Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet (where have you been?!?! I haven't seen you for weeks! Noooo!! Don't die!!), Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!
I wrote this without my reading glasses, so it's a bit… how do you say it… rushed? It's really hard especially with one far sighted and one near sighted eye, trying to bend towards your screen… urg. *sigh*
I'm posting this in a hotel room in San Francisco (visiting colleges *sigh*). The internet connection's like… 12 K per minute here. And it's costing me $2 a minute to go online (laptops are god's gift to mankind... but I'm not even religious... so anyway... I wonder if they'll let me bring it when I go to Russia in August. Will the US people think I'm a spy or something?), therefore, I have to leave right now before I empty my pocketbook! The food is extremely good here though... but urg! It's so tiring. Either you walk for 30 minutes, or you drive and look for a place to park for 30 minutes. *dies multiple times* Anyway, this chapter's a bonus since the last chapter was a bad cliffie...
umm... added an at the bottom
Of Western Stars
By neutral
Chapter twenty-eight - of broken glass
Sirius staggered as if the floor beneath him was suddenly ripped away. All the ability for form coherent words were lost. Sirius stared dumbly at Peter's rat-like face for a long moment.
Return to Azkaban? To the dementors? Never see Harry again?
He glanced at Harry's ashen face, his emerald eyes glazed and distant. If Harry was frightened by the prospect of dying, he didn't show it. And for some reason, that made Sirius even more upset.
"You can't do this, " Sirius whispered, never shifting his gaze from his godson.
"Why can't I? Go back there, Sirius! Turn yourself into the Ministry! I can't have everyone hunting for me!" Peter shouted bitterly, his voice cracking and squeaking as he trembled.
"Dumbledore knows; Remus knows. They'll be hunting for you anyway!" Sirius snapped, taking another tentative step forward.
"Then tell them you're guilty!" Peter urged without stuttering. His confidence grew when he realized he had the upper hand.
There was a dull crack when Sirius' knuckle refused to take any more strain. "They won't believe me," Sirius gritted out, trembling.
"Tell them!" Peter jumped a little in frustration. "I won't have them telling everyone about me! Turn yourself into the ministry or you'll never see Harry again!"
"I won't be able to see Harry again if I do," Sirius nearly shouted.
Harry' eyes broke from their glazed unresponsiveness at those words. He stiffened under Peter's thick hands, entire appearance shifting from apathy to horror in seconds.
"No…" Harry choked out. He shook his head frenziedly, crawling at Peter's hands as he struggled to reach his godfather.
"Stay still, Harry. Everything's going to be alright," Sirius said as reassuringly as he could, but the anger laced through his words shattered the affect.
"No, Padfoot!" Harry pleaded, struggling to pry Peter's fingers from his shirt. "You can't leave! You promised you wouldn't."
Sirius' throat clinched painfully as he took a small step forward. "Harry, I… I'm really sorry, but…"
Sirius' next words were drowned out by a loud shriek.
Gasping and shaking, Peter shoved Harry aside roughly. Harry was sent sprawling to the floor, missing contact with a wooden bedpost by mere inches. Peter stumbled back, face contorted in agony, loud whimpers wracking his body as he clutched at his wrist with the four fingered hand. Steam sizzled from his wrist and a distinct smell of scorched skin hung thickly in the air.
As to how Peter came across with such a strange injury, Sirius had no clue. But that was the last thing on his mind as he bolted forward, slamming into the fat lump and trapping him against the floor. He knocked the traitor into an edge of a table, overturning glass vials and shattering them into fragments.
"No, Sirius! Take pity, take pity!" Peter begged. He was reduced into a sobbing, pathetic lump within seconds, writhing with rat-like jerks.
"Pity?! How can you say that?" Sirius hissed, garroting the thick, meaty neck. "Pity… after what you did to Lily and James, after what you did to Harry, you're asking for pity?"
