A/N: Here we are. This time I was a lot faster than I would have thought. Maybe you'll appreciate it. Or maybe not. I'm quite proud.

Thanks to Shayla for taking the time once more, if you look quite closely there is a little change to your homage, honey!

And last - like always - thanks to all you wonderful reviewers! I love you all, you are the best!


Chapter 3 - Reinforcement

13th of December 1988

Dear Tom,

I think I might be losing my mind. Remember that I told you I fell asleep coming from the bathroom the other night? Well this time it was almost scarier. Today after breakfast Father left for the Ministry, and I thought I could sneak out to fly with his old racing broomstick. But the last thing I remember was, that I went up to my room for my coat, and then I woke up in the armchair in the library later. What in Salazar's name is wrong with me? Do you know anything about sleepwalking? I read up on it, and it seems that you have to be asleep before and then get up and walk around while sleeping. I don't know what to do, I don't want to ask Father, maybe he'd get angry. He doesn't like it when I'm weak. And Mother is still visiting that school friend of hers in France. But what if I am seriously ill? What do you think I should do?

-xoSox-

Harry had been holding his breath in the resounding silence that followed Mrs. Weasley's words.

After a while there was the sound of someone clearing his throat, and then Mr. Weasley's voice. "It's late, we better head to bed if we still want to get some sleep. And I have an early day at the Ministry tomorrow."

"Yeah, I'm pretty tired too. I guess I'm with Percy?"

"Yes, dear." Mrs. Weasley was trying for her usual cheerfulness, but lacked conviction. "I made up Charlie's bed for you. But try not to wake Percy. He was insistent that he needed his sleep. He is off to school tomorrow then you'll have some more space."

"Okay. And don't worry, I'll be quiet."

Harry had only listened with half an ear. He was still too agitated by what he had heard. Who were Gideon and Fabian? And why did Mrs. Weasley think Sirius had killed them? How could she think Sirius had done all those horrible things? It was as if she was talking about a totally different person, and Harry actually wondered, if there had been a misunderstanding and Mrs. Weasley was maybe talking about someone else, if there was a different Sirius, who had done all those bad things and now everybody thought it had been his godfather. But then that didn't seem very likely, did it? It wasn't only Mrs. Weasley. There had been those men at the cabin. Even Remus had thought Sirius was bad, at first, when he had found them. And he knew him since they had attended school together. But Remus didn't believe those bad things anymore now. So why did all the others not understand? Maybe Remus could explain it... maybe then everything would become alright. If only he could talk to Remus. If only he could be with Sirius.

His thoughts were running a mile per minute, and when a tall figure suddenly emerged in front of him he jumped fearfully and, backing away from it, toppled over something heavy, sending it crashing to the ground.

Harry froze.

"Bill? Is everything alright, dear?" came Mrs. Weasley's voice from the living-room.

"Yeah, don't worry!" the young man in front of Harry called back. "I just stumbled over the umbrella stand. Nothing's broken." Then the man smiled at Harry and winked.

For a moment Harry just stood there, frozen in place, staring at the man, waiting. But when he just kept smiling and no fist came swinging at him, no foot hauled off for a kick, Harry started to almost unconsciously back away and then he turned around and ran, back up the stairs and into the orange room he shared with Ron.

Leaning back against the closed door he panted heavily, listening for footsteps that would follow him, but right now the only sound were the soft snores coming from Ron's bed. He hesitated for a moment. He felt wide awake, and much too agitated to sleep, but his options right now were rather limited. He couldn't go downstairs, because the Weasleys were there, and the last thing he wanted was to come across Mrs. Weasley tonight. He wasn't sure why that young man, Bill, had covered for him, but then he wasn't sure if he would leave it at that either. What if he told them right now, that Harry had listened in on their conversation? What would they do? With his uncle, there would have been a beating, maybe not right away, but surely in the morning. But he had no clue what the Weasleys would do. Ron had seemed surprised that his uncle would hit him, but maybe the Weasleys just didn't hit their own children. His cousin Dudley had certainly never gotten so much as a slap. Swallowing hard he crept back into his bed and pulled the sheets up to his nose. He could only wait and see what was coming. There was nothing he could do about it after all. All the cereal in the world wouldn't change that.

