Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!
umm... ignore the PoM update. I accidently uploaded this to PoM rather than WS... *hides* sorry about that!
Of Western Stars
By neutral
Chapter thirty - of darkness and light
//
It was white.
That was all Harry could see, light so bright that he couldn't even make out his own hands without squinting. He raised his arms to shield his face from the blinding brightness, but the light seemed to seep from the very air around him, and he could see nothing.
Harry closed his eyes, expecting the world around him to be an oddly placed dream. He didn't remember falling asleep. Rather, all the memories drifting in his mind was muddled and blurred.
Where was he? Why was he there? Harry couldn't remember, but he couldn't bring himself to care. There was a feeling of peacefulness about the world around him that he could remember ever feeling before. The air itself was like a drug, veiling his senses in a thick cloud. Harry felt as if he was floating through water, free from everything that could possibly hurt him again.
'Don't think,' a silky voice whispered in his ear. 'Just close your eyes and let yourself go. You'll be free.'
The voice was soothing, comforting, just listening to it left the lingering sensation of warmth in his mind. He wanted to reach for it, but something in the back of his mind cringed away. There was a strange bitterness in the back of his throat. It wasn't right, something wasn't right. There was something he was forgetting, something important…
Padfoot!!
The image of his godfather, swaying on his feet as he fought to breathe, with blood coating his side in thick patches of crimson flashed through his mind.
Harry jolted violently, the peaceful calmness shattered.
Sirius was hurt! He could have been dying, or perhaps… no! He was the only person who ever cared about him enough to save him; Harry couldn't lose him too! He already lost his parents…
Harry fought to open his eyes again, but the light burned painfully. He struggled, but the air felt like water around him, thick and clammy. He kicked out, reached blindly around, trying everything and anything just to get away. But every attempt seemed to make the air thicker around him, and soon, it was like molasses that he was clawing through. It seeped into his mouth, clogged his throat, choking back his breath and flooding his lungs.
And the light grew brighter.
\\
"Damnit! Please…" Remus choked out, his fist tightening around the wand so firmly that he could feel moisture under his nails where it cut into his palm.
Keeping his hand steady forcefully, he held the polished wood above the swelling cut above Harry's neck.
The tip glowed a pale blue, before flickering out.
Harry was unresponsive. Remus rested his ear against the child's chest again, his ears faintly registering the feeble beatings of his heart. His hands were ice cold, Remus couldn't even find the pulse on Harry's wrist. Every breath was soft and weak, as if Harry was fighting to breathe. The six year old had lost too much blood for someone already so frail. He was dying.
Remus gritted his teeth and whispered the healing charm again. But it was impossible. No dark creature could be capable of magic so pure.
He bit his lip to contain the storm of frustration, and tasted bitter acid. If he lost either of them…
Remus pressed the cloth against Harry's neck more firmly, a futile attempt to seal the gash with his fingers. His gaze traveled to Sirius, slumped against the bed with a tightly bound, makeshift bandage against his side. In the dimly lit room, Remus could barely make out the slow, sluggish rise and fall of his chest. Instincts told him to help his friend, but the six year old held him back. He had to save Harry. He knew if Sirius was here, that would be what he wanted. If anything happened to James' son, Sirius would never forgive himself. But Remus wasn't sure if he could live with losing either of them.
Another agonizing gasp as Harry fought to breathe, and then silence.
"Oh god… no!!" he choked out, chest constricting painfully.
Remus carefully lifted the lifeless child, raking his mind for a spell, any spell that could help him.
Where was everyone? They needed help! Damnit… where were they…? Sirius' dying, Harry's dying…
//
It was black.
That was all he could see. Darkness on every side, darkness everywhere he looked, darkness lacing his fingers, darkness overshadowing his eyes.
Sirius took a small step forward, musing as the darkness beneath his feet rippled like pools of water. But it made no sound as he placed his weight on it, and stood resolutely firm. Sirius took another step, and another, and another, just so he could amuse himself by watching the solid water.
If this was hell, it was boring.
