A/N: Told you it was going to get weirder. It also occurs to me that I should be banned from the computer. And from TV. And from everything else that eats my brain when I'm not paying attention.

Yeah, well, that was the theory anyway. There's a reason I don't usually attempt these sorts of things. Just remember, no one's putting a gun to your head and making you read this.

*****

Chapter Two

*****

"Hello, my name is Alice."

Sirius pried his eyes open at the solemn voice, and frowned as a little girl with wild curly hair came into focus. "Um, hi," he mumbled before coughing slightly. Damn, his throat hurt.

"What's your name?" She looked up at him expectantly.

"Sirius," he managed to croak out before swallowing hard and grabbing the glass of water sitting on the bedside table next to his elbow. The little girl seemed to take this as an invitation to make herself at home as she threw a bag up beside him before proceeding to crawl up on the bed.

"You have excellent bone structure," she told him primly, and he raised an eyebrow at that. She didn't look old enough to even have an idea as to what bone structure might be, let alone know whether he had an excellent example of it.

"Thanks. I think," he nodded as she beamed at him. At least she was minding the bandages. Dora would have accidentally kicked him in the groin twice by now. She was five, though, so it was okay. Little Miss Alice herself didn't look too much older, so when she popped open the bag she'd thrown on the bed with gusto, Sirius felt a bit apprehensive.

"Good bone structure will only get you so far, though. What you need is color." That did not sound promising.

"I'll keep that in mind," he answered just as seriously, before attempting to sit up. The pain that shot straight through his torso let him know fairly quickly that that hadn't been the best of ideas, and the way it stole his breath away for a second reminded him that less than twenty four hours ago he'd been strapped down to a table, listening to his mother and his cousins try to chant away his magic. "Where are your parents?" Because the last thing he wanted to deal with right now was an adult. They never said anything that made any fucking sense, they babbled on about things they knew nothing about, and seemed to be overly fond of slapping a bandage over spurting artery.

They were pretty much useless. And he wanted to, at the very least, get up enough strength to get the hell out of here before someone started asking questions that he wasn't even ready ask himself yet.

"Mummy's teaching Charms and Daddy's off doing Herbology."

In the summer? Sirius frowned at that, tuning Alice out as she reached into her bag, pulled something out and started talking about finding the right shade of chartreuse. Charms and Herbology sounded like magical classes, but unless Flitwick had undergone a sex change in the last couple months and someone had decided to implement summer sessions, Sirius didn't think he was at Hogwarts. And he was pretty sure that Romie's husband, Ted, had laughed himself sick that one time at the suggestion that muggles might teach their children things like Herbology.

"See, your look is just hopelessly outdated." Sirius winced as Alice's brush caught on a snarl and she tugged. Ah, he knew he should have paid closer attention. He'd gotten shanghaied into this five-year-old's version of makeover. After spending an entire hols dodging Dora's attempts at the same, you'd have thought he'd have caught on better. "The layered effect is all the rage this fall."

"Oh really," he pretended to contemplate her words and she shot him a blinding grin in response. Apparently, the little tyke liked it when her life sized dolls played along. "I've been thinking of getting a permanent," he confided in a mock whisper.

The look on her face spoke volumes. "A what?"

"A permanent. So I can have pretty curls like yours," he tugged on her hair gently as she put down the brush and reached for scissors. He almost gave up the pretense then.

"Ugh. No. You don't have the right face for it, and straight hair is the height of popularity," she said with the same grave air one might have while informing someone that suicide was just not the answer to their problems.

"Says who?" he questioned teasingly. She was a serious little thing that was for sure. Dora would have driven her mad in a heartbeat.

"Witch Weekly. Mum subscribes to it, but she hides it when Dad comes home. Part of being beautiful is looking like you don't have to work at it," she said it with such great authority that Sirius almost found himself agreeing. Strange little kid.

Well, she'd mentioned Witch Weekly, so he had to still be somewhere within the magical community itself. And to tell the truth, the infirmary did look a lot like Hogwarts' infirmary. The beds were all in the wrong places, and none of the furnishings were the same, though.

"Now hold still and close your eyes," Alice commanded imperiously. He gave her one look, and sighed a breath of relief to see that she'd put down the scissors in favor of a tube of lipstick. Well, what the hell, what could it hurt? She was five, for fuck's sake. What could she possibly do? She certainly couldn't be any worse than his mum and cousins.

