did this to you?" Harry could hear the barely suppressed anger in Sirius' voice.
Not wanting to look up and see the disappointment in his godfather's eyes, Harry settled for nodding to the floor covering.
Sirius, it seemed was having none of it.
Rising from his previous perch, Sirius reseated himself beside Harry and caught his chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting Harry's face and forcing him to meet his eyes.
Harry grimaced in anticipation as he raised his eyes.
"Why did you never tell anyone?" Why did you never tell me?"
Harry could see the question burning in Sirius' eyes.
"It's not a big deal." He muttered, he averted his eyes, Sirius gripped his shoulders.
"Harry!" snapped Sirius, voice sharp, he Harry's shoulders firm shake. Harry returned his eyes to his godfather's. They were grey and stormy, brimming with hurt, it made Harry want to turn away again.
"It is a big deal! Of course it's a big deal! You are a big deal!" Sirius was gripped his shoulders tighter and tighter with each sentence.
Harry tried not to squirm, Sirius wasn't exactly yelling, but he couldn't mistake the reprimanding tones his godfather used.
"Do you see that? Because I don't think you do Harry." Sirius' voice was pleading now, like he wanted Harry to understand what he was saying.
Harry frowned, "I don't- I, Sirius! How am I supposed to answer a question like that?" He almost rolled his eyes but thought better of it when he caught Sirius' expression.
His godfather looked nothing short of furious, for a moment Harry thought that Sirius' ire was directed at him, but when Sirius stood up abruptly he promptly canceled Harry's line of thought.
"If you hadn't been left with those damned Dursleys you would know that."
Sirius paced in front of Harry, his fists clenching and unclenching as he attempted to work of his irritation.
"It's no one's fault but my own," he whispered quietly, dropping back onto the sofa, deflated and defeated.
Harry's heart lurched in his chest, "No, Sirius, its not- I'm not-"
Sirius put up a hand, effectively stemming any further argument.
"No Harry, if I hadn't gone after Peter that night, hell, if I had just been the Secret Keeper like James had asked, none of this would have happened." Sirius leaned forward, elbows on his knees; he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.
Sirius let out a wobbly breath.
There was a lump in Harry's throat, "Sirius-" Harry stopped himself, biting his lip nervously; he placed an unstable hand on his godfather's hunched shoulder.
Harry jump in surprise when Sirius jerked around suddenly and pulled Harry into his arms.
Harry tensed at the sudden movement, but relaxed when Sirius' grip tightened. Harry brought his arms up, circling his godfather's back; he pressed his face into Sirius shoulder, choking back a sob.
One of Sirius' hands came up to cup the back of Harry's head, fingers carding through messy hair, and Harry's hands clutched at Sirius' muggle t-shirt.
Odd… Harry couldn't remember seeing his godfather's clothes, but then again, he had been a bit preoccupied.
Barmy, definitely barmy.
One minute he was angry the next he was crying like some sort of tosser. As though he just realized how embarrassing his actions were, Harry pulled away, cheeks colouring with chagrin.
He sniffed lifting an arm to rub his nose against the sleeve. Sirius caught his arm, Harry looked up still sniffing.
"Here, use this," said Sirius holding out a white kerchief.
"Thanks," muttered Harry taking the proffered cloth and blowing his nose.
"Now then," Sirius blew out his breath, ruffling Harry's hair a bit, ignoring the moue of protest.
"What is this I hear, from Snape mind you, about Umbridge?"
Two hours later Harry sat in the company of Albus Dumbledore, Dolores Umbridge, Poppy Pomfrey, and Severus Snape, the latter two acting as school nurse and unbiased witness.
After the former Professor Umbridge had stepped out of the office, (to collect her things no doubt), Harry rose as well, murmuring his good byes to those present.
He turned the door knob and feeling very much as though something significant had just come to pass, he turned back to the small assembly.
"Professor Snape… Thanks, thanks a lot."
Turning back to the door and exiting the office as quickly as he could, Harry missed the brief twitch of the potions master's lips, and Professor Dumbledore's quirked eyebrow.
A/N: Well, this was actually my first Harry Potter Fiction; it just took me forever to write. :) I know that very many people use this exact 'missing scene', but I thought "what the heck" and decided to try my hand at it. I hope you enjoyed it, and I apologize for any mistakes made (I haven't a beta yet). The next chapter for my story Just For Now, for those following, will be out next week at the latest, the delay is because I am working this entire summer and I must familiarize myself with the menu at the restaurant.
Regards, Marie