Harry,

I'm not entirely sure why I'm writing this. I just need to write something, anything. I can't talk to you or see you and I never thought it would be like this.

I told Ron that I'm writing to my parents. It was the only excuse I could think of that would give me a moment's rest from him. I feel dreadful having to lie but I just feel like I'm about to explode. I've barely had a moment to even think since getting back to Hogwarts or a moment even really to myself.

Everything has changed. Dumbledore has been reinstated as Headmaster. Umbridge is gone. Everyone knows you were telling the truth and you're not here.

I know you're getting the best possible care right now. I saw them save your life with my own eyes and know you're safe. But all I can think about is how close I came to losing you. You nearly died because of me.

Why did you do it, Harry?

I keep playing it over and over in my mind. You could have blocked that curse. I know you had time; I've seen how fast you can cast a shield. Instead you just put yourself in harm's way as if you felt you should be cursed. The whole time during that fight, you were putting yourself in the line to protect us. You ran off into that awful pit blindly, using yourself as bait. You spared no thought at all for what would happen to you, just us. Just me. And I don't know how that makes me feel. I don't know what that means. Because I can't lose you, Harry. We can't lose you.

Sirius told me that when someone saves the life of another, it creates a bond. I know he's right. Even since I've been back in Hogwarts without you, I feel a horrible emptiness. I can't stop thinking about you.

Biting back a curse, Hermione glared at the split quill, blue ink staining her fingers. Frustrations boiling over, she threw the offending object right out the nearest owl hole. At least, she tried to. The feather fluttered onto the ledge, clattering on the stone. Hermione sighed, the audience of unimpressed owls giving a few hoots and ruffling their feathers. The owlery was full of life yet thankfully, Hermione was the only human. Most of the school was in the Great Hall, tucking into dinner, likely discussing her and her absence. Though, her absence wouldn't be the first item of the gossip agenda. No, that was still Harry.

It felt like the whole world was talking about him and, all the while, he was absent from the world.

Hermione rolled her wrist over to check the time. As she did, she calculated several things. Since it was half seven, that meant it was nearly a whole twenty four hours since she had left the St Mungo's Emergency Response Unit. It also meant that it was nearly two days since Harry had the vision that led him to believe that Sirius was in the Department of Mysteries. It meant that around thirty seven hours ago, Harry had nearly died from a heart attack.

Miserably, she looked away from the clock face, sighing out through her nose to instead look down at the attempt of a letter she'd found herself scribbling while alone in the owlery. Her thoughts had settled down to a much more ordered state, penning the letter had been cathartic at least, putting the thoughts she couldn't voice down to paper. Ever since returning to Hogwarts, her tongue couldn't seem to form the words and communicate anything about what she'd seen and experienced at Harry's bedside. She just stared mutely at Ron and Ginny as they insisted on finding out how Harry was… how she was… and when Harry was coming back to Hogwarts. They at least knew what happened, having been informed through Remus when he rejoined the Order and reported back to Dumbledore. She had been spared regaling the events of the night, though she still didn't get a reprieve as they wanted the exact details.

Feathers ruffled behind her, making her duck instinctively as one of the owls swept down from its roost. Hair caught in the updraft from the owl's wings, it blew in her face. Hermione brought her hands up to clear her eyes, finding white feather close by. Lowering her hands, she found a snowy owl perched on the window sill. Yellow eyes stared unblinkingly back at her.

She let out a breath, smiling sadly as she extended a hand towards Hedwig. The owl bowed her head, allowing her to brush the feathers at her crown.

"I miss him too," she said softly as she then brought her fingers to scratch under Hedwig's beak. She let out a pleased trill at the attention. Her stomach then gave a warning rumble, hunger reminding her that it was a good idea to catch the tail-end of dinner. The alternative would be attempting to sneak into the Kitchens and ask Dobby for something which she absolutely would not do. Sighing, she packed her parchment and writing set back into her bag. Hedwig watched her with a slightly mournful look.

