In Ten Minutes
It was raining, that was all that Harry could comprehend at this moment in time. He sat there on the grass, and it was raining. Rain, a thousand crying angels pouring their tears down on him. The lost man, in a sea of broken promises…
Harry brought the firewhiskey up to his lips, and the burning liquid left a scorching trail down his throat, but he was to far gone to care. Lighting struck across the sky, and thunder clapped in the distance. It was his birthday, something that most people, and newly turned sixteen year-olds would be happy to celebrate. No, not this boy, not Harry Potter. No, he was getting sloshed in the back yard of his Godfather's house.
He hadn't wanted to celebrate his birthday. Sirius hadn't even told him Happy Birthday, in fact Harry was seeing less and less of Sirius as it is. So why was he getting drunk on his birthday? He didn't know, nor did he care, all he knew was the bottle clutched in his hand, as if holding on to his life. All he knew was the feeling of burning alcohol sliding down his throat, and the steady pounding in his head.
Harry threw the bottle against a tree in front of him, finding the bottle empty as it were. Putting his head in his hands, he started sobbing. His world or life, if that's what you wanted to call it, was falling through his fingers. It was sand that he was grasping to tightly in his fingertips he knew as it fell, that he could never pick up all the pieces.
Never…Harry was so drunk, he was so fucked up that he didn't notice himself standing up and wobbling to the backdoor, nor did he realize that he was headed toward the ground of the kitchen. But he realized it when he hit the floor, he didn't move. He stayed there, drowning in his sorrows. He finally passed out.
Sirius was glaring at out his window, when he heard the rather loud thump from downstairs. He leaped off his bed, and somewhat sprinted to his door, and down the stairs. Not really knowing what he was looking for, he started in the living room, the dining room, and finally the kitchen.
Harry lay in the floor, a puddle of blood forming around his head. The backdoor stood wide open.
Sirius choked back a sob; this was supposed to be his birthday…
"God…fuck, Harry, wake up!" Sirius panted kneeling beside Harry, wiping the tears (or rain, he couldn't tell) from Harry's face. Harry wasn't waking though. Sirius considered lifting him, but didn't want to cause anymore more damage. So he bolted…He had to find somebody besides himself, to help Harry. So he did what he was good at.
He found himself running and screaming through the hallways. Not a very bright idea, but it sure as hell worked.
"What in the bloody hell, are you doing, Sirius?" Ron asked trying to cover his ears. Molly was behind him, and then came Remus.
Remus could help him, and so could Molly. That was the only thought that crossed his mind, before he grabbed them both by the wrist, and dragged them to the kitchen.
"You have to help me, I don't know what to do", Sirius wasn't talking right, so it came out slurred.
"Padfoot, if you've dragged me in here, so I could fix you foo—bloody hell, what happened?"
"I'm not sure, but I think he's drunk, and passed out".
"Harry would never do something like that. How dare you accuse him, Sirius" Molly protested.
"I've been drunk and passed out enough times to know what it looks like, Mrs. Weasley" Sirius snapped.
Remus kneeled beside Harry, and leaned in, his nose hovering above his mouth. Turning his head away, he looked at Sirius and Molly.
"He's right Molly. Harry is drunk, firewhiskey by the smell."
"Can you please tell me what's bloody wrong with his head!" Sirius cried.
"He hit it when he came in. It's not back. Head wounds just bleed a lot, but we have to get him to bed. He'll have a headache from hell, when he wakes up in the morning", Remus concluded.
"So he'll be alright?" Sirius asked.
"He'll be fine."
Sirius nodded and lifted Harry up. Gently cuddling him to his chest, he stalked up the stairs with the precious burden in his arms. Trying not to jostle Harry around, Sirius carefully put him on his bed. Harry would stay with him, until he woke up.
Maybe Harry would forgive him when he woke up…
Sirius sat on the edge of his bed, running his fingers through the teenager's raven hair, and falling more and more into himself. Today was Harry's birthday, and All he could do was slump around and feel sorry for himself. What kind of godfather was he?
Author's note: Yeah, I know it's horrible. I'm such a bad person. Anyway, I have some romance planned out but who should it be between?
Sirius/James
Sirius/Harry
James/Harry
Remus/Harry
Harry/Ginny
That's basically it, if you have anymore pairings, I'm open to suggestions.