Loss
By Hpfan
Chapter IX- Love
"Okay, when you get about twenty yards (AN: Or meters, if you're on the metric system) away, I want you to pull your weight back on the rear tire, and hold on for dear life!" Harry raised his eyebrow suspiciously. "Of course, that's probably a given, as usually when your going up at a ninety-degree angle, you hold onto something."
"So, how does riding a motorcycle differ from riding a broom?" he asked, looking for any helpful tips incase he got into the sky and started to plummet to his death.
"Great question, but unfortunately, I'm not going to answer you. I'm just going to let you draw your own conclusions after you've done it" He smiled a knowing smile, and Harry guessed it was one of those, 'you have to live through it' things, or maybe Sirius just didn't know how to describe it.
Riding on the back of a motorcycle, or laying down on the expanded seat, as he had done for most of the trip, wasn't exactly a thrill ride, but it was similar to riding a broom; it just didn't give him the exhilaration that you get from having the feeling of steering it.
"Anything else I should know before I take off?" Harry wanted to make sure Sirius hadn't left out any important detail that would send him falling to the earth.
"Yeah, if you scratch my bike, I'll kill you." He said nonchalantly. Harry gulped. "Oh, and you might want to bring your wand incase you fall off and are lying somewhere with a compound fracture, and a concussion, but I doubt it will make much difference." Harry kept his eyes from bugging out of his head, knowing that Sirius was playing around.
"I'm just kidding about the falling thing. The scratch notwithstanding." He handed Harry a helmet, and Harry clambered on the bike.
"Just, you know, a last minute question; do I have health insurance?" he asked, half kidding half serious.
"Relax, you have a helmet." He said.
"Yeah, that's real helpful if I break my neck!"
"Oh! You mean you don't know? Wizard helmets have charms on them to shield your body from an impact. If you're about to hit the ground, you bounce up, and then you just wait until you land on your feet after the recoil. You don't have to worry about it. Besides, it's no more dangerous to ride a broom than to ride a motorcycle."
Harry had to resist the urge to argue on that factor. He followed Sirius's instructions about how to take off, and soon found himself rocketing down the path. He suddenly realized that riding a motorcycle and riding a broom were about as different as night and day. While the broom was smooth, and easily driven, the motorcycle was rickety on the hilly road, and Harry found himself holding onto the handlebars until his knuckles were white.
Finally, he estimated that it was time to start lifting off. He felt apprehensive about shifting his weight, when he felt so much more stable on the seat, but he screwed up his courage, and pulled bounced backwards while pushing the 'lift off' button on the left handle, and found himself going straight up until he was far enough where he could level off.
He realized than why anyone would even bother to deal with all of the hassles of a motorcycle, when they could just hop on a broom and fly away. There was a certain sense of control, and power that he felt while driving the bike. It was the surge of energy that was moving through him and the bike. It felt like he was in control of a force of power; and it was enlivening. He did a couple of laps, and a couple of attempts at tricks, and somehow, although he was use to flying on his broom almost every day, it was like he was flying for the first time.
_____
The next morning, Harry got out of bed, and realized that after he had gone back to sleep after his 'visit' with Ron. He took his shower, and went down the stairs to start breakfast. He saw the newspaper upright and opened the refrigerator door, and asked, "Morning. What do you want for breakfast"
"Good morning. I'm okay, I've already eaten.", came the voice of Remus Lupin from behind the newspaper.
Harry jumped, spilling the orange juice he was pouring. "Remus?" he said. Suddenly, he remembered the last time he had visited with Remus. What a fiasco that had been! He had had a nervous breakdown on the man's sofa! Putting it into perspective, he realized what Remus must have thought of him, what with all of the times he had fainted in his third year while coming in contact with dementors, and that whole situation on the quidditch pitch; that added to the fit he had had, and Remus would probably think he was a total wuss.
