Sirius breathed out a slow sigh and rested his head in his hands, feeling as though he were going to be sick. The crowded waiting room buzzed around him loudly as he waited , desperate for any news about Harry. He only knew very little, having been suddenly pulled out of Ginny's birthday celebrations by the large brown owl that had arrived at Grimmauld Place, telling him to go straight to St Mungos. That had been almost two hours ago.

His stomach twisting itself in tight knots, Sirius sat up, ignoring the curious stares and glances that had been coming his way for the last two hours. He knew he was easily recognisable due to the heavy publicity he had been given over the past few years, even more in the past week.

Absentmindedly he looked at his watch, dimly noting that it had just passed ten o'clock as a careful voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"Mr Black?"

"Yes," Sirius said imperatively, standing up quickly.

"I'm Healer Maguire," the man said, extending his hand politely.

Sirius took his hand and shook it impatiently as he spoke, making sure to keep his voice low. "It's Harry isn't it, he's here?"

The Healer seemed to hesitate for a moment, his eyes darting around the waiting room and seeing the many onlookers. "Follow me, please," he said as he stepped out of the waiting room. Sirius wordlessly followed the Healer into a long corridor, ignoring the looks they both received from other Healers and patients that they passed. They passed through as large set of doors and entered into the rarely used Emergency Department. Unable to stand the silence any longer, Sirius spoke quickly, his need for information overwhelming him.

"So is he here?" he said in a rush.

Healer Maguire nodded silently. "Aurors brought him here about two and a half hours ago."

"And you're certain that it's him?" Sirius said without missing a beat. "It's definitely him?"

"We've been through standard procedures, it's definitely him."

"Well," Sirius began, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "How is he?"

Slowing down to a stop, Maguire closed his eyes momentarily as though he were in pain, shoving his hands into the pockets of his lime-green coat. "He's not in good shape," he replied simply, as though trying to ease Sirius into the full impact.

"Not in good shape," Sirius repeated, his face falling. "What exactly does that mean?"

"He's very badly injured," Maguire began. "There's been significant blood loss recently, and many of his wounds are not responding to treatment."

"They're not healing?" Sirius asked in dismay and confusion.

"No," Maguire answered, shaking his head slightly. "We're not sure what we're going to do, but for now we're just applying some dressings to prevent infection."

Sirius said nothing more, only nodding to indicate that he had heard. He stared at the ground for a long moment, barely taking notice as people passed the two of them in the hall, each of them wrapped up in their own problems.

"Harry has some broken ribs," Maguire said after a few moments. "And some extensive bruising, but for now we're just going to leave them be. We've detected pneumonia in both lungs and we've already begun treating him, but our main priority now is to-"

"Look, I'm sorry," Sirius said cutting him off, unable to bear not being with Harry any longer. "I need to be with him, he's probably freaking out."

"That's what I was saying, Mr Black," Maguire continued gently. "Harry is not conscious, we don't think he has been for a while."

"What?" Sirius said in dismay, his voice rising. "He's not awake?"

"No, he's not," Maguire replied, shaking his head. "I doubt he's even aware of what's going on."

Sirius clenched his hands in his hair and turned away, moving to the other side of the hallway as he tried to rationalize his thoughts. Not bothering to hide it, he swore under his breath, trying to string enough words together to form a coherent sentence.

"Why?" he said as he slowly turned back to Maguire, who had not moved. "Why isn't he awake?"

"We've run some blood tests, and we're fairly certain that he has been given some kind of sleeping potion."

"Well," Sirius began, his distress evident. "Can't you wake him up?"

"Not until we confirm what is causing the unconsciousness," Maguire answered patiently. "Besides, it will be much easier on Harry if he can stay unconscious for a little while. If he were awake he'd be in a lot of pain, and his body needs to rest as much as possible."

Sirius' heart seemed to clench inside his chest at these words, but he nodded in understanding. "I need to see him," he repeated with more urgency.

Maguire nodded and placed his hand on the back of Sirius' shoulder, ushering him forward. The quickly rounded a corner and entered into the noisy emergency department. Sirius immediately saw the small group of staff that seemed to be standing near one door in particular, and he immediately knew that must be where Harry was.

