Disclaimer: Nope.

Author's Note: Hello folks! I'm very happy I'm able to get this chapter up before my vacation. Thank you so much for your support, and for wishing me a happy birthday and a great time! Believe me, I know it will be.

Wow, thank you guys for the amazing response to the last chapter. It was definitely gut-wrenching to write as well. Yes, Harry and Sirius both know the truth now. I've always wondered what would have happened if Harry had Sirius still in his life when he learned about the Horcrux inside him. It would make the entire thing look very different. Can anyone point me to any other stories where Harry has a family and they discover the news? I honestly haven't seen very many like it.

That's awesome, Yellow 14! Happy birthday to you! That's so cool that your birthday is a week before mine. I hope you had a wonderful day. And oh, my goodness, yet another spin-off? You're unbelievable. That. Is. Awesome! I'm looking forward to it!

Yes, it's true that Dixon is breaking Albus's healer-patient confidentiality to tell Harry and Sirius about this. But in this case, he honestly feels like he doesn't have a choice. The information is too important to the war effort, and it concerns both of them enormously.

Now, then. This chapter is a Harry and Sirius bonding chapter. After what just happened, they need to be able to work through their feelings about it and have a deep heart-to-heart. There's been so much happening in the story that I haven't written a Harry and Sirius bonding scene in quite a while. I hope this one lives up to everyone's expectations.

The entire conversation Harry and Sirius have about Dumbledore is based on a lot of theories I've seen over time. Some of them I agree with, some I don't. Sirius, considering what he learns about Harry in this chapter concerning the Dursleys, is going to think the absolute worst of Dumbledore, even if it's not all true. Harry, though he's come to some realizations, doesn't think as badly of Dumbledore as Sirius does. And me, as an author? I understand where those conspiracy theories are coming from, but as I've said before, I don't see Dumbledore as the evil chessmaster he's portrayed as in so many fics. I don't think he knew about absolutely everything the Dursleys did to him. I don't think he was actively trying to make Harry's childhood lonely, and wanted him to feel so unloved that he'd have an easier time sacrificing himself at the end. There is a part of me that thinks he was doing it on a subconscious level, though. After all, if Harry grew up in a family that truly loved him, he wouldn't have been so convinced he had to go it alone.

But Dumbledore is extremely complicated. He was written so strangely throughout the series that it's so hard to work him out. I do think that, in the end, he had good intentions, but he went about his plans all wrong. That scene in Deathly Hallows where Harry is walking to his death is absolutely heartbreaking. I literally can't read it without feeling sick inside. I've seen many people say on forums that his entire seven years in the magical world consisted of such brainwashing that it finally culminated in that scene. I'm not sure I'd put it quite that way, but still, there's something about chapter 34 of DH that makes me feel so uncomfortable. Harry never even considers any other recourse - he just does what Dumbledore wants. The one line, "Dumbledore's betrayal meant almost nothing", literally makes me nauseous. Dumbledore was raising Harry Potter as a child soldier, whether he realized it or not. And despite how Rowling intended to write him, I can never see Dumbledore in much of a positive light even if he wasn't truly evil.

That's why, in this story, I allow him to still possess a heart, because it doesn't seem right to write him as the vile scumbag many authors portray him as, although I perfectly understand that interpretation. Also, there's a particular angle I'm exploring in this chapter that I often don't see in the "Dumbledore is pure evil, he set Harry up for absolutely everything" fics. I know many might disagree with my own interpretation of him, and that's okay. After all, all HP fans get different things out of the books. That's what makes them so rich and so interesting.

Anyway, I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter.

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Ever since Harry had learned that the monster who called himself Lord Voldemort was after him, he had always been afraid he was living on borrowed time. His time before Hogwarts had consisted of nothing more than dull days spent in a cupboard, only to be let out to do chores and to be belittled by those who were supposed to be "family". School was another thing he was released from the cupboard for, but it ended up not being enjoyable at all. When he wasn't trying to run from Dudley's gang, he was sitting in a classroom surrounded by people who either shied away from him for fear of his cousin, or they believed every word he said and thought that he, Harry, was the bully.

