Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!
Of Western Stars
By neutral
Chapter eighteen - of confessions and explanations
Those words sent a jolt down Sirius spine, as if someone had dripped fire on his skin. He nearly knocked Harry to the floor as he jumped to his feet, completely blind to everything but the body sewn street still livid in his memory.
A pile of steaming ash lying above a sewer, the scalded face of a young girl, and the flames, licking at the blackened concrete…
Sirius staggered back, stumbling when the room swam in his vision. He sank heavy to his knees beside the child, the strain of the past week collapsing over him in an overwhelming wave. He barely registered the weakness in his limbs, the sandiness in his eyes, Harry's words echoing in his mind.
Harry knew his name… knew what happened… thought he was the traitor… hated him…
Sirius didn't even stop to question how he knew. All he could think of was how much he lost. He lost, he lost completely. How could he even explain it to a six year old child? How could he explain that Harry's own parents were betrayed by one of their best friends because he placed them in that position? He didn't know where to begin; he didn't even want to start. Would Harry believe him even if he did?
This was too much. He couldn't take much more of this.
Something in him snapped then. It was as if a dam had splintered and cracked inside of him, and the five years of anger, frustration, and bitterness poured out in a torrent. His shoulders were shaking uncontrollably; the hope of Harry ever trusting him was slipping through his fingers. Sirius buried his face in his hands, struck with something between choked gasping and dry tears.
He didn't know how long he sat there, beside the child he was afraid to approach but reluctant to leave. He was not even aware of the stiff frame on the bed gnawing into his back.
There was a light, tentative brush against his arm. Sirius lifted his head slowly, and when Harry's clear emerald eyes stared back at him, fell still, unsure of what to say. The child looked apprehensive, uncertain, but there was a strange sort of concern in his demeanor.
"Don't be sad," Harry whispered almost fearfully, eyes wide at the react his words incited. "I didn't mean to make you sad."
He must have stared in shock at Harry for a long time, but he couldn't remember. But in a moment, Sirius had the child enveloped in a suffocating embrace. The child was a stiff board in his arms, but he wasn't flinching or pulling away. Sirius didn't even stop to think how horrified Harry would be in the presence of an alleged murderer. He just hugged the child tightly, feeling as if he could never let go.
"It wasn't me, Harry," Sirius said almost desperately, voice muffled against the child's unruly hair. "I didn't kill those muggles. I… I can't tell you the details, but it wasn't me. I wasn't the secret keeper. I wasn't."
"I know…"
Those words caught him completely by surprise. He tried to discern Harry's expression, but it seemed so muddled that he could make it out.
"You… you do?" Sirius asked, surprised and relieved at the same time.
Harry nodded slightly. "I trust you. I don't know why, but I do. You remind me of… of… I don't know…" he chewed his lip; his thoughts and emotions obviously perplexing even himself.
Sirius slumped forward again, resting his chin on the child's head, more relieved and overjoyed than he could remember. The lack of sleep must be catching up with him; he was far more compulsive than usual; the flickering emotions were disjointed and made no sense even to him. But he still couldn't help but feel a huge weight lifted from his back, and an absurd urge to laugh in respite.
"Why?" Harry suddenly asked, sounding genuinely confused.
Sirius pulled away, smiling slightly as he brushed strands of hair from his eyes. "What do you mean?"
Harry chewed his lip again, twisting a piece of the blanket between his fingers. "Why… why are you helping me? Why do you care?"
Sirius' expression faltered. Harry never had a person he could remember who cared or displayed any sort of affection towards him. He must be so bewildered; Sirius swallowed thickly. He averted his gaze, unable to meet Harry's inquisitive eyes, and took the child's thickly bandaged hand carefully in his own. How could he explain?
"I knew you when you were just a little infant, you know?" he said slowly, giving the child's hand a light squeeze. "I always visited on Wednesdays and Fridays; my job wouldn't let me off any other times. I remember barging into your house at Godric's Hollow, watching you crawl around the house with your father balancing milk bottles and your mom trying to cook. I think I just made your parent's life more hectic when I came."