"Hello, Harry. Sirius had to go out for the day; he asked me to come over and hang out with you." Remus said as he lowered the paper as Harry sat down.
Harry turned red. "He got me a babysitter?" He put his head in his hands. "God, I'm fifteen."
"I don't think that he meant it like that. I think he just wanted someone here to keep you preoccupied. I mean, what would you do all day if there was no one here?" Harry gave him a feeble smile, trying not to look ungrateful.
Harry had to resist the urge to say, 'Get some peace and quite for once'. The situation wasn't getting much better, and Harry decided that this could be added to the ever-growing list of ways he had embarrassed himself in front of Remus. Needing a babysitter was probably a good one.
Harry suddenly frowned. "Where is Sirius, anyway?"
Remus shrugged, "He didn't tell me. I assumed he would tell you, or leave you a note or something." Remus seemed politely puzzled. "He seemed pretty secretive about it when I asked him."
"Yeah." Harry held a mad tone in his voice. Sirius was sneaking around, seeing his girlfriend again. "I'm sure he would be." Remus looked like he was going to question him, but changed his mind about it.
"So, what do you normally do around here?"
"Whatever activities are available. Quidditch, chess, gobstones, exploding snap… If there is nothing else, I'll just watch TV, or read a book." Harry listed.
"Well, I'm not that good at chess-" He started.
"Perfect, let's play." Harry said, getting up, and heading for the dining room. Remus looked puzzled. "I can't remember the last time I've won a chess game. I need someone bad to play against before I'm put off the game forever."
As it turned out, Harry lost the first round anyway. He won the second round, but he suspected that it was only because Remus let him win, out of pity. Harry then suggested a game of exploding snap, but Remus said that he would rather go outside. Harry was slightly shocked at the prospect of Remus Lupin playing Quidditch, but didn't voice his opinion.
It turned out, once again, that he had underestimated one of his elders. Remus was a better flyer then Sirius was, though not quite as good as Harry. While Sirius had more of physical approach to the game, and preferred the position of beater, Remus was a lot better at strategizing, and was an excellent keeper.
After Remus blocked all of his shots- though Harry had to say that he sucked as a chaser- Harry, being very impressed, asked him a question. "Remus, were you on the quidditch team when you were in Hogwarts?"
"Yeah, I was the keeper."
"Uh, what about Sirius?" Harry knew the answer, but he thought that if he asked Remus, he would probably go into detail about why not.
"No. He tried out for beater, but Peter made the team instead of him. He was mad at Peter for almost a month after he took his spot."
Harry had to hold onto his broom tightly, because he was going to fall of the broom laughing. Finally, he spat, "Peter? I've seen pictures of Peter as a kid; he looked like he would sooner hide under his pillow at the mere sight of a bludger, rather than go out for beater!"
Remus also looked amused. "Why do you think Sirius was so mad about it?"
_____
Harry was lying on his bed, in his room; limbs hanging over the bed, as he lazily looked at the page in his quidditch book. He had been staring at the page for the last five minutes, not have the energy to move his arm to turn the page. It was seven o'clock; Remus had left, saying that Sirius would be home soon. He could hear Sirius moving around downstairs, but indolence prevented him from going down there and greeting him.
Harry looked up idly as Sirius walked into his room, and sat on the armchair. (AN: Yes, he has an armchair in his room. I wished I had a room big enough to hold an armchair alone!!) "Hey, Harry. What'd you do today with Moony?"
"We played quiditch, and chess. I've also been labeled the worst chess player in the history of… chess." He rolled over on his bed (AN: I couldn't do that! I would fall off!) So that he was looking at Sirius upside-down. "That, or everyone I know is just really good at it- besides Hermione that it."
Sirius grunted. "Probably just because me, Ron, and Remus all grew up in wizard homes. It's nothing personal, we've just been playing a lot longer than you have.