Then, he had come to the wizarding world, and his life had gone 180 degrees in the other direction. Suddenly, he was idolized and worshiped for something he couldn't even remember. It was disconcerting - people wanted to meet him. People shook his hand and smiled at him and looked at him in awe. People wanted him to sign autographs. It made him feel very, very peculiar.

And then, he had met Voldemort in person - a sinister, grotesque monster attached to the head of Professor Quirrell. As he lay on the floor, all his strength leaving him, he somehow knew he was dying. There had been a strange sort of ... acceptance that had come over him at that moment. He was so tired ... so, so tired. He just wanted to sleep.

But then, he had awoken with Dumbledore at his bedside, full of reassurance and explanations. And then there were Ron and Hermione, looking so relieved that he was alive. Harry had never truly had anyone who worried about him before, and it was an odd thing to know. Ron and Hermione actually cared about him, and had been devastated by the prospect of losing him.

In those strange days afterwards, Harry had had a lot to grapple with. He knew it had been in self-defense, but he'd killed a man. Professor Quirrell's screams echoed in his head. Yes, the man had been trying to kill him. Yes, he wanted Harry's parents' killer back out in the world. But Quirrell was still dead because of Harry. An actual human being had lost his life to an eleven-year-old boy.

And then, he'd gone back to the Dursleys, and appeared to receive no letters from his friends. It was like the last year had never happened, and the wizarding world didn't exist. Maybe it had all been some strange hallucination he'd suffered. Maybe he'd been very ill in his cupboard, and his mind had drifted to somewhere exceedingly weird.

But no. Harry wasn't ill, and it hadn't been a hallucination. He was suddenly immersed in the wizarding world again, experiencing the joys of the Burrow and what a family was actually supposed to be like. The Weasleys had shown him kindness and caring, and he didn't think he'd eaten so much in his entire life.

And then, at the end of the following school year, he was fighting again. He was involved in another terrifying ordeal where he had, once again, faced the prospect of dying. He lay there, growing weaker and weaker as the basilisk's venom coursed through his bloodstream. He was dying. Once again, that strange calm, that odd acceptance settled over him, and he wondered if he'd finally see the parents that he had so much longing for. He remembered their faces in the Mirror of Erised, and wondered if he'd finally have the chance to embrace them. He could only feel extremely guilty that Ginny wouldn't live to see tomorrow either - she'd die in this dark, eerie chamber along with him. His heart hurt when he thought of the Weasleys, and how they'd react to the loss of one of their own. Harry had failed to save her life - it was all his fault.

But, once again, he had evaded death. His salvation came in the form of Fawkes the phoenix, and Ginny's life had been returned to her as well. Harry emerged from the Chamber, covered in blood and gore, but he was holding a sword and he was alive. He was alive.

And then, last year, he'd been seconds away from death. It was then that he'd truly realized just how quickly a life could be taken away. One second, Cedric had been standing beside him, looking thoroughly confused as he gazed around the graveyard. In the next second, he'd been lying on the ground, his vacant, glassy gray eyes staring wide, wide, wide into nothingness. And as Harry stood facing Voldemort with the monster's wand pointing directly at his heart, he knew that he was about to go the same way as Cedric.

But ... no. Saved again. How was it that he always survived? As he held Cedric's lifeless body close to him, as he heard the screams and sobs of all those who loved him, he wondered how it was that he was the one left alive. Why did he get to live through that night and Cedric didn't? How was that fair? He heard Cho screaming for Cedric to wake up and felt the guilt suffocate him. He heard Amos Diggory howling like a wild animal and couldn't understand how a father should be forced to live without his son. Why hadn't it been Harry instead?

But this summer, it had been proven to him how much he was loved, too. He had been told again and again that he wasn't to blame for Cedric's death. He had been reassured that his life was worth so much. Sirius had literally dropped everything for him.

