The Price of Love
The house was silent. It was two in the morning, and the peace was a sure sign that no alcohol had been consumed. The sounds of muffled sniffles would have been heard through the house, and heavy, jagged breathing would have accompanied.
The silence had an eeriness to it, however. The kind that you notice right before a loud noise.
That noise turned out to be a shrill bellow, following a series of bumps and stumbles.
"What's wrong!?" A call of worry followed.
Sirius stood in the doorway of his godson's bedroom, breathing wildly, looking around for the cause of panic.
A very embarrassed Harry was sitting up in bed with his hair wet from perspiration, gasping for air.
"Shit! I'm sorry." He apologized. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to scream like that…"
Sirius looked confused and concerned. "What the hell happened?"
"I-" he shifted uncomfortably. "I though I saw a rat."
"I know you aren't afraid of rats Harry." Sirius said coolly.
"I saw a bat."
"Nor are you afraid of those."
"I had a dream."
"Ding ding ding. We have a winner." Sirius's voice held light sarcasm, but mostly worry. "Was it Voldemort?"
"N-no."
"Was this an 'I should go and alert Dumbledore' dream, or an 'I should make you some tea and send you back to bed' dream."
Harry didn't answer his question. "It wasn't anything you should be concerned about. I'm fine."
"Well in that case, I'll just go back to bed and ignore the fact that you look like you want to cry." He moved closer to the bedside.
"I'm not going to cry!" Harry insisted.
"You don't have to have tears going to down your face to cry, you know."
"Should I take this up with the dictionary?"
"Don't ruin this moment. It's my for Oscar nomination." Sirius joked, turning his head dramatically, and clearing his throat.
"Oh, god. Is this going to involve metaphors that take six minutes to interpret?"
"While a stone on the ground can be but a pebble, underneath, there may lie a boulder."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "So what you're saying is that even though I don't look like I'm upset, underneath, I probably have tons of emotional baggage?"
"Um… actually, I just took that six minute metaphor thing and ran with it. Do you have tons of emotional baggage?"
Harry stared. "I just screwed myself, didn't I?" he asked closing his eyes in annoyance.
"I wasn't aware of it. I had though you had a bad dream, I didn't know you were-"
"God! Sirius!"
"Kidding! Kidding!" He held his hands up. "So what did you dream about?"
"Nothing. It isn't a big deal."
"It sounded like a big deal to me. You screaming like that and all."
"I have dreams like it all the time… it's no big deal, I just forgot to tape my mou-"
Harry smacked himself in the forehead. "Stupid! Stupid!"
"OH, God. Harry! Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"
"Sirius, it's not that big a deal. I've handled this before."
"And you consider taping your mouth shut dealing with nightmares?"
Harry looked away.
"God. I'm such a shittty godfather. I should have noticed this before. I can't believe you've been having bad dreams all summer and I never even knew."
Harry sighed to himself. There was nothing worse then hearing Sirius blame himself for being a bad guardian.
"I'm sorry Harry. I should have realized how withdrawn you always are. I ought have known you would never tell me about something like this."
There was nothing worse then hearing Sirius blame himself for being a bad guardian, other then hearing Sirius apologize to him for something that he himself did.
"I'm sorry, Sirius. I'll stop having nightmares. Please, just don't blame yourself for this."
There was a silence as Sirius stared at him with furrowed eyebrows. "You know you can't stop yourself from having nightmares Harry. It's not your fault."
He looked away. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For not being able to stop myself from having dreams."
"Well, God. How dare you not be able to defy the abilities of man? Bad, Harry!" He reproached in jest like speaking to a dog.
Harry blushed.
"I don't expect you to be super-human, Harry."
"I don't expect you to be able to read my mind. You're only my father after all."
Sirius turned to look at him astonished. "Did you just call me…"
"Sorry." He blushed. "It just slipped out. I meant godfather."
Sirius stared out at the wall. He had since sat down besides him on his bed. He was dressed in a pair of gray sweet pants. With his shirtless torso, it became apparent that Sirius shaved his chest. Seeing this made Harry self-conscious of his own long-sleeved night shirt. Ruffling his hair Sirius seemed to come back to reality.
"How long have you been having these dreams?"
"Since… the end of last term."
"Oh. I see now."
"It's this same dream. I'm always out in this… sort of swamp. It's all foggy, and I don't know where I'm going." He ran a hand through his hair. "I just keep walking… not knowing where I'm going. Then, I trip and fall."
"Doesn't sound too bad to me."
"I trip over his body, and I land on it. It's just laying out there… he's always so white. He's just this corpse. Every time I have this dream, his body gets a little more… you know, decayed." He shuddered, pulling the comforter closer to him. "And every time, I land right on top of him, so that I'm looking right into his snow white face, and his hallow eyes."
Sirius himself shuddered, wrapped an arm around his shoulder, holding him close. "Sounds horrible."
"I'm okay."
"Liar."
"Okay, I'm traumatized. I've seen worse stuff then that."
"You shouldn't have to see that every night though."
"This is stupid. I'm fifteen! I shouldn't be having nightmares."
"Harry, would it make you feel better if I told you that I still have nightmares?"
"You spent more then a decade in Azkaban though."