He had hoped he would be able to see James and Lily at least, but there was nothing. But he probably didn't deserve heaven, and if he did, James and Lily wouldn't want to see him. He had failed Harry.
Sirius fell to his knees.
The water churned violently, but held firm. Numbly, Sirius watched his reflection stare back at him. His hair was ragged, his eyes dead. He looked horrible to even his standards, which had significantly lowered since Azkaban. But not that it mattered anymore.
He deserved this place. He deserved to suffer, just as he did in Azkaban. He deserved to rot in darkness for eternity, after all that he did to James, to Lily, to Harry. He just hoped Wormtail wasn't here too.
Damn that rat. Damn him!!
Sirius covered his face with his hands, tensing his fingers so harshly that he clawed as his skin. The jagged wound, slit across his throat of the young… too young child, was burned into his eyelids. His fault. His fault!! He never failed to drag the innocent child into trouble. If he had taken care of him, protected him, kept his promise, then Harry would never have been hurt.
Perhaps if he never escaped…? No, then Harry would still be in the care of those abusive relatives. He should have escaped sooner, yes, and done something. Something to help him!
Should have told Harry about Peter. Should have strangled that rat to death in the beginning. Should have helped Harry sooner.
Distantly, Sirius noted, with some grimness, that he was crying. Strange, really. He hadn't cried since the night James and Lily died. Blinding, hot tears that threatened to rip him apart. He was sobbing uncontrollably in his hands, out of guilt, anger, fury all directed against himself. He didn't even care that he was a twenty-five year old adult who survived the horrors of Azkaban.
He hid his face in his hands, eyes downcast. He wanted to move but had nowhere to go. He wanted to leave but didn't dare. He wanted to rot where he knelt but didn't think he deserved the decency.
Sirius drew a shuddering gasp and fell silent.
\\
There was a sharp clash as the portrait was thrown completely aside.
Remus felt more than saw Dumbledore burst into the room, the hair on the back of his neck prickled at the flicker of power that passed through the room. There was an abrupt and thick pause as Dumbledore froze at the doorway. Remus couldn't imagine how he looked, kneeling on the floor with Harry sprawled against him and Sirius slumped against his blood-stained arm.
"Dumbledore, you have to help them," Remus whispered hoarsely. "I can't manage the healing spell… they're… Harry isn't breathing…" Remus couldn't seem to find the voice to continue.
In two long strides, the headmaster was across the room, unusually agile for someone so ancient. He knelt beside them, his blue eyes darkening further. With a carefully controlled wave of his hand, Harry's slight form convulsed like a poorly mastered puppet. Remus flinched, a stab of pain raking his chest at the agony on the child's face. There was a barely audibly gasp, and Harry gave a feeble gasp of air. Remus' throat was too constricted to allow a sigh of relief.
"I can't heal him completely, he lost too much blood," Dumbledore murmured; the thickness of his voice was the only betrayal of how much the headmaster was distressed. "Remus, let me take Harry. Use the fireplace and bring Madam Pomfrey. Hurry."
Remus nodded, lifting the child with trembling hands.
A warm presence brushed past his arm. The phoenix circled overhead, before gracefully on his shoulder, looking down on Harry's still form. It lightly placed his head on the child's neck; a mournful thrill stirred from its throat, before pearl-like tears ran from its eyes and seeped into the inflamed skin.
The frayed flesh reddened vividly. At each drop of fluid, gash mended around it as if sealed by invisible hands. Within seconds, the pulsing wound had faded into a faint scar, a jagged line of discolored skin that stretched from Harry's ear to his collarbone.
Remus caught his breath.
The phoenix closed its red eyes and another note of sadness filled the room. A luminous, blood red feather slipped free from its plume, fluttering slightly before settling over the tattered sleeve of Harry's wrist. It fizzled brilliantly, almost blinding him in its intensity. When Remus opened his eyes again, the phoenix feather was gone.
//
Sirius fell on his keeps, the solid water rippling violently under him. Dully, he marveled at how firm yet yielding the silky rock was. His bloodshot, hollow gaze stared back at him, blurred by the reflection.
