Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!
Sorry about the excessively long a/n last chapter!! Got carried away... *hides*
Of Western Stars
By neutral
Chapter twelve - of unfavorable results
Sirius leaned over the edge of his chair, trying to catch a glimpse of anyone making his way down the hall through the partly opened door. He was reluctant to leave the boy. Harry was growing less and less responsive to his words, the life draining from him even though the bleeding had been stanched hours ago. His skin was so pallid that he seemed to almost bleed into the bleached bed sheets. Even his normally untamed hair lost its wildness, caught against his clammy skin in thick locks. His body grew colder by the minute. Gently, so not to jar the inflamed skin on his back, Sirius enveloped the child into a lose embrace. He rubbed the thin arms to bring some warmth and blew on the small hands.
Loud footsteps echoed through the room. Sirius was alert immediately, the fear of being caught as an escaped convict forgotten hours ago.
The door was flung open, and Sirius breathed a small sigh of relief.
A doctor, a young man in his early thirties with warm brown eyes and smoothly trimmed hair, stumbled in the room with less than usual dignity. His eyes were bloodshot, but he seemed perfectly composed at being aroused at such an odd hour. He froze the moment he caught sight of Harry, looking lifeless as he leaned against his godfather.
"What happened to him?" the doctor whispered.
Sirius swallowed thickly, "Forget questions, can you help him?"
The doctor stopped beside the bed, lifting a budging bag and dropping it heavily on the floor.
"Could you lay him back down?" the man asked smoothly, all the previous shock gone.
Carefully, Sirius lowered the limp child against the bed, trying to ignore the way his head fell back lifelessly. He watched the stranger unbutton the oversized shirt, the man's face darkening. He drew a sharp breath when the red stained bandages glared back at him, livid bruises carved in flesh.
Sirius tensed, inwardly wincing at the sight.
"Sir, could you please step outside?" the man said slowly.
Sirius shook his head firmly. "I'm not leaving."
The man's head snapped up, looking just as flustered as he was. There was an angry suspicion in those eyes, but Sirius was too preoccupied to notice. "Sir, the boy's condition looks very serious. I suggest if you want to do this child any good, you step outside!"
Sirius chewed his lip, but as the doctor continued to glare, stood up reluctantly.
Half an hour later, Sirius paced back and forth in the narrow hotel room hall, throwing uneasy glances at the closed door. Since the time, and he couldn't hear so much of a whisper from the room. It was deathly silent, so silent that it frightened him.
Sirius ran a hand roughly through his hair in frustration. Harry couldn't die, could he? He didn't look that bad when Sirius first left the Dursleys with him. His condition steadily worsened as time wore on, but it never occurred to him that it was that serious.
Please, let Harry be okay. He wasn't sure if he could deal with the guilt otherwise. First Lily and James, and now Harry! He'd be condemned for the rest of his life. He'd never be able to live with himself…
"Sir?"
Sirius spun around, nearly attacking the doctor in his trepidation. "How is he?" Sirius asked breathlessly. "Is he going to be alright?"
The doctor seemed unfazed by his reaction, seemingly used to these violent responses. He pushed stopped Sirius from rushing into the room, keeping a firm hand on his arm. "The boy is stable," the man said slowly. His words were purposefully vague. "You should have called me hours ago. It's fortunate that there's no infection, otherwise, he might not be able to pull through."
"Is it that serious?" Sirius asked, paling at the realization.
The doctor frowned, "His injuries wouldn't be that serious by itself, but he's suffering from anemia. With his blood sugar count, I'm guessing he probably hadn't eaten for the past few days. His blood wasn't clotting. He lost a lot of blood, and his body isn't taking to the damage well. A blood transfusion would be recommended, but that would be available unless he's at a hospital…"
Sirius drew a sharp breath, hands clinched so tightly that they shook. "Is he… going to be alright? Will he recover?"
The doctor examined his face carefully for a moment before answering. "He hasn't been very strong even before these injuries. It's been a rather severe blow on him. That boy needs a lot of care right now. But given time, he should be able to make a full recovery. Although it isn't compulsory, I suggest you take him to a hospital."
