Chapter 7: Something to Fight For

"He hasn't called out or moved for several days; he just lies there… so still. Do you suppose that's a good sign?"

"I'd like to think so, I hate seeing him in so much pain, Remus. He really thinks I'm dead… I never thought he'd take it so bad – when he was calling for me –" The speaker stopped and drew in a shaky breath. Again Harry's mind began to race. Sirius was speaking; he was alive! Could it be possibly be true or had his mind cracked just as the Prophet had maintained all year? His thoughts were interrupted by the first voice.

"Harry loves you, Sirius. Anyone can see that. You should have seen his face light up last summer when I told him he would see you again. He looks up to you. I've seen similarities between you. Have you noticed how he's picked up your habit of running a hand through your hair when you're stressed? Or how he tilts his head when he's deep in thought? He never did those things before he met you; James and Lily never did those things. He picked them up from you." There was a brief silence before the voice spoke again. "Harry doesn't trust adults easily; it took me the better part of a year to fully gain his trust. You had it within the space of a couple of hours! Think about it, he asked to live with you if he got expelled. He wrote to you last summer after having that vision – he could have written to Albus or the Weasleys or Hermione or Hagrid, but he turned to you. Then when he thought he had drawn you out of hiding, he tried to play it down to keep you out of danger; tonight he went rushing off to risk his life to try and save yours. You underestimate yourself, Sirius. I know he thinks of you as a parent figure; you're his strength, his security, his mentor, and the closest thing he's got to a father."

"What if he doesn't wake?"

"He will. Hearing you talk right now will help him, I'm sure of it."

A chair scraped against the ground as someone stood. "I'm going to get some tea, I think we both could use it. Keep talking to him, Sirius; remind him what he has to fight for; remind him you are still there for him."

"Harry, it's Sirius. I need you to fight it! I know you can do it; Merlin, you've already beaten him four times! You've always been strong, stronger than I would have thought possible… Your parents would be so proud of you… and so am I."

Hearing the desperation and love in his godfather's voice was almost too much to bear. Harry struggled to move; he couldn't understand why his body felt so heavy, so tired. At the moment he didn't care if he was dreaming; he just wanted to know the truth so he could sort out his muddled mess of a mind. He finally succeeded in moving a finger, then another. Feeling slowly returned to his fingers; his hands; his arms. Someone was holding his left hand. Harry squeezed the hand experimentally, wanting to communicate with someone, anyone, who could explain what was happening. He didn't think he could take it to raise his hopes only to have them crashing down. Sirius is dead, he told himself sternly. He's gone. Stop trying to fool yourself, you'll only make it hurt more.

He heard a sharp intake of breath, then, "Harry?" The legs of Sirius' chair scraped noisily against the tiled floor as he jumped up. "Harry? Can you hear me? Try to squeeze my hand again."

Excitement flooded Harry, the hope in that well-known voice spurring him to redouble his efforts in spite of his lingering exhaustion. Focusing all his limited strength on that single action, Harry flexed his hand; it came out as a sporadic motion.

"Good, Harry, good!"

He had never heard his godfather sound so excited. Harry felt the mattress move slightly as his godfather perched on the edge. A hand moved through his hair; an oddly comforting gesture, albeit totally foreign. He involuntarily leaned into the touch.

Sirius' voice trembled slightly. "Can you open your eyes for me?"

Moving was a little easier now, but still required more effort than was normal. Slowly, he lifted his leaden eyelids a minuscule amount at a time until he could see his godfather, his face alight with a huge grin that made him look like his younger self in Harry's photo album.

"You did it." Sirius whispered. His hand was still in Harry's hair. "How do you feel?"

Harry swallowed, willing his aching throat to cooperate. "Tired. Sore." He managed to croak out, surprised by how weak his voice sounded.

Sirius gave him a wry smile. "I'm not surprised considering what you went through."

Harry suddenly tensed as he remembered the past events. He stared at Sirius with wide eyes as his breathing began to quicken.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked in concern as Harry pushed his hand away.

"You – you're dead." He could feel a burning, prickling feeling in the inner corners of his eyes. He blinked rapidly and looked away from the person pretending to be his godfather. "He's gone. He can't come back." Harry whispered miserably, repeating Remus' earlier words after Sirius had fallen through the veil.

"Oh, Harry." Sirius was whispering now as well. "It's really me. What you've been living is a dream, a vision cooked up by Voldemort."

Glancing at him, Harry saw his own unbearable grief mirrored in the man's eyes. On closer inspection, he appeared exhausted. A few days of stubble were evident on his face and his eyes were bloodshot, suggesting he'd had little sleep of late.

Seeing he had Harry's attention, Sirius pressed on. "When that Death Eater had you by the throat, Bellatrix hit you with some spells; spells Voldemort had created to weaken you. So you couldn't fight him when he tried to possess you entirely. He had to get you into a state of emotional devastation."

Sirius raised his hand again, this time to touch Harry's cheek with the back of his hand, as if to reassure himself that his godson was, indeed, safely beside him. Harry stared at the sheets in silence, searching his memories, trying to find proof that the Sirius in front of him was real, not a figment of his own imagination. Harry tilted his head in thought, missing the fond smile Sirius sent him at this action.

"I remember that… the Ministry... the Death Eaters..." He realised suddenly. Now that he was fully awake, he was better able to distinguish between the two realities he had been living. Everything was coming back to him; the Death Eater's cold, black eyes; the flashes of spells; the crashes and screams; the intense pain… then nothing. His head shot up as he realised what being in this reality meant. "You're alive." It was both a question and a statement. He knew it to be true but wanted, needed, additional reassurance.

Sirius seemed to understand. "Yes, I'm alive. I'm not going anywhere." He helped Harry into a sitting position, enveloping him in a comforting hug that was returned wholeheartedly. He felt Harry relax against him, resting his head on Sirius' shoulder.

"I missed you." Harry hated how childish that sounded and the way his voice broke during the simple sentence.

Sirius hugged his godson tighter, and began rubbing his back in small circular motions. "I missed you too, Harry. We're okay now. We're together."

They remained that way for a long time until Harry's still-recovering body caused him to fall asleep. Chuckling, Sirius maneuvered himself so he was in a more comfortable position with Harry's head resting on his chest and his arm still around his godson's shoulders.