It was so cold, so empty, so much like Azkaban that it made him shudder every time he looked skyward. He deserved this place, but Harry didn't. Please, he didn't care what happened to him. He could suffer with dementors for the next hundreds years, just don't let the child suffer too! But it was too late…
Sirius let himself fall face forward against the glassy water, feeling too weary to even hold his head upright.
He had raged about everything and anything, about his own foolishness, Peter's betrayal, about his rashly leading himself to his own downfall and taking Harry down with him. He had long since screamed himself hoarse, clawed at his face, and pounded the watery ground until his palms were raw and bleeding. And now, he was just left with an overwhelming sense of emptiness.
Sirius closed his eyes, letting the icy numbness seep into his face. He felt deadened, as if someone had carved out his blood and flesh, living behind a hollow shell of apathy.
Distantly, he could hear whispers of voices that triggered a warm memory. Help me, it seemed to plead with him. But his eyelids were so heavy, and he was so tired…
Sirius fought to open his eyes again, feeling as if just lifting his head was a desperate struggle. Darkness seeped into sight, and for a moment, he couldn't decide whether he was looking at the inside of his eyelids or the dark expanse that surrounded him.
A pale light brushed past his field of vision, and Sirius jerked in surprise at the violent contrast. He sat up, the heaviness shattered and forgotten. The glassy floor under his hands was suddenly no longer black. There was a greyness that tinged its edges, as if someone had poured light through a small crack in its surface. Sirius peered at it closer, and nearly jumped to his feet in shock.
A child was trapped deep within its waters.
\\
"Lay him down," Madam Pomfrey's voice was shaking slightly, without her usual composure. "Quickly. He's not going to hold out for much longer."
Dumbledore levitated Sirius' prone form onto the four poster bed with a stoic and stony expression. But the dark glint in his eyes betrayed him. He had been unnervingly restrained with a silent fury since he rushed into the guestroom, minutes behind his former pupil.
"It cut too deep," the nurse said hoarsely. "It cut too deep…"
Remus tensed, hand instinctively tightening around the child resting against him. When Harry had been healed and the nurse regretfully admitted she could do no more but hope, he found himself unable to relinquish him. He was beginning to understand what Sirius felt two weeks ago, when he had nothing else left in the world but a six year old boy and a nearly lost friend.
"What…?" Remus whispered; his voice sounded hollow even to his ears. "What do you mean?"
"His left lung collapsed, I'm not sure if…" the nurse trailed off, tracing invisible patterns in the air.
That was a warning not to speak, and not to disturb her.
Remus held his breath, willing the waves of panicked desperation into the back of his mind. He sank back in the duvet, wrapping his cloak around Harry more snugly and squeezing the child's hand for reassurance. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the sight of the nurse, muttering quiet charms above the emaciated frame of his friend.
This was wrong. This shouldn't be happening…
If anything happened to Sirius, Harry would be shattered. His godfather was the only person he ever accepted into his life, the only person he trusted without reserve. If Sirius died, he'd never be able to trust again. He'd never be able to…
A sharp stab of blinding pain.
Remus choked back a muffled gasp, gripping the edge of the chair reflexively. He rasped for breath as a hand seemed to be squeezing his chest, but every mouthful of air was like water, crushing his lungs. Dragging himself unsteadily to his feet, he carefully placed Harry on the thick divan and staggered towards the door.
"Remus?" he could hear Dumbledore call behind him, but the voice was distant and convoluted as if traveling through liquid.
Remus shook his head, silently willing them to turn their attentions to Sirius and Harry, not him. But every step he took seemed to be heavier, his limbs sluggishly obeying. The lights that lit the small room were becoming blinding in their brightness, and Remus couldn't even see his own hands. As he struggled to reach the portrait frame, the room swam in his vision. Dimly, Remus noted how his legs crumbled beneath him, and the floor swaying to one side before jumping up to catch him.
//
Sirius pounded his fists against the solid water, feeling it ripple beneath his hands in waves. But every attempt only stirred at the fluid, as if he was dropping weightless leaves on a darkened pond.
