To Walk Through Fire
Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own Harry Potter and the characters associated with him. They belong to J.K. Rowling. I am not making money off of this story. So please don't sue.
Chapter XVIII: Of Healing
It was quiet in the hospital wing. Quiet in a peaceful, lulling way. Sirius was thankful for the silence. His head was still spinning from the bargain he had made with Voldemort. He would have to find some way out of the bargain, or when the year was up . . . Sirius shuddered. There was no way he could possibly outwit the Dark Lord in this case. He would have to . . .He didn't know. Albus had already lectured him on the possible outcomes of his actions. But he had saved Remus, and kept Harry hidden from the Dark Lord's knowledge. That was an accomplishment, wasn't it? Albus Dumbledore had called him a fool. Only once had he seen Albus as angry as he had been just an hour ago, and that had been the time that Sirius had almost killed someone. This time Sirius had almost allowed himself to fall into Voldemort's hands, exactly when Albus planned to keep him far from Voldemort as possible and use him as a weapon. But Albus did not know the relationship that Sirius had with Voldemort, the Headmaster did not understand that he couldn't use Sirius as a bargaining tool; Voldemort did not care if he lived or died, just as long as Sirius had a child. He was just another pawn in the game. The Dark Lord would never declare Sirius as his heir, he wanted Sirius's son as his heir . . .
His son, who lay so still it were as if he was dead. Gently he picked up the boy's small hand in his own. He wished there was something more he could do for Harry. He had already made plans to ask the Weasleys to take Harry in, he was sure they would be delighted to, and he had already written a letter requesting the meeting between him and the family – or at least Molly and Arthur. He was loath to send that letter. Then all his hope would . . . No it would be better for Harry to live with the Weasleys . . . He had already decided that, this was no time to go back on his decision.
But Harry . . . Even now looking at his son, he could not bear leave him. Perhaps he could keep the truth a secret from Harry and just allow him to go to the Weasleys with the faint, distant hope that one day he could live with Sirius . . .But that wasn't right. He needed to tell Harry the truth; he owed it to his son. And the boy would hate him after.
Yes it was better if Harry went to the Weasleys. He would be well cared for there. What could a convicted criminal offer a growing boy, anyway? A cave full of rats to eat? He would die before he let Harry live in the extreme conditions he had lived after his escape from Azkaban.
Jerking out of his thoughts, Sirius suddenly heard a sound.
He jumped and looked around, attempting to locate the source.
There was no one else in the hospital wing, Remus had left an hour earlier and Poppy Pomfrey had exited shortly after him.
The soft sound came again.
Sirius's head swiveled around to his son, whom he realized was moving, ever so slightly.
"Harry," his voice hopeful.
The boy's eyes opened. And then suddenly shut.
In an instant of comprehension, Sirius realized the boy's dilemma. The warm sunlight that bathed them in light was too bright for his son. "It's alright Harry, I'll just close the curtain," he said standing up and dragging the heavy white curtains around them. "You can open your eyes Harry, it's OK." He attempted to remain calm, even as his heart raced in his chest. Harry was waking up!
Green eyes peered up at him.
Merlin! They were so much like Lily's, yet so different.
It pained Sirius to see the hurt and fear in those eyes.
"It's OK Harry, it's me: Sirius." He said softly taking a seat next to the hospital bed. The boy coughed softly, reminding Sirius of the instructions that Poppy had left him.
With slow measured movements Sirius picked up the cup of water that Poppy had left on the table beside the hospital bed. He gently placed his arm around the boy's shoulders to help him up. Harry flinched, and Sirius nearly dropped the cup in shock, but he managed to keep a hold of it. He did not remove his arm though and helped Harry to sit up a little more before holding the cup for Harry to drink from. The boy sipped greedily from the cup, forcing Sirius to tilt it away from his son's lips to stop the boy from choking on the liquid. When Harry had his fill, Sirius removed the cup and gently lowered his son back onto the pillows.
"Where?" Harry asked softly, his voice hoarse.
"You're in Hogwarts, in the hospital wing," Sirius told him gently. A strange feeling took hold of his gut. What if Harry hated him? "How are you feeling?" He asked attempting to alleviate the growing fear.
"Fine." Harry whispered softly.
Sirius blinked. Harry was not fine, in truth the boy was far from "fine". But Sirius did not want to argue with his son, not now, not when Harry needed him the most. He watched as Harry attempted to stay awake. "Sleep Harry," he whispered. "I'll watch over you."
And he watched as Harry gave into a peaceful sleep.