She headed over to the exit, moving to pull the door open and came face-to-face with Luna Lovegood.

"Ah! Oh my… Luna?" Hermione yelped in fright, as she scrambled for her wand, not expecting to see anyone. Her mind managed to work out that she wasn't being ambushed in time. It wasn't one of the Slytherins sneaking out to get a punt on her for a savage bit of revenge for her part in removing Umbridge from the school. Luna didn't appear in the slightest bit concerned by Hermione's reaction. Instead, she seemed rather pleased.

"Hello Hermione," she said with a strange tremendous look as she peered past Hermione's shoulder, her eyes wide, before looking back and stepping aside so she could leave without her blocking the way. "It's okay. I come up here when I want to be away from everyone as well."

Opening her mouth immediately to deny Luna's remark, Hermione stopped herself. There had been no accusation in Luna's words, just an observation. She then felt very uncomfortable as she realised that Luna was seeking solitude as well, which was unusual for someone who was often without company - though it wasn't out of choice. Hermione often found Luna uncomfortable to be around, the way that her classmates treated her was too familiar for her as she'd been similarly bullied before coming to Hogwarts. While she found Luna's outlandish ideas and fantasies ridiculous and infuriating, she didn't think she deserved to be ridiculed and called names for them. Hermione felt suddenly very guilty.

"Do you want company?" She asked the other girl, glancing back into the owlery. Luna beamed at the question, but shook her head.

"It's kind of you to offer, but it's alright. If you hurry, you'll make it in time for dessert," Luna said, even giving her a pat on the shoulder in a friendly gesture that wasn't usually something she'd make. Her gaze roved out towards the castle pointedly before coming back to settle on her. "Although, I have a pasty if you'd rather have something savoury. I didn't want to eat in the Great Hall, either."

Luna opened her bag, indeed showing Hermione three pumpkin pasties wrapped up in napkins. She reached in, took it and offered it to her.

"Oh, Luna, I shouldn't-."

"Three is far too many for me," Luna said almost sternly, waving the pasty at her for her to take. "Here, it's the least I can do."

It was a strange thing to say about a pasty. Realising that refusing would just come across as rude, Hermione took the pasty. She wondered then if Luna had purposefully brought an extra pasty, knowing that she would come across her.

"What do you mean 'it's the least you can do'?" Hermione asked, looking down at the pasty, frowning in confusion. Luna didn't answer straight away, instead moving from Hermione to wander deeper into the owlery. Once she'd reached the spot where Hermione had occupied earlier, penning the letter she was determined to not send, Luna looked back over her shoulder. She gave her a sad smile.

"Sometimes the loneliest place is in a crowd," she said softly, her voice nearly lost amid the ambient sounds of rustling feathers and hoots. "Especially when the company you wish for is absent. When you seek out solitude, you receive exactly what you want. To be alone."

Luna tilted her head a little to the side as she considered Hermione hovering in the doorway. "I understand. You miss him less when you're alone."

A flash of heat shot up to Hermione's face. There was no need for her to question who Luna was assuming that she missed. Not when she felt an actual physical ache where she missed Harry. While during the holidays when she spent long periods apart from Harry and Ron, she did miss them both, but it was nothing compared to the rawness of what she was currently experiencing. It didn't appear to have a reason. She could chalk it up to how it was because Harry was in hospital, recovering from a near-fatal injury sustained on her behalf, but there was more to it. She hadn't noticed how much she depended on his company and presence until it was gone.

Sirius had been right. It wasn't until she came so close to losing him forever that she realised how she felt about him. It was almost as if she'd been taking him for granted.

"Thank you, Luna" Hermione said sincerely, meaning to thank her for the pasty but in truth, her gratitude was for her understanding. As Luna smiled knowingly, it was clear that it came across. Conscious then that Luna had come up to the owlery to be alone herself, Hermione realised that she was encroaching on her solitude. "I'm glad someone understands." Hermione added as a farewell.