Sirius hesitated. Bringing Harry to the hospital would mean he probably wouldn't be able to see him. It would risk never seeing his godson again, and possibly Harry's return to the Dursleys. He scowled bitterly at the thought.
"No, I'll take care of him," Sirius said firmly.
The doctor's eyes narrowed in an oddly calculating way. "Are you related to the boy?"
Sirius paused, swallowing uneasily. "No… Yes, I'm his godfather."
The doctor frowned, lips set in a grim line. "Who are his parents?"
Sirius flinched. "They're dead," Sirius whispered, voice strained. "They died a long time ago."
"Does he live with you?" the doctor asked.
Sirius grimaced, turning away. "No, Harry lives with his aunt and uncle." His voice bore traces of suppressed rage.
At his bitter tone, the doctor nodded understandingly. "I suggest you contact the police and report the case of child abuse."
"I can't," Sirius said slowly, but it was so tempting to finally punish those muggles. "I… I'm not suppose to be in custody of him. As far as I know, his aunt and uncle don't know I took him out of their house tonight."
"That's rather complicated," the doctor whispered, brows knitted in a way that reminded him of Dumbledore. "You could be charged on the case of kidnap for this."
"They were abusing him!" Sirius hissed, all his anger rushing back at the doctor's seemingly careless words. "I wasn't going to stand beside and just watch because I was afraid of being arrested."
The doctor didn't respond, his brown eyes watching him with a strange intensity. Suddenly, he smiled. "I understand. He's lucky to have a godfather like you."
Sirius' throat tightened at those words, wanting desperately to tell the doctor how much he was wrong. He followed him numbly back into the room, stilling at the sight that met his eyes.
Harry laid on the bed, eyes closed in a heavy slumber, his breaths still soft, but deeper and more even. The blankets seemed to swallow his small form. His skin suddenly was even more washed out and pale than before in the bright lamp light. A thick cloth was wrapped around one of his wrists tightly, hiding the boniness of his arm from view. A bag of clear fluid was suspended by a metal contraption that Sirius didn't recognize, a long tube stretched from it, a needle attached to the end that was embedded deep in Harry's skin.
Sirius ran his fingers over Harry's thin arm, tracing the needle with some bewilderment. Wasn't it cruel, hurting an already injured boy? But the doctor took no notice of the fury flashing through his eyes.
"You need to keep him on the IV until he can eat by himself. He needs to build up his blood sugar before he starves or dehydrates," the doctor explained, his tone strictly professional.
"What's… what's wrong with his arm?" Sirius asked shakily, glancing at the thick swabs of cloth encasing Harry's hand.
"His wrist is very badly strained, a cast would be better for it. There could be a hairline crack in it, but without an x-ray, I really can't be sure. His left leg is heavily bruised as well. There could be bone damage, although…" the doctor trailed off, looking weary. When he spoke again, he seemed to be speaking to himself distractedly. "I'll bring a portable ultrasound and some plaster later. I wasn't prepared for something like this. But I can't cast his arm or ankle until after the swelling recedes. It's going to be difficult…"
"How long…" Sirius slowly said.
"Two weeks, at least. I would be careful about moving him anytime this week; his ribs are bruised and possibly broken. There aren't any internal injuries; it's practically a miracle considering all those…" the man frowned but composed himself quickly. "The… cuts on his back are already bandaged, but they need to be changed twice a day or else they might infect. Lying on his back will be painful for him, but he can't lie on his side without jostling his ribs. The most I can do for him is to provide some painkillers."
Two weeks? Sirius frowned. He shouldn't have taken him to a muggle doctor, he should have gone straight to Hogwarts. But how could he explain? What if they didn't believe him? What if they took the child away?
Sirius said nothing, taking the small hand in his own. Harry was hurt far worse than he ever expected; the chances of such a young child fully recovering from something as serious as this…
Sirius cleared his throat shakily. "The blood that he lost…"
"It's not life threatening. He'll be very tired and his immune system is weak; I recommend keeping him inside for at least a week or so," the doctor paused, pulling out an orange bottle, "These are antibiotics in case he gets an infection, but don't give him any unless you're sure he's sick. I left some high protein powder on the table; make sure he gets a dose twice a day."