And he had also realized just how much he meant to his friends. They had stood beside him when the whole world seemed to turn against him. They stuck by him, despite the danger he posed. It was obvious how much they cared about him, and that they had been terrified by his near-death experiences.

He had also been shocked by the support of so many strangers. He'd never forget the sight of that counterpetition, seeing all those names written there as clear as day. Those people seemed to see him and the struggles he was going through. He could never truly express how much it meant to him.

And his tutors ... they were giving him their time, their devotion, their attention. They were truly invested in Harry's survival, and he realized it wasn't just because they wanted to see the end of the war. They honestly wanted to see Harry live through it.

Still, Harry knew that there was a strong possibility that he wasn't going to make it through this. He wasn't stupid. He knew how powerful Voldemort was. The monster wanted him dead more than anyone. He was perfectly willing to get rid of all those who stood in the way of achieving his ultimate goal.

He had made the choice to fight, to put his all into seeing it through. He would fight for all those he loved. He would fight for equality, for all those who were thought to be lesser beings because they didn't possess magic. And he would fight for all the innocents who deserved to live their lives in peace. And if he was going to die, he was going to die fighting. He knew that was the way it must be.

But now, he had found out that he had a piece of Voldemort's soul inside of him. It all seemed so obvious - it was something he should have known all along. Maybe, subconsciously, he had known. After waking up from those visions, he'd felt so ... tainted. Voldemort's emotions had been so strong inside him. He felt the bloodlust, the satisfaction, the joy as Voldemort struck down all those he thought were unworthy of life. He reveled in the screams, the sobs, the begging, the pleading. He basked in the power that flowed through his wand as he cast deadly spells that destroyed all those that were beneath him.

Harry should have realized there was something more to the connection between him and Voldemort. Why hadn't he realized the truth once he learned about the Horcrux Regulus had died for? He felt like such an idiot. In hindsight, it was the most obvious thing in the world. And hadn't Voldemort said that he had gone further down the path of immortality than any witch or wizard before him?

Still, it was hard to fathom that one man could be so evil as to do such a thing. Maybe Harry was still incredibly naive, in a lot of ways. He had seen pure evil up close and personal, and still, the truth was so, so hard to swallow.

And now, there was this ... deep knowing inside him that he really might not make it through this war. He'd have to leave his friends, his mentors behind. And he'd have to leave Sirius.

No, you won't have to. Dixon promised. You believe him.

As Harry lay in Sirius's arms, he tried to reassure himself. Dixon was on top of everything. He was even arranging for Harry and Sirius to come to America to speak with the Mind Healers that were researching how to free him from the Horcrux without killing him.

But ... Merlin, he was scared. He was really, really scared. And he felt like a coward for it. Wasn't he supposed to be Harry Potter? Harry Potter was brave. Harry Potter was a hero. Harry Potter possessed courage in such quantities that it awed people.

At least, that was how people saw him, but it certainly had never been how he saw himself. He'd always had nightmares, even as a little boy stuck inside a cupboard with only spiders for company. He'd been frightened of the shadows that permeated the tiny, cramped space. He'd been terrified of being cornered and roughed up by Dudley's gang, which had been a reality far too many times. Now, though? Now, there was so much more to fear.

Dixon had departed, leaving Harry and Sirius with the reassurance that he'd visit them in two days to tell them of this weekend's arrangements. Harry would normally have been excited to go to another country. The Dursleys had taken Dudley to several foreign countries, including France - but of course, Harry had never been allowed to go with them. He'd always wondered what it would be like to visit somewhere else, and last year's Triwizard Tournament had made him more curious about the wider wizarding world. This upcoming trip to America, however, was certainly not how he'd planned to journey to another country.

Sirius was still shaking as he embraced Harry, and he was crying softly into his godson's hair. Merlin, this was so unfair. Harry hated seeing the people he loved in pain, and he knew that the news they'd just been given was breaking Sirius. It was unbearable. "I'm sorry," he whispered, the first words he had spoken since Dixon's departure.