Leaving to show that she, in turn, understood, Hermione hoisted her bag up on her shoulder as she went to descend the narrow steps. A light breeze ruffled her hair as she climbed down, squinting in the brilliant sunlight. It was a beautiful evening with only a few wispy clouds in the rich blue sky. Hermione was lost in her thoughts as she absently made her way down the path, making her solitary way back to the castle. Yet as she reached the fork in the path, she hesitated. In truth, she wasn't ready to join the muttering mass of the student populace. Nor was she ready to handle more of Ron's attempts to further talk about what happened at the Department of Mysteries and why Harry was lured there in the first place.

Instead, she made the decision to take the route towards the lake and grounds. Appreciating the peaceful tranquillity of the empty grounds, she made her way down to the footpath that spanned around the lake. It was the first time she'd walked to the lake on her own, always in the company of her two friends. Although… that wasn't strictly true. There had been times when she'd strolled the path in just the company of Harry. Last year, in fact.

Reminiscing, Hermione unfolded the pasty from the napkin Luna had used. She smiled wistfully as she remembered how she and Harry had nibbled on toast she had swiped from the Gryffindor table the morning after his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire. She quickly sobered, recalling just how scared she had been for Harry. He, on the other hand, had just been angry and upset over no one believing him - Ron, in particular. Therein lay a common theme. Harry very rarely exhibited fear when his life was in danger. Almost as if he didn't care.

Hermione faltered on the bottom steps that led to the lake shoreline. It struck her fully then. When she had pointed out to Harry that his famous weakness was running to the rescue to save those he cared about, she'd missed the real crux of his priorities. He devalued his own life. He didn't hesitate to put himself in harm's way for the sake of others, not even if the threat to his own life was very real. It was all too easy for Voldemort to draw him out when he had such terrible self-preservation instincts. This whole time, he thought so little about himself and it was so obvious that even his enemies knew about it. Yet the people closest to him, those who cared, hadn't helped him to feel that his life had just as much meaning as anyone else's. Harry wasn't being reckless or cavalier with his life. He truly didn't believe his life was as important.

Horror shot through her, taking her breath away. Slowly, she lowered herself down to perch on the steps, her legs feeling suddenly shaky. She rested the pasty on her lap, staring out at the glittering surface of the lake. She sucked in a sharp breath as her heart started to ache for him once more.

The ache in her heart grew then and she gasped aloud as it all became horribly clear to her. She understood completely then what Sirius had been getting across to her and why he felt the need to do so. Guilt burned deep in her gut. She had felt the need to lecture Harry on his lack of empathy when it came to Cho's feelings yet didn't extend the same empathy when it came down to Harry's own. His increasingly volatile temper and defensiveness had made her tread on eggshells around him, and yet for some reason she didn't parse deeper below the surface to where the hurt truly lay. Why hadn't she shown him more sympathy?

She brought her hands to her mouth as she realised then that Dumbledore wasn't the only one who had failed Harry. They all had. She was included. They should have shown him more love and made him feel like they cared about him. It never before crossed her mind just how lonely Harry was… and how unloved he truly felt. He knew cruelty with more familiarity than he did love. It was no wonder he didn't ask for help when he needed it when it so rarely was offered during the times he needed comfort and care.

That simply had to change. Sirius was right.

Alone, Hermione helped herself to the pumpkin pasty to stave away the pangs of hunger. While it dealt with one feeling of emptiness, it did little to address how she so desperately wanted to be at Harry's side. She needed to tell him how much she cared. She had to take his pain away. Nothing mattered more than that.