Sirius nodded in response, but he was only half listening.
"Call me if he doesn't show any signs of improvement. I'll be back to check on him tomorrow." The doctor paused on his way to the door, watching him sympathetically for a moment. "I respect patient confidentiality. If anyone questions me of a missing boy, I'll be sure to tell them I've met no such person."
Sirius barely even registered those words; and when the meaning finally sunk in, the doctor was already gone. He would have sighed in relief if the situation hadn't been so grave.
He stood unmoving beside Harry's bed, watching the closed eyes, unshielded by the round glasses. Sirius pushed a few strands of hair from Harry's face, brushing against the uneven flesh of the curse scar. It was frightening to see such a lively boy, so excited and full of life only days before suddenly drain into a wasted body, so wan and ill.
This was your fault, you know, said that small voice in the back of his mind. If you had revealed the truth to him earlier and taken him away from that place. Or if you had escaped sooner, instead of moping for five years. Or if you hadn't asked James to switch, this wouldn't have happened…
Sirius sat down heavily beside the bed. His chest clinched, his breath stained in his throat, he buried his face in his hands.
*
Plotline hits dead water. It's kind of like CD where the plot does a little dip into slowness, since I'm trying a bit character development. I hope it doesn't die in the process…
The doctor wasn't too bad, see? He was quite willing to be understanding. Although he did kick Sirius out of the room because he was suspicious, but still…
Umm… there's an explanation for Harry's condition to be so serious. For a boy six and a half who already probably suffers from a bit of malnutrition, his body can't take much serious damage. On top of that, he suffers from regular abuse. Plus, he practically starved himself for a week before getting beaten up two times in a row, the second leaving a mass of cuts that can't clot because of his low blood sugar. So his condition is actually quite plausible, although a fever and internal bruising would have made more sense, but that's just too mean…
Sorry about PoM. I'm really, really, really sorry!! But the AP's are coming up, and I won't be able to write as much. *sighs*
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!
Sorry about the excessively long a/n last chapter!! Got carried away... *hides*
Of Western Stars
By neutral
Chapter twelve - of unfavorable results
Sirius leaned over the edge of his chair, trying to catch a glimpse of anyone making his way down the hall through the partly opened door. He was reluctant to leave the boy. Harry was growing less and less responsive to his words, the life draining from him even though the bleeding had been stanched hours ago. His skin was so pallid that he seemed to almost bleed into the bleached bed sheets. Even his normally untamed hair lost its wildness, caught against his clammy skin in thick locks. His body grew colder by the minute. Gently, so not to jar the inflamed skin on his back, Sirius enveloped the child into a lose embrace. He rubbed the thin arms to bring some warmth and blew on the small hands.
Loud footsteps echoed through the room. Sirius was alert immediately, the fear of being caught as an escaped convict forgotten hours ago.
The door was flung open, and Sirius breathed a small sigh of relief.
A doctor, a young man in his early thirties with warm brown eyes and smoothly trimmed hair, stumbled in the room with less than usual dignity. His eyes were bloodshot, but he seemed perfectly composed at being aroused at such an odd hour. He froze the moment he caught sight of Harry, looking lifeless as he leaned against his godfather.
"What happened to him?" the doctor whispered.
Sirius swallowed thickly, "Forget questions, can you help him?"
The doctor stopped beside the bed, lifting a budging bag and dropping it heavily on the floor.
"Could you lay him back down?" the man asked smoothly, all the previous shock gone.
Carefully, Sirius lowered the limp child against the bed, trying to ignore the way his head fell back lifelessly. He watched the stranger unbutton the oversized shirt, the man's face darkening. He drew a sharp breath when the red stained bandages glared back at him, livid bruises carved in flesh.
Sirius tensed, inwardly wincing at the sight.
"Sir, could you please step outside?" the man said slowly.
Sirius shook his head firmly. "I'm not leaving."
The man's head snapped up, looking just as flustered as he was. There was an angry suspicion in those eyes, but Sirius was too preoccupied to notice. "Sir, the boy's condition looks very serious. I suggest if you want to do this child any good, you step outside!"