The kind of fury that possessed him then was almost blinding in its intensity. All he could see was Wormtail's ghastly white face and beady black eyes wide in terror. He trashed helplessly, digging his nails into Sirius' hand to free himself from his hold. But Sirius barely even registered the incessant stinging in his arms, he was just pounding the pudgy face.
The traitor…
A satisfying crunch as he connected with the side of Peter's jaw.
Lily and James' murderer…
Sirius slammed his fist against the rat's face with such a force that Peter's head met the floor with a resounding crack.
… tried to hurt Harry, tried to take him away…
Peter yelped when Sirius' bony hand wrapped around his neck.
Sirius' breath was coming in sharp gasps, his knuckles sore and burning. Small rivers of blood was running in streams down Peter's face, and the man was squeaking loudly at every strike. Sirius didn't notice the pudgy hand until it was too late.
A sudden stab of pain shot through his side. Sirius almost didn't notice it at first, but as each increasing breath became shorter and shorter, and water seemed to lace the air around him, he hesitated. A shard of glass, murky with a crimson hue, was logged deeply between his ribs. Sirius choked, stunned.
"You…" Sirius broke off, his words lost in a muffled wheeze.
He cried out in agony when Peter pressed his palm against the protruding glass, stabbing it deeper in his chest. Sirius coughed, tasting the bittersweet coppery fluid in a sort of daze. The rage numbed the branding pains shooting through his chest, but the room dimmed oddly.
Peter's smile was one of exultation, although it looked more like a grimace through the film of scarlet. He pried Sirius' hands from his neck, and even though Sirius was far stronger, he just couldn't seem to fight against the rat faced man with the momentary lack of air. Sirius glared in fury, but couldn't form any articulate words.
"It… it punctured you… your lung, Sirius," Peter gasped out, his words slurred from his swollen jaw. "You… you're going to die."
With a low growl, Sirius slammed his fist against his eye, strength escalating from anger coursing through his body. Peter yelped and scurried against the wall pitifully. Still rash and clouded in his judgment, Sirius trapped the glass between his finger and ripped it out with a groan. The pain barely registered in his mind, and blood gushed from the wound in streams. The room dimmed even more, swimming slightly.
"Padfoot!" Harry's childish voice, soft but terrified, cut through his thoughts like a knife.
Harry, oh god…
He dragged his head up just in time to see a slight figure flinging himself on the sniveling rat, raining blind blows on him. Still weakened by the injuries, he only managed to bring a look of surprise on Peter's features. There was an odd prickling sensation in the air that made the hair on the back of Sirius' neck rise; he wasn't sure whether it was his injuries that produced the strange effect.
Sirius stumbled to his feet, making a desperate grasp for the child. But before he even stood, Peter had a piece of broken glass in his hand and a pale and frantic child in the other.
No, you bastard! Let him go! Sirius tried to scream, but no sound left his mouth.
Sirius coughed when he struggled to speak, blood pouring through his fingers. It was like inhaling water every time Sirius opened his mouth. He couldn't breathe. Peter's face swam dangerously in his vision, and the strength was sapping from his veins with the blood that poured from his side. Sirius rasped, making a frantic lunge at the traitor, but Peter scurried out of the way. His legs faltered under his weight, all his limbs heavy and rusty. Sirius caught the edge of the four poster, screaming silently at his helplessness. The desperation must have leaked onto his face, because Peter gave a squeaky laugh.
Sirius groaned. He couldn't die! Especially not by Peter. Sirius grinded his nails against his palm, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. He had too much to settle with that bastard, he couldn't give him that satisfaction. He couldn't!!
Sirius forced his legs to stay steady and drew a few futile breaths.
"You didn't comply to our agreement, Sirius," Sirius' face twisted into a scowl at Peter's words. Roughly, the man jerked Harry's head back by his hair and brought the shard of glass to the six year olds neck threateningly, holding it for emphasis. Harry whimpered, clawing at the hand that bent his neck past endurance. "I don't know what I'll do to Harry…"
Sirius' eyes widened.