Relaxing, he sank back on the pillows, hissing in one sharp breath as the movement shifted his bandages slightly.

"Good," Alice jabbered on, "when I'm done with you, you'll look like a million galleons." He had to grin at that as her pudgy fingers danced over his face. Chances were, he'd come out looking like the singer from that muggle band, Kiss. He'd played this game with Dora enough times to know that he'd be lucky if he made it out of the experience sans stiletto heels, a string of pearls and a brassiere.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because the wolf whistle was enough to jar him. He flinched even as he jerked upright, narrowly avoiding getting stabbed by an eyeliner pencil.

"You look," the redheaded bloke at the doorway, who Sirius was pretty sure had let go the whistle, paused for a moment as if searching for the right word, "interesting." Great, he'd let the pint size fashion expert take control and now he was left with dealing with adults all over again. At least it wasn't the green eyed chap from before. There was still actual hope that he could weasel his way out of this place if he talked fast enough.

"You're insulting Francesca," Alice retorted, and Sirius felt his face flush. Alice didn't look at all happy to see the bloke at the door, but she certainly didn't look scared either. So that was probably a plus as well. As long as the kid was here, too, it wasn't likely that the bloke was going to lay into him much.

"Oh, Alice, Francesca?" the bloke chuckled shoving his hands into his pockets and ambling over to Sirius's bed and plopping down in the chair beside them. "You can't do that sort of thing to a man's pride."

"Uncle Harry lets me do it," she shrugged uncaringly before crawling off the bed and onto the chap's lap. So far so good, Sirius decided. He couldn't be that bad if Alice felt comfortable crawling all over him.

"Uncle Harry's a sap." The redhead snorted, ruffling poor little Alice's already wayward locks. "But, I have it on great authority that he's been hiding some chocolate frogs in the top drawer of his desk just for you."

Oh fuck. Sirius sucked in a deep breath before pulling himself up as far as he could into a sitting position. The spots were dancing there in front of his eyes, but he'd be damned if he took this literally lying down. His vision cleared just in time for him to see solemn little Alice bouncing happily out of the infirmary. Well, there went his safety insurance.

"So, you're Harry's latest project, huh?" The bloke started in, pulling Sirius' gaze from the empty doorway.

"Who?"

"Harry. Skinny chap with uncontrollable hair, green eyes, big scar on his forehead, savior of the wizarding world?" This seemed to amuse the man, but for the life of him, Sirius couldn't understand why.

"Oh. Him."

"Yes, him. And between you and me," the redheaded bloke leaned in companionably, and Sirius favored him with a frown, "he's got a rather nasty habit of collecting troubled kids like stray puppies." Oh the irony.

"And that's a problem," Sirius stated flatly.

"Well, see that depends on you," the bloke gave him an assessing look before pulling a card out of his pocket and handing it to Sirius.

"You're an auror." Why that surprised him, he wasn't sure. Maybe he'd simply read one too many of James' cloak and dagger comics over the years. Although, to tell the truth, this Ronald Weasley looked more like he was about to go out and wrestle dragons than he did like he was going off to do top secret work for the government. "Are you here to take me away?" He flinched even as he blurted out the question. Talk about stupid. So what if he idolized aurors? He certainly wasn't going to be one now that he was mugglefied. He could have at least bought himself some time to make a run for it before someone else decided to take care of him first. What kind of idiot was he? Why not just tell the man point blank to haul him away now?

"Do I have a reason to?" Weasley quirked an eyebrow, and Sirius bit back a small sigh of relief.

"No." Merlin bless his mum for making such a fine liar out of him. "I was just running with the wrong crowd, you know. But they went too far, tried to hurt a friend of mine. And when I tried to get out, they took offense." He gestured at the bandages on his chest. Weasley looked a bit suspicious, but Sirius just smiled apologetically. People gobbled this stuff up. The fallen angel, attempting to redeem himself and repenting his wild ways. Never mind that it was a crock of shit.

"Harry said he found you chained to a table." He shrugged since there really wasn't an explanation he could come up with to explain that away. "Look kid, you seem all right. But if there's dirt to be had on you, I'll find it. And if I find out that you've hurt one hair on anyone's head in this building, your ass is grass, got it? Harry might be squeamish about sending kids to Azkaban, but I'm not."