Harry's emerald eyes were wide almost beyond recognition. But Sirius was too lost in his memories to notice.
"You were really a bright, really sweet little boy. You could speak where you were only nine months old, and after that, you wouldn't stop talking," Sirius grinned wistfully at the memory. "Your first word was daddy, only you said it to the wrong person. Your dad blew a lid at that one… nearly gave me two black eyes. But you kept calling me that anyway; if I didn't know better, I'd say you were purposefully trying to get me in trouble."
Sirius sighed, leaning back in the chair. Things seemed to perfect then, even with Voldermort stalking their every move.
He changed so much, Sirius couldn't help but note, as he watched Harry lean stiffly against against his arm. The child seemed to be slowly digesting his words, eyes clouded with a storm of bewilderment, confusion, fear.
"We've met before?" Harry asked hopefully, nervous at the same time.
"Your dad was my best friend," Sirius murmured slowly.
Harry's eyes brightened, "You knew them."
Sirius nodded. "They were… some of the nicest people, the most loyal friends you could possibly wish for… " Sirius trailed off. He desperately wanted to tell Harry about James and Lily, but when he finally had the chance, he found himself unable to continue. Those memories brought too much pain and guilt and Sirius wasn't sure if he could even put those thoughts into words. He glanced at Harry apologetically. "They made me your godfather, but I did a horrible job."
But Harry didn't seem to hear his voice after that word. "Godfather?" Harry repeated, eyes widening again.
Sirius nodded guiltily. "I'm sorry, Harry."
For not being there when you needed me. For leaving you with people who never loved you. For taking away your only chance at happiness.
But those words caught in his throat, and all Sirius could do was sit mutely. Harry stared, eyes wide with a mixture of unreadable emotions. But slowly, a small, timid smile broke across the child's face.
Remus inspected the slightly dilapidated two story building with the neon sign hung at an angle.
Doublecross Inn, it flashed.
The windows were clouded slightly with thick muck from smog of the nearby city, and nearly all the rooms looked deserted. This was the closest hotel within the region that the driver could possibly drop them off, although it took him a over sixteen hours just to trace it. There weren't many places that could house travelers; the buildings nearby were so scattered that he couldn't decide whether to risk apparating to cut down time or agonizingly walking.
Could it be possible that they were here? If Sirius had wanted to just disappear underground with the child, this would be the perfect place to start. What if they already vanished? Remus paled at the thought.
He pushed open the squeaking door slowly, stepping into a thickly carpeted hall with a sparkling bright chandelier. The differences between the interior and exterior was alarming. Marble columns and carefully scrubbed glass lined the colossal room. The rusted hinges alerted a sleepy receptionist. She glanced at him irritably.
"What is it?" she snapped.
Remus cleared his throat, wondering why they didn't hire a lady as kind as the interior of the shoddy hotel. "Excuse me, I'm looking for a…" he hesitated, ranking his brain for a suitable lie. "friend of mine. He's in this area. Have you seen a man and a boy around here?"
The lady's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Remus instantly realized that was the wrong thing to say. As to why, he had no clue.
"No! No man and child in here!" she screeched, jumping up angrily. "Haven't seen one!"
Her reaction was so acute that it made Remus pause. She knew something, that much was obvious. It was suspicious; could she know about them and was trying to protect Sirius' location? Or perhaps that traitor tried to use some of his charm and implanted lies in their heads?
"Then, in that case, is it possible that I get a room for the night? I've traveled all day," Remus said with his characteristic smile.
The lady scowled deeply. "There's no man and boy here, so why stay? Go somewhere else!"
"Martha!" another voice ran shrilly through the room.
Another older woman in an oily apron stood at the entrance, hands full with groceries. The cook, Remus decided, but at the authority she commanded the receptionist, she was probably much more than that. Hair trapped tightly in a bun and eyes pursed in a stern frown, she reminded Remus oddly of his transfiguration professor.
The cook glared at Martha pointedly, setting the two bags on a stray chair by the door. "Martha, that is no way to treat a customer! You are a hostess."