-xox-

Sirius was woken by the sound of the door opening and soft timid footsteps. His eyes snapped open and he turned towards the sound sharply, for a moment expecting pale blond hair and a haughty sneer. He was a little surprised to find a woman standing just inside the door watching him with a warm, if somewhat shy, smile. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but Sirius couldn't place her. She certainly looked too old for someone he had dated, and didn't have that vibe of reproach either. Actually the way she looked at him reminded him more of Eleanor Potter. He frowned. In some far corner of his mind something nudged him, but he couldn't get a hold of it.

"Good morning, Mr. Black," the woman said with a voice matching the warm smile. "I'm glad to see you are better. I was very worried about you."

Sirius looked at her with a puzzled frown. "I'm sorry," he said and his voice gave away his confusion. "Do I know you?"

The woman came towards the bed, pulling her wand out of her plain robes. Sirius eyes widened and he drew backwards. The woman immediately lowered her wand and smiled at him reassuringly but demure.

"Oh. You probably don't remember. You were rather dazed by the fever and..." She gave him a sorrowful look. "Well, you weren't in a very good condition." She came closer to the bed and looked him over. Her movements seemed professional, but her eyes were fond. "I'm Mrs. Brisby. I have been your appointed healer during your time at the Ministry, although I have to say that my estimation did not seem to be favoured a lot."

"You were... the hands. And a potion..."

"Yes. That was me." She looked at him sadly. "I am very sorry, that I could not do more. I-I tried..."

"Thank you." He said it firmly and seriously, because he understood that even trying must have cost her.

"Oh, no, there is no need!" She shook her head vehemently. "I should have... I tried to get you moved to St. Mungo's sooner, but there were higher powers and... I'm just glad that you are doing better now."

She reached out, almost unconsciously it seemed, to smooth out his hair. It was a strangely intimate gesture, but unlike with his visitor from last night there was no threat at all, and before he could contemplate how to react, it was over and she was straightening the sheets an the end of the bed.

"To tell you the truth, I am still your appointed healer," she said without looking at him. "They want me to evaluate the possibility of sending you back to Azkaban." She shuddered. "So it would be rather good, if you could tell me that you still feel very weak and unwell." And then she looked at him hopefully and Sirius had to smile.

-xox-

"Wizard Law of Procedure. Article ninety-two."

Albus Dumbledore strode into the office of the Minister of Magic with the air of a man who had been begged to take the office more than once, and always artfully declined, knowing that the power he held by his name and reputation alone would suffice for his goals, or at least those he dared to pursue.

The Minister of Magic himself, a man with a much lesser reputation, who had to suffer the first demands to resign after only six month of service, jumped in his seat and then frowned in disgust at the older wizard in front of his desk, who once more looked down his long nose at him.

"What is it this time, Dumbledore?"

The Minister made no effort to hide the annoyance in his voice, although he would rather have managed to hide the hint of fear. Albus Dumbledore was an impressive man if he chose to be, and he had chosen to be just a few days ago. His eyes had been as hard as diamonds and his voice had lacked the familiar politeness and what the Minister once had thought of as good-naturedness, when he had told Cornelius Fudge in no uncertain terms exactly what he thought about pressuring a man who was barely conscious into a confession.

"Wizard Law of Procedure, Article ninety-two. I brought a copy, in case you are not familiar with this particular wording of our law." He placed a parchment on the Minister's desk, and Fudge grabbed it rather forcefully, scanning the first lines.

"And why exactly am I reading this?" Fudge asked, trying to sound like a man who was giving patience where it wasn't deserved.

"Because I'm pleading a case that falls under the conditions of said law. Sirius Black has been imprisoned without a trial, has been tortured and pressured to confess under your authority, causing a state of health that is still rather alarming. Under no circumstances can he be subjected to the environment of Azkaban. It could quite possibly lead to him not surviving the trial."

"Of course he has to go back to Azkaban! Where else could we possibly hold him? He is a dangerous-"

"If I could encourage you to read the wording of this law, it should be evident, that there is another possibility," Dumbledore said mildly. Fudge hated it when he spoke to him in this tone. It made him feel like a school-boy rather than the most powerful man of the wizarding society of Britain.

Still, with a sigh that was designed to tell Dumbledore that he was really starting to waste his very valuable time, he read on.

...another wizard is willing and able to vouch for the defendant and provide accommodation...

"You must be joking! You want to shack up with Black in your quarters at Hogwarts?" For a moment the Minister forgot his upper-class accent which he had so thoroughly practiced over the years. "A mass-murderer in a school?"

"Don't be silly, Cornelius." Dumbledore scolded him with the sigh of a patient parent. "Of course that would be neither convenient nor appropriate. But my assistant, Mr. Lupin, has kindly offered to make arrangements. Due to his condition his cottage is rather secluded, so that shouldn't be a problem." Dumbledore smiled.