Sirius stared at Harry through bloodshot, watery eyes. "Don't, Harry," he whispered. "Don't ever be sorry. None of this is your fault - none of it."

Logically, Harry knew that - of course he did. But Sirius's raw grief was deeply affecting him. Fate was so cruel. He and Sirius had become so much to each other, and now, Harry might have to leave him forever. Because there was no way that he could ever just sit back and allow Voldemort to remain immortal.

"I'm scared, Sirius," Harry admitted softly. Shame attempted to worm its way into him, but he knew that Sirius would understand. His godfather was just as scared as Harry was, if not more.

Sirius began stroking Harry's hair, as much to reassure himself as to comfort the boy he was clinging to so tightly. "I know," he whispered hoarsely, his voice still choked with tears. "I know. Me ... me, too."

Harry started babbling then, the words seeming to pour out of his mouth even faster than his mind was processing them. "I used to wonder why I was even alive at all," he said quietly, admitting something that had always been so deep-seated within him in his early years. "Aunt Petunia told me that my parents were drunks and were killed in a car crash, and that's how I got my scar. She told me that she and my uncle were hard-working, normal people, and they were ashamed to be burdened with me."

"What?" Sirius whispered, his expression absolutely horror-stricken.

"Yeah," Harry said shakily, memories of pain and loneliness coming back to him. He lay on his tiny mattress in the empty darkness of the cupboard. "She said that they took me in out of the kindness of their hearts. They should have left me on the streets, but they were nice enough to take me in. She said that my parents were so obsessed with themselves, and were so selfish that they didn't care if they hurt people. She said it was my dad who crashed the car, and that I should have died with them."

Sirius's gray eyes were horribly wide, and he kept opening and closing his mouth, unable to form any words. Harry didn't think he'd seen anyone look more horrified.

He honestly didn't know why this was all coming out now, but he suddenly knew he could do nothing but release it all, as if it were poison and he had to expel it. If it stayed in his system for much longer, he would surely explode with the force of everything he had been holding back.

"They kept me in a cupboard, Sirius."

There it was. His most shameful secret, the one thing he had vowed to never, ever tell anyone. He hadn't ever told Ron and Hermione, who were his very best friends and whom he trusted with his life. He hadn't informed Dumbledore, either, when he'd asked if he could please stay at Hogwarts the summer after his first year. So why was he telling Sirius now?

But he kept going, because Sirius was holding him tight and Harry knew he could trust him with anything. He was safe, secure, loved, and protected in this embrace. Sirius would never hurt him, ridicule him, or turn him away. Sirius Black was the best thing that had ever happened to Harry Potter.

"They kept me in a cupboard," Harry repeated softly. "They didn't move me to Dudley's second bedroom until they got really scared that witches and wizards might figure out how they were treating me."

Harry saw Sirius mouth the words "Dudley's second bedroom" with such an appalled look on his face that it made Harry's heart ache.

"They made me do all the chores, and let Dudley do none," he continued. "I wasn't given much to eat, and if I was punished, I wasn't given food at all. I was always referred to as "freak", "boy", or "whelp". I was always told I was a bad person and that I was just like my parents - spoiled, ungrateful, and selfish. I never had friends at Muggle school because Dudley was a bully. If anyone tried to be my friend, he either told them horrible things about me to turn them off, or he beat them up."

"Merlin." Sirius's whisper was grief-stricken. "Oh, Harry."

"I didn't know I was a wizard until Hagrid showed up at the hut on the rock." When Harry and Sirius first arrived here, he had told him the bare bones of the debacle with all the Hogwarts letters. Sirius had realized that the Dursleys were keeping the letters away from him, and therefore didn't want him to go to Hogwarts, resulting in Hagrid breaking into the hut on the rock. But now, Harry had revealed that he hadn't known anything about his magic until his eleventh birthday.

"I always wondered how I made weird stuff happen when I was angry or upset," Harry explained quietly. "I ended up appearing on the school roof once when I was trying to get away from Dudley's gang. I didn't know how it had happened, but once I learned about Apparition, I realized that was what I'd done."