Dusting the crumbs off her legs when she was finished with the pasty, Hermione put her bag down by her side. Taking out the copy of New Theory of Numerology that Harry incidentally got for her at Christmas, she used it to lean against as she fetched the letter that she had started in the owlery. She smoothed the crinkled parchment over the cover of the book, resting both on her thighs as she took a moment to look out at the lake. Breathing in deeply, she then smiled to herself as she thought of Harry's reaction when she kissed him goodbye. He had definitely blushed.

Ink pot open and sat on the step at her side, she fetched a new quill from the deep recesses of her bag. Once inked, she considered the letter and the scribbled out phrases. Sighing softly, she went to finish it.

So many people have caused you great harm and I know I'm not blameless. You say that I'm the best friend you could hope for but that isn't the case. I should have tried so much harder to understand what you've been going through. Instead, I criticised and nagged you to the point you didn't open up to me at all. I should have been so much more supportive and I'm so ashamed that I didn't see just how much you were hiding. You're so used to managing your pain on your own, you don't consider that we're here to help. We haven't helped in making you feel that way. I just wish I tried harder to show that you can trust me and confide in me about how you feel. Because that's what friends are for, Harry. That's what family is for.

I'm always here for you, Harry.

Yours,

Hermione

The ink dried quickly in the heat, allowing her to fold up the letter. Silently, she cleared away her ink and quill, returning everything back to her bag. She kept hold of the letter, however, staring out at the view of the lake. Minutes passed her by, the sun overhead tracking down low towards the horizon. Uncertain of how much time had passed, she eventually shook herself out of her deep thoughts.

She was certain that she had missed dessert, however.

Before getting up and returning back to the castle, she brought her arm up to her face. She hastily dried the few tears that had fallen while her heart ached for the one she loved.


If any of the Healers found the presence of a large black dog strange, neither of them said as much aloud while in Emergency Room Two that served as Harry's private room in St Mungo's. While they were present, Sirius had to stay in his animagus form, but always remained close enough so Harry could reach for him if he needed him. The Healers had been nothing but incredibly considerate and gentle yet it didn't stop their touches unnerving him. He kept up a brave face when they removed the needles in both his arms, not wanting to look at what had been stuck in his veins, giving him potions, medicine and fluids to keep him as healthy as possible while unconscious. He said nothing as they carefully removed the bandages around his torso, still not looking when the injuries were exposed to the air. He drew in sharp breaths as they applied fresh dressings and when the pain blockers started to wane, feeling the burning in his heart and chest. His discomfort was noted at once and he was given pain relief potions to drink.

With the needles gone, he could put on a shirt. They helped him dress, taking care to not touch the wires still embedded in his chest. All the while, his body gently rocked with the pulses keeping his heart beating. As they weaned him off the potions, he grew more and more alert. His heart, while healing, still wasn't ready to be disconnected. Before Head Healer McKinnon's shift ended, she made the decision that there would be no risks where he was concerned, especially not when he had been mentally attacked while in their care and nearly expired again under the stress of the ordeal. He had to stay another night.

He wished he'd been sedated during the conversation about his scar. Why did he have to be completely out of it when Hermione had been with him yet fully aware for that discussion? He barely remembered speaking to Hermione at all, his memory extremely foggy around the events of his first night as an emergency patient. Yet he recalled every excruciating detail of what he saw in Voldemort's mind and what Healer McKinnon said of her observations about what happened. His fears of being incarcerated indefinitely as a result of Healers discovering the truth of his scar and his connection to Voldemort ended up unfounded. Rather than shove him in a padded cell and throw away the key, it appeared that Head Healer McKinnon actually wanted to help him.

Since her chilling words about his scar, he'd been fussed over and nursed back to health by his team of Healers. Not spared a moment free from their attention, he'd not had a chance to ask Sirius what Esther meant. How could his scar be alive? What did that mean? And why did he have the feeling that Esther McKinnon was important not just as an exceptional Healer, but to Sirius personally? Why did he trust her? What was their history?