"His condition? You mean, him being a werewolf! This alone should disqualify him!"

"I'm afraid you are mistaken about this. Nowhere in the Act of Werewolf Rights is a clause that excepts werewolves from this law. The conclusive exceptions are in fact stated right there, if you are inclined to read a little further?"

...has to be of age and have a sufficient magical education ['Exceeds Expectations on N.E.W.T level for DADA and Charms or equivalent].

Aha. "Surely a werewolf has no-"

"Outstanding. In both subjects." Dumbledore said kindly. "You will also find, that he has of course no criminal record."

Wizards who have a criminal record, or are under current investigation do not qualify.

"Investigation!" Fudge cried triumphantly. "He was under investigation just until a few days ago!"

"Yes." Dumbledore said, without losing his smile. "But currently he is not, as you have been so kind to instruct the Auror department to abandon any further investigations, when I suggested it."

"You... you did this on purpose!" Fudge growled. "You knew you wanted to pull this when you pushed me to let Lupin go!"

Dumbledore stood straight with his one eyebrow risen high on his forehead. "Surely you would not have given such an order, if you were not convinced of Mr. Lupin's innocence?"

He had been convinced of no such thing. But Dumbledore had like so often given him no choice. The last thing he wanted was a headline stating that precious Harry Potter had almost been kissed by a Dementor in the very heart of the Ministry, during a procedure he had ordered.

"I thought Black was on his way to recovery?" He tried a different tactic. "If you think I will let you send your school nurse once more to give a statement to your liking, I have to disappoint you."

"Oh no, of course not." Dumbledore shook his head, like that idea was ridiculous. "No, I asked your very own appointed healer to check on Mr. Black's state of health."

Fudge looked at Dumbledore with a frown.

"I think her name is Mrs. Brisby, if I recall correctly? A quite charming young woman."

An image of a middle-aged woman with a righteous attitude formed in the Minister's mind. From what he remembered, she was neither young nor charming. She had been rather annoying in her efforts to get Black better conditions to recover... Oh, Merlin's Great Grandaunt!

"How very forthcoming of you," the Minister said with a strained smile that made his cheeks hurt.

Merlin knew, he hated Albus Dumbledore.

-xox-

Harry had lain awake until late in the night. There was no thinking about sleeping. His whole small body was so tense it was near breaking point. He listened with a rapidly beating heart to the noise of footsteps and doors closing and water running as the older Weasleys went to bed. When the sounds ceased and the house laid quietly in the soft glow of the half-moon, Harry's eyes were still wide open and his small fists clenched the sheets.

It had been ten days. Ten days since he had come to the Weasleys. Ten days since he had left the cabin, that had become his home. Ten days of fear, of confusion, of anxiously waiting for the blow that had yet to come. Ten days of Mrs. Weasley's overly cheerful smiles and hot chocolate that he started to hate, because if he liked it, it felt like betrayal. Because more than anything it had been ten days of hearing how horrible his beloved godfather was, how cruelly he had deceived Harry, how he didn't really love him, how he was a murderer and had done the worst things imaginable. He couldn't take it anymore. He wanted to scream. He felt the need to scream at the top of his lungs deep inside his bowels, but he had to hold it in because he knew he could not. He had been lucky there had been no consequences of that screaming and crying fit, when he told them Sirius was about to die and they had to go and help him.

After he lost consciousness in the dungeons, after Sirius had ripped him out of the slimy hands of that cloaked thing, he had woken up in the same hospital Sirius was. They had kept him there for two days, examining him with those wooden sticks, which he had learned were wands. Sirius had still been asleep when he had finally been sent back to the Weasleys' on Christmas Day. He had been so very scared for his godfather, although Remus had said he would be alright. At the Weasleys' he had arrived in the middle of the festivities, which had made him even more awkward. The cheerfulness of Mrs. Weasley had reached an almost unbearable level. He had tried to fade into the background, like he always had at the Dursley's during Christmas celebrations, while Mrs. Weasley ranted about what an irresponsible fool 'Lupin' was to trifle with Harry's life like that, and that between him and 'Black' it was a miracle that he was still alive. She obviously thought she was speaking low enough for him to not hear her, but Harry had a pair of very good ears.