Sirius was weeping, his soul seeming to shatter further as Harry bared his past, his lonely childhood, to him. He looked into his godfather's eyes and saw so much guilt there that it stopped him in his tracks. "I am so, so sorry, Harry," the man gasped brokenly, repeating the words over and over again.

"No, Sirius. Please. Please don't." Harry gripped Sirius's hands tightly. "Do you think I'm telling you any of this because I want you to feel guilty?"

"I should have known," Sirius whispered, seeming not to hear him - he was too far gone in his grief. "I always knew what kind of person Petunia was, and what kind of man she married. I should have ..."

"Shhhh. No, Sirius." Harry felt his own resolve breaking. "Look," he said, his voice trembling, "I'm telling you this because I need you to know what this summer has meant to me. I spent so much of my life feeling worthless. When I came to the wizarding world and made friends for the first time, it was more than I'd ever dreamed of."

"And then, you were forced to fight Voldemort, with Dumbledore only swooping in right at the end when everything was already said and done." Sirius's voice contained an unimaginable horror that sucked up all the air from the room. "And he ... he suspected that you were ... oh ... oh Merlin. It's worse than I could ever have imagined. I see it all too clearly, now."

His expression transformed into one of rage so quickly that it astounded Harry. His gray eyes shone with the same hatred that Harry had seen him display in the Shrieking Shack towards Peter Pettigrew. Still, he held Harry close, and the boy knew with certainty that none of that anger and hate was directed towards him.

"What ... what are you saying?" Harry whispered. "What?"

But Sirius seemed not to hear him. He was muttering "no, no, no, no, no," as his body shook. He finally met Harry's gaze and said, "You don't want to hear this, Harry. Forget I said anything at all."

"No, Sirius." Harry felt a strange calm settle over him. He forgot his own fears and anguish for the moment, because Sirius's feelings were so naked on his face and Harry was desperate to help him. "I do want to hear it. Please, tell me."

Sirius remained silent for several seconds before he uttered the words in a dreadful whisper. "He set you up. He did this all on purpose. Every part of it."

"Who? Who set me up? What? All of what?" Harry's words were full of confusion.

"Dumbledore. He knew what kind of people the Dursleys are. He knew there were alternative ways to keep you safe other than those damned blood wards. He was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and could have given me a trial at any time. But no. He was all too happy to let me rot in Azkaban, and to let you live with the Dursleys without looking into any other options." He was gaining momentum as he spoke. "He knew you'd have a terrible childhood, but according to him, everything would be all right because once you arrived at Hogwarts, he'd swoop in and save the day, showing himself as the kind, grandfatherly figure that could always be trusted."

xxx

As Sirius held his godson, his entire system was swarmed with so much hate that he was surprised he wasn't making the entire room crackle with magic. It was lucky that Albus Dumbledore wasn't in this room, because Sirius knew with certainty that, most powerful wizard in the world or not, he wouldn't have survived a confrontation with Sirius Black.

"And the whole time, he was molding you into a weapon," Sirius cried, wanting to let loose a howl at the complete and utter injustice of it all. "It makes sense now, why he didn't intervene before you almost died - more than once, I might add - in his own school."

Sirius's mind was racing. He had suspected this about Dumbledore ever since he and Harry went into hiding and the boy had started telling him about his school days. But to have it confirmed ... Harry's penchant for blaming himself for everything, something obviously drilled into him by the Dursleys, his low self-esteem, the fact that he had never realized how loved he was ... it was leading Sirius to one terrible, agonizing conclusion, something he'd never wanted to think of the old man, someone he used to idolize.

He was training his godson to be a weapon against Voldemort, honing and sharpening his skills so that when the time was right, he'd sacrifice himself. He had been raised to think that his life was of lesser value than anyone else's. After all, he'd risked it to save the Philosopher's Stone at eleven years old without a second of hesitation. After telling Minerva and not being believed, he thought it his responsibility to stop Voldemort.

