I tend to be
Stuck in minor key
Then pale monotony
Holds me down
But luckily
You are so dear to me
In your charity
I go home
I'm so sorry
This melancholy
Holds me down
But luckily
You are so dear to me
In your charity
I go home
~ Shine - Blue Foundation
The sun began to set over Number 12 Grimmauld Place and Sirius Black's eyes were closed. Harry was numb as Molly Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks tried to keep their voices hushed. He knew what was happening. Sirius might not survive this. Harry had changed the flowers three times this week. He seemed to respond to lilies a little more than the hydrangeas and so a bouquet of them sat between he and Hermione in her car.
"Harry," Hermione began, "I'm worried for you. You need to remember to take care of yourself too." Harry shook his head at his friend who had stopped the car on the way to the hospital. "Sirius needs me, Hermione. Now more than ever." Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry was stubborn but she knew he would have to come around eventually. Sirius wouldn't want him this way. He'd hardly slept, he hadn't eaten and he barely spoke since the accident.
Today, there was hardly a change in Sirius' condition. The rain fell down the windows in small cascades and it took a few moments for Sirius' eyes to adjust when he sat up. "Prongs," he laughed warmly. This was always how it started with them. "Did you hide the bike?" Harry grimaced before he answered.
"I… No-one will find it," Harry hated it. He hated being unable to tell Sirius that he was not James Potter; that he was his godson, and of course, how much Sirius meant to him.
"Fisher and Anderson… They're toast." Harry only knew the names of these gentlemen because they were all Sirius spoke about. Although he always loved it when Sirius told stories about when he and his father were teenagers, he never wanted to hear them like this. "Elvendork… We sure showed them, didn't we?" Sirius' voice was warm and he had a glint in his eye but Harry knew it was not permanent. Eventually, he would realise this was a fiction. He did have moments of clarity and Harry had got him to write things down in those moments. Harry traced the words with his fingertips. I am in a hospital in Central London and this illness cannot be cured with magic. Harry Potter is my godson. He'd memorised it but it still helped him; he still was able to take comfort in the small glimpses of clarity. He had written happier things more recently. Harry grew up to be a great man. I am proud of him. "Where is Moony…?" Remus Lupin had been in a number of times but he thought it best not to this week. It was the image of Remus that triggered responses in Sirius that could have been fatal at times. He was like fragile china and Remus thought he ought to respect that. At least while Harry said goodbye. "He got into…" As Harry spoke, there was a sound from Sirius' machine that he didn't recognise.
Without warning, an influx of people in white and green rushed through the doors and Harry's vision began to blur. Harry understood. There was frantic yelling from the people, who now crowded around Sirius so he was now fully submerged and out of Harry's green-eyed gaze. Harry staggered backwards and forced himself into the chair near the window where the rain had turned to something like ice. As the voices began to quieten, there was high-pitched frequency that used to be jagged. "Mr. Potter," Somebody approached him with a dark look in their brown eyes, "We are so sorry. We did everything we could." The lilies that sat on his bedside table had browned slightly in the short duration of his stay and outside, the winds picked up. Sirius Black was now a shadow that bounced on the wind. He was a light that lingered in the darkness on the storm-stricken streets of London and he would be with Harry wherever he went. Always.