AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I tried to type this up super quick since I've been
gone for a week! It's really short, but I wanted to get something up. I'm
sorry. Please review.
Chapter Five:
Ari Dengised arrived uncannily close in time to when Sirius got back from King's Cross. He had fairly short dark, curly hair and Sirius would not have been surprised if he was Harry's age; he looked so young; very scrawny, actually. No specific trait separated Ari from any other boy on the planet, for he was quite plain. Sirius kept telling himself that Ari must have curious eyes to make up for his outer plainness, but did not even know if the boy would wake up. There was no moral way of seeing his eyes.
He was badly scratched and bruised on his arms and legs and face, his hair looked out of place, he had a skinny leg broken in three places. He had the air of someone honest, someone clean. Perhaps he had gotten mixed up with the Death Eaters on accident? Sirius was a little unnerved when he realized that the boy had not even awoken yet, but already had Sirius' full trust. That could not be a good sign.
"Don't wake him, don't try to heal him, and, Sirius? *Don't drink,*" Tonks had pleaded when she had brought Ari over. "Please."
"I swore to Harry I wouldn't," Sirius had irritably replied, kissing Tonks on the head before she left, "I don't have a choice."
"I mean it, Sirius. You don't listen to anything any of us say, but we *care* about you, and that's why we say it. I want you to promise me, too."
Sirius had hesitated. Promising something to Tonks was so different from promising something to Harry. With Harry, how would he ever find out if the promise was broken? But Tonks would find out if he lied to her; the entire Order would know.
"I promise," he had said, regretting every word.
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The first few nights, Sirius thought that the Dengised boy was dead. He was so pale, and still had not woken up. And every morning when Sirius woke up, he would rush to Harry's old room, where Ari was staying for practical purposes, and every morning, Ari's cuts deepened and his bruises blackened.
It mystified Sirius, but he followed what Tonks said and didn't mess with the boy's wounds, even though it was painful watching and not being able to try to help. And it was something Sirius did a lot, sat in Phineas' room and watched Ari. He'd do it for hours on end, just stare at the kid, who kept sleeping, unaware that his presence was someone's sole form of entertainment.
Sirius imagined himself as Ari. He imagined himself back in youth, gloriously young and untroubled. He could just picture Ari going through life as Sirius had back in school, getting in trouble, chatting with friends . . . he could even see Ari confidently swaggering up to Sarah Letni, a pretty blonde in the year above him, and getting magnificently shot down on the spot. She'd written me later, though, and accepted, Sirius thought smugly. But he *really* didn't want to think about Sarah. Especially now. Sarah had always resented Sirius' addiction to liquor, and if she had seen him a few weeks ago . . .
It was true. Even in his youth Sirius hadn't been able to resist getting good and drunk, even though James and Lupin usually looked the other way when he was. It was always laughed about a week later, though. Always.
Chapter Five:
Ari Dengised arrived uncannily close in time to when Sirius got back from King's Cross. He had fairly short dark, curly hair and Sirius would not have been surprised if he was Harry's age; he looked so young; very scrawny, actually. No specific trait separated Ari from any other boy on the planet, for he was quite plain. Sirius kept telling himself that Ari must have curious eyes to make up for his outer plainness, but did not even know if the boy would wake up. There was no moral way of seeing his eyes.
He was badly scratched and bruised on his arms and legs and face, his hair looked out of place, he had a skinny leg broken in three places. He had the air of someone honest, someone clean. Perhaps he had gotten mixed up with the Death Eaters on accident? Sirius was a little unnerved when he realized that the boy had not even awoken yet, but already had Sirius' full trust. That could not be a good sign.
"Don't wake him, don't try to heal him, and, Sirius? *Don't drink,*" Tonks had pleaded when she had brought Ari over. "Please."
"I swore to Harry I wouldn't," Sirius had irritably replied, kissing Tonks on the head before she left, "I don't have a choice."
"I mean it, Sirius. You don't listen to anything any of us say, but we *care* about you, and that's why we say it. I want you to promise me, too."
Sirius had hesitated. Promising something to Tonks was so different from promising something to Harry. With Harry, how would he ever find out if the promise was broken? But Tonks would find out if he lied to her; the entire Order would know.
"I promise," he had said, regretting every word.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The first few nights, Sirius thought that the Dengised boy was dead. He was so pale, and still had not woken up. And every morning when Sirius woke up, he would rush to Harry's old room, where Ari was staying for practical purposes, and every morning, Ari's cuts deepened and his bruises blackened.
It mystified Sirius, but he followed what Tonks said and didn't mess with the boy's wounds, even though it was painful watching and not being able to try to help. And it was something Sirius did a lot, sat in Phineas' room and watched Ari. He'd do it for hours on end, just stare at the kid, who kept sleeping, unaware that his presence was someone's sole form of entertainment.
Sirius imagined himself as Ari. He imagined himself back in youth, gloriously young and untroubled. He could just picture Ari going through life as Sirius had back in school, getting in trouble, chatting with friends . . . he could even see Ari confidently swaggering up to Sarah Letni, a pretty blonde in the year above him, and getting magnificently shot down on the spot. She'd written me later, though, and accepted, Sirius thought smugly. But he *really* didn't want to think about Sarah. Especially now. Sarah had always resented Sirius' addiction to liquor, and if she had seen him a few weeks ago . . .
It was true. Even in his youth Sirius hadn't been able to resist getting good and drunk, even though James and Lupin usually looked the other way when he was. It was always laughed about a week later, though. Always.