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A strange noise woke him. He was sure he had heard it, but . . .Had it been a part of his haze filled dreams? Slowly he opened his eyes, fearful of where he would find himself this time . . . The last time he remembered waking he had been at Hogwarts with Sirius beside him – although he suspected that it had been one of the pleasanter dreams he had experienced, but he could not prove it.
Harry blinked in the dim light. He was glad it was not excruciatingly bright as he let his eyes rove around the room, fearful he was in the cold dungeons of Azkaban again. It was too warm to be in Azkaban, but his muffled mind did not realize it until after he had let himself observe his surroundings.
Hogwarts.
So that time with Sirius hadn't been a dream after all. Or had he imagined Sirius? He didn't deserve the care the man had offered him, but he secretly wished that it had been true. The child within him wished that someone would love him. Anyone.
No! No one could love him – he was a freak, a murderer. It was his fault – his parents, Cedric Diggory, Sirius's imprisonment . . .The Dursleys, Voldemort's rise . . .his entire fault.
Through his muddled, guilt filled mind Harry distinguished a soft sound reverberating in his ear. Harry slowly looked right and then left, suddenly spotting a dark head of hair pillowed on an arm beside him. Warily Harry shrunk away from the figure fearful of its touch.
Sirius.
That was Sirius, not his uncle. Sirius would never harm him. Sirius had helped him. His body still refused to relax, the abu – punishments his uncle had inflicted on it were still too fresh in his memory. All he could hear was Vernon's cruel jests and the ringing in his ears after Vernon's meaty fist had met with his cheek.
Harry kept shrinking away further from the figure. Unfortunately the bed was only a so wide . . . with a small yelp of surprise Harry collapsed in a heap on the cold stone floor.
"Harry?" A familiar voice queried softly. "Harry?"
"Sirius," he gasped softly, as phantom pains shot through his body. In truth, he was more shocked; the fiery agony that had assaulted his body for so long had dispersed under Madame Pomfrey care.
"Are you okay?" Harry nearly jumped as Sirius appeared beside him. "Come on, let me help you back up onto the bed." He sounded concerned, his voice that of an adult speaking to a child. Despite the fact that Harry did not deserve it he enjoyed it – something he had always longed for in his childhood. He saw long arms come towards him, and despite Sirius's familiar and soothing voice, Harry weakly pushed himself away . . . Sirius's small figure morphed into a larger version, becoming Vernon Dursley with that frightening grin covering his face. He could no longer focus on the fact that it was Sirius; he could not calm himself down.
"Harry please stop moving, you'll hurt yourself again." Sirius sounded distraught. Harry stopped struggling to move moments after Sirius had stopped approaching him. Sucking in deep breaths he tried to convince himself that Vernon was not there, that he was safe. Slowly the dreadful image of Vernon melted into the comforting reality of the hospital wing.
" – you." Harry suddenly realized that Sirius was talking, that he had been talking the whole time. Seeming to realized that Harry had calmed down Sirius added, "Will you come back onto the bed now Harry?"
Slowly Harry nodded, but he didn't think he could stand on his own. The adrenaline that had allowed him to scuttle against the cold stone wall had slowly faded with his panic leaving him completely drained. He didn't know if he could allow Sirius to touch him though, the memories of Vernon Dursley were too fresh in his mind . . .But it would make his godfather happy wouldn't it? He didn't want to bring any more pain to the world. Gathering what remained of his tattered courage, Harry slowly croaked, "Can you . . .help?"
"Of course." Sirius seemed relieved. He started moving cautiously forward. Harry held himself still with all his will power. This was Sirius. Sirius would never ever hurt him. The man knelt slowly beside him. "It's Ok Harry, you're doing fine." Harry felt a hand softly move around his shoulders, and he couldn't help but finch. Sirius halted in his movements. Panic rose through Harry, he tried to calm himself.
"Breath Harry," Sirius said softly breaking through Harry's panic. "Just concentrate on my voice. Nothing here is going to harm you. Hogwarts is safe. And you even have the hospital wing all to yourself. That's it Harry, calm down." Harry focused on Sirius's familiar voice, allowing it to comfort him. How many times had he wished to hear that same voice over the summer? Realizing that the warm arm around him offered nothing but a safe haven, Harry relaxed against it, resting his head on Sirius's shoulder.
Gently he felt himself lifted off the ground and placed back onto the hospital bed. Sirius's warm arms started to disappear, and so it seemed his haven was disappearing as well.
"No," Harry cried out softly. "Don't leave."
The warm arms wrapped themselves once again around him, and Harry curled tighter into them allowing them to shield him from the outside world. "It's alright Harry I'm here, I won't leave you." Sirius whispered as he settled them both onto the little hospital bed. Fortunately as both Sirius and Harry were small, or had either been bigger, the hospital bed would have become uncomfortable very quickly.