"You'll need to empty your pockets and surrender your wand to the Auror waiting outside," Maguire murmured to him as they approached the door. Apprehension weighed in Sirius' chest as they came nearer, the staff members stepping back to allow them through.

Sirius stared blankly at the door as he handed over his wand and his wallet to the Auror, almost missing the bright flash that filled the room. Sirius looked up in shock and horror at the photographer who had managed to sneak in, watching as someone quickly wrestled the camera from him.

"Someone, get him out of here!" a Healer yelled in the background as more staff converged on the man, practically dragging him back down the corridor through which he came.

"How do they know?" Sirius said in anger, turning around to face Maguire.

"News travels fast," he replied with a grimace. "Especially in a hospital."

Sirius nodded stiffly and looked at the ground, his heart pounding in his throat. He dimly noted that the Auror had stepped away from them, giving them a little more privacy. Sirius raised his head and drew in a shuddering breath, the full impact of the last few hours suddenly hitting him. Harry was safe at last, lying only a few mere feet away from him.

"Do you need a minute?" Maguire asked kindly, knowing that were their positions swapped, he personally would want a minute to himself.

Sirius seemed to bite the inside of his lip, uncertainty plaguing him. "He's not in pain?" he clarified.

"No," Maguire answered immediately. "Even when he wakes up, we should be able to help with that."

Sirius breathed in deeply, knowing that he was not going to like what he saw. "Okay," he said quietly.

Maguire withdrew his wand and briefly tapped Sirius on the elbow. His whole body momentarily felt as though it were made from ice, causing Sirius to shiver in shock. "Sterilization spell," Maguire explained before tapping the door with his wand. The door clicked open loudly, announcing their presence to those inside, and Sirius opened it straight away, not allowing himself a moment to hesitate.

His hands trembling with nerves Sirius slowly stepped inside, immediately spotting Harry, who lay immobile on the bed in the centre of the room. Swallowing, Sirius forced his feet to move, and he slowly made his way to the right hand side of the bed, trying to give himself time to comprehend what he was seeing.

Sirius stared at Harry's face, his heart feeling as though it had frozen inside of his chest. A clear, plastic mask covered Harry's mouth and nose, ensuring that he received sufficient oxygen, but Sirius looked straight past this, seeing only the black and purple bruises that covered the majority of his face, and the deep cut that ran along his right cheek, the skin held together using thin strips of medical tape.

He tore his eyes from Harry's face and looked at the rest of him, immediately wishing that he hadn't. He felt his stomach suddenly turn as he saw the deep wounds that ran along Harry's chest and stomach, dried blood smeared generously across his torso. Sirius winced as he saw the colourful array of angry bruises along his chest and stomach, most of which seemed to be dark green and purple.

A rustling from the corner caught Sirius' attention and he looked over, watching as a Healer packaged Harry's blood stained clothing into an air tight bag, and he realised for the first time that he wore only a loose pair of hospital pants. Now that Sirius was concentrating, he could suddenly smell the strong aroma of Essence of Murtlap, and could easily hear Harry's shallow and laboured breathing.

Sirius looked back down at Harry and carefully reached his hand toward his face. He gently brushed the hair out Harry's face, his hand lingering there for a moment as though he were expecting some kind of reaction. His face set, Sirius gently took Harry's left hand in his and carefully sat down on the edge of the bed. Doing his best not to think about the raw skin around Harry's wrist he rubbed the back of his hand, as though he were trying to soothe the split and bruised knuckles.

He could hear the Healers murmuring in the background and Sirius listened to them quietly, desperate for any information regarding Harry.

"You were right," one of the Healers began, passing a piece of parchment to Healer Maguire. "A strong dose of Drognize Draught."

Maguire swore under his breath, practically causing Sirius' heart to skip a beat. "I can't tell how much they've given him," he said more to himself than anyone else.

"How should we proceed?"

Maguire said nothing for a moment, looking from the parchment to the chart he held in his other hand. "Give him 60 milligrams of Noigerts intravenously, and increase the oxygen flow."