"I just wanted to take out the garbage." He reached down to take the bag, when he suddenly stopped. He pulled out the shirt Harry instantly recognized, to his horror, to be the blood-soaked shirt that he had used to saturate the blood coming from the cuts on his arms. "I don't remember this shirt looking like it was bled on- or sleeveless for that matter."
Harry stared in open-mouthed horror. "Uh…" he hadn't thought up an excuse for a situation like this. He said the first thing that came to his mind. "I-I had a- a nosebleed. I ruined my shirt by accident, and, I-uh, used it to soak up the blood. It was the first thing I saw." He sat up on the bed.
Sirius didn't even try to hide the suspicion in his eyes. "That's an awful lot of blood for a nosebleed."
Harry laughed nervously. "Yeah, well…"
"But, anyway, I picked up something for you when I was out today." He had that sly look in his eyes as he walked out of the room, and came back with a shirt. It was a cool silvery silk, and Harry realized- whether this was set up or not- where this was going.
"I though you would like it, since you don't really have a ton of really nice shirts, you might want it." He tossed it to him. "Try it on, I want to see how it fits." Harry looked at the shirt, trying to think of ideas of how to get out of the situation.
"I-uh, I think I'm allergic to silk."
Sirius raised his eyebrow at him. "You have three other silk shirts that I've seen you wear."
Harry was at a loss for what to do or say. Finally, he went to the last resort. "I guess I'll go change then." And he headed for the bathroom.
Sirius stopped him at the door. "Yeah, that's what I thought you would say." He began pacing around the room. Harry stood near the door, confused as to what to do. He was sure Sirius knew, but what was he going to do? Sirius suddenly stopped pacing. "Harry, you know that I care about you, right? You know that you can tell me anything? I mean, you do know that I-I Lo-" Harry's heart sunk as Sirius stopped himself. He had wanted to hear him say that he loved him, but he had paused. Maybe he really didn't care. Maybe he just felt like it was his responsibility to take care of him because his parents had made him his godfather. He fought back the tears in his eyes, but he couldn't help the feeling of disappointment sweep over him.
Suddenly, he had the impulse to leave; he needed to be alone. He saw that Sirius had stopped trying to talk, and was staring at him quietly. He didn't notice the awkward silence, because his head was buzzing. He turned away, and ran out the door, down the staircase, and out the door.
He ran faster than he had know he could run, especially, considering that he had been feeling like he couldn't even move a couple of minutes ago. He ran toward the forest, and didn't stop, he reached the stream, not really caring where he was going; just that he needed to get away. He reached the rock, utterly exhausted, and suddenly, he felt the wave of emotions boiling up inside him. He sat quietly on the rock, watching the waves crash over the side of the cliff, a feeling of searing feeling rushing through his stomach.
He had always dreamed of some unknown relative, or someone- anyone-, coming to take him away from his uncaring house, and living with Sirius had been like a dream come true. But after finally understanding what it was to live in a home where he was cared about, the whole thing seemed kind of fake. He felt like he had gone and played house for a couple of days, but now it was over, and everything said and done was really just an act. He didn't want to question it, but with everything that had happened, he was really wondering what was real and what wasn't.
He didn't want to let go of it though. He had wanted so badly to believe that Sirius really loved him that he couldn't bring himself to give up hope. It was just so easy to believe after going through a loveless childhood that someone really cared, Harry had reached out to the first person that had made an attempt. And it seemed like he really did love him. Harry couldn't help but put up his defenses at the slightest questionable action.
Why couldn't he have just said it? Was it that Sirius really didn't love him? Did he care? Maybe there was something wrong with Harry. Maybe Sirius had been trying to like him, but, like the Dursley's, he couldn't find anything to love. That thought brought h is to the brink of letting all those emotions out. Finally, he stopped, and laid on the rock, set in depression, suppressing the desire to kick and punch something. The sun was setting, slowly, and Harry realized that he couldn't stay here all night. He would have to go… somewhere. But he didn't care. He just didn't. It wasn't like it was cold out; he cold make shelter out here.
