Hey there! I'm really pleased with all the comments I'm getting on this story. Thanks everyone! You all rock! (hugs everyone) I hope this next chapter is satisfactory.

The Present

It was the first time Sirius had left Grimmauld Place in weeks.

A haphazardly scribbled letter had caused the man to flee his abode in such a way that it challenged the mere possibility of him being human.

Like a shadow he moved through the halls of the Ministry of Magic, taking the chattering lift down to the lower floors where most never set their eyes. Sirius, however, was a special case. Especially concerning the present circumstances of his letter.

A raid had been performed late last night, so he had been told. Nothing special, and no one had expected to find anything but a few unimportant cronies of Voldemort's. Of course, that was what they had found, but along with this they had discovered a large sect of prisoners. People who had been missing for days, weeks, months, even years were found within the catacombs of a small sea side castle in Scotland. No one had known about it until a few days before. They had prepared a small, simple incursion planned for the place.

What they found surprised them all.

As Sirius rounded a corner, he collided fully with a body he was not aware of until the last minute. He might have skidded away with little more than an apology uttered over his shoulder, but a thin hand clasped over his wrist and pulled him back.

"Sirius!" the man gasped, holding his stomach where he had received an not-so-friendly elbow to the diaphragm. "Sirius, you can't go in. Not yet."

"Is he there?" Sirius asked, a mad glare in his eyes. "Is he in there? Did they find him?"

"Sirius-"

"IS HE IN THERE?!?!"

Remus sighed, a glistening in his eyes deceiving Sirius. He began to believe the worst.

"Oh God," the man began to wail, slumping against the nearest wall and running his hands through the indistinguishable rat's nest that was his hair. "He's dead. God, no....no! He's dead!" Sirius arched his back so that his nose was just an inch away from his knees. His knotted fingers worked frantically at his temples as though he were struggling just to keep his head together. Remus knew that if he had to say something, it would be now.

"No, Sirius, he isn't dead," Remus interjected. This brought the man out of his fit. Sirius turned his gaze to look sideways up at his old friend, confusion evident in his eyes. "He's in the Ward right now-"

"He's been injured?" Sirius snarled suddenly. Remus sighed. There would be no getting through to this man.

"Slightly, but he's one of the better patients we've got as far as conditions go. The doctors have already healed him. He might be ready to come back home as early as tomorrow."

If Sirius heard any of this, he did not show it.

"When can I see him?"

Remus moved to answer, but was suddenly cut short. His eyes moved over Sirius' shoulder to an unknown entity behind him. Following his friend's gaze, Sirius turned to see one of the Ministry Specialists stalking toward them.

Sirius felt his body tense and then begin to convulse slightly beneath his robes. His body was too frail though for even Remus' eyes to pick up on it, and the man was very grateful for that fact.

"Mr. Black?" The doctor asked with a friendly air of formality. He extended his hand which Sirius took lightly. "I'm Doctor Shadarak Frantzich . I've been sitting with your godson for some time now."

"Can I see him?" Sirius asked immediately.

Frantzich smiled sadly. "You may see him in a moment, but first I'd like to talk to you about what Harry's been through."

Sirius nodded, accepting the doctor's arm around his shoulders as he was lead away to a nearby lounge. Remus' gaze alone followed them.

"He's a very brave young man, Mr. Black," stated Frantzich, pouring them both some coffee. Sirius accepted the cup silently, but did not drink it. He hung on Shadarak's every word, eager for something on his godson's state of health. "You should be proud."

"I am," Sirius said very matter-of-factly. "I always have been proud of him."

"But you want to see him?" said the doctor, knowing it was no great secret. Sirius nodded, in the same frame of mind. "In a moment. I must say that he endured a lot these past few weeks. The Death Eaters are not kind to their prisoners, especially their most hated ones."

Sirius swallowed. "How bad was he when you brought him in?"

"Half dead," said the doctor honestly. Sirius flinched. Frantzich did not hide his sympathetic grin. "But we were able to take care of him quite easily. Over the past few hours he's shown marvelous recovery, and ever since he fully regained himself...well, you're the only person he's been asking about."

Sirius, though touched at this statement, did not show it.

"He's been worried about you, and by the state in which you now appear, I can see why. No offense." Frantzich added quickly, fearful that he may have crossed the line in this conversation. Sirius, however, showed no sign of offense.

"None taken," he assured the doctor, finally gazing down to consider his warm beverage. "I'm a wreck. There's no sense in denying it. I have been since he disappeared."

Frantzich nodded. "You're not the only one. I had a slew of visitors demanding to see him once news reached Dumbledore and the Ministry that Harry had been recovered."

A grin flickered over Sirius' dry features. "I'm not surprised. Lots of people care about Harry. Probably more than he'll ever know."

"Well, I'll never forget them. There was one clan of redheads I was certain would rip me apart if they couldn't get through young Mr. Potter's door."

"The Weasleys," Sirius stated with a laugh. "Yes, that family has always been protective of Harry. I'm thankful for that. They looked out for him when I could not."

Frantzich smiled. "I know many who would envy such love."