He's just a little boy, he didn't do anything to you… god…
He could almost see Harry's frightened face, pale as a sheet and emerald eyes wide behind the glasses. Those eyes that spoke of experiences and visions years past his age, hollow with the realization of the fate that would beset him. And that dull acceptance, knowing that he didn't have a chance at happiness, that he'd never have a chance at happiness… But he was too young. Decades too young!!
Sirius took an unsteady step forward.
Don't hurt him, please don't hurt him. Please!!
Peter spoke some words that Sirius didn't hear, backing away. There was something wrong with Peter's face. His skin was reddening, scarring, boils rising on the surface like burned rubber. His mouth opened in a silent shriek, and his arm twitched and flexed.
Light refracted off glass.
There was a sharp gasp, and Harry's oversized hospital shirt dyed with a rapidly growing patch of crimson. The child's arms fell to his side, limp and lifeless.
Sirius silently screamed.
With a frantic gasp, Sirius lunged at the traitor, tearing them both off their feet with Harry still trapped in Peter's grip. Sirius plunged the blade of glass into Peter's shoulder with a strength that buried it inches into his flesh. The beady black eyes widened in horror and agony, but Sirius was blind to everything but his own anger. He ripped the glass out, and dug it into his neck. Then his chest. Then his scalded face. Until the room had been stained a deep vermilion, and all Sirius could see was red. But he was rapidly sinking into darkness, drowning in the air and his own blood. A cold numbness was soaking through his veins, and he was tired, so tired.
Sirius discarded the shard, leaving it protruding from Peter's neck, and turned to Harry, lying unresponsively on the carpet, limbs tangled awkwardly and glasses discarded a short ways away. Slowly, as if living a dream, he brushed his fingers over the rapidly cooling fluid.
Choking, he lifted the child in one desperate movement, sinking onto his knees. He enveloped Harry's slight form with a tight embrace, crushing the limp child against him, the one most precious possession he had left in the world. He failed Harry again. How many times had the six year old been abandoned? How many times had he been lied to? And to think that Harry had so much faith in him after all the efforts he took just to teach him trust again, he'd be the one to let him down.
With an unsteady hand, he traced the jagged gasp carved deeply in the six year old's neck, as if trying to wipe it away with the sticky blood. But when Harry's head lolled to one side, his neck blotted with fresh crimson blood that splattered his face and shirt in handfuls, he let his arm slide to the ground. Sirius buried his face in the child's hair, as if trying to shield himself from veracity, and cried.
*
The end.
I always wonder what people would say if I said this was the ending. --- Oh crud… I thought a lot of you would catch that. That was such a horrible joke, I'm sorry… I'll never do it again! That wasn't the ending, I've said before, WS is a total of 34 chapters! Umm… sorry… *runs off to hide* I should have said that at the end of the chapter... *sigh*
humm... the people at the front desk doesn't tally time for some reason. When I told them I was online, they said they didn't record it so it's free. *cackle* that = more online time = possible post before Tuesday *grins* unless then finally figure out i've been only for more than half an hour... that = no pocket book... *wails*
Was that confusing at all? Did anything make sense?
Or am I just evil *cackle*
Rushed, don't you think? A bit confusing too… humm… I think I sort of sped up the bleeding / dying process… I mean, you don't grow that weak from blood loss within the first few minutes. But we're assuming the glass that punctured Sirius' lung was a pretty sharp one. Besides, any puncture to the lung would collapse it, since there's no pressure to maintain breathing. As to why Peter was screaming, well…
The thought that Pettigrew coming nice and easy into Sirius' hands didn't seem right. Nothing in WS' universe was gained easily though, but then again, nothing was gained easily in any of my stories. And things that initially seem easy turns out having a costly price attached. *hides* it wasn't intended!! Ohh... ack, I feel flames coming on... well Peter sort of got hurt, so... I get to... live?
Ack!! I can't reply to anything!! No time here, and I haven't showered in 2 days... umm... you didn't hear that! But ack, I have to go before I fume the next guide to death...