"Harry?" he heard Sirius's voice from behind him.
'How did he find me?' He though to himself. Harry didn't want to turn around, because if he did, he knew he would have to face him.
"Harry, why did you run off?" he asked, turning to face him. Harry just stared at him. The tears he thought he had repressed were coming back at amazing force.
He fought to keep himself from coming apart. What was he going to say? Could he tell him the truth? "Why didn't you just say it?" Harry whispered, so that Sirius could barely hear him.
"Harry? What do you mean?" He sounded surprised.
"Nothing… I just… needed to be alone." He said, turning his face so that he couldn't see the tears in his eyes.
"Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?" Harry glared angrily. He didn't even figure it out.
Despite himself, he said, "No, you didn't do anything wrong. I was the stupid one," He said in a voice anyone could discern was not his own. 'The stupid one to think that you really cared', he thought to himself.
"What are you talking about, Har? Look, if this is about, er…" Sirius must not have known how to put what ever it was he was going to say. "Harry, let me see your arms." He said. The spontaneity surprised him, and his eyes widened
"Shit" Harry cursed quietly.
"What was that?" Sirius asked in a reprimanding voice. Harry sighed defiantly. "Harry."
Seeing no choice left, he pulled out the sleeves of his shirt, and took it off. Sirius seemed to be expecting something like that, but seeing the full extent of it caught him off guard. "Harry, what where you thinking, doing this to yourself?" Harry could tell he was trying to keep his temper, but his tone defied him. "Are you totally insane? Why would you cut yourself? Everyone is trying so hard, keeping Voldemort from doing this to you, and you're doing it to yourself! Are you mad?" Sirius lost the battle with his rage.
Harry had to fight himself from yelling back at Sirius. He was hurt, but he wasn't going to make things worse by saying something back to him.
Harry got off the rock, and sat next to it, leaning his head against it, resisting the urge to bang his head against it. "What the heck is wrong with you? What could posses you to do something so stupid?" Harry finally couldn't take it.
"Are you quite done?" Harry asked him indignantly. Sirius glared at him. "If you think your helping, your not. You're really not! Do you think I'm going to tell you anything while your screaming at me? I'm not going to say what I want to say to you, because I'm not in the right state-of-mind to say anything I won't regret; I'm not dealing with you right now!" He stood up, and ran off toward the house.
_____
Harry got back to the house quickly, not hearing Sirius behind him. He locked himself inside his room, kicked off his shoes, and buried himself under the covers, and squeezed the pillow to his chest. Sirius knew, and he thought he was an idiot for what he had done. Obviously Sirius not only didn't love him, but he thought he was stupid too. He buried his head in his pillow, biting his lip, trying to keep the tears away.
He heard Sirius knock on the door, and he buried himself farther under the sheets. He knew Sirius must have used an unlocking spell, because he felt someone sit on the bed next to him. He edged away from the weight. "Harry?" Sirius's voice was muffled, but he made him out. "I'm sorry I blew up at you. I know that it was a stupid thing to do, and I'm sorry for it."
"No you're not." He said through the covers. He felt Sirius tugging at the covers of his bed. Harry let him pull them off.
"Yes I am. I know that I was acting rash back there. I don't mean what I said. Your not insane." Harry wasn't so eager to forgive him.
Harry sat up next to him. "No, I think you mean exactly what you said. I think that was the most honest thing you've said to since I've been here. I don't know why you're taking care of me, but you obviously don't want to be. If the Dursley's weren't dead, I'd go back to them and leave you alone. Then again, I know they wouldn't want me either. In fact, neither would my parents. Were you just the unlucky one? Did you lose a bet? Is someone paying you to do it?"
Sirius looked shocked, and slightly hurt. "Of course not! I wouldn't have taken you in if I didn't want you. No one bribed me, and I didn't appreciate you assuming that I don't want you."
