Hello! it's been so long since i posted anything, but school does not allow breathing space. Now that I have fallen in a sudden inspired vein, i have written this little thing ( song fic ) because I was listening to Coldplay ( who own rights to this songs ) and thgouht " What a nice plot that would make!" As I have just mentioned, Coldplay has rights to this song, and so does J.K.Rowlings with this, so no sueing!

WARNING SIGNS

Harry is sitting is his room at Privet Drive, where it was night and the neighbourhood had been blessed with a break from the stifling hot weather. A slight breeze ruffled the tatty curtains hanging off the open window in the smallest bedroom of number four, Privet Drive, where a teen was half-lying, half-sitting on a lumpy bed, sheets unmade and ruffled.

The room was relatively orderly, almost as though no one lived in it – and Harry didn't, because he attended a boarding school up in Scotland, where he had friends and was relatively accepted. Last June though, something terrible had happened, and it was all his fault.

He had just ruined the last chance he had to ever be part of a real family. His godfather was killed by Lestrange, crazy-driven devoted follower of Voldemort, a dark wizard steadily gaining more power after last year's resurrection from the supposed dead. A resurrection to which Harry had been reluctant witness, caused by a rogue portkey which was really set up to take him to Voldemort to complete the ritual of resurrection, carried out by Wormtail, the man whose hands were stained with Harry's parents' blood.

The music starts up, softly.

A warning sign.

I missed the good part, and I realised.

I started looking and the bubble burst.

I started looking for excuses.

When he'd shouted at Dumbledore so badly, like he'd never previously done in his life, he was really blaming himself. And when he'd accused Snape of not warning the Order fast enough – he really meant that he should have thought things through before doing the unthinkable to burst into the Department of Mysteries to rescue Sirius, whom was really still at Grimmauld Place, his old, much despised home, and now residence of the Order's Headquarters.

Now he could hear the doorbell ringing, and he knew it was Dumbledore, coming to collect him and take him to the Weasleys' home, where he would remain for the rest of the summer. Suddenly, as though summoned, his trunks and belongings rose and deposited themselves (neatly gliding in mid-air through the room) next to the door, which opened softly to reveal a tall figure, shrouded in lby the corridor light.

Harry sat up properly and greeted him.

"Good evening Harry. I'm sorry I'm so late, but some rather important business was called to my attention at the very last minute, and I thought it best to come collect you myself, however late, for which I apologise, again, to keep you waiting so long."

H was slightly embarrassed that Dumbledore still considered him worthy enough to apologise not once, but twice. He wouldn't have done it, if someone had shouted at him like he himself did at Dumbledore.

Harry hastily concentrated on the task at hand; thinking about that night was too painful. Dumbledore seemed to wait for his permission to come in, so he bade him enter.

Come on in,

I've got to tell you what a state I'm in,

I've got to tell you, in my loudest tones,

That I started looking for a warning sign.

Dumbledore waited patiently, albeit worriedly as Harry still hadn't looked him properly in the eye since he'd arrived – he somehow doubted that was due to the various incidents of Voldemort entering Harry's mind. It would be best if he put the boy at ease.

"Just a moment please, Harry. I wish to speak with you privately."

Dumbledore waved his wand and conjured a rather frilly old armchair, onto which he sunk gracefully, despite his apparent old age.

"Harry, I want you to understand that Sirius was – "

Harry swiftly turned away and looked outside the window, where the moon was beginning to glow brightly, a clear sign of the late hour. He didn't wish to discuss Sirius, nor to hear him being spoken about. A stabbing pain wrenched him from his thoughts, and looking down at his hand, Harry realised in surprise he'd gripped his letter opener a little too tightly. Blood was now slowly welling from the small nick where the blade had pierced his skin.

Dumbledore sighed, this would not be easy.

He noticed the blood oozing from a wound on Harry's hand, which was still clutching a letter opener, and decided to leave the argument be for now. The wound was still too fresh for Harry to really pay attention to what he wanted him to understand, and he didn't mean the one on his hand. He waved his wand over it in a complicated little wave, and the small cut immediately stopped oozing blood and closed.

When the truth is

I miss you

Dumbledore explained he had informed the Dursleys that Harry would only return next summer and stay till he was of age, then leave and never come back. Harry smiled ruefully, he bet the Dursleys were as relieved about the news as he was. He briefly wondered where he would live after he finished school, and for some reason, the unbidden picture of Ginny came to his mind. His face wore a puzzled frown, then shrugged and followed Dumbledore out the door.

One of the neighbours was out walking the dog for the usual midnight stroll around the block, and again, Harry felt a pain deep in his stomach. Sirius had the ability to transform himself into a huge black dog that any wizard, had they not known him, would have funnily mistaken it for the dreaded Grim, an omen of death.

Yeah the truth is

That I miss you so.