Well, that was fine with Sirius. He didn't plan on sticking around this joint long enough to be more than a fuzzy memory in anyone's mind.

"Hey Uncle Ron!" Sirius' head snapped up to see Alice trotting back in with someone following a bit more sedately behind her. "Look who I found." If it weren't for the fact that she was willingly holding hands with the bloke, Sirius probably would have freaked out. There was no doubt about it, the bloke had to be a Malfoy. Pointy nose, fair skin, the I'm-a-god-and-you-better-worship-me attitude as he looked down his nose at both him and this Ron auror chap.

"Wonderful," Ron sighed under his breath, rolling his eyes as he faced Sirius before plastering on an overly fake smile and turning to face the blond.

"My sentiments exactly." The blond folded his arms over his chest and looked at them all with a bored, disinterested face.

"They're so immature." Alice announced primly before calmly walking over to Sirius' bedside and reclaiming her bag. "Professor Malfoy says that I should thank you for letting me annoy you. I told him you looked lots better now that you're wearing the right colors."

"Yes, he looks lovely." Ron snorted before picking up Alice and slinging her over a shoulder. "Now say goodbye to your new friend."

"Bye Sirius!" She waved, and Sirius wanted to crawl under the covers at the double take both adults gave him. Given the significant look that passed between the auror and the professor, Sirius decided that it probably would have been better if he'd lied to the kid and told her his name was something outrageously normal like Bob.  

He watched Ron carry Alice out and felt his heart sink a bit. Joy. It was him and the professor. He turned his head to stare at Malfoy, whose face was completely unreadable. The good professor pulled out his wand, and Sirius watched it with wary eyes, taking a moment to regret having let the auror and Alice leave so quickly and leaving him alone with the man. Flinching, he braced when the bloke waved it casually.

When his head didn't immediately detach from his body, Sirius realized that the professor had only taken a moment to undo the makeover Alice had given him. But that didn't mean Sirius found him any less creepy.

"Sirius, is it?" Professor Malfoy took the seat Ron had just vacated. And he nodded, resisting the urge to pull his blankets up over his bandaged chest. Maybe Narcissa had sent the bloke to finish the job. Maybe sucking out his magic wasn't enough and they wanted more from him. Maybe they just wanted to erase any trace of the embarrassment he'd been to the family. Maybe they just wanted him dead now that he wasn't of any use to anyone.

The idea was not without merit seeing as how his Aunt Elladora had started a tradition of beheading useless house elves. He couldn't be too far behind them as a magicless wizard.

"Do you have a surname to go with that first name?" Professor Malfoy raised an eyebrow sardonically.

"Yes, sir," Sirius returned, vowing to himself to not say another word to the man. Besides, it wasn't as if he were much of a Black anymore, anyways.

*****

"Hey," Harry waved a bit uncertainly as he slid into the infirmary, pulling the door shut behind him. The kid on the bed turned jerkily towards him, and he winced at about the same time the kid winced. "The burn still hurt?"

"No," the kid grimaced, the sarcasm readily apparent.

Hauling in a deep breath, Harry took a moment to sit down on the vacant chair beside the bed and run his hands through his hair. He was too old for this. No more mysteries, no more life or death situations, and absolutely no more murders. He'd had his fill. Glancing up at the kid, he could see that the boy was trying to figure him out. "Professor Malfoy told me your name was Sirius," he tried hesitantly.

"Yes, sir," Sirius returned mockingly. Harry could see where Malfoy had run into problems. Given the git's way to not take no for an answer, Harry imagined Malfoy just kept putting on the pressure, not realizing that the more he applied the less likely his chances of accomplishing his goal became.

"I had a godfather named Sirius once," he confided softly, this time instantly getting the boy's attention. "He passed away when I was about your age." And what a bitter memory that was. "I got into something over my head. I didn't think through the consequences and I didn't have all the facts. He came to help bail me out and it killed him."

The kid shrugged, looking terribly uncomfortable. Cursing himself silently, Harry mentally tried to pull himself together. He'd had an hour since Malfoy had informed him that the kid he'd found in Sirius's house bore Sirius's name. Moping over the past wasn't going to do anyone any good.