Martha glowered even more bitterly, but thankfully said nothing. She turned away, purposefully ignoring the two. Remus tried to be as unobtrusive as possible and held his tongue.
The older woman turned to him, face transformed into a welcoming smile. "I'm sorry, sir. You were saying something about a room?"
"Yes, just one bed. I'm not quite sure how long I'll stay just yet," Remus said.
The woman nodded, "Yes, of course. Follow me. I'm sorry about Martha. My little sister really isn't suited to this sort of work." she sighed resignedly once out of earshot.
Definitely not like McGonagall. Way too open and outgoing.
But it was still fortunate to find someone talkative, Remus realized with some amount of relief. This lady seemed much more communicative than the receptionist. If he treaded carefully, he could just discover something useful.
"Do you maintain this hotel by yourselves then?" Remus asked, fringing interest and feeling a bit guilty at the same time.
"Yes. Our parents left us this place, and we don't have much money to restore the building. The second story is completely abandoned," the lady shook her head, smiling softly. "We tried to sell this place many times but we could never carry it through."
"It's a nice place," Remus said kindly, "The interior outbalances it all."
"Well, the interior is easier to maintain than the exterior."
"I take it that there aren't many customers then?" Remus asked in mock surprise, inwardly praying. It was taking all his patience not to throw the question right at her.
Please… let Sirius be here… please, please, please… let Harry be alright…
"No, not particularly," the lady muttered. "But once in a while, we have a stray customer."
"I see," Remus said sympathetically. He scanned his mind for another seemingly innocent phrase that could probe some information. He used to be a master at this, along with James. But it had been so long ago. But Sirius was best when it came to charming the ladies…
Remus sighed softly.
The lady misinterpreted it by a mile. She glanced at him with a grin tugging at her lips. "You must understand that feeling then. In the past month, we only had two customers. One actually, since they only rented one room."
"Really?" Remus could barely keep his tone nonchalant and detached. His hand trembled, and he stuffed it in his pocket to hide. "Only one room?"
"Yes, just a little more than a week ago. They're still here actually. Three customers in two weeks. Guess it's our lucky month?"
But all those words slipped right past Remus without registering in his mind. His steps faltered slightly.
"Oh, it'll be nice to have some company," Remus said, his voice deceptively calm.
"Well, I'm not sure you'll see them much. I've only taken meals to them, a man and a sick little boy, poor thing. He's quite a sweet little dear. Really shy, unlike most four year olds."
Four? But Harry was six and a half, was it the right person?
*
Sirius' reaction was sort of strange, but he wasn't quite stable then...
Reference to Harry calling Sirius dad is from Evie's story, The First Word (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=533582) . Go read her story or I will personally chase after you with thumbscrews! (I should have emailed you about this beforehand, sorry Evie! If you want my head, I only have a copper platter to go along *hides*) Anyway, go read her story and review!
*hides from kaydee* Okay, I'll take your advice and save self mutilation for the very last chapter of WS.
Umm… longer chapters usually means I take longer to update. Horrible habit of nitpicking, I go back and reedit a chapter about 2 to 11 times. Well, it depends on what you want! Longer chapters for longer lag time, or shorter chapters and about 2 to 3 days per update? Although the next few chapters are about a page or so longer than chapter 17. That was a short chapter due to AP constraints...
The motel name was some place I got from California… I think… Wait… that hotel's called Doubletree… never mind. But it sort of serves its purpose. Remus seems to be taking a long time, but he doesn't seem to be the type who would barge into a place without first contacting Dumbledore, making all the preparations, etc. Plus, he didn't really know where they were to begin with. The 2nd scene takes place 2 days after the first.
*sigh* I did something evil. I started a new story. *groan* It was sort of a random, inspirational thing, but… urg! Well…
PoM's hiatus story will be posted with chapter 7 of PoM, which should be coming, depending on how chapter 8 goes. It's really frustrating… since having two whole chapters of explanation to the clueless James is just as boring to read as to write. Urg.