When they arrived in a safe place where no Muggles would see them, just outside a park, Dumbledore bade Harry to get hold of his arm. Harry was not prepared for the ugly sensation of being stretched out and squeezed in.

He prepared himself for the undignified landing that would certainly follow, but when they touched the ground again, he dizzily realised he was still on his feet, and that he'd just experienced Apparition. Mildly impressed and queasier than he would admit, he looked ahead of him and his eyes came upon a comforting, familiar sight.

The Burrow was still as lopsided and infirm as ever, and looked even more unsafe, if that were possible. He suddenly realised he couldn't wait to go in and see his friend Ron, and his family, and eat something. They made their way silently towards the front gate, where Harry could get a glimpse of the kitchen, and someone inside hurrying to and fro in an agitated manner that was unmistakeably Mrs. Weasley's.

The welcoming he received blurred everything else for a short time. He received the usual hug from Ron's mother, Ron's pat on the back, and even a hand-shake from Bill, who was surprisingly jolly and in a very good mood. Hermione was already there of course, and they shared a smile that couldn't be described quite conspiratorial, more bonding in that they were the intruders upon such a warm family. He thought he saw wisps of silvery hair floating here and there, bobbing close to shoulders and necks, but he was too tired to ask any questions.

After Mrs. Weasley insisted he eat some vegetable soup with freshly baked bread rolls, he managed to get up the stairs to the room Ron shared with him.

He drifted into a sleep so deep, it was like floating on gossamer wings over rolling clouds of soft white cotton. Then the dream changed, and he saw a cavernous room with stage stone seats arranged in a half-circle towards a dais where an ancient looking arch stood undisturbed. A lone ragged curtain hung from it, and it swished softly, beckoning him to look on the other side.

Harry moved towards it, hardly aware of his actions, and when he was finally level with the curtain, he heard whispers from behind it.

"Come on, you can do better than that!"

Harry whipped round with a dreaded sense of déjà vu, and his eyes grew round when he saw Sirius battling fiercely with Bellatrix – it was happening again! He realised he could stop him from leaving, and with a shout, he stepped between the combatants, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to move.

The red light hit Sirius square in the chest, and his eyes grew round in surprise, the flashy grin still on his face as he fell gracefully into the curtain, and disappeared.

Before his body fell through, his eyes slowly turned to Harry who was standing not five feet away from him, gazing at him in a betrayed, regretful manner.

--- His eyes… ---

With a startled gasp, Harry sat up in bed and realised he'd been dreaming. Ron snored on the other bed, and as Harry looked round for his glasses, he saw that it was still dark. He wiped a tired hand over his face and sighed.

--- His eyes … ---

A warning sign,

You came back to haunt me and I realised

That you were an island and I passed you by

When you were an island to discover

How well had he known Sirius, who'd been taken from him the night his parents were murdered and then again when he went into hiding? It seemed so long ago when a young, thirteen year old boy's heart was filled to the brim with hope and light at the thought of leaving the Dursleys and finally having a real family. Now that would never be, because Sirius was gone, and he, Harry, had caused his -

Stop it!

Don't think about that.

With a weary realisation he wouldn't go back to sleep, Harry swung his legs onto the floor and paddled softy downstairs. No one seemed to be up just yet, even Mrs. Wealsey, so he proceeded into the garden where a sliver of sunshine painted everything of a silvery light, chasing away the uncertainty of the long night.

There was a tree not too far off to his right, and he felt a deep craving to climb. Its branches were so inviting, twisting and cramming in such a natural, artistic way, there was no way he could have resisted temptation. Agilely, he climbed it as thought he'd done it all his life and settled on a low branch, legs swinging lazily towards the ground.

Come on in

I've got to tell you what a state I'm in

I've got to tell you in my loudest tones

That I started looking for a warning sign.

When the truth is,

I miss you.

Yeah the truth is, that I miss you so.

And I'm tired,

I should not have let you go.

Harry realised dimly that he couldn't carry on like this, for the sake of his sanity and lots of other things he still had to see and do. Thought the thought didn't bear thinking about, he knew deep in his heart that he had to let go of Sirius, who had waded into danger gladly to save him, and acted as thought it was all a big party to enjoy. Sirius wouldn't want him to grieve for his loss, he'd want him to go on with his life, and enjoy things again and maybe even play a prank on someone for old times' sake and dedicate it to him.

He always liked having the last word.

With a smile, Harry looked out over the grounds, as the sun rose higher in the sky and turned its rays lovingly on darkness and made it flee back into the night, where it could reign undisturbed,

So I crawl back into your open arms.

Yes I crawl back into your open arms.

And I crawl back into your open arms.

Yes I crawl back into your open arms.

Well I hope you enjoyed that, please review, this writer lives on them !

Lady Zee