Sirius looked up at Maguire as he stood beside Harry's bed, scribbling something on the chart he was holding. He glanced at up at a small screen on the wall, scribbling down his observations. The other Healer re-entered the room after a few minutes, holding a syringe in her hand as she picked up the long thin tube that led to Harry's hand, and for the first time Sirius noticed the needle in the back of his hand. The door opened again and Sirius looked around, his jaw dropping when he saw who it was.

Sirius immediately recognised Madam Pomfrey as she entered the room, holding an ugly peach blanket in her arms. Sirius stood up gently, and she smiled at him grimly as she gently spread the blanket over Harry's lower half, casting a warming charm on it.

"Uh," Maguire said, looking up from his chart and realising that the two people knew each other. "Madam Pomfrey has kindly come in from Hogwarts for us. We thought it may be easier for Harry to have a familiar face treating him."

Sirius nodded as he sat back down on the edge of the bed, his heart almost relaxing as he realised how much the Healers actually cared about Harry's well being. He gently ran his hand along the back of Harry's cold forearm, trying to warm it up as he suddenly remembered something.

In his mind's eye, he could see the bright flash of green that appeared before the Death Eaters threw Harry to the ground, remembering the photograph as though he had only just seen it. His heart racing again, Sirius slowly turned Harry's arm over in his hands, looking at the large tattoo branded onto his fore arm. Disgust for what they had done seemed to rise in his throat as he ran his fingers of the mark, confirming that it was real.

Sirius turned Harry's arm back over, gripping his hand firmly as his other rubbed the back of his arm soothingly. He watched Harry's face, as though waiting for some indication that things would be okay, needing the reassurance for himself more than Harry.

"Tell me the rumours are true." Scrimgeour said without a greeting.

Slowly walking into the office, Proctor smiled gently as he nodded his head in confirmation. He slumped himself into a seat opposite the desk as Scrimgeour muttered to himself in awe.

"We received a tip from a reliable source," Proctor began before being cut off.

"I don't care, right now," Scrimgeour said. "I'll read your report. How is he?"

Proctor grimaced and leaned forward, resting his weight on his elbows as he answered the question he had been most dreading. "He's not in good shape," he answered honestly. "He's unconscious, multiple lacerations, starvation, severe bruising."

"So in short," Scrimgeour replied. "They've been torturing him?"

Proctor said nothing for a moment, feeling as though saying it out loud would make it true. "It appears that way."

Scrimgeour breathed out slowly as he rested his elbows on his desk, burying his head in his hands as dilemmas and plans raced through his head. He looked up after a few moments and stared intently at the wall behind Proctor before getting up. Standing before the bookcase on the far wall, his eyes scanning over the various covers before choosing one and going back to the desk.

"I find, in situations like this," he began as he opened the book. "There is only one way to celebrate in a suitable fashion."

He removed a small bottle of whiskey and two small glasses that were concealed in the hollowed out pages of the book, placing them on his desk with a grim smile. Realising the late hour, and just how tired he was Proctor accepted the glass that was offered, smiling at the great success of the past few days. The two men relaxed back into their respective chairs, settling into a comfortable and thoughtful silence.

"Obviously," Proctor said after a few moments. "We need to speak with him as soon as possible."

Scrimgeour frowned into his whiskey glass, knowing that it was vital but was probably not welcome. "I thought he was unconscious?" he said after second thought.

"He is," Proctor explained, shifting in his chair uncomfortably. "But Healer Maguire says he should be awake by tomorrow morning, noon at the absolute latest."

"Make sure you give him time for things to sink in," Scrimgeour said. "If you do it too soon, you won't get a thing out of him."

Proctor nodded in acknowledgement. "Maguire said he had just been moved to another room, so that should give us some privacy."

"By the way," Scrimgeour said, his face alight with curiosity. "Is it true you caught one of them?"

"Yes. Draco Malfoy was apprehended during the rescue, he was guarding one of the doors."

"He can't be much older than Potter."

"Two months older, actually. They're classmates."

"Merlin almighty," Scrimgeour cursed.

"He's claiming that he was coerced into helping the Death Eaters, and we don't have enough evidence to dispute that."

Scrimgeour seemed to consider this for a moment, realising that it was correct. "See if Potter knows anything that will help when you talk to him. I would accompany you, but if I was there I don't think you'd get anything at all out of him. It's not exactly a secret that he hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," Proctor said. "He hates who you are, your position. Fudge worked hard to discredit him and take advantage of his situation. It's only natural that he would expect you to do the same".