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!
Of Western Stars
By neutral
Chapter eighteen - of confessions and explanations
Those words sent a jolt down Sirius spine, as if someone had dripped fire on his skin. He nearly knocked Harry to the floor as he jumped to his feet, completely blind to everything but the body sewn street still livid in his memory.
A pile of steaming ash lying above a sewer, the scalded face of a young girl, and the flames, licking at the blackened concrete…
Sirius staggered back, stumbling when the room swam in his vision. He sank heavy to his knees beside the child, the strain of the past week collapsing over him in an overwhelming wave. He barely registered the weakness in his limbs, the sandiness in his eyes, Harry's words echoing in his mind.
Harry knew his name… knew what happened… thought he was the traitor… hated him…
Sirius didn't even stop to question how he knew. All he could think of was how much he lost. He lost, he lost completely. How could he even explain it to a six year old child? How could he explain that Harry's own parents were betrayed by one of their best friends because he placed them in that position? He didn't know where to begin; he didn't even want to start. Would Harry believe him even if he did?
This was too much. He couldn't take much more of this.
Something in him snapped then. It was as if a dam had splintered and cracked inside of him, and the five years of anger, frustration, and bitterness poured out in a torrent. His shoulders were shaking uncontrollably; the hope of Harry ever trusting him was slipping through his fingers. Sirius buried his face in his hands, struck with something between choked gasping and dry tears.
He didn't know how long he sat there, beside the child he was afraid to approach but reluctant to leave. He was not even aware of the stiff frame on the bed gnawing into his back.
There was a light, tentative brush against his arm. Sirius lifted his head slowly, and when Harry's clear emerald eyes stared back at him, fell still, unsure of what to say. The child looked apprehensive, uncertain, but there was a strange sort of concern in his demeanor.
"Don't be sad," Harry whispered almost fearfully, eyes wide at the react his words incited. "I didn't mean to make you sad."
He must have stared in shock at Harry for a long time, but he couldn't remember. But in a moment, Sirius had the child enveloped in a suffocating embrace. The child was a stiff board in his arms, but he wasn't flinching or pulling away. Sirius didn't even stop to think how horrified Harry would be in the presence of an alleged murderer. He just hugged the child tightly, feeling as if he could never let go.
"It wasn't me, Harry," Sirius said almost desperately, voice muffled against the child's unruly hair. "I didn't kill those muggles. I… I can't tell you the details, but it wasn't me. I wasn't the secret keeper. I wasn't."
"I know…"
Those words caught him completely by surprise. He tried to discern Harry's expression, but it seemed so muddled that he could make it out.
"You… you do?" Sirius asked, surprised and relieved at the same time.
Harry nodded slightly. "I trust you. I don't know why, but I do. You remind me of… of… I don't know…" he chewed his lip; his thoughts and emotions obviously perplexing even himself.
Sirius slumped forward again, resting his chin on the child's head, more relieved and overjoyed than he could remember. The lack of sleep must be catching up with him; he was far more compulsive than usual; the flickering emotions were disjointed and made no sense even to him. But he still couldn't help but feel a huge weight lifted from his back, and an absurd urge to laugh in respite.
"Why?" Harry suddenly asked, sounding genuinely confused.
Sirius pulled away, smiling slightly as he brushed strands of hair from his eyes. "What do you mean?"
Harry chewed his lip again, twisting a piece of the blanket between his fingers. "Why… why are you helping me? Why do you care?"
Sirius' expression faltered. Harry never had a person he could remember who cared or displayed any sort of affection towards him. He must be so bewildered; Sirius swallowed thickly. He averted his gaze, unable to meet Harry's inquisitive eyes, and took the child's thickly bandaged hand carefully in his own. How could he explain?
"I knew you when you were just a little infant, you know?" he said slowly, giving the child's hand a light squeeze. "I always visited on Wednesdays and Fridays; my job wouldn't let me off any other times. I remember barging into your house at Godric's Hollow, watching you crawl around the house with your father balancing milk bottles and your mom trying to cook. I think I just made your parent's life more hectic when I came."