The duo of Healers tending to his care seemed to finally be satisfied. A Healer who introduced herself as Francine checked his temperature for what he felt was the tenth time. At his left, Healer Hewitt checked his blood pressure with an instrument that closely resembled its muggle equivalent except for the fact it inflated itself.

"Have some more water, Harry. It's important you keep yourself hydrated," the male Healer reminded him. Harry sat himself up a little to reach for where a glass of water remained on the floating table at his bedside. His hands trembled as he lifted his arms from the bed, still weakened from the curse, but too stubborn to let his condition stop him from looking after himself. He diligently sipped from the cup, feeling the refilling charm tingling under his fingertips as the water topped itself up as he drank.

His stomach chose then to give a rumble. He hadn't eaten anything since before his History of Magic exam two days ago. His appetite had been put on hold while fighting for his life and returned in full force now that his body wasn't half-blood, half-potion. His Healers shared a look, finishing their checks.

"Do you feel up for having something to eat, Harry?" Francine asked him. "Your body is still in a little shock so we don't want to push you if you're not ready. The nutrition potions have been keeping your calorie intake up for the moment but it's no substitute."

He set his water down, resting a hand on his stomach where the water went to settle. He wasn't just hungry. He was ravenous. Yet he was just so used to shelving away the feeling, he hadn't paid it much attention compared to all the other things he was experiencing. With the nausea gone, the thought of eating had his stomach rumbling continuously.

"We should get your canine friend something as well," Hewitt added, looking a little guilty then, "Merlin's beard, he must be starving."

"Kingsley left him with some food earlier." Francine said distractedly. Sirius made a huffing bark, confirming as much.

"Something to eat would be amazing," Harry said gratefully, sitting back against the wonderful soft pillows behind him. Both Healers seemed pleased at his answer, giving him kind smiles.

A few moments later, they had arranged for something to eat to be delivered to his private room. Soon enough, his table had been repositioned over his lap with a metal dome sat upon a tray, polished to a high shine.

"I'm afraid the hospital canteen isn't well known for its exciting menu," Healer Hewitt said with an apologetic wince as he went to remove the dome. "It looks like it's beef stew today."

Regardless of being uninspired, the savoury aromas slammed into Harry with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. His mouth was salivating at once, becoming close to mindless with his hunger. His Healers helped him to move his arms up to the table, causing Harry to immediately flush as he needed the assistance. They were able to anticipate his needs before he had them, assisting him before he went to struggle stubbornly on his own.

Thankfully, they didn't mortify him any further and help him eat. They hung back, waiting and watching. Harry let out a small sigh and plucked up the knife and fork. He was too ravenous to be put off eating because he had an attentive audience. He went to cut up one of the stewed potatoes on his plate, the clinking of cutlery the only sound as he carefully ate. Despite what the Healer said about the food, it tasted very good.

"Take it slowly," Hewitt said once he swallowed down his mouthful, "and let us know if you feel sick."

Harry soon had the plate cleared, his hunger taking over. They cleared the tray away from Harry then helped him to sit back and relax. Harry rapidly started to feel sleepy. He didn't even flinch when Healer Francine rested the back of her hand over his forehead to check his temperature again.

"How are you feeling?" She asked him.

"Better," Harry said honestly.

"Good to hear it. You need all the fuel you can get to restore your magical core. Madame Pomfrey will be making you clear every plate when you're back at Hogwarts, mark my words."

"Thanks for the warning," Harry said as he settled back. The bed lowered back for him, reclining further so he was more comfortable. At last, they went to leave him in peace, not before reminding him where the alarm was. Feeling a little breathless that he would actually be left alone with Sirius, he watched them open the door and leave, speaking quietly among themselves as they did.

He let out a long breath the moment the door shut behind them. He reached his right hand down, looking over for Sirius who sat up. He then padded over to the seat where Hermione had been the day before, jumping up in it. Harry felt a strong swell of longing, his gaze moving to where there had been a bed. The Healers had removed it while he'd been sleeping. All he could remember of Hermione being in the room with him was the touch of her hair brushing against his face when she spoke to him. He'd been confused and he couldn't remember why she was so close, but he did remember her kiss on his cheek.

