Though both had taken it hard, neither really knowing why they were upset, they had agreed that trying again couldn't hurt them anymore than they currently felt.
The next Sunday after the visit, a day before Harry was due to go back to Hogwarts for sixth year; they had had a whole afternoon together. Harry had used his fame, finding it useful for one of the first times. The ministry had decided that even their saviour shouldn't get his prisoner-boyfriend-slash-older-lover out of prison for a day, but Harry had taken the visit without dementors as a moral victory. Almost anyway.
He'd brought as much food as he could carry, a picnic blanket and a bottle of wine. They'd both gotten drunk out of their minds and done it at least three times in the four hours he was there. He'd had the sense to leave a bottle of hangover potion before he'd kissed his passed-out boyfriend on the forehead and stumbled out of the prison to the boat waiting to take him back. He knew, even if he hadn't spoken to him, that Sirius had appreciated that the next morning.
He didn't speak much on the train, not even listening to Ron and Hermione talking about their Christmas. They'd know not to speak to him about his. They knew what had happened. Everybody did. It had ended up front page of the daily prophet. A huge colour picture of them lying together on a picnic blanket among flora, their mouths caught together and their eyes closed in passion. (He hadn't told anyone, but he kept the picture folded up with him at all times. He knew Sirius did the same thing.)
EX-CONVICT CAUGHT WITH UNDERAGE GODSON.
Underage? Ha! It had been on his Birthday. In their own back garden for Pete's sake! They'd made sure the waited till he was legal. It had been an invasion of privacy, even the ministry statement agreed on that, yet two days later, the ministry officials had turned up and taken Sirius away.
Three more days of arguing, Dumbledore calling in favours and doing everything in his power to help, had been fruitless. The ministry was firm in their argument that though Harry had been over sixteen, he was still a minor and therefore, still illegal by a year for Sirius to be with. They had dragged him kicking, screaming and biting back to Azkaban. He'd been there since. Dumbledore agreed with him that they'd purposely made the trial so many months after.
Harry forced himself not to think about it, but still tears sprang to his eyes. He held them back and gave a sniff, noticing the quiet and their eyes on him suddenly.
"Are you okay, Harry?" He shook his head at Hermione, not meeting her eyes. She hugged him comfortingly and he appreciated it more than he ever told her. "It's okay to be upset. You have enough to worry about with Voldemort and school without Sirius being in Azkaban."
Harry knew he'd been neglecting his friends in the last term. (Maybe even before that. After all, they had found out about him and Sirius along with the rest of the world. Everyone had) And that his grades had fallen dramatically, but it had been fortunate that Dumbledore had understood. That's why he was so surprised when he'd been called into his office after the beginning of the term feast.
"I know you've had a tough time Harry. With everything that's been going on, I'd be more surprised if your marks hadn't dropped. But going on moping about it isn't helping anything. There's only so much I can do and I'm afraid that if you don't do better this term, the ministry might force you to repeat sixth year…"
Harry hadn't really listened to much else Dumbledore had said, but he truly made an effort to do better and he was sure by the proud look he saw Mcgonagall giving him when he received back his Transfiguration essay (Just over fifty percent. Not much, but better than twenty or not handing anything in), that it had been noticed. Slowly he started to feel part of the world again, happiness feeling like something foreign.
But the most he felt, and the happy day that would stay with him for a long time, was when he woke up feeling dizzy and had to run to the bathroom to bring up the previous night's dinner. Most people wouldn't be happy vomiting until their throats were raw and their heads hurt, but as he lay with his forehead against the cold porcelain, he realized that it had been over two months already.
His hand shaking, it went to the front of his pyjama top and he didn't need the tests. He just… knew.
ThankyouthankyouthankyouTHANKYOU! for all the wonderful speculating and crying reviews. It really helps. huggles every reviewer tightly
More as soon as my brain knocks into place...