A/N: Obviously I don't own anyone *ignores that she is holding a leash
attached to Draco wearing a mesh top and black bondage pants* hehe jk. I'm
terrible with titles so if you can think of a better one please let me
know!! Also, the bits with ** around them are SUPPOSED to be italics, but
for some reason they didn't load properly. I know the ending is kinda
blah, but im not sure where I want to go with this yet. Please R&R! *Puppy
dog eyes*
*Sirius is dead.*
He had to understand it, had to finally accept that he would never see his godfather again.
After nearly two months of denial Harry was sick of it, he needed to understand, needed to MAKE himself understand. He looked down at the thin cut on his arm; it shone red in the dim light of his room. Harry ran his finger over the fresh cut, it burned but he didn't care, in fact he rather enjoyed the sting, it made him feel, something he hadn't done in a long time.
*Sirius is dead.*
"He's not," a small voice whispered from inside his head. Harry picked up the knife, which he stole from the Dursley's kitchen last time they went out, and dragged it slowly across his arm, making a new cut, parallel to the last one. "He is". As he said it tears streamed down his cheeks, but he didn't bother to wipe them away. "Don't lie yourself Harry, Sirius isn't dead" came the small voice again "HE IS!" he screamed, his temper building "SIRIUS IS DEAD AND ITS ALL MY FAULT AND THERES NOTHING ANYONE CAN DO ABOUT IT!" He collapsed on his bed; all the emotions he shut out and pushed away for 2 months were rushing back to him. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't be. Sirius was the father he never knew and the brother he never had. He was the only person Harry felt truly loved by, and his only real connection to his parents. Harry was disgusted with himself, with Bellatrix Lestrange and a small part of him, with Sirius. The image of what happened that night in the Department of Mysteries replayed over and over in his head:
* Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light: He was laughing at her. "Come on, you can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.
The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest.
The laughter had not quite faded from his face, but his eyes widened in shock.
It seemed to take Sirius ages to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch.*
And that veil! That stupid black veil! He hated that too, hated it more than anything else. If it hadn't been there Sirius would still be alive. "If it hadn't been for you Sirius would still be alive too" came the same small voice again. And again Harry reached for his knife. He had the blade against his skin, ready to make another cut when there was pounding on his bedroom door. "HARRY!" Vernon bellowed from the other side of it. "DINNER!" But Harry ignored his uncles' yells. He didn't care if he was punished. He began to slice through his skin and was once again interrupted. "HARRY IF YOU DON'T COME DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW YOULL HAVE NO MEALS FOR A WEEK!" Knowing that if he didn't he would regret it later, Harry sighed and threw the knife down on his bed, threw open his bedroom door and stormed down to the kitchen.
He returned to his room twenty minutes later, not fully understanding why he was made to go down in the first place if he was to be ignored anyway. He opened his window and plopped down beside it, letting the cool night air hit his face. He wished Hedwig would come home soon, shed been out hunting for three nights now, and while Harry didn't blame her, he did miss her. He stared out at the stars, losing himself in the depth of the night sky. He remembered learning of a star called Sirius and wondered which one it was, but he'd never be able to find it without a star chart. He let himself slip into a daze and was soon fast asleep, slouched in his chair.
*Sirius is dead.*
He had to understand it, had to finally accept that he would never see his godfather again.
After nearly two months of denial Harry was sick of it, he needed to understand, needed to MAKE himself understand. He looked down at the thin cut on his arm; it shone red in the dim light of his room. Harry ran his finger over the fresh cut, it burned but he didn't care, in fact he rather enjoyed the sting, it made him feel, something he hadn't done in a long time.
*Sirius is dead.*
"He's not," a small voice whispered from inside his head. Harry picked up the knife, which he stole from the Dursley's kitchen last time they went out, and dragged it slowly across his arm, making a new cut, parallel to the last one. "He is". As he said it tears streamed down his cheeks, but he didn't bother to wipe them away. "Don't lie yourself Harry, Sirius isn't dead" came the small voice again "HE IS!" he screamed, his temper building "SIRIUS IS DEAD AND ITS ALL MY FAULT AND THERES NOTHING ANYONE CAN DO ABOUT IT!" He collapsed on his bed; all the emotions he shut out and pushed away for 2 months were rushing back to him. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't be. Sirius was the father he never knew and the brother he never had. He was the only person Harry felt truly loved by, and his only real connection to his parents. Harry was disgusted with himself, with Bellatrix Lestrange and a small part of him, with Sirius. The image of what happened that night in the Department of Mysteries replayed over and over in his head:
* Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light: He was laughing at her. "Come on, you can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.
The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest.
The laughter had not quite faded from his face, but his eyes widened in shock.
It seemed to take Sirius ages to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch.*
And that veil! That stupid black veil! He hated that too, hated it more than anything else. If it hadn't been there Sirius would still be alive. "If it hadn't been for you Sirius would still be alive too" came the same small voice again. And again Harry reached for his knife. He had the blade against his skin, ready to make another cut when there was pounding on his bedroom door. "HARRY!" Vernon bellowed from the other side of it. "DINNER!" But Harry ignored his uncles' yells. He didn't care if he was punished. He began to slice through his skin and was once again interrupted. "HARRY IF YOU DON'T COME DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW YOULL HAVE NO MEALS FOR A WEEK!" Knowing that if he didn't he would regret it later, Harry sighed and threw the knife down on his bed, threw open his bedroom door and stormed down to the kitchen.
He returned to his room twenty minutes later, not fully understanding why he was made to go down in the first place if he was to be ignored anyway. He opened his window and plopped down beside it, letting the cool night air hit his face. He wished Hedwig would come home soon, shed been out hunting for three nights now, and while Harry didn't blame her, he did miss her. He stared out at the stars, losing himself in the depth of the night sky. He remembered learning of a star called Sirius and wondered which one it was, but he'd never be able to find it without a star chart. He let himself slip into a daze and was soon fast asleep, slouched in his chair.