When she dragged him into the celebrations, while he felt the farthest from joyful he ever felt at any Christmas Day he could remember, he endured it, feeling strangely exposed sitting between the happy members of this family. He had even got a present. A jumper, which Mrs. Weasley had knitted obviously in a hurry. It was too big around the middle, but he was used to that. Feeling embarrassed he thanked her, and couldn't stop thinking of how he had looked forward to celebrating Christmas with Sirius at their cabin, about the presents Sirius had hinted he was getting him, and how he had bought one for his godfather himself, and later found to his dismay, that he must have lost it in the blizzard. He wondered how Sirius was, and if he would get any presents at all, and waited for a good moment to slip away from the alien turmoil and laughter.

Ten days. One joyful one, when Professor Dumbledore had come and told the Weasleys, that Harry needed to accompany him, and then told him that Sirius had woken and was well, and that Harry could visit him for a short while. He had been so happy. He had seen Sirius and he had cuddled him and he was so sure that everything would be alright now. But it wasn't. That had again been the end of it. It seemed he wasn't supposed to be happy.

Ten days. Or forever. And it seemed this was becoming permanent. Mrs. Weasley already talked about him being part of the family and just like a son. It didn't feel like that to Harry. The only person Harry felt he could ever belong to in that way was Sirius. The godfather he wasn't allowed to see. The man who had been all kinds of wonderful to him, who told him he loved him, and who the Weasleys despised for the things he was accused of. He couldn't take it anymore. If he had to bow his head and listen to those horrible stories once again he would scream, and that was all kinds of bad.

He couldn't. He had to get out of here. Harry felt like the walls were closing in on him, like there was no air to suck into his lungs anymore and almost in a panic he jumped out of bed and ran. Out in the corridor it was better, but still not enough. The grandfather-clock struck four times when he crept down the stairs and grabbed his coat. Slipping into it, he snuck out the front door.

Pale moonshine lit the front yard and the street to the village and Harry breathed in the cool winter air. That was better. But what now? Where could he go? Where could he hide? With Remus? But he had no clue where the wizard lived. He didn't know where he worked, or what for that matter, he really didn't know much at all about Remus Lupin. Sirius. God how he longed to see Sirius. But he was probably still at the hospital, St. Mungo's. Could he go to the hospital by himself? He had no idea where that was either. He had traveled through the fire with Professor Dumbledore the last time, and he couldn't do that on his own. He thought he recalled that someone had said something about London. Yes the hospital must be in London, so maybe he could go there and ask someone? But then Sirius was guarded by those other wizards. And he had no idea where he himself was right now, so how would he get to London?

Harry had started to wander in the other direction, away from the village, so he wouldn't be seen. All he knew was that he had to get away from the Weasleys. It was colder than he had first expected. And a lot darker once he had left the open field and his surroundings were shielded by the thick branches from the moonlight. The shadows under the trees seemed to be even darker in comparison. Harry's heart beat fast as he thought of all those things that might be lurking in that blackness. And he still didn't know where he was going. He was scared. And tired. And cold. He tugged his coat further around him.

Then he saw the small shed under the trees on the border of a clearing he had just come to. Harry decided that it was worth a look. Maybe there was something he could use. Maybe there was a blanket. The door was locked with a bolt and with a little tugging Harry could dislodge it. He crept inside. There were no windows and it was even darker inside, but also a bit warmer. It smelled of wood and beeswax and damp clothes. Something like a cloak brushed Harry's cheek and he tugged it down and put it around his shoulders. It was so big it reached the floor. There were more garments and Harry piled them in the corner, deciding to take a rest and try to decide what to do next. At least with the cloak he was warmer and he felt just a little safer and he was really tired now, so he would just close his eyes for a moment. Just a moment and then he would make a plan, like Sirius did. Like when they were traveling, on the freight train and in the lorry and then they had been walking through the forest and there had been birds and sunshine and Sirius...

And so in a broom shed a little further into the forest behind the Burrow, a little boy with unruly black hair and round glasses fell asleep dreaming of better days.

-xox-

"What is that?"

"A wheelchair."

"What for?"

Remus raised an eyebrow at his frowning friend in the hospital bed.

"You are joking," the latter declared. "No way! You can forget about that right now, Remus Lupin. Not even Minerva McGonagall would get me into that thing!"

Remus gave a patient sigh. He had volunteered for this after all. Why exactly had he done that again? Ah yes, to keep his just recovered best friend out of the nightmare that was the Wizard Prison of Azkaban.

"Your health report stated that you are weak, underfed and prone to fainting."

The look Sirius gave him almost let Remus expect that his friend would do just that.