"Harry!!" he shouted desperately, willing that somehow, his voice could reach the child. He slammed his hand against the black glass, barely registering the biting pain that followed.
He didn't know how the child came to be there, but all those questions were drowned out by the icy desperation that was filling his mind. His godson was there, trapped under a sheet of black. At that moment, he forgot where he was or why he was there. He forgot they could be dead or dying or lost. All that mattered was the child, and Sirius knew he had to get to him. He dug his nails into the ground beneath him, but all that followed was a burn of agony and blood flowing from the tip of his fingers.
Harry was still, form drowned out by the bleached hospital clothes that spread around him as if floating weightless. He was a stark contrast to the dyed black waters, face so pale that it was unnerving. At his voice, the child seemed to stir slightly, eyes fluttering to stare blankly at his surroundings.
"Harry!" Sirius shouted again, clawing at the transparent wall that trapped him. "Harry, do you hear me? Its Sirius… it's Padfoot! Harry?"
The child squinted as if trying to see through the darkness, a small frown crossing the young features. He was unresponsive to his cries, every word passing unheard. Sirius banged his hand against the floor again, and as Harry stared unseeingly ahead, let his arm fall, feeling ready to crack from frustration and helplessness.
Sirius drew a shuddering breath, resting his forehead against the child's with the clear glass between them. He placed his hand over Harry's smaller one, the only sense of comfort he knew how to offer. "It's alright, Harry. I'll get you out of there. I'll never leave, I promise this time."
\\
*
This is a confusing chapter, isn't it? It's sort of meant to be that way because of the overall screwed up mood, but… Ack, I was playing around with balancing a double story line that relate to one another distantly, added with the confusion of dreaming (dreams are screwed up. Since when did we ever have a dream that makes sense? Its an attempt at a dream sequence that makes the truth of that statement, although it came out just… weird) humm… I burnt out my muse of the late, and believe it or not, this chapter took me a week of brooding, and I still couldn't finalize it. It's a rough draft that may be rewritten in the future.
oh, ack, looks like everyone predicted the Fawkes thing. So much for the usual unpredictability... but Sirius didn't get healed 'cause of his internal injuries. humm... launching into the thing about a human lung breathing from negative pressure and why a hole would collapse it is tempting *cackles evilly* but then again, he still has 1 functioning lung, so that's why he was still breathing before.
cereal = neutral's stories, kaydee? eek... that makes me feel... like... what do you call that disorder? Has something to do with ringing a bell to make a dog sit or drool or something, some psycology thing I can't remember. *grins* actually, all the medical stuff from PoM comes from parents. They're doctors (really interesting dinner conversations, yup yup). Ooo! You're Voldie is disguise? *bows repeatedly and throws... snake treats?* you know, I took something similar and I ended up with Remus or something. It's strange, I certainly don't act that composed, but that's ranting (you're rubbing off on me! urggg...). If you're going to get a shrink, gimme his number *cackles evilly*
Anyway... symbols! Yay! I thought I was an idiot for adding them because no one will ever look for them, but I was wrong! WS' sequel has tons of symbols... *sigh* I can't help it!! The story's so sadistic... Blood symbolizes different things in different chapters. In chapter 28, it symbolized redemption. In chapter 29, it symbolized emotional and physical loss, but also in some twisted way, life. Umm... my brain's screwed up.
ack, don't eat your fist, Rainbow! Umm... try one of those hacky sacks, good stress relievers when you squeeze them. humm... I didn't realize chapter 29 was suspenseful! But since Tabby, summersun, Whale of the World, and a lot of others thought otherwise... ack...
I'm so sorry about the short, yet another cliffee-ish chapter 29! I'm going to combine chapters 31 and 32 to make it up, and post really quickly. I'm itching to get the sequel out... I've already gotten the first 2 chapters of that written...
Forgot to mention this, but I have a website! There's nothing there, basically just a layout and 4 links and some ranting, but go there anyway. The image took forever to find, but it suits the purpose *grins* so go visit! neutrality
umm... since its summer, updates will come a lot quicker now.