"It's more than that," Scrimgeour said softly. "I made some decisions this year that he doesn't agree with, and when I asked for his help in reassuring the public that things were under control, he got quite defensive."

"Potter's new room has a one way window," Proctor said cautiously. "You can see out, but not in. Do you want me to pull a few strings so that it gets altered? You could watch the interview from outside."

Scrimgeour considered this for a moment, knowing that it was bending the rules quite a lot. "There's just something about this boy. I can't figure him out," he said as though trying to justify himself. "If I can see him before I talk to him it might help me to figure out how to gain his trust."

"I'll see what can be arranged," Proctor said as he stood up. Scrimgeour nodded in thanks as Proctor began to leave, suddenly stopping him in the doorway.

"Edward?"

Proctor stopped and turned around, curiously taking note that Scrimgeour had used his first name. "Yes?"

Scrimgeour paused. "It was a mistake, on my part, to promote Cory to Head of Department, over yourself. I'm going to make sure that you get full credit for Potters safe return."

Proctor said nothing for a moment, letting the words he had desired to hear sink in. "Thank you, Minister," he replied, sounding cold and professional. He quickly turned around again and left, heading for St Mungos.

Sirius' finger tips burned as he dipped the cloth into the bowl of steaming liquid, the aroma of Essence of Murtlap and boiled water filling his nostrils. Wringing out the water, he sat on the edge of Harry's bed and brought the cloth to his face, thankful that the head of the bed was raised up. He gently rubbed at the dried blood and dirt that seemed to be caked on, satisfaction flowing as it came off quickly, leaving only an array of red smudges.

He continued his work, occasionally dipping the cloth back into the hot liquid. Magic would have been much quicker and more effective, but the desire to do it by hand had overwhelmed him, every stroke making Sirius feel as though he were beginning to make it up to Harry.

He avoided the large cut on Harry's cheek, not wanting to aggravate it and cause Harry further pain. Kicking himself mentally, he remembered that Harry was unconscious, unaware of the world and unable to feel a single thing. Sirius heard the door open and he looked up, seeing Madam Pomfrey enter.

"How's he doing?" she asked kindly.

"You tell me," he said solemnly as he gently moved the long thin tube that ran below Harry's nose, providing him with a steady flow of oxygen. He wiped away the blood underneath it before putting it back, making sure either end of the tube was securely hooked behind Harry's ears.

"He's already looking better," Madam Pomfrey observed, looking Harry over closely.

"He is?" Sirius said hopefully, tearing his eyes away from Harry's face.

"Yes," she said quietly, more to Harry than to Sirius.

Sirius placed the cloth into the bowl as he cautiously stood up, trying to avoid tangling himself in the long thin tubes that led to the back of Harry's hand and the inside of his wrist. Sitting down on the chair closest to the bed he firmly gripped Harry's hand, trying to avoid touching the needles as he waited for Madam Pomfrey to elaborate.

"You see," she began softly. "The blue colour in his lips are gone, and his breathing is not so laboured anymore."

Sirius raised himself in his chair, seeing the changes that he had not been trained to notice.

"He's not so clammy anymore," she said as he felt Harry's cheek before looking up at one of the screens that showed various observations. "His pulse is also steadier."

Sirius nodded in understanding and looked back at Harry, thankful that someone had covered his left forearm with a bandage. He knew for all purposes the tattoo meant nothing, but the bandage spared Harry from having to look at it when he awoke.

"What time is it?" Sirius asked.

Pomfrey looked at her watch as she sat down into a chair. "It just passed 4 o'clock."

Sirius said nothing, suddenly realising how tired he was. He rubbed the skin under his sore eyes in attempt to relieve them as he breathed in deeply, ignoring his exhaustion. Noticing how tired Sirius had become, Pomfrey spoke.

"Sirius, Why don't you go home and get some rest? I'm sure Professor Lupin wouldn't mind staying with Harry for a few hours."

"No," Sirius said firmly, surprising himself with how blunt he sounded. "I want to be with him, when he wakes up."