Harry's emerald eyes were wide almost beyond recognition. But Sirius was too lost in his memories to notice.
"You were really a bright, really sweet little boy. You could speak where you were only nine months old, and after that, you wouldn't stop talking," Sirius grinned wistfully at the memory. "Your first word was daddy, only you said it to the wrong person. Your dad blew a lid at that one… nearly gave me two black eyes. But you kept calling me that anyway; if I didn't know better, I'd say you were purposefully trying to get me in trouble."
Sirius sighed, leaning back in the chair. Things seemed to perfect then, even with Voldermort stalking their every move.
He changed so much, Sirius couldn't help but note, as he watched Harry lean stiffly against against his arm. The child seemed to be slowly digesting his words, eyes clouded with a storm of bewilderment, confusion, fear.
"We've met before?" Harry asked hopefully, nervous at the same time.
"Your dad was my best friend," Sirius murmured slowly.
Harry's eyes brightened, "You knew them."
Sirius nodded. "They were… some of the nicest people, the most loyal friends you could possibly wish for… " Sirius trailed off. He desperately wanted to tell Harry about James and Lily, but when he finally had the chance, he found himself unable to continue. Those memories brought too much pain and guilt and Sirius wasn't sure if he could even put those thoughts into words. He glanced at Harry apologetically. "They made me your godfather, but I did a horrible job."
But Harry didn't seem to hear his voice after that word. "Godfather?" Harry repeated, eyes widening again.
Sirius nodded guiltily. "I'm sorry, Harry."
For not being there when you needed me. For leaving you with people who never loved you. For taking away your only chance at happiness.
But those words caught in his throat, and all Sirius could do was sit mutely. Harry stared, eyes wide with a mixture of unreadable emotions. But slowly, a small, timid smile broke across the child's face.
Remus inspected the slightly dilapidated two story building with the neon sign hung at an angle.
Doublecross Inn, it flashed.
The windows were clouded slightly with thick muck from smog of the nearby city, and nearly all the rooms looked deserted. This was the closest hotel within the region that the driver could possibly drop them off, although it took him a over sixteen hours just to trace it. There weren't many places that could house travelers; the buildings nearby were so scattered that he couldn't decide whether to risk apparating to cut down time or agonizingly walking.
Could it be possible that they were here? If Sirius had wanted to just disappear underground with the child, this would be the perfect place to start. What if they already vanished? Remus paled at the thought.
He pushed open the squeaking door slowly, stepping into a thickly carpeted hall with a sparkling bright chandelier. The differences between the interior and exterior was alarming. Marble columns and carefully scrubbed glass lined the colossal room. The rusted hinges alerted a sleepy receptionist. She glanced at him irritably.
"What is it?" she snapped.
Remus cleared his throat, wondering why they didn't hire a lady as kind as the interior of the shoddy hotel. "Excuse me, I'm looking for a…" he hesitated, ranking his brain for a suitable lie. "friend of mine. He's in this area. Have you seen a man and a boy around here?"
The lady's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Remus instantly realized that was the wrong thing to say. As to why, he had no clue.
"No! No man and child in here!" she screeched, jumping up angrily. "Haven't seen one!"
Her reaction was so acute that it made Remus pause. She knew something, that much was obvious. It was suspicious; could she know about them and was trying to protect Sirius' location? Or perhaps that traitor tried to use some of his charm and implanted lies in their heads?
"Then, in that case, is it possible that I get a room for the night? I've traveled all day," Remus said with his characteristic smile.
The lady scowled deeply. "There's no man and boy here, so why stay? Go somewhere else!"
"Martha!" another voice ran shrilly through the room.
Another older woman in an oily apron stood at the entrance, hands full with groceries. The cook, Remus decided, but at the authority she commanded the receptionist, she was probably much more than that. Hair trapped tightly in a bun and eyes pursed in a stern frown, she reminded Remus oddly of his transfiguration professor.
The cook glared at Martha pointedly, setting the two bags on a stray chair by the door. "Martha, that is no way to treat a customer! You are a hostess."