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!
umm... ignore the PoM update. I accidently uploaded this to PoM rather than WS... *hides* sorry about that!
Of Western Stars
By neutral
Chapter thirty - of darkness and light
//
It was white.
That was all Harry could see, light so bright that he couldn't even make out his own hands without squinting. He raised his arms to shield his face from the blinding brightness, but the light seemed to seep from the very air around him, and he could see nothing.
Harry closed his eyes, expecting the world around him to be an oddly placed dream. He didn't remember falling asleep. Rather, all the memories drifting in his mind was muddled and blurred.
Where was he? Why was he there? Harry couldn't remember, but he couldn't bring himself to care. There was a feeling of peacefulness about the world around him that he could remember ever feeling before. The air itself was like a drug, veiling his senses in a thick cloud. Harry felt as if he was floating through water, free from everything that could possibly hurt him again.
'Don't think,' a silky voice whispered in his ear. 'Just close your eyes and let yourself go. You'll be free.'
The voice was soothing, comforting, just listening to it left the lingering sensation of warmth in his mind. He wanted to reach for it, but something in the back of his mind cringed away. There was a strange bitterness in the back of his throat. It wasn't right, something wasn't right. There was something he was forgetting, something important…
Padfoot!!
The image of his godfather, swaying on his feet as he fought to breathe, with blood coating his side in thick patches of crimson flashed through his mind.
Harry jolted violently, the peaceful calmness shattered.
Sirius was hurt! He could have been dying, or perhaps… no! He was the only person who ever cared about him enough to save him; Harry couldn't lose him too! He already lost his parents…
Harry fought to open his eyes again, but the light burned painfully. He struggled, but the air felt like water around him, thick and clammy. He kicked out, reached blindly around, trying everything and anything just to get away. But every attempt seemed to make the air thicker around him, and soon, it was like molasses that he was clawing through. It seeped into his mouth, clogged his throat, choking back his breath and flooding his lungs.
And the light grew brighter.
\\
"Damnit! Please…" Remus choked out, his fist tightening around the wand so firmly that he could feel moisture under his nails where it cut into his palm.
Keeping his hand steady forcefully, he held the polished wood above the swelling cut above Harry's neck.
The tip glowed a pale blue, before flickering out.
Harry was unresponsive. Remus rested his ear against the child's chest again, his ears faintly registering the feeble beatings of his heart. His hands were ice cold, Remus couldn't even find the pulse on Harry's wrist. Every breath was soft and weak, as if Harry was fighting to breathe. The six year old had lost too much blood for someone already so frail. He was dying.
Remus gritted his teeth and whispered the healing charm again. But it was impossible. No dark creature could be capable of magic so pure.
He bit his lip to contain the storm of frustration, and tasted bitter acid. If he lost either of them…
Remus pressed the cloth against Harry's neck more firmly, a futile attempt to seal the gash with his fingers. His gaze traveled to Sirius, slumped against the bed with a tightly bound, makeshift bandage against his side. In the dimly lit room, Remus could barely make out the slow, sluggish rise and fall of his chest. Instincts told him to help his friend, but the six year old held him back. He had to save Harry. He knew if Sirius was here, that would be what he wanted. If anything happened to James' son, Sirius would never forgive himself. But Remus wasn't sure if he could live with losing either of them.
Another agonizing gasp as Harry fought to breathe, and then silence.
"Oh god… no!!" he choked out, chest constricting painfully.
Remus carefully lifted the lifeless child, raking his mind for a spell, any spell that could help him.
Where was everyone? They needed help! Damnit… where were they…? Sirius' dying, Harry's dying…
//
It was black.
That was all he could see. Darkness on every side, darkness everywhere he looked, darkness lacing his fingers, darkness overshadowing his eyes.
Sirius took a small step forward, musing as the darkness beneath his feet rippled like pools of water. But it made no sound as he placed his weight on it, and stood resolutely firm. Sirius took another step, and another, and another, just so he could amuse himself by watching the solid water.
If this was hell, it was boring.