Sirius chewed his lip, but as the doctor continued to glare, stood up reluctantly.
Half an hour later, Sirius paced back and forth in the narrow hotel room hall, throwing uneasy glances at the closed door. Since the time, and he couldn't hear so much of a whisper from the room. It was deathly silent, so silent that it frightened him.
Sirius ran a hand roughly through his hair in frustration. Harry couldn't die, could he? He didn't look that bad when Sirius first left the Dursleys with him. His condition steadily worsened as time wore on, but it never occurred to him that it was that serious.
Please, let Harry be okay. He wasn't sure if he could deal with the guilt otherwise. First Lily and James, and now Harry! He'd be condemned for the rest of his life. He'd never be able to live with himself…
"Sir?"
Sirius spun around, nearly attacking the doctor in his trepidation. "How is he?" Sirius asked breathlessly. "Is he going to be alright?"
The doctor seemed unfazed by his reaction, seemingly used to these violent responses. He pushed stopped Sirius from rushing into the room, keeping a firm hand on his arm. "The boy is stable," the man said slowly. His words were purposefully vague. "You should have called me hours ago. It's fortunate that there's no infection, otherwise, he might not be able to pull through."
"Is it that serious?" Sirius asked, paling at the realization.
The doctor frowned, "His injuries wouldn't be that serious by itself, but he's suffering from anemia. With his blood sugar count, I'm guessing he probably hadn't eaten for the past few days. His blood wasn't clotting. He lost a lot of blood, and his body isn't taking to the damage well. A blood transfusion would be recommended, but that would be available unless he's at a hospital…"
Sirius drew a sharp breath, hands clinched so tightly that they shook. "Is he… going to be alright? Will he recover?"
The doctor examined his face carefully for a moment before answering. "He hasn't been very strong even before these injuries. It's been a rather severe blow on him. That boy needs a lot of care right now. But given time, he should be able to make a full recovery. Although it isn't compulsory, I suggest you take him to a hospital."
Sirius hesitated. Bringing Harry to the hospital would mean he probably wouldn't be able to see him. It would risk never seeing his godson again, and possibly Harry's return to the Dursleys. He scowled bitterly at the thought.
"No, I'll take care of him," Sirius said firmly.
The doctor's eyes narrowed in an oddly calculating way. "Are you related to the boy?"
Sirius paused, swallowing uneasily. "No… Yes, I'm his godfather."
The doctor frowned, lips set in a grim line. "Who are his parents?"
Sirius flinched. "They're dead," Sirius whispered, voice strained. "They died a long time ago."
"Does he live with you?" the doctor asked.
Sirius grimaced, turning away. "No, Harry lives with his aunt and uncle." His voice bore traces of suppressed rage.
At his bitter tone, the doctor nodded understandingly. "I suggest you contact the police and report the case of child abuse."
"I can't," Sirius said slowly, but it was so tempting to finally punish those muggles. "I… I'm not suppose to be in custody of him. As far as I know, his aunt and uncle don't know I took him out of their house tonight."
"That's rather complicated," the doctor whispered, brows knitted in a way that reminded him of Dumbledore. "You could be charged on the case of kidnap for this."
"They were abusing him!" Sirius hissed, all his anger rushing back at the doctor's seemingly careless words. "I wasn't going to stand beside and just watch because I was afraid of being arrested."
The doctor didn't respond, his brown eyes watching him with a strange intensity. Suddenly, he smiled. "I understand. He's lucky to have a godfather like you."
Sirius' throat tightened at those words, wanting desperately to tell the doctor how much he was wrong. He followed him numbly back into the room, stilling at the sight that met his eyes.
Harry laid on the bed, eyes closed in a heavy slumber, his breaths still soft, but deeper and more even. The blankets seemed to swallow his small form. His skin suddenly was even more washed out and pale than before in the bright lamp light. A thick cloth was wrapped around one of his wrists tightly, hiding the boniness of his arm from view. A bag of clear fluid was suspended by a metal contraption that Sirius didn't recognize, a long tube stretched from it, a needle attached to the end that was embedded deep in Harry's skin.