Pomfrey nodded, knowing better than to push the subject. Clearing his throat slightly, Sirius spoke again, asking the question he had been pondering.

"What are these," he began, indicating to the bags of colourful liquid that the needles were attached to. "What are the potions you're giving him?"

Pomfrey raised her eye brows, wondering why no one had explained Harry's treatment before this. She summoned the chart from the end of Harry's bed and opened it, her eyes scanning as she looked for what she needed.

"He's already had a strong dose of some Blood Replenisher, and now he's getting a strengthening solution and some normal saline, which should get him rehydrated."

"Good," Sirius muttered.

They fell silent, Madam Pomfrey flicking through Harry's chart as Sirius remained motionless, still maintaining his firm grip on Harry's limp hand. He looked at Harry's face blankly, guilt coursing through his veins as he thought of all the things he had done wrong, all the ways he should have protected Harry more.

"Do you know if Hogwarts will re-open?" Sirius blurted out, knowing that Madam Pomfrey may have some idea.

A smile graced her face as she answered. "It's looking up," she said. "Minerva has the School Governors wrapped around her wand."

"Good," Sirius said, knowing that Harry would be safest there, if he could convince him to go back. "It's what Albus would have wanted."

"Yes," Madam Pomfry agreed. "It is. Not many are convinced that everyone will return, though."

"The students you mean?"

"Yes," she answered. "Understandable of course, people want their children close. Especially after what happened to the most protected teenager in the country."

Sirius said nothing, just looked back at Harry still remained motionless, oblivious to their conversation.

"How have you been holding up?" Pomfrey asked.

Sirius grimaced at the question, answering only to be polite. "As well as I could."

"Of course," Pomfrey replied sympathetically.

Sirius became silent, not having the mental strength or will power to elaborate on his answer. After a few minutes he felt his eyes lids drooping against his will, and he unwillingly succumbed to his exhaustion, resting his head on the bed beside Harry's thigh, still maintaining his firm grip on Harry's hand. He wasn't sure how long he dozed, only knowing that he seemed to rouse himself every little while, checking on Harry before quickly falling back asleep.

It seemed to take no time at all for Sirius to full wake up, shame and guilt coursing through his body as he fully realised that he had been sleeping. He looked back up at Harry, whose head seemed to have turned towards him, but otherwise had not moved an inch. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he released Harry's hand and stood up from his chair, taking note of Madam Pomfrey's absence.

He slowly crossed the private room that Harry had received and opened the door. He stepped outside slightly and looked at the clock on the far wall, ignoring the Auror who was standing guard over the door. He saw that it was seven thirty and went back inside, stretching his arms slightly as he crossed the room. Noticing two small duffle bags on the ground, Sirius picked them up curiously. He took off the note that was pinned to the front of one of the bags, then smiled as he noticed Remus' neat handwriting.

Sirius,

I have packed some clothing for both you and Harry. Please owl us if anything changes.

Remus.

Sirius smiled grimly, thankful that Remus had been level-headed enough to worry about what he had not. He put the note aside and opened the first bag, his heart leaping as he saw a brown paper bag that could only contain one thing. His hunger suddenly seemed to jump out at him as he pulled the sandwich from the bag, and he wasted no time in taking a bite as he pushed the two bags under the bed.

He settled himself back into the chair and reached out his hand for Harry's, enclosing the boy's bruised hand in his own. Sirius chewed gratefully as he noticed that Harry now wore an old pair of his own pajamas, realising that the Healers must have magically redressed him while they both slept. He breathed a sigh of relief that he no longer had to look at the bandages that encased Harry's torso, a stark reminder of his great injuries.

Sirius ate silently and sat back in the chair, closing his still tired eyes. He listened to Harry's steady breathing as he settled into the chair, his tense shoulders relaxing again. He quickly finished the sandwich and jumped a mile as he felt Harry's hand twitch beneath his.

Sirius opened his eyes and sat forward, his hope fading as he saw that Harry still appeared to be sleeping. He watched Harry intently for a few moments, his heart fluttering as he felt Harry's hand weakly moving. Remaining quiet, Sirius gently ran his thumb back and forth across Harry's palm, praying to Merlin that he was waking up.