He had hoped he would be able to see James and Lily at least, but there was nothing. But he probably didn't deserve heaven, and if he did, James and Lily wouldn't want to see him. He had failed Harry.
Sirius fell to his knees.
The water churned violently, but held firm. Numbly, Sirius watched his reflection stare back at him. His hair was ragged, his eyes dead. He looked horrible to even his standards, which had significantly lowered since Azkaban. But not that it mattered anymore.
He deserved this place. He deserved to suffer, just as he did in Azkaban. He deserved to rot in darkness for eternity, after all that he did to James, to Lily, to Harry. He just hoped Wormtail wasn't here too.
Damn that rat. Damn him!!
Sirius covered his face with his hands, tensing his fingers so harshly that he clawed as his skin. The jagged wound, slit across his throat of the young… too young child, was burned into his eyelids. His fault. His fault!! He never failed to drag the innocent child into trouble. If he had taken care of him, protected him, kept his promise, then Harry would never have been hurt.
Perhaps if he never escaped…? No, then Harry would still be in the care of those abusive relatives. He should have escaped sooner, yes, and done something. Something to help him!
Should have told Harry about Peter. Should have strangled that rat to death in the beginning. Should have helped Harry sooner.
Distantly, Sirius noted, with some grimness, that he was crying. Strange, really. He hadn't cried since the night James and Lily died. Blinding, hot tears that threatened to rip him apart. He was sobbing uncontrollably in his hands, out of guilt, anger, fury all directed against himself. He didn't even care that he was a twenty-five year old adult who survived the horrors of Azkaban.
He hid his face in his hands, eyes downcast. He wanted to move but had nowhere to go. He wanted to leave but didn't dare. He wanted to rot where he knelt but didn't think he deserved the decency.
Sirius drew a shuddering gasp and fell silent.
\\
There was a sharp clash as the portrait was thrown completely aside.
Remus felt more than saw Dumbledore burst into the room, the hair on the back of his neck prickled at the flicker of power that passed through the room. There was an abrupt and thick pause as Dumbledore froze at the doorway. Remus couldn't imagine how he looked, kneeling on the floor with Harry sprawled against him and Sirius slumped against his blood-stained arm.
"Dumbledore, you have to help them," Remus whispered hoarsely. "I can't manage the healing spell… they're… Harry isn't breathing…" Remus couldn't seem to find the voice to continue.
In two long strides, the headmaster was across the room, unusually agile for someone so ancient. He knelt beside them, his blue eyes darkening further. With a carefully controlled wave of his hand, Harry's slight form convulsed like a poorly mastered puppet. Remus flinched, a stab of pain raking his chest at the agony on the child's face. There was a barely audibly gasp, and Harry gave a feeble gasp of air. Remus' throat was too constricted to allow a sigh of relief.
"I can't heal him completely, he lost too much blood," Dumbledore murmured; the thickness of his voice was the only betrayal of how much the headmaster was distressed. "Remus, let me take Harry. Use the fireplace and bring Madam Pomfrey. Hurry."
Remus nodded, lifting the child with trembling hands.
A warm presence brushed past his arm. The phoenix circled overhead, before gracefully on his shoulder, looking down on Harry's still form. It lightly placed his head on the child's neck; a mournful thrill stirred from its throat, before pearl-like tears ran from its eyes and seeped into the inflamed skin.
The frayed flesh reddened vividly. At each drop of fluid, gash mended around it as if sealed by invisible hands. Within seconds, the pulsing wound had faded into a faint scar, a jagged line of discolored skin that stretched from Harry's ear to his collarbone.
Remus caught his breath.
The phoenix closed its red eyes and another note of sadness filled the room. A luminous, blood red feather slipped free from its plume, fluttering slightly before settling over the tattered sleeve of Harry's wrist. It fizzled brilliantly, almost blinding him in its intensity. When Remus opened his eyes again, the phoenix feather was gone.
//
Sirius fell on his keeps, the solid water rippling violently under him. Dully, he marveled at how firm yet yielding the silky rock was. His bloodshot, hollow gaze stared back at him, blurred by the reflection.