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet (where have you been?!?! I haven't seen you for weeks! Noooo!! Don't die!!), Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!
I wrote this without my reading glasses, so it's a bit… how do you say it… rushed? It's really hard especially with one far sighted and one near sighted eye, trying to bend towards your screen… urg. *sigh*
I'm posting this in a hotel room in San Francisco (visiting colleges *sigh*). The internet connection's like… 12 K per minute here. And it's costing me $2 a minute to go online (laptops are god's gift to mankind... but I'm not even religious... so anyway... I wonder if they'll let me bring it when I go to Russia in August. Will the US people think I'm a spy or something?), therefore, I have to leave right now before I empty my pocketbook! The food is extremely good here though... but urg! It's so tiring. Either you walk for 30 minutes, or you drive and look for a place to park for 30 minutes. *dies multiple times* Anyway, this chapter's a bonus since the last chapter was a bad cliffie...
umm... added an at the bottom
Of Western Stars
By neutral
Chapter twenty-eight - of broken glass
Sirius staggered as if the floor beneath him was suddenly ripped away. All the ability for form coherent words were lost. Sirius stared dumbly at Peter's rat-like face for a long moment.
Return to Azkaban? To the dementors? Never see Harry again?
He glanced at Harry's ashen face, his emerald eyes glazed and distant. If Harry was frightened by the prospect of dying, he didn't show it. And for some reason, that made Sirius even more upset.
"You can't do this, " Sirius whispered, never shifting his gaze from his godson.
"Why can't I? Go back there, Sirius! Turn yourself into the Ministry! I can't have everyone hunting for me!" Peter shouted bitterly, his voice cracking and squeaking as he trembled.
"Dumbledore knows; Remus knows. They'll be hunting for you anyway!" Sirius snapped, taking another tentative step forward.
"Then tell them you're guilty!" Peter urged without stuttering. His confidence grew when he realized he had the upper hand.
There was a dull crack when Sirius' knuckle refused to take any more strain. "They won't believe me," Sirius gritted out, trembling.
"Tell them!" Peter jumped a little in frustration. "I won't have them telling everyone about me! Turn yourself into the ministry or you'll never see Harry again!"
"I won't be able to see Harry again if I do," Sirius nearly shouted.
Harry' eyes broke from their glazed unresponsiveness at those words. He stiffened under Peter's thick hands, entire appearance shifting from apathy to horror in seconds.
"No…" Harry choked out. He shook his head frenziedly, crawling at Peter's hands as he struggled to reach his godfather.
"Stay still, Harry. Everything's going to be alright," Sirius said as reassuringly as he could, but the anger laced through his words shattered the affect.
"No, Padfoot!" Harry pleaded, struggling to pry Peter's fingers from his shirt. "You can't leave! You promised you wouldn't."
Sirius' throat clinched painfully as he took a small step forward. "Harry, I… I'm really sorry, but…"
Sirius' next words were drowned out by a loud shriek.
Gasping and shaking, Peter shoved Harry aside roughly. Harry was sent sprawling to the floor, missing contact with a wooden bedpost by mere inches. Peter stumbled back, face contorted in agony, loud whimpers wracking his body as he clutched at his wrist with the four fingered hand. Steam sizzled from his wrist and a distinct smell of scorched skin hung thickly in the air.
As to how Peter came across with such a strange injury, Sirius had no clue. But that was the last thing on his mind as he bolted forward, slamming into the fat lump and trapping him against the floor. He knocked the traitor into an edge of a table, overturning glass vials and shattering them into fragments.
"No, Sirius! Take pity, take pity!" Peter begged. He was reduced into a sobbing, pathetic lump within seconds, writhing with rat-like jerks.
"Pity?! How can you say that?" Sirius hissed, garroting the thick, meaty neck. "Pity… after what you did to Lily and James, after what you did to Harry, you're asking for pity?"