It wasn't going to bring his Sirius back. He couldn't go back and change some of his more rash actions, and he couldn't go back to stop Sirius from committing some of his own. It wasn't healthy to sleep in the house his godfather had hated. It wasn't normal to find peace in the one place that was all but the definition of unrest. Ron had offered to torch the place for him, years ago. Hermione refused to step foot inside it. Remus wouldn't say more than three words about it when it was brought up in conversation. Neville, he knew, understood the significance and the raw kind of transfixed pull the house held for him. But even Neville had tried to talk him out of staying there on occasion.

"Just a shock, is all," Harry murmured, pulling his attention back to the Sirius in front of him. "It was my godfather's house that you appeared in," he managed a bittersweet smile as Sirius opened his mouth to reply. He tried to look encouraging when nothing came out, and it concerned him some when Sirius finally just shut it and let the conversation lapse into silence. "Are you okay? Your chest isn't paining you too much, is it?"

"No, it just stings some," came the quiet reply.

"Can you remember what happened?" Harry watched from under his eyelashes as the kid's posture stiffened and Sirius turned to look out the window.

"No." Another obvious lie.

"Do you want to talk about it?" God, how Harry hated that question, and he didn't blame Sirius for the grimace. If a bloke wanted to talk about something, he'd damn well say so. But then again, some kids were like him. Some kids were trained from toddlerhood to push their problems down and ignore them until they erupted at the wrong time, in the wrong contexts, and to the wrong people.

If pushed hard enough, most kids eventually cracked and talked. And in all honesty, Harry liked doing things that way more than he liked having to magic them off the roof and putting them on suicide watch or having to rescue them from life and death situations.

"What's to talk about?" Sirius stared blankly at the back wall.

Unfortunately there were some kids who just never cracked. Or at least, they didn't crack until they'd already found themselves in way over their heads. This kid was definitely shaping up to be one of them.

"Professor Malfoy said you wouldn't let him take a look at the burn," he tried again.

"I didn't want him poking at it," the boy returned sullenly.

"Look, I know better than most how much of a right bastard he can be, but trust me, he'd never hurt you. Not on purpose." Not nowadays anyway, several years ago, that would not have been the case at all, but the kid didn't need to know that. "I know curse scars can be a bit sensitive."

"It's not a curse scar, and what the hell do you know about any of it, anyway?" The angry tone threw Harry off balance for about half a second as the boy in the bed sneered back at him.

"Lots," he said pulling his fringe back so that the kid could see his scar. Although, god only knew this Sirius kid had to have known it was there. If he hadn't been a household name during the first twenty years of his life, he'd definitely been one for the last ten years since his defeat of the dark lord. Harry had fully expected to see the flicker of recognition in the kid's eyes, but there was nothing but anger and confusion.

"Whatever," Sirius mumbled.

"Look," Harry sighed, "is there anyone we should contact. Family? Your parents? Relatives? Someone has to be worried about you." Because they might have a better idea on what exactly was happening. Or at how to get the kid to let it out. Then again, depending on his reaction, it was entirely possible that family was at the root of this kid's problems. He certainly wouldn't be the first.

Sirius turned to look out the window again, and this time Harry could clearly see the naked pain on the kid's face. Fuck. This wasn't going to be as simple as he'd hoped. Some part of Harry had known it wouldn't be. After all, the kid had a rune burned from collarbone to belly button on his chest. This wasn't exactly the makings of a happy home, as far as Harry was concerned. "Nobody's going to be worried," Sirius confirmed.

"Is there anyone I can get in touch with that you trust? Someone that could help you out?" Harry took another stab, hating himself for even having to ask. Heaven only knew that if someone had asked him this at that age, he'd have taken their head off in rather spectacular fashion before telling them that he didn't need nor want their help.

"I don't want to talk to anyone right now, thanks all the same." Sirius seemed to curl up inside himself then, sinking back down into the covers and closing his eyes. Harry could see the strain on the kid's face. There was something preying on Sirius's mind. Harry could recognize the symptoms.

"Well," he said softly, standing slowly, "you're welcome to stay with me for as long as it takes to sort all this out." That certainly got the kid's attention, he noted with a humorless smile as he stretched and popped his aching back.

"What if," Sirius bit his lip and Harry turned to face the boy, "what if there is something wrong with me?" There was genuine worry in the kid's eyes.

"Then we'll figure out what to do from there," he answered simply. Whatever that burn had involved, whatever kind of ritual Remus thought this was and Malfoy knew it to be, Harry was certain that Sirius knew exactly what had happened to him.

*****