Harry practically shouted at him, "I don't appreciate you calling me insane! No, it probably doesn't feel good being yelled at, but what would I know? I'm just a stupid fifteen-year-old cutter, aren't I?"
"Harry, I didn't take you in because I thought that you're parents wanted me too, and I didn't take you in because you saved my life. When I first met you, all I could think was that you were one of the bravest, loyalist people I'd ever met. Then when I found out about what happened to you after the third task, I kept feeling this huge amount of pride, that I was your godfather."
Harry looked surprised. "But I killed Cedric! What's to be proud of?" he asked.
"Harry, first of all, you didn't kill Cedric, and I'm proud of you because you faced Voldemort when you knew it would probably get you killed. Not many people, when faced with an ultimatum, would choose death over doing something they knew at heart was wrong."
Harry stilled looked surprised at this revelation.
"It might have started out that I offered you a home because you were my godson, and you reminded me of James, but now that I know you, you're nothing like James, besides in appearance and that Gryffindor spirit of yours, but I love you for who you are. I just hate to see you doing this to yourself. I just want you to be happy. When I saw you doing this to yourself, I got mad at myself, because I thought I wasn't doing a good job as your guardian. You obviously are having some problems, and it's my responsibility as your godfather to help you through them. If you're cutting yourself, I'm clearly not doing my job."
Harry stared at him in shock. It definitely sounded like Sirius cared about him. Harry felt a huge feeling of embarrassment for jumping to such farfetched conclusions. Sirius evidently cared a lot about him. He had been stupid to cut himself, when he should have just talked it out with Sirius. He stared at him, feeling his cheeks flush red with embarrassment. He didn't know what to say to Sirius.
"Sirius, I'm really sorry about what I said." But Sirius cut him off.
"Don't. You didn't do anything wrong. I know that you were trying not to say those things, and if you forgive me, I'll forgive you. I know I was being a great prat, and you don't have to apologize, because you didn't do anything. We have more important things to talk about."
Harry blanched. "I know. Look, Sirius, I know I was being an idiot. The first time I did it was after I read the newspaper. I was just really devastated about the whole thing, and I saw the razor, and I just couldn't help myself. I don't know why I did it really. The last time I did it because of Ron."
"You mean you cut yourself because Ron was being held captive?" Sirius asked.
"No, it was because of what Voldemort, or one of his Death Eaters did to him the other night." Harry realized that he hadn't told Sirius about it yet. "He stabbed him, Sirius. I was so upset about it. I tried to help him with the bleeding, but when I tore the sleeves off that shirt you found, he saw the cuts."
"Why didn't you tell me about this?"
"I was going to, I guess, but I saw the razor first, and… I guess I just didn't want to say anything about it incase I slipped up and said something" Sirius sighed.
"Sirius, did you know about this? I mean, did you guess what I was doing?"
"I saw the blood on the bathroom mat. There were enough signs for me to guess what you were doing." Sirius shifted his weight anxiously.
"So…" Harry didn't know how to phrase his next question. "What now? I mean, are you going to punish me? Are you going to give me to someone else?" He didn't know what to expect. The thought of someone finding out he was cutting himself was always followed up by the thoughts of what would happen to him. Surly Sirius wasn't just going to go on pretending that nothing had happened.
"Of course I'm not going to give you away! I don't know if you know how the system works- heck, I'm not sure I completely understand it- but know that I'm your guardian, I can't just give you away at random. You're not just a pair of old shoes; if something happens to you I can't just throw you out and get a new pair. If I was an unfit guardian, and I couldn't take care of you, you would probably, er; I don't know what would happen to you actually. You would either be given to Remus, or the Weasley's would take you in, but I don't think you have to worry about it."