Harry breathed in slowly for a few minutes, sensing himself awakening. He remained still, having neither the desire or the energy to make himself sit up, preferring not to aggravate the injuries that were currently not bothering him. Before he could let himself think about it too much he cracked his eyes open, feeling the sharp sting as they were exposed to the air. He could make out nothing through the deep blur so he clenched them shut again, his eye lids feeling as though they were made from lead as he did so.

Suddenly sensing that he was not alone, his heart began to pound erratically. He could feel his hand being held tightly and he instinctively wanted to move it away, his hand twitching slightly as he tried to find the will power to do so. His breath caught in his throat as he felt a strange sensation on his palm and before he could think, his arm weakly pulled itself from the firm grip, coming to rest on his stomach. Pain wracked through his body at the movement, and Harry felt strangely aware of every muscle in his back as he limply rolled over to his left side.

His head spinning, Harry remained incredibly still as he felt someone moving behind him, speaking to him. Harry ignored the voice, trying to focus on breathing in and out through the pain that seemed t have grown since he was last conscious. A hand was placed on his shoulder and Harry flinched openly, clenching his eyes tightly as he waited for the expected kick in the stomach.

"Harry?" came a voice that he dimly recognised. "Can you hear me?"

"Merlin," Harry thought to himself slowly as his head began to pound. He tried to think of the last thing he remembered, automatically picturing Snape as he forced potion down his throat, remembering Rookwood throwing his head against the wall. Harry swallowed thickly as he pushed the two men out of his mind, wondering how long he had been unconscious this time. He could still sense the presence of another person, but could not suppress a grimace of pain as he raised his hand to his head and pressed his temple weakly, trying to suppress the pain.

The voice echoed through his head again, its urgent tone ringing in his ears as he felt the hand on his shoulder begin to gently rub his upper arm. His strength gone, Harry's arm slumped back down beside his face as he sighed with the welcome relief the movement brought him. Instinctively he stayed still, letting his mind relax as he simply rested, not having the strength or the will power to do anything else. Lost in his daze, he didn't hear the sound of a door opening, or the footsteps that echoed through the room.

"Harry?" someone said again. "You're safe now, it's okay," they continued imperatively.

"Sirius, I don't know how aware he is right now."

"He can hear me, I know he can."

The conversation around him had immediately caught Harry's attention and he could feel his heart beating rapidly as he waited for them to speak again, not believing what he had heard. They said nothing, and Harry forced his tired eyes open. He ignored the sharp stinging as he gently blinked, trying to make out the blur that he could see. He quickly realised that he was lying in a comfortable bed, but before he could question this, someone spoke again.

"It's okay, Harry," they said firmly. "No one's going to hurt you."

Harry groaned audibly and clenched his eyes shut, shock and confusion coursing through him as he recognised the voice. He breathed heavily for a few moments before gently rolling onto his back, opening his eyes again.

"Hi," Sirius said, his voice thick with emotion as he realised that Harry's eyes were open.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Harry felt Sirius enclose his hand in his own and he hesitated before weakly squeezing back in reply. Opening his eyes again, Harry slowly focused on Sirius, his blurry form leaning towards him in worry.

"Sirius," Harry tried to say, but all that came out was a harsh rasp that caught in his throat. He automatically raised his free hand to his mouth as he began coughing harshly. Each cough felt as though it were tearing his chest in two, and he tensed in pain, dimly noting that Sirius was helping him to sit up.

Through the coughing Harry gasped loudly, pain shooting through his body as he moved. Sitting up helped immensely, and he soon stopped coughing, his head cloudy and spinning. He could feel himself swaying forward, and blinked in shock as Sirius gripped his shoulders firmly, having not expected it. With Sirius practically holding him up Harry relaxed for a moment, trying to collect the suspicions and doubts that raced through his mind. He looked up at Sirius' face for a moment, not understanding what was going on.

"What's going on?" he asked, his words sounding slurred and raspy.

Sirius hesitated for a moment as he bit his lip, trying to find the words to explain the past few hours.

"We found you," Sirius said softly, his voice sounding deep and soothing to Harry. "Everything is fine."