"I never fainted in my life!"

Remus again raised his eyebrow. For a moment he contemplated why he didn't just leave it right there, as a permanent expression. He surely would need to use it rather frequently while living with Sirius.

"Oh come on, that doesn't count!" Sirius complained. "You were out long before me after I dragged you out of the lake and I don't see you wheeling around in one of those."

"I don't have one foot in Azkaban, should I give the Ministry any indication that I'm able to survive it." Remus again said with all the patience he could master, and it was quite a lot everything considered. "And you are underfed, Padfoot. Very much so. Now don't be a baby. I thought you wanted to prove how much you have matured?"

With Sirius mumbling of Remus' arguments being unfair like usual, the painfully skinny wizard finally made attempts to creep out of bed. The restraining spells had been stretched for that purpose and he would again be spellbound to the wheelchair as soon as he took a seat.

"At least tell me you've brought me some robes?" Sirius asked, trying to tuck the hospital robes around himself awkwardly. "I don't want to flash my private parts if it isn't necessary."

Remus handed his friend a midnight-blue bundle of cloth. Sirius took it and smiled at his friend fondly.

"You remembered my favourite colour." There was surprise in his voice, but not as much as one would have thought. This was Remus after all.

Remus looked away, feeling embarrassed. "It... was just what I had at hand."

Sirius looked at him knowingly, and when he slipped into the robes they fitted perfectly.

-xox-

The winterly morning sun was trying its best to warm the sparse lawns and shining wet roofs of the Burrow. The sky was a brilliant blue, the chickens were picking at what seeds they could find, and Mrs. Weasley was cheerfully stirring the hot cocoa with a flick of her wand, as a row of bright blue breakfast bowls danced out of the cupboard and over to the table. With another flick of her wand the cutlery followed the dishes and Mrs. Weasley smiled. It was a good day.

Mr. Weasley and Percy were already off to London where Mr. Weasley would put his son on the train to school before he went to the office. And if the ruckus coming from the staircase was any indication, the other boys were up and about to arrive for breakfast.

Just as expected the twins came running in laughing just a moment later, followed by a rather disgruntled and slightly wet Ron and a sniggering Ginny.

"Fred! George!" Mrs. Weasley scolded them. "What have you done now?"

"Nothing, Mom. Just helped Ron do his ablutions," George said.

"And reminded him not to forget to wash behind the ears," Fred added.

"And where is Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "I just hope you didn't help him with getting dressed."

Ron shook his head. "I thought he was already down."

Mrs. Weasley frowned. "What do you mean? Isn't he still in the bathroom?"

Ron again shook his head. "No he was up way before me."

Mrs. Weasley's face grew slightly worried at that. But then Bill came into the room.

"I forgot how very bad younger siblings are for my beauty sleep," he said with a smile, pulling his shoulder long hair back in a ponytail.

"Bill!" Ginny yelled and threw herself at her brother. "When did you arrive?"

"Yesterday night. It was rather late," he explained, exchanging slaps and hugs with his grinning younger brothers. It was obvious that they were all glad to see him.

"Bill, was Harry still in the bathroom when you came down just now?"

"No, I didn't see him." When he saw the frown on his mother's face he raised his eyebrows in question. "What is it?"

"Nothing, I'm sure. But if you could take a quick look upstairs for him? I'll see if he's outside in the garden, maybe he got up early..." She sounded unsure, but like always tried to hide it behind a bright smile.

"Okay." Bill nodded, trying to squelch the bad feeling he suddenly had, when he thought of his encounter last night.

The Burrow was searched, as was the garden. But Harry was nowhere to be found.

"His coat is gone, so he must have gone outside," Mrs. Weasley said when they met again in the kitchen. She tried for a smile. "Maybe he was up early and was bored and went into the village."

"His bed was cold," Bill said quietly, "and like you said, he is rather shy. I don't see him taking a stroll in the village on his own." He paused before he looked at his mother. "Maybe he ran away."

"What?" Mrs. Weasley asked sharply. "Why would he do that? He has everything he needs here."

Bill sighed. "I found him out in the hall last night. I think he was listening."

"What do you mean?"

"I think he was listening when you said that Sirius Black is a madman and a murderer," Bill elaborated.

"Well, he is."

He rolled his eyes. "Be that as it may, it might not be that easy for Harry to hear that after he lived with him for months and obviously grew attached to him. He is only eight. It must be frightening and confusing to be torn out of a familiar environment and hear all those contradictory things. And you lot can be really overwhelming."