It was so cold, so empty, so much like Azkaban that it made him shudder every time he looked skyward. He deserved this place, but Harry didn't. Please, he didn't care what happened to him. He could suffer with dementors for the next hundreds years, just don't let the child suffer too! But it was too late…
Sirius let himself fall face forward against the glassy water, feeling too weary to even hold his head upright.
He had raged about everything and anything, about his own foolishness, Peter's betrayal, about his rashly leading himself to his own downfall and taking Harry down with him. He had long since screamed himself hoarse, clawed at his face, and pounded the watery ground until his palms were raw and bleeding. And now, he was just left with an overwhelming sense of emptiness.
Sirius closed his eyes, letting the icy numbness seep into his face. He felt deadened, as if someone had carved out his blood and flesh, living behind a hollow shell of apathy.
Distantly, he could hear whispers of voices that triggered a warm memory. Help me, it seemed to plead with him. But his eyelids were so heavy, and he was so tired…
Sirius fought to open his eyes again, feeling as if just lifting his head was a desperate struggle. Darkness seeped into sight, and for a moment, he couldn't decide whether he was looking at the inside of his eyelids or the dark expanse that surrounded him.
A pale light brushed past his field of vision, and Sirius jerked in surprise at the violent contrast. He sat up, the heaviness shattered and forgotten. The glassy floor under his hands was suddenly no longer black. There was a greyness that tinged its edges, as if someone had poured light through a small crack in its surface. Sirius peered at it closer, and nearly jumped to his feet in shock.
A child was trapped deep within its waters.
\\
"Lay him down," Madam Pomfrey's voice was shaking slightly, without her usual composure. "Quickly. He's not going to hold out for much longer."
Dumbledore levitated Sirius' prone form onto the four poster bed with a stoic and stony expression. But the dark glint in his eyes betrayed him. He had been unnervingly restrained with a silent fury since he rushed into the guestroom, minutes behind his former pupil.
"It cut too deep," the nurse said hoarsely. "It cut too deep…"
Remus tensed, hand instinctively tightening around the child resting against him. When Harry had been healed and the nurse regretfully admitted she could do no more but hope, he found himself unable to relinquish him. He was beginning to understand what Sirius felt two weeks ago, when he had nothing else left in the world but a six year old boy and a nearly lost friend.
"What…?" Remus whispered; his voice sounded hollow even to his ears. "What do you mean?"
"His left lung collapsed, I'm not sure if…" the nurse trailed off, tracing invisible patterns in the air.
That was a warning not to speak, and not to disturb her.
Remus held his breath, willing the waves of panicked desperation into the back of his mind. He sank back in the duvet, wrapping his cloak around Harry more snugly and squeezing the child's hand for reassurance. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the sight of the nurse, muttering quiet charms above the emaciated frame of his friend.
This was wrong. This shouldn't be happening…
If anything happened to Sirius, Harry would be shattered. His godfather was the only person he ever accepted into his life, the only person he trusted without reserve. If Sirius died, he'd never be able to trust again. He'd never be able to…
A sharp stab of blinding pain.
Remus choked back a muffled gasp, gripping the edge of the chair reflexively. He rasped for breath as a hand seemed to be squeezing his chest, but every mouthful of air was like water, crushing his lungs. Dragging himself unsteadily to his feet, he carefully placed Harry on the thick divan and staggered towards the door.
"Remus?" he could hear Dumbledore call behind him, but the voice was distant and convoluted as if traveling through liquid.
Remus shook his head, silently willing them to turn their attentions to Sirius and Harry, not him. But every step he took seemed to be heavier, his limbs sluggishly obeying. The lights that lit the small room were becoming blinding in their brightness, and Remus couldn't even see his own hands. As he struggled to reach the portrait frame, the room swam in his vision. Dimly, Remus noted how his legs crumbled beneath him, and the floor swaying to one side before jumping up to catch him.
//
Sirius pounded his fists against the solid water, feeling it ripple beneath his hands in waves. But every attempt only stirred at the fluid, as if he was dropping weightless leaves on a darkened pond.