Nodding half heartedly, Harry felt his strength waning and he felt himself begin to slump forward dizzily. Noticing this, Sirius pulled Harry close to his chest, allowing him to rest his head on his shoulder as the dizziness subsided. Closing his eyes in exhaustion Harry leant against Sirius completely, feeling his arms wrap around his chest tightly as he allowed his mind to wander. He could vaguely hear someone bustling around behind him, but Harry paid them no notice, dimly noting that the pain that had wracked his entire body seemed to be easing ever so slightly.

Harry opened his eyes cautiously, sure that he was going to see the blurry room that he had been confined to for the past eleven days, and felt genuinely surprised when he saw that distorted bed that he sat on, and the glowing orbs that hung in the air, illuminating the room. He turned his face into Sirius' neck, inhaling deeply and recognising the cologne that Sirius never failed to wear, realisation and understanding dawning on him slowly.

"How did you find me?" Harry asked so quietly he was surprised that Sirius heard him. He felt Sirius inhale sharply, and Harry slowly pulled himself from his tight embrace, looking up at his face which was stained with tears. Sirius immediately wiped them away, not wanting Harry to see how upset he was.

Sirius cleared his throat lightly. "I'm not sure yet," he said honestly. "I haven't spoken to anyone about it."

Harry looked down at the bed, closing his eyes gently. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Sirius reacted to this immediately. "Don't you say that," he said, almost sounding harsh as he grasped Harry's hand firmly. "Look at me."

Sirius let go of Harry's hand and brushed the hair out of his face as he looked up at him, almost unwillingly. "Don't you ever say that again, none of this was your fault," Sirius said imperatively. "Nothing."

Harry nodded slowly even though he disagreed with him. He looked back down at the bed as Sirius continued running his fingers through his hair, the moment feeling oddly comforting. Frowning, Harry noticed the needle in the back of his right hand, his frown growing as he turned his hand and noticed the one on the inside of his wrist. He looked away from them, trying to ignore them as Sirius spoke again.

"How do you feel?" Sirius asked, concerned about the amount of pain his godson was in.

Harry considered this for a moment before he answered. "Okay, I guess," he answered off handed.

The bottom seemed to crash out of his stomach momentarily, his heart leaping into his throat and racing as realisation dawned on Harry, remembering something that he had tried to make himself forget.

"Are they okay?" Harry said in a rush, his weak voice stumbling over the words. "Ron, what happened to him? And Ginny?"

"Oh," Sirius said after a moment. "They're fine," he assured Harry.

Harry stared up at him, his words caught in his throat as he tried to force them out. "Wha- what happened to them? Where are they?"

"They're fine," Sirius insisted. "Everyone is fine, they're back at Head Quarters, probably having breakfast."

"Sirius," Harry begged, grasping the front of his shirt in distress. "I have to see them, and Hermione."

Sirius hesitated before he spoke, knowing that visitors were to be kept to a minimum. "I don't think it's a good idea. Soon though, I promise."

"No," Harry insisted weakly. "I have to see them right now, please, I have to know they're okay."

"I-" Sirius began weakly before a gentle voice interrupted him.

"It's okay," the woman said. "I'll fetch them."

Sirius sighed with obvious relief and thanked the woman. Slightly shocked, Harry watched her as she left the room, knowing that he recognised her voice, but was unable to place it.

"They're coming," Sirius said, catching Harry's attention even though he had heard the woman himself. Harry nodded as he looked back down at the bed, nausea rising inside him at the thought of what might have happened to them, of what had happened to Ginny. He clenched his jaws together as his mind replayed what had happened when Ginny had been brought in, shame and inner conflict infiltrating his mind as he thought of what he had told Voldemort.

"I told him about the prophecy," Harry muttered to Sirius, knowing that he had to tell someone eventually.

"What?" Sirius said softly, the shock evident as he placed his hand under Harry's chin and lifted his head towards him. "What did you say?"

Harry looked at him for a moment, shame coursing through his body. "I told Voldemort about the prophecy." Feeling the need to justify himself, he continued. "I had no choice, he was going to kill her!"

Sirius closed his eyes and shook his head, more to himself than to Harry. Harry's chest and throat tightened as Sirius pulled him against his chest once again, resuming his firm hold around his torso.

"God, Harry," Sirius began, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't give a damn what you told him. You're alive, that's all that matters."