"I had nightmares up until my twenties. That was before Azkaban."
"From what?"
"It's kind of personal."
"And mine wasn't?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "Sorry. You don't have to." He added apologetic in an afterthought.
"My father. He scared the shit out of me."
"Your father?"
"Oh, he rarely hit me." Harry raised his eyebrows. "But the man could look like Satan himself when he got mad."
"Oh." Harry hadn't mentioned the other dreams. The dreams where Sirius was leaning over him drunk shouting at him like he was going to kill him.
Harry was tired again now. "So what are we going to do about this? I assume you aren't going to let me continue to tape my mouth shut?"
"I don't know what we're going to do about it Harry." The pensive expression must have meant that Sirius was considering what he was going to do the nights he got drunk.
"Lets just handle this tomorrow, I guess. There is no use trying to figure it out now."
"But what do I do about tonight?"
"What do you mean? Just go back to sleep."
"I mean, about the nightmares. What do I do tonight when I have another?"
"You mean you have more then one a night!?" Sirius seemed shocked. Harry looked away in embarrassment. Sirius rubbed his shoulder.
"It's all right, Harry." He nudged Harry, as if telling him to move over.
Harry complied, confused. He stared when Sirius lay down on the bed.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm trying to fall asleep."
"Why my bed?"
"Because I don't feel like having to knock over everything in my room, then dart down the hallway –stubbing my toe in the process no doubt - when you scream bloody murder after your next dream."
"Oh." Harry lay down as well. This whole 'proper guardian' thing was surprising him more every day.
He lay in silence for a while. He barely moved, as he noticed Sirius turning on his side to get comfortable. He lay quietly, his eyes trained on his godfather.
He laid there, still tense, for about a minute.
"Harry… you're allowed to breath." Sirius had noticed his stiffness. "I'll leave if I'm making you uncomfortable."
"No… it's just- this is new."
"It's all right you know. I just want to be close by when you wake up again. I'll go back to my room if you want me to."
"I'm fine, Sirius. Go to sleep."
Sirius had never been so close to him before without striking him. He forced himself to relax so that he could fall asleep. Repeating to himself 'He's sober, he's sober." Helped.
__
Just as he had dreaded happening, his next nightmare was of the other variety. The kind that involved tears and whimpers. The kind that involved having to see his godfather's looming face, and disgusted eyes.
He awoke, curled into a ridiculously tight ball, hugging the pillow with his concerned godfather leaning over him. He yelped in fright at the sight, and pulled the blanket over his head.
"Harry?" He flinched as he felt a hand on his tender back. He poked a mass of hair out from beneath the blanket.
"Did you have another dream?" He relaxed at the soft tone of voice. It wasn't the harsh, raspy, slurred voice he heard in his dreams. "Stupid question, I know."
His godfather was leaning on an elbow beside him when he pulled the quilt from over his head.
He realized in embarrassment that Sirius had noticed the tear tracks running down his face.
He swiped at his face uncomfortably.
"How are you doing?" Sirius sat up, and he followed reluctantly.
"F-fine." He replied. The sobs still in his throat choked him as he tried to speak. "I- I deal with th-this every night, sir. It's no big d-deal."
His throat made a strange scuffing sound somewhere between a cough, a choke and a sob. He made it again as he felt arms surrounding him, hugging him tight against Sirius's bare chest.
The irony was not at all lost on him. Here he was being hugged by his godfather, comforting him over dreams caused by he himself.
He took deep, strangled breaths. He hated himself for having tears run down his cheeks, but something about the situation seemed made him feel even worse then the dream made him feel.
Why couldn't Sirius act like this all the time? Loving, and tender and concerned? Every time he smiled, Harry was forever reminded of the abusive glares. The arms around his shoulders hugging him, could easily be the ones that struck him every night. His brain couldn't function under these circumstances. He was easily accepting comfort from someone he had coward from previously.
"Calm down, Harry. You'll be all right. It's just a dream. It isn't real." To his utter horror, these words broke forth a string of tears.
"What's wrong? What did I say?" He asked confused, holding him tighter.
Harry said nothing. He pressed his damp cheek against his godfather. In a silent voice, he whispered inaudibly "I wish it were."
Thank you all for reviewing my fic, it all means a lot to me.
To everyone who wanted to know why Remus reacted the way he did:
Remus was Sirius's best friend for years. You can imagine how that would instill a sense of loyalty towards him in spite of his faults. Remus was simply denying the fact that Sirius could be capable of such a thing. Harry himself refused to believe that Sirius would do something like this. I think it would be easier to believe in your best friend rather then your late best friend's son who you've known only a year.
To everyone who wanted to know why Harry didn't show Remus the bruises:
By the time Harry even had the chance to show Remus the bruises inflicted on him, the situation had gotten so tense, Harry just wanted to get out before Remus though him trying to get even more attention. Remus – not willing to believe what he said - would accuse him of faking his injuries, Harry had thought that by showing him, Remus would think he was really nuts.
I'm sorry that I really don't have much better explanations for you. But, as you probably guessed, I had no intention of making the climax chapter two.
Addressing Moo's question: This is going to come up later. I think I mentioned in chapter one that Sirius got even more violent when having to chase Harry down. This will be elaborated a bit more later.