Martha glowered even more bitterly, but thankfully said nothing. She turned away, purposefully ignoring the two. Remus tried to be as unobtrusive as possible and held his tongue.
The older woman turned to him, face transformed into a welcoming smile. "I'm sorry, sir. You were saying something about a room?"
"Yes, just one bed. I'm not quite sure how long I'll stay just yet," Remus said.
The woman nodded, "Yes, of course. Follow me. I'm sorry about Martha. My little sister really isn't suited to this sort of work." she sighed resignedly once out of earshot.
Definitely not like McGonagall. Way too open and outgoing.
But it was still fortunate to find someone talkative, Remus realized with some amount of relief. This lady seemed much more communicative than the receptionist. If he treaded carefully, he could just discover something useful.
"Do you maintain this hotel by yourselves then?" Remus asked, fringing interest and feeling a bit guilty at the same time.
"Yes. Our parents left us this place, and we don't have much money to restore the building. The second story is completely abandoned," the lady shook her head, smiling softly. "We tried to sell this place many times but we could never carry it through."
"It's a nice place," Remus said kindly, "The interior outbalances it all."
"Well, the interior is easier to maintain than the exterior."
"I take it that there aren't many customers then?" Remus asked in mock surprise, inwardly praying. It was taking all his patience not to throw the question right at her.
Please… let Sirius be here… please, please, please… let Harry be alright…
"No, not particularly," the lady muttered. "But once in a while, we have a stray customer."
"I see," Remus said sympathetically. He scanned his mind for another seemingly innocent phrase that could probe some information. He used to be a master at this, along with James. But it had been so long ago. But Sirius was best when it came to charming the ladies…
Remus sighed softly.
The lady misinterpreted it by a mile. She glanced at him with a grin tugging at her lips. "You must understand that feeling then. In the past month, we only had two customers. One actually, since they only rented one room."
"Really?" Remus could barely keep his tone nonchalant and detached. His hand trembled, and he stuffed it in his pocket to hide. "Only one room?"
"Yes, just a little more than a week ago. They're still here actually. Three customers in two weeks. Guess it's our lucky month?"
But all those words slipped right past Remus without registering in his mind. His steps faltered slightly.
"Oh, it'll be nice to have some company," Remus said, his voice deceptively calm.
"Well, I'm not sure you'll see them much. I've only taken meals to them, a man and a sick little boy, poor thing. He's quite a sweet little dear. Really shy, unlike most four year olds."
Four? But Harry was six and a half, was it the right person?
*
Sirius' reaction was sort of strange, but he wasn't quite stable then...
Reference to Harry calling Sirius dad is from Evie's story, The First Word (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=533582) . Go read her story or I will personally chase after you with thumbscrews! (I should have emailed you about this beforehand, sorry Evie! If you want my head, I only have a copper platter to go along *hides*) Anyway, go read her story and review!
*hides from kaydee* Okay, I'll take your advice and save self mutilation for the very last chapter of WS.
Umm… longer chapters usually means I take longer to update. Horrible habit of nitpicking, I go back and reedit a chapter about 2 to 11 times. Well, it depends on what you want! Longer chapters for longer lag time, or shorter chapters and about 2 to 3 days per update? Although the next few chapters are about a page or so longer than chapter 17. That was a short chapter due to AP constraints...
The motel name was some place I got from California… I think… Wait… that hotel's called Doubletree… never mind. But it sort of serves its purpose. Remus seems to be taking a long time, but he doesn't seem to be the type who would barge into a place without first contacting Dumbledore, making all the preparations, etc. Plus, he didn't really know where they were to begin with. The 2nd scene takes place 2 days after the first.
*sigh* I did something evil. I started a new story. *groan* It was sort of a random, inspirational thing, but… urg! Well…
PoM's hiatus story will be posted with chapter 7 of PoM, which should be coming, depending on how chapter 8 goes. It's really frustrating… since having two whole chapters of explanation to the clueless James is just as boring to read as to write. Urg.