The kind of fury that possessed him then was almost blinding in its intensity. All he could see was Wormtail's ghastly white face and beady black eyes wide in terror. He trashed helplessly, digging his nails into Sirius' hand to free himself from his hold. But Sirius barely even registered the incessant stinging in his arms, he was just pounding the pudgy face.
The traitor…
A satisfying crunch as he connected with the side of Peter's jaw.
Lily and James' murderer…
Sirius slammed his fist against the rat's face with such a force that Peter's head met the floor with a resounding crack.
… tried to hurt Harry, tried to take him away…
Peter yelped when Sirius' bony hand wrapped around his neck.
Sirius' breath was coming in sharp gasps, his knuckles sore and burning. Small rivers of blood was running in streams down Peter's face, and the man was squeaking loudly at every strike. Sirius didn't notice the pudgy hand until it was too late.
A sudden stab of pain shot through his side. Sirius almost didn't notice it at first, but as each increasing breath became shorter and shorter, and water seemed to lace the air around him, he hesitated. A shard of glass, murky with a crimson hue, was logged deeply between his ribs. Sirius choked, stunned.
"You…" Sirius broke off, his words lost in a muffled wheeze.
He cried out in agony when Peter pressed his palm against the protruding glass, stabbing it deeper in his chest. Sirius coughed, tasting the bittersweet coppery fluid in a sort of daze. The rage numbed the branding pains shooting through his chest, but the room dimmed oddly.
Peter's smile was one of exultation, although it looked more like a grimace through the film of scarlet. He pried Sirius' hands from his neck, and even though Sirius was far stronger, he just couldn't seem to fight against the rat faced man with the momentary lack of air. Sirius glared in fury, but couldn't form any articulate words.
"It… it punctured you… your lung, Sirius," Peter gasped out, his words slurred from his swollen jaw. "You… you're going to die."
With a low growl, Sirius slammed his fist against his eye, strength escalating from anger coursing through his body. Peter yelped and scurried against the wall pitifully. Still rash and clouded in his judgment, Sirius trapped the glass between his finger and ripped it out with a groan. The pain barely registered in his mind, and blood gushed from the wound in streams. The room dimmed even more, swimming slightly.
"Padfoot!" Harry's childish voice, soft but terrified, cut through his thoughts like a knife.
Harry, oh god…
He dragged his head up just in time to see a slight figure flinging himself on the sniveling rat, raining blind blows on him. Still weakened by the injuries, he only managed to bring a look of surprise on Peter's features. There was an odd prickling sensation in the air that made the hair on the back of Sirius' neck rise; he wasn't sure whether it was his injuries that produced the strange effect.
Sirius stumbled to his feet, making a desperate grasp for the child. But before he even stood, Peter had a piece of broken glass in his hand and a pale and frantic child in the other.
No, you bastard! Let him go! Sirius tried to scream, but no sound left his mouth.
Sirius coughed when he struggled to speak, blood pouring through his fingers. It was like inhaling water every time Sirius opened his mouth. He couldn't breathe. Peter's face swam dangerously in his vision, and the strength was sapping from his veins with the blood that poured from his side. Sirius rasped, making a frantic lunge at the traitor, but Peter scurried out of the way. His legs faltered under his weight, all his limbs heavy and rusty. Sirius caught the edge of the four poster, screaming silently at his helplessness. The desperation must have leaked onto his face, because Peter gave a squeaky laugh.
Sirius groaned. He couldn't die! Especially not by Peter. Sirius grinded his nails against his palm, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. He had too much to settle with that bastard, he couldn't give him that satisfaction. He couldn't!!
Sirius forced his legs to stay steady and drew a few futile breaths.
"You didn't comply to our agreement, Sirius," Sirius' face twisted into a scowl at Peter's words. Roughly, the man jerked Harry's head back by his hair and brought the shard of glass to the six year olds neck threateningly, holding it for emphasis. Harry whimpered, clawing at the hand that bent his neck past endurance. "I don't know what I'll do to Harry…"
Sirius' eyes widened.