She kissed him goodbye.

He saw Sirius shift back into his human form, the change seamless and as eerie as always. Looking over to him, Harry winced in guilt when he saw how tired Sirius was.

"I can see you worrying about me. Don't. I got some kip while you were sleeping earlier," Sirius told him rather curtly, but then he smiled, "I've eaten as well… it wasn't dog food, in case you're wondering. I'm more worried about you," he straightened up, peering over at Harry, "though you are doing remarkably better now that you're a lot more with it. How are you feeling? Honestly?"

At his question, dread and fear returned in force, clenching Harry's insides in their icy hold. His heart stuttered, causing shortness in his breath at once. His fingers twitched at the discomfort, heart palpating. Sirius moved to his feet immediately, coming over to take Harry's hand as he'd done when Harry woke up properly following from his foray into Voldemort's mind. Overhead, Harry could see the electrum pulsing between red and orange as his heart battled against the forced pulses.

"They all know the truth. They know… they know that I'm dangerous. That I'm contaminated…" Harry whispered tightly around the tightening in his chest. He screwed his eyes shut. "And what Esther said… about my scar. I… I don't know what it means. How can it be alive…?"

He stopped talking, focusing instead on breathing. Sirius enveloped his hand in both of his, the contact helping immensely.

"I know you're scared," Sirius said firmly, causing Harry to open his eyes and peer up at him. He met the concerned look upon his tired visage. "I am too but we're going to deal with this properly now. Especially now that I've seen for myself just how powerful this connection is between you and Voldemort…"

Harry let out a long breath through his nose in an effort to calm himself down. The experience of having Voldemort consciously seek out their connection and use it against him had shaken him to the core. All previous belief he had about the supposed usefulness of the connection, of how he could gather information directly out of Voldemort's mind, had been utterly shattered. His mind was being held hostage, the threat of another attack looming over him like an axe ready to fall. He wasn't just scared.

He was terrified.

"I'm starting to wonder if Dumbledore truly believed that occlumency would be sufficient enough to protect your mind. It's a conventional defence against legilimency, but your scar is far from conventional." Sirius then said, turning so he could perch on the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight but where it was clearly enchanted, Harry's position wasn't disturbed, still moulded in the cloud-like pillowy bed. "And I fail to see how it would help you when you're asleep and not even aware of your own consciousness."

"So… so you're saying that occlumency was a huge waste of time?" Harry gasped out incredulously.

"No, it's definitely a useful skill to learn when up against a skilled legilimens, but even if you could shield your mind against attacks, it doesn't change the fact… that you possess a part of him."

At the brief hesitation, Harry searched Sirius's face carefully and he caught a glimmer of fear entering his gaze. The presence of it set off his own horror once again. His chest felt tighter, making it increasingly harder to fill his lungs. His mouth hung a little open as he struggled to catch his breath. Sirius briefly closed his eyes, sighing wearily as he shifted around to rest his hand on top of Harry's.

"Th-that's what Esther meant about it being alive? It's a part of him?" Harry breathed out tightly.

"A part of him that's separate to you," Sirius said in a firm tone, opening his eyes to give him a very direct look, "It doesn't corrupt you or change who you are. Your mind is your own just as his mind is his… but you are linked through the magic that you took on that night."

Harry brought his other hand up to his forehead, swallowing where his mouth was starting to go dry again. He lightly touched the scar under his fringe, the skin innocently smooth and pain-free.

"It's more than just magic though, isn't it? When Dumbledore first explained it to me, I didn't know enough really to question but… but now, I know this is something a lot bigger. I haven't just taken some of his magic, have I? It's more than that."