"What in Merlin's name do you mean by that?" Mrs. Weasley cried in outrage, becoming more agitated every second.

"He's confused. He's been through a lot. When he saw me, he drew back, like he was expecting me to hit him. And then he bolted like the devil was on his heels."

"Harry said he got hit sometimes, when he was bad."

The kitchen fell silent. Ron blushed.

"There you have it!" Mrs. Weasley hissed in outrage. "The man is a monster!"

Bill didn't answer but turned to his younger brother. "By Sirius Black?"

Ron shook his head, biting his lip. It was obvious that he felt like he was telling on the other boy, and wasn't sure if he should. "No. By his uncle," he said.

Bill raised an eyebrow at his mother. "Looks like there is a lot more in that boy's past than Sirius Black. Did you know about that?"

Mrs. Weasley shook her head, looking shocked. "No!" she said, "Dumbledore said he didn't want him back with his relatives, because they had not treated him right. But I thought they might just be rather strict and not capable of dealing with such a traumatized child..."

"I'll go looking for him outside," Bill declared, grabbing his cloak. "But maybe you should call Dad and Dumbledore."

"You really think he ran away?" Mrs. Weasley whispered, wringing her hands.

"Well, he sure as hell isn't in the house. And after all that happened, if I were him, I might have made a run for it too."

"But he's only eight years old, where would he go, the poor baby?" Mrs. Weasley worried in distress.

"That's what we've got to find out. Stop freaking. Call Dad."

And then he was gone.

The sun was shining on the Burrow.

-xox-

"You have got to be kidding me!"

"Will you ask that every step on the way?" Remus asked, sounding a little tired.

"Only if you bring me strange devices, that can't possibly be meant to be used by me. But this, dear Moony, has 'joke' written all over it. You are pulling my leg, I know it."

"I'm not pulling your leg."

"You honestly expect me to believe, that the Ministry wants me to wear this? What are they? A bunch of perverts?"

"I couldn't possibly make any assumptions about the preferences of the Auror department, but this is the state of the art confining device they use."

"It's a fucking collar!"

Remus took another deep breath. There had been a lot of those today. "Yes Padfoot, I know."

"The fucking Ministry wants me to wear a fucking collar?"

Remus looked at him a little uncomfortable and shrugged. "Well... yeah." He sighed again and made his 'Professor'-expression, as Sirius and James used to call it. "It adjusts to your neck, even if you turn into Padfoot. When you cross the threshold, or lean out of a window, or step into the fireplace it constricts until you faint. So... you should try to avoid that. It also triggers an alarm in the Ministry when you do, so there will be troops of Aurors here within seconds. Like I said. Try to avoid it."

Sirius stared at the slim black leather strap in his hands. "It's..." But he couldn't think of anything more to say, than 'It's a collar' and he had used that argument already. He sighed.

"I'm sorry, Moony. It's better than Azkaban, so I shouldn't complain. It's generous of you to do this for me. I'm grateful. Please believe me. I'm sorry."

He held out his new shackle to his friend and Remus took it reverently. It was like a symbolic act, like a prospect of the new position the other wizard would hold. Remus visibly blanched when he felt the cool and smooth leather in his hands. Quietly Sirius reached for the trembling hands of his friend.

"It's okay," he said. "I'd rather it be you, Remus. I trust you."

Remus looked at him and smiled faintly. But he still looked uncomfortable. So Sirius turned around and swept up his long black hair, exposing his neck. He felt the leather gliding against his skin. He heard the quiet click, as the buckle was latched. Then he took a deep breath and tried to fight the tremble that was running through his body.

He was trapped.

TBC


A/N: And now, all you readers out there, give yourself a little push. LEAVE A REVIEW! It's cookies for the author and inspiration for the muse.


My two loyal anonymous: Bloom: Again, thank you so much for your continuing praise. A bunch of kisses to you! So you didn't like Bill before? Well, then I'm glad I am the one who brought him nearer to your heart, hihi... But no need to start liking Lucius, glad you don't. But I too think them interacting is a fascinating battle. It sure is a lot of fun to write ;) HebHibHob: Bunch of kisses to you too! And yes, you most definitely made my day! Lucius sure is a sick ****. We haven't seen the worst of it yet, I think. I must be kind of twisted too, since I so blatantly feed your addiction. But then I guess it's rather harmless. Hope you enjoyed your fix! ;) bookworm371: Hey, I couldn't PM you, so on this way: Thank you for reading and leaving a comment. Hope you enjoyed!