Sirius ran his fingers over Harry's thin arm, tracing the needle with some bewilderment. Wasn't it cruel, hurting an already injured boy? But the doctor took no notice of the fury flashing through his eyes.
"You need to keep him on the IV until he can eat by himself. He needs to build up his blood sugar before he starves or dehydrates," the doctor explained, his tone strictly professional.
"What's… what's wrong with his arm?" Sirius asked shakily, glancing at the thick swabs of cloth encasing Harry's hand.
"His wrist is very badly strained, a cast would be better for it. There could be a hairline crack in it, but without an x-ray, I really can't be sure. His left leg is heavily bruised as well. There could be bone damage, although…" the doctor trailed off, looking weary. When he spoke again, he seemed to be speaking to himself distractedly. "I'll bring a portable ultrasound and some plaster later. I wasn't prepared for something like this. But I can't cast his arm or ankle until after the swelling recedes. It's going to be difficult…"
"How long…" Sirius slowly said.
"Two weeks, at least. I would be careful about moving him anytime this week; his ribs are bruised and possibly broken. There aren't any internal injuries; it's practically a miracle considering all those…" the man frowned but composed himself quickly. "The… cuts on his back are already bandaged, but they need to be changed twice a day or else they might infect. Lying on his back will be painful for him, but he can't lie on his side without jostling his ribs. The most I can do for him is to provide some painkillers."
Two weeks? Sirius frowned. He shouldn't have taken him to a muggle doctor, he should have gone straight to Hogwarts. But how could he explain? What if they didn't believe him? What if they took the child away?
Sirius said nothing, taking the small hand in his own. Harry was hurt far worse than he ever expected; the chances of such a young child fully recovering from something as serious as this…
Sirius cleared his throat shakily. "The blood that he lost…"
"It's not life threatening. He'll be very tired and his immune system is weak; I recommend keeping him inside for at least a week or so," the doctor paused, pulling out an orange bottle, "These are antibiotics in case he gets an infection, but don't give him any unless you're sure he's sick. I left some high protein powder on the table; make sure he gets a dose twice a day."
Sirius nodded in response, but he was only half listening.
"Call me if he doesn't show any signs of improvement. I'll be back to check on him tomorrow." The doctor paused on his way to the door, watching him sympathetically for a moment. "I respect patient confidentiality. If anyone questions me of a missing boy, I'll be sure to tell them I've met no such person."
Sirius barely even registered those words; and when the meaning finally sunk in, the doctor was already gone. He would have sighed in relief if the situation hadn't been so grave.
He stood unmoving beside Harry's bed, watching the closed eyes, unshielded by the round glasses. Sirius pushed a few strands of hair from Harry's face, brushing against the uneven flesh of the curse scar. It was frightening to see such a lively boy, so excited and full of life only days before suddenly drain into a wasted body, so wan and ill.
This was your fault, you know, said that small voice in the back of his mind. If you had revealed the truth to him earlier and taken him away from that place. Or if you had escaped sooner, instead of moping for five years. Or if you hadn't asked James to switch, this wouldn't have happened…
Sirius sat down heavily beside the bed. His chest clinched, his breath stained in his throat, he buried his face in his hands.
*
Plotline hits dead water. It's kind of like CD where the plot does a little dip into slowness, since I'm trying a bit character development. I hope it doesn't die in the process…
The doctor wasn't too bad, see? He was quite willing to be understanding. Although he did kick Sirius out of the room because he was suspicious, but still…
Umm… there's an explanation for Harry's condition to be so serious. For a boy six and a half who already probably suffers from a bit of malnutrition, his body can't take much serious damage. On top of that, he suffers from regular abuse. Plus, he practically starved himself for a week before getting beaten up two times in a row, the second leaving a mass of cuts that can't clot because of his low blood sugar. So his condition is actually quite plausible, although a fever and internal bruising would have made more sense, but that's just too mean…
Sorry about PoM. I'm really, really, really sorry!! But the AP's are coming up, and I won't be able to write as much. *sighs*