He stared at the slither he could see of Sirius's face as he turned away, head dipping down. Sirius sighed as his fingers gently rubbed over the backs of Harry's fingers, the touch light.

"Yes, I believe there's a lot more to it. As much as I don't want to scare you, especially in your condition, I really think that keeping this from you at this point does more harm than good. Keeping you ignorant of the danger you're in hasn't worked so far… and I refuse to make the same mistakes as the old man." Sirius's voice turned gruff, edging towards a growl.

Harry turned his hand over, flexing his fingers upwards to take Sirius's hand in his. Sirius sagged forwards a little, strands of his dark brown hair dangled over his face. He lifted his head, bringing his free hand up to push his hair clear from his face. Then he edged closer, his look turning softer and tender as he reached over Harry's face. He then went to gently touch him on his forehead where Harry's fingers lightly dusted.

"It's a part of his soul, Harry."

Harry frowned at once, lowering his hand down from his face. He stared at Sirius, searching for any clues to give away that he was making some terrible joke. All he could see was grim seriousness. His frown smoothed away as his face started to feel numb once again. Confusion and terror clashed in his mind as he tried to comprehend what Sirius had just said. He wasn't being metaphorical. Harry was all too aware that souls were real, having saved Sirius from losing his soul and coming close to losing his own to dementors.

Then he thought of what Dumbledore had told him about his scar… about what Voldemort himself had said about the night when he tried to kill him. The curse that backfired didn't act as a killing curse should have. It obliterated him.

"How… how can that be?" Harry asked faintly. "If his soul was damaged along with his body, surely he would know?"

Sirius sighed then, lifting his chin to look at Harry face on.

"Oh, he knows about the damage done to his soul. You must have wondered why Voldemort looks the way he does. Why does he appears more monster than man?"

At the question, Harry frowned again. Truth be told, he hadn't wondered. Sirius took his silence as an answer and continued.

"He looks that way because he has sacrificed his humanity, bit by bit. He has chipped away at the pureness of his human soul in pursuit of power. That is what the Dark Arts does. It distorts and darkens the heart… and it corrupts the soul - very literally." Harry's frown deepened as Sirius spoke. Sirius's face twitched unpleasantly.

"A blackened, broken soul is still a soul," Sirius explained grimly, "even mutilated, it will live on - just as Voldemort's did on the night he was destroyed. My bet, Harry, is that when his body was blown apart, his soul met a similar fate. He survived in spirit form… barely alive… but incomplete. While he fled, a splinter of his damaged soul found its way to you."

Harry rested his hand on his stomach, churning with fresh nausea. He continued to search Sirius's face, waiting for him to dismiss his words as just speculation. After a few seconds of Sirius just staring at him with grim sadness, Harry broke and looked away, gasping out, wretched horror seizing at him painfully. Sirius's fingers squeezed his.

"But… but you're just guessing. You don't know for certain…" Harry said breathlessly while his heart palpitations sent him a dizzy spell. He drew in a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

"Esther felt it, Harry. She felt the living part of his soul," Sirius said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. "This is why your minds are linked no matter the distance between you and why you're a parselmouth despite no Potter ever having the ability before you."

Harry closed his eyes. His control was fracturing where he no longer had the calming potions keeping him in a relaxed fogged state. A soft moan escaped him. Sirius reacted immediately, lowering himself down onto his elbow so he could lean over him. Harry felt his heart struggle in his chest as the panic started to set in.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. I know this is a lot, but I'm not going to lie. You need to know the reality… you need to know everything and you will. Even if you have to know about the darkest of magics because ignorance won't protect you… despite what Albus Dumbledore believes."

Harry's eyes flew open and he stared up at Sirius, his emotions erupting. He clutched at the bedsheet with both hands, heaving in a breath. Overheard, the electrum was orange, burning brightly in warning. His heart wasn't strong enough for the stress. Sirius glanced upwards, alarm entering his gaze before he looked back down to Harry. He brought a hand up to his face, his roughened fingers lightly touching Harry's cheek before his palm cupped it. Gently, he angled his head over so they were looking directly at each other.