"Anyway, I'm not going to punish you. What would I do? Take away your Quidditch privileges? No, I'm going to do something worse! It's shock therapy for you!" Harry gulped in a fake manner. Sirius continued in his phony treacherous voice. "First, they hook you up to, 'the chair', which zaps you three times. Then, they force you to go to school with your hair looking like that!"
"Oh the horror!" Harry moaned.
"Oh, that's not all! Then they subject you to an eight hour-long potions detention! Finally, after you're completely traumatized, you have to listen to the Hogwarts anthem sung by me! Have you ever heard me sing? I don't think you want to go through that!"
Harry was almost trembling at the thought of an eight-hour potions detention. "And how would this help me to stop cutting? I would think after going through that I would just swallow a bottle of Tylenol and end it all."
"Your right. I guess we'll have to think of something better. How about you just tell me the next time something's bothering you?" Harry smiled.
"That could work too."
"You promise me?" Sirius said in a serious voice. (AN: NPI)
"Yeah, I promise." Harry said, realizing their talk was over.
"Okay. Well, I guess I'll see you around one then, huh?" he asked getting off the bed. Harry nodded in reply.
"Night."
"Night."
Sirius was almost at the door, when Harry said, "And Sirius."
"Yeah?" he replied.
Harry paused for a moment, before uttering, "I love you."
Sirius stood immobile, shocked, "I love you too, Harry." He replied, turning off the lights.
End Chapter IX- Love
End notes: That was, by far, the cheesiest, most unrealistic chapter I think I've written since I wrote 'Rescue'. My first attempt at fan fiction. It was a scary thing, that fic. The idea that Harry would be embarrassed because he thought Remus thought he was a wuss sounded so much better in foresight. Then I tried writing it… Needless to say it sucked! Anyway, so Sirius knows now.
That chapter when through fifteen revisions; maybe more. At first, when Harry ran away, Sirius didn't go after him, then Sirius went after him and Harry actually told him that he was mad because Sirius cut himself off before telling Harry he loved him. Then I tried the scenario I wrote in this chapter, but I didn't know how Harry would respond, so I tried the 'insulting back' thing, which led to more problems, which I realized I couldn't fix in a chapter, or at all. Plus, it involves more cursing, which is something I don't want.
Anyway, the chapter was grating my nerves, plus the fifth book comes out on Friday, which reminds me- Happy birthday in advance to SarahPeach, who mentioned that her birthday was coming out on the day the fifth book did! This chapter was dedicated to her. (Ignore the fact that it was a crappy chapter) Does it scare anybody else that the series is more than halfway done? I have this fear that when I'm done reading the seventh book I'm going to cry for like a month. I know that I'm going to cry! It's inevitable!
For those of you who I've bored to death, I'm sorry. It's just; I don't know what will happen to 'Loss' after the fifth book comes out. I plan to continue it as an AU, or just as a 'written before the fifth book' fic.
Notes to the reviewers:
A.Dee: We've gone over this already, haven't we? Harry's acting dumb because he's under stress. Anyway, Ron's situation should be explained in the next chapter, though I'm not sure when- or if- that will happen.
OOo-Sirius-oOo- Thank you
The Wolf of Were- thanks for your review.
Kateydidnt- Thanks for reviewing my story. I've read your story, Harry Potter and his Dreams, and I think it's awesome!
Emilie- Thank you for the review. I happy you like the angst. (At least someone does)
End notes (You don't have to read them): Okay, I promise myself that I was going to solve the mystery in the fifth book. There are so many clues, and I'm going to figure them out! I promised! I'm going to have to save the book until my trip to San Francisco on the thirtieth because I'm not going to do nothing on a plane for six hours! Heck no! I'll bring along the book I've written, 'The unofficial guide to Harry Potter clues: Unpublished version. So I'll go explore 'The Rock' with my nose in a book. By the way, is it just me, or was J.K. Rowling playing off of Alcatraz when she made Azkaban? You have to see some parallels; prison on an island, cold, Names begin with an A. I almost had a conniption when I figured that one out!