"He paid a price for his love," Sirius stated earnestly. Shadarak nodded, knowing well the sacrifice Sirius spoke of. It was a sacrifice many had made; the passing of Lily and James Potter.

An uncomfortable silence ensued, until at long last a nurse came to the lounge and spoke the words Sirius' heart had been bursting to hear.

"Mr. Black, you may come see your godson now."

Sirius followed the nurse out the door, setting his untouched coffee down on a nearby table and shuffling into step behind her. She lead them down a few corridors and up a flight of stairs before they finally came to a room marked 846. The nurse opened it and Sirius stepped through...

The Far and Distant Past

It was a late September in 1981 when the largest storm known to Wizarding World shattered the quite countryside of English suburbia.

Sirius, who was staying the night babysitting the only child of his best friend, felt the steady beat of drumming rain and ransacking winds within the walls of his own guest bedroom. Fear did not make his heart pound, but instead the straining curiosity of whether or not it was prudent to leave a toddler alone in his room during such a brutal gale.

Tossing and turning amidst his own doubts, and his own sheets, Sirius pondered over and over again. Was Harry all right? Was he sleeping and Sirius overreacting (after all, he was famous for such things)? Was Harry lying in fear, too frightened to cry out?

He might have leapt up to find out were it not for the fact that the sound of a toddler's thudding bare feet on the floor told him that his godson was already making his way toward, what he believed to be, safety.

Sirius met the young boy in the hallway, partially afraid that he might tumble down the stairs of the two story house, or run to his parent's room to find it empty.

"Harry?" Sirius called into the corridor. A bolt of lightening too close for Sirius' own comfort illuminated the area around them. Sure enough, he found a cowering toddler huddled in the furthest corner of the hall. His head was hidden beneath his blanket. All that could be made out clearly were the child's ten toes, sticking out beneath the rim of the coverlet. They trembled just as surely as the rest of his body did, slithering closer and closer to the rest of his body for comfort.

Sirius, both amused and saddened at this display, peeked under the blanket. A pair of tear rimmed, green eyes looked up into his own gray eyes.

"Hey there, kiddo!" he announced with a smile. Another resounding boom of lightening caused them both to jump. "You're not scared, are you?"

Harry shook his head, though his tears betrayed him. Sirius smiled sadly and scooped the child up in his arms.

"Want to sleep with me tonight?"

Harry nodded. He angled himself so that he might sit up, and wrapped his arms tightly about his godfather's neck.

"Thank you, pafoof," the toddler whispered. Sirius rested a hand on the child's back, rubbing his small frame in reassurance.

"Don't you worry, Harry. Padfoot will always be there for you," he promised.

Harry spent the night tucked close to his godfather, his face hidden beneath the sheets of the bed. Sirius spent his night with his arms tucked tightly about the child that was like a son to him.

When the sound of gentle snoring reached Sirius' ears, he brushed the sheets away and admired the sleeping image beside him. He brushed a lock of hair from the child's face, smiling while the child enjoyed total peace. A feeling that was very foreign to Sirius.

"I will always be there, Harry."

The Present

That promise echoed over and over in his head millions of times a second as the image of his godson presented itself to him.

What was once a tall, strong young man was now a weakened and frail thing. Life still shone in those green eyes, but not nearly as much as it once had so long ago.

He might have thought that this was not Harry at all were it not for the smile that had been sitting on his face upon the expected entrance of his godfather...

...a smile that soon dissipated at the sight of the man.

"Good God, you look awful!" Harry breathed, his face blanching at the awful image. "Did you just stop eating all together? Why aren't you -"

Harry wasn't allowed to finish his sentence. His head was too quickly buried in Sirius' shoulder, and his lungs squeezed into an embrace that rivaled the crushing grip of a giant's!

"I thought I would never see you again," said Sirius, no longer bothering to hide his tears. His anger, his emotions...he let it all fly away on the wind, knowing it would return when he needed it. "For weeks...nothing! No sign, no evidence that you were still alive..."

"I'm sorry," Harry said after being released from the embrace. Sirius settled on the side of the bed, his hands grasping Harry's with all his strength (which wasn't much). "It's not like I could send you an owl."

"I know," Sirius sighed, his head dropping and his shoulder's sagging. "I know."

Harry grinned, cocking his head. The motion hurt, but he didn't let on that it did.

"You look horrible."

"I've heard that a lot lately," said Sirius.

"Can't imagine why," Harry said sarcastically, a grin softening the blow of the statement. Sirius smiled. How he had missed these humorous exchanges.

Sirius grinned. "Because you're the essence of godly beauty right now, right?"

Harry batted his eyes in a mock-flirtatious manner that made Sirius laugh harder than he had in a very, very long time. "Oh, but you know it," the boy said, flicking his left hand in a very feminine style. The laughter did not die from Sirius' throat, just as the tears did not dry from his eyes.

Tears of joy.

Yes, sudden ending I know. Once more, you all are probably wondering what the hell happened. We'll get there.

I'm sorry. (bows humbly) This is a gift to all of you. It's my birthday today and I felt like giving in stead of getting.

LOL, of course, reviews would be highly appreciated forthe birthday-girl! (Wide grin) Make 'em nice and long too. Please?