"What will protect me?" Harry managed to gasp out, his voice still faint. "He… he can get into my mind. He could… could make me do things. Possess me."

"He could try," Sirius admitted, "but I doubt he would get very far. You need to give yourself some credit, Harry. You aren't powerless. Not in the slightest. Maybe occlumency is beyond your reach at the moment but you still have the strength of will to throw off the imperius curse. Throwing off possession is not much different."

Harry leaned into Sirius's hand against his cheek, desperately needing his comfort. The electrum dimmed to a safe red as he made a conscious effort to calm down. He trusted Sirius to not give him false hope or lead him astray with lies. After all, Harry knew how unusual his ability to withstand the imperius curse was. Especially when cursed at the hand of the most powerful dark wizard in existence while suffering the after effects of torture.

"But when I'm in his mind, it's not like I'm aware of myself."

"Those instances are accidental. I expect it'll be different if he makes a purposeful attack - if he even can while you're conscious. Last night, when he caught you in his mind, he didn't maintain the connection very long, did he?"

Harry winced at the reminder, his skin chilling at the memory of having that laughter resonating in his mind while he was fighting to breathe.

"It was killing me," Harry said quietly.

"I know," Sirius heavily sighed, "and that's why we need to find a way to get this out of you. Esther seems to think that Lily's protective magic is keeping it contained, but the physical strain it has on you is very real."

At the pained look on his face, Harry sighed, closing his eyes briefly. The revelation along with the stress on his heart had exhausted him thoroughly. He could feel the weakness settling in, weighing heavily on his limbs. Sirius moved his hand from his cheek, his fingers gently going up to his glasses where he went to remove them. Harry didn't protest, knowing before Sirius was even about to suggest that he needed to rest after dealing with such an emotional blow. He peered through his eyelids to watch Sirius place his glasses on the table next to his enchanted glass of unlimited water.

"Do you think he knows?" Harry murmured tiredly. Sirius let out a dark scoffing laugh.

"I would count on Dumbledore knowing-."

"No, not Dumbledore," Harry opened his eyes a little wider, inching his head a little to the right to look up at Sirius. "Voldemort."

Sirius's jaw tensed, eyes hardening for a moment before he met Harry's gaze. While his eyes softened a little, his mouth set in a grim line. He brought his hand down to the top of Harry's head, fingers lightly carding through his locks. Harry's lips parted in surprise at the touch.

"Now that he is fully aware of the connection between you both, I suspect he'll come to the same conclusion," Sirius said after a few moments of lightly running his fingers through Harry's hair. "Whether that will change anything, time will tell. Until then, all we can do is try to keep you safe and find ways to protect you. Whatever it takes, Harry. I will protect you."

Harry closed his eyes, wishing that he could possibly ever be safe. Part of him felt ashamed at his weakness, but he was scared and ill. He just wanted to drift off, find a dream where he lived a different life without Voldemort plunging him in his shadow. It was easy to imagine with Sirius stroking his hair, comforting him as a parent would do to their child when distressed. He sighed out a long breath, starting to relax.

Then Sirius started to sing softly under his breath.

"My little moonbeam, where did you go?

Shine for me, shine for me, through wind and snow."

Sirius's voice lulled him, the touches in his hair… all set off something deep within, some sort of trigger he didn't know he had.

"My little moonbeam, show me the way,

Shine for me, shine for me, 'til the next day."

He turned his head, leaning into Sirius's hand. Sirius continued the tune, murmuring that he didn't remember the rest of the words. He hummed the rest. Harry didn't dare move as he listened to the lullaby. Not even when he heard Sirius sniffing or when he felt his own eyes burn with tears. The soft lull of the song soon had him drifting off to where he so desperately wanted to go. Off into the sanctuary of a dreamless sleep.