"Harry!!" he shouted desperately, willing that somehow, his voice could reach the child. He slammed his hand against the black glass, barely registering the biting pain that followed.
He didn't know how the child came to be there, but all those questions were drowned out by the icy desperation that was filling his mind. His godson was there, trapped under a sheet of black. At that moment, he forgot where he was or why he was there. He forgot they could be dead or dying or lost. All that mattered was the child, and Sirius knew he had to get to him. He dug his nails into the ground beneath him, but all that followed was a burn of agony and blood flowing from the tip of his fingers.
Harry was still, form drowned out by the bleached hospital clothes that spread around him as if floating weightless. He was a stark contrast to the dyed black waters, face so pale that it was unnerving. At his voice, the child seemed to stir slightly, eyes fluttering to stare blankly at his surroundings.
"Harry!" Sirius shouted again, clawing at the transparent wall that trapped him. "Harry, do you hear me? Its Sirius… it's Padfoot! Harry?"
The child squinted as if trying to see through the darkness, a small frown crossing the young features. He was unresponsive to his cries, every word passing unheard. Sirius banged his hand against the floor again, and as Harry stared unseeingly ahead, let his arm fall, feeling ready to crack from frustration and helplessness.
Sirius drew a shuddering breath, resting his forehead against the child's with the clear glass between them. He placed his hand over Harry's smaller one, the only sense of comfort he knew how to offer. "It's alright, Harry. I'll get you out of there. I'll never leave, I promise this time."
\\
*
This is a confusing chapter, isn't it? It's sort of meant to be that way because of the overall screwed up mood, but… Ack, I was playing around with balancing a double story line that relate to one another distantly, added with the confusion of dreaming (dreams are screwed up. Since when did we ever have a dream that makes sense? Its an attempt at a dream sequence that makes the truth of that statement, although it came out just… weird) humm… I burnt out my muse of the late, and believe it or not, this chapter took me a week of brooding, and I still couldn't finalize it. It's a rough draft that may be rewritten in the future.
oh, ack, looks like everyone predicted the Fawkes thing. So much for the usual unpredictability... but Sirius didn't get healed 'cause of his internal injuries. humm... launching into the thing about a human lung breathing from negative pressure and why a hole would collapse it is tempting *cackles evilly* but then again, he still has 1 functioning lung, so that's why he was still breathing before.
cereal = neutral's stories, kaydee? eek... that makes me feel... like... what do you call that disorder? Has something to do with ringing a bell to make a dog sit or drool or something, some psycology thing I can't remember. *grins* actually, all the medical stuff from PoM comes from parents. They're doctors (really interesting dinner conversations, yup yup). Ooo! You're Voldie is disguise? *bows repeatedly and throws... snake treats?* you know, I took something similar and I ended up with Remus or something. It's strange, I certainly don't act that composed, but that's ranting (you're rubbing off on me! urggg...). If you're going to get a shrink, gimme his number *cackles evilly*
Anyway... symbols! Yay! I thought I was an idiot for adding them because no one will ever look for them, but I was wrong! WS' sequel has tons of symbols... *sigh* I can't help it!! The story's so sadistic... Blood symbolizes different things in different chapters. In chapter 28, it symbolized redemption. In chapter 29, it symbolized emotional and physical loss, but also in some twisted way, life. Umm... my brain's screwed up.
ack, don't eat your fist, Rainbow! Umm... try one of those hacky sacks, good stress relievers when you squeeze them. humm... I didn't realize chapter 29 was suspenseful! But since Tabby, summersun, Whale of the World, and a lot of others thought otherwise... ack...
I'm so sorry about the short, yet another cliffee-ish chapter 29! I'm going to combine chapters 31 and 32 to make it up, and post really quickly. I'm itching to get the sequel out... I've already gotten the first 2 chapters of that written...
Forgot to mention this, but I have a website! There's nothing there, basically just a layout and 4 links and some ranting, but go there anyway. The image took forever to find, but it suits the purpose *grins* so go visit! neutrality
umm... since its summer, updates will come a lot quicker now.