Guiltily Harry enjoyed the feel of the warm arms around him. He did not deserve them, but it was so comfortable, and it would be the only time that he was ever held. Sirius would never want to touch him if he knew what Harry had truly done. But Harry didn't want to tell him. Not yet, he wanted to stay cared for and safe at the moment. Nor did he want to hurt Sirius. The man had offered him so much and Harry had so little to give him. In truth Sirius seemed more than happy told hold him.
But he was a murderer. Murderers didn't deserve to be held or comforted. They deserved to sit in Azkaban. Harry shivered at that thought. He had vague recollections of the prison; none of them could be discerned as pleasant.
Sirius must have taken his shivering to mean that he was cold, for his godfather reached down and pulled the blanket closer around them. "That better Harry?" He asked softly. In truth it actually was better, much better. Harry nodded, and then remembered what his uncle had done when he had last nodded.
"Yes thank you." He said softly.
"I'm so glad you're awake." Sirius murmured softly. "I was so worried. And I wasn't the only one. Remus, and Albus and Madam Pomfrey of course."
"What about the Weasleys, and Hermione?" Harry asked, and then instantly regretted it. He wasn't supposed to ask questions; that was against the rules. He wasn't really wondering if they were worried, it was more a question of whether they were all right or not. He hoped Voldemort hadn't captured them, it would only add to his ever-growing list of victims; it would be his fault that they were captured.
"Harry…." Sirius began. Harry froze, nothing had happened to them had it? What was wrong? "I don't know if now is a good time to tell you…but…they think you're dead. Everyone thinks you are . . .except Remus, Albus, Pomfrey and I."
Harry looked at his godfather shocked. Why would they think he was dead? Maybe it was better that they thought that. At least this way he didn't put them into much danger. As long as Voldemort didn't realize he was still alive.
"We thought you were dead, but it wasn't really you, but we told the Weasleys and the press, and then Moony and I found you in the woods but we really didn't know it was you and I brought you back and you were so badly wounded, Poppy and I didn't think you'd make it, and then you would start screaming as if under the Cruciatus and…then you finally woke up and…I'm so glad Harry, I don't know what I'd do if you had…" Sirius rambled unable to finish his last thought.
"What, Sirius, I don't…what are you talking about?" Harry asked hesitantly, unable to make sense of his godfather's worried rant.
"We found a body, and we thought it was yours…and…Harry…I thought I had lost you," Sirius's voice caught in his throat. "But, it wasn't you…thank Merlin…it wasn't you. Then we (Remus and I that is) found you in the woods barely alive. I was so worried you wouldn't wake up."
"Who's body was it that you found?" Harry asked hoarsely, guilt beginning to lay even more heavily on his already weighted conscience; chances were it was his fault that individual was dead.
"Alexander Brown's, but he was really alive because of…a charm Snape had given him. He was the one who took you out of Azkaban." Sirius told him comfortingly. So at least one individual wasn't dead because of him – although he soon would be. Harry tried to stop the bitterness in his mind, but it refused to leave. A hint of relief did flood through him at the thought of his rescuer surviving the fight. He had feared he had led another to his death, but fortunately by some strange happenstance his rescuer had survived.
"Sleep now Harry, you're safe." Sirius whispered gently into his ear seeming to realize the extreme exhaustion that Harry felt.
With Sirius's warm arms around him and soft assurance, Harry felt himself lulled into a peaceful slumber void of the horrendous dreams and empty darkness that had plagued him in Azkaban.
With Harry securely ensconced in his arms, Sirius knew a simple peace, one that he hadn't felt since he had held his baby son so many years ago. It humbled and heartened him to know that Harry needed and trusted him. That desperate plea for Sirius to stay had destroyed any notion or ambition to send that foreboding letter to the Weasleys, and it lay on the bedside table waiting now for demolition. No, Harry needed him; truly desired the love and comfort that Sirius had to offer. In a more selfish deep down part of his mind, Sirius realized that he required Harry's love. It was essential to both of their well-being. The wounds Azkaban inflicted had left the both of them vulnerable and torn. Azkaban would always leave a mark on those who had been imprisoned within its walls, just as a hard life had left irreparable scars on both of them. Together though, father and son could heal one another to allow all those open wounds to fade into distant scars.
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End Chapter Eighteen.
I am very sorry for such a long wait for this chapter, however, this past year real life has been difficult. Thank you to all those who reviewed. Thank you so much to my beta Sarah for her help in preparing this chapter.