He's just a little boy, he didn't do anything to you… god…
He could almost see Harry's frightened face, pale as a sheet and emerald eyes wide behind the glasses. Those eyes that spoke of experiences and visions years past his age, hollow with the realization of the fate that would beset him. And that dull acceptance, knowing that he didn't have a chance at happiness, that he'd never have a chance at happiness… But he was too young. Decades too young!!
Sirius took an unsteady step forward.
Don't hurt him, please don't hurt him. Please!!
Peter spoke some words that Sirius didn't hear, backing away. There was something wrong with Peter's face. His skin was reddening, scarring, boils rising on the surface like burned rubber. His mouth opened in a silent shriek, and his arm twitched and flexed.
Light refracted off glass.
There was a sharp gasp, and Harry's oversized hospital shirt dyed with a rapidly growing patch of crimson. The child's arms fell to his side, limp and lifeless.
Sirius silently screamed.
With a frantic gasp, Sirius lunged at the traitor, tearing them both off their feet with Harry still trapped in Peter's grip. Sirius plunged the blade of glass into Peter's shoulder with a strength that buried it inches into his flesh. The beady black eyes widened in horror and agony, but Sirius was blind to everything but his own anger. He ripped the glass out, and dug it into his neck. Then his chest. Then his scalded face. Until the room had been stained a deep vermilion, and all Sirius could see was red. But he was rapidly sinking into darkness, drowning in the air and his own blood. A cold numbness was soaking through his veins, and he was tired, so tired.
Sirius discarded the shard, leaving it protruding from Peter's neck, and turned to Harry, lying unresponsively on the carpet, limbs tangled awkwardly and glasses discarded a short ways away. Slowly, as if living a dream, he brushed his fingers over the rapidly cooling fluid.
Choking, he lifted the child in one desperate movement, sinking onto his knees. He enveloped Harry's slight form with a tight embrace, crushing the limp child against him, the one most precious possession he had left in the world. He failed Harry again. How many times had the six year old been abandoned? How many times had he been lied to? And to think that Harry had so much faith in him after all the efforts he took just to teach him trust again, he'd be the one to let him down.
With an unsteady hand, he traced the jagged gasp carved deeply in the six year old's neck, as if trying to wipe it away with the sticky blood. But when Harry's head lolled to one side, his neck blotted with fresh crimson blood that splattered his face and shirt in handfuls, he let his arm slide to the ground. Sirius buried his face in the child's hair, as if trying to shield himself from veracity, and cried.
*
The end.
I always wonder what people would say if I said this was the ending. --- Oh crud… I thought a lot of you would catch that. That was such a horrible joke, I'm sorry… I'll never do it again! That wasn't the ending, I've said before, WS is a total of 34 chapters! Umm… sorry… *runs off to hide* I should have said that at the end of the chapter... *sigh*
humm... the people at the front desk doesn't tally time for some reason. When I told them I was online, they said they didn't record it so it's free. *cackle* that = more online time = possible post before Tuesday *grins* unless then finally figure out i've been only for more than half an hour... that = no pocket book... *wails*
Was that confusing at all? Did anything make sense?
Or am I just evil *cackle*
Rushed, don't you think? A bit confusing too… humm… I think I sort of sped up the bleeding / dying process… I mean, you don't grow that weak from blood loss within the first few minutes. But we're assuming the glass that punctured Sirius' lung was a pretty sharp one. Besides, any puncture to the lung would collapse it, since there's no pressure to maintain breathing. As to why Peter was screaming, well…
The thought that Pettigrew coming nice and easy into Sirius' hands didn't seem right. Nothing in WS' universe was gained easily though, but then again, nothing was gained easily in any of my stories. And things that initially seem easy turns out having a costly price attached. *hides* it wasn't intended!! Ohh... ack, I feel flames coming on... well Peter sort of got hurt, so... I get to... live?
Ack!! I can't reply to anything!! No time here, and I haven't showered in 2 days... umm... you didn't hear that! But ack, I have to go before I fume the next guide to death...