And then, after the ordeal was over and Harry had barely made it through alive, he was sent right back to the Dursleys without any real recovery time at all. Thrown back into an environment of loneliness and pain after having killed someone, though it was entirely in self-defense ... Sirius could barely imagine it. What did Dumbledore think? That Quirrell's death somehow wouldn't affect Harry? That he wouldn't feel guilt over it even though Harry had committed no crime?

Before he could ruminate any further, Harry's voice stopped his mind from its downward spiral. "Sirius," he said gently, maturity shining out from his emerald eyes. "Don't you think I would have fought Voldemort even if Dumbledore didn't think I was the one in the prophecy? Even if the Dursleys had loved me ... don't you think I'd want to fight my parents' murderer? And he ... he had Cedric killed in cold blood, right in front of me. And all those other deaths I've seen, and what he wants to do to my friends, and to you, and the rest of the Order ... Sirius, I would have fought him anyway."

His emerald eyes shone with sadness as he squeezed Sirius's hand, and Sirius felt some of his anger and hate leave him. "Your parents supported what he stands for, and you fought him," Harry reminded him quietly. "You're still fighting him."

Out of everything Harry could have said, nothing could have filled Sirius with more respect and fierce pride. "Of course you would have, kiddo," he said softly. "I'm not saying that. I'm not trying to imply that Dumbledore dictated everything you did, and that you can't think for yourself. I just ..." He stopped, trying to put into words the incredible jumble of emotions he was feeling.

"You're just a child," he croaked, pulling Harry even closer to him. "Children shouldn't have to think about running into danger to stop a monster from coming back to life. Children shouldn't be fighting mountain trolls, nor should they be plunging swords into basilisks. And the fact that you had to face what happened at the end of last year ..."

"Sirius." Harry whispered. "I agree that Dumbledore's made plenty of mistakes. He should have made sure you had a trial. You shouldn't have spent one day in Azkaban, let alone twelve years. I wish he'd never put me with the Dursleys. But if you're trying to say that Dumbledore wanted me to be unloved, that he wants me dead ... I think you're wrong," he said gently. "I would have chosen to fight in this war, because I have so much to fight for."

He looked at Sirius again, and the man could see complete honesty in Harry's eyes when he spoke next. "You've given me something to live for," he said softly. "You've shown me how valuable my life is. It was on my birthday that I realized ... I could trust you with anything."

Sirius's heart ached as he remembered the moment their bond was cemented, as they'd been sitting right here listening to the song that repeated, "You're not alone." They had been getting incredibly close, and at that particular moment, Sirius had felt truly complete. Being with Harry, loving him, taking care of him ... it felt completely right.

"I'm no one's weapon," Harry said quietly, looking deeply into Sirius's gray eyes. "I will fight Voldemort, because it's my choice. I could run from the prophecy, but I won't. I could turn against the wizarding world and let them deal with Voldemort on their own. I could say it's not my problem. Sometimes, I know that you wish I would."

He paused, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "But I can't do that," he stated, the words sure and true. "I have to fight him, Sirius, because it's the right thing to do. I know you want to protect me, and that you hate the Dursleys for what they did. You blame yourself, and Dumbledore, for the life I lived."

"I do, Harry. Because of my idiocy and Dumbledore's plans, you lived a life I can't even imagine," Sirius whispered, feeling ashamed of himself for ever thinking he had it bad with his own parents.

Harry's green eyes were very sad. "But I'm here with you now, and that's what matters," he reassured softly.

Despite Harry's comforting words, Sirius felt the dark hole of grief open up within him, once again being hit with the terrible truth of their situation. Maybe this was why he found it way too easy to focus so much on his anger with Dumbledore - he would do anything, anything not to think about what they were facing. He felt that, with every second that passed, his Harry was running out of time. And Sirius was running out of time with him.

Because Sirius knew his kiddo. He knew that, if it came to it, Harry would sacrifice himself, even if he wanted to live. Because he would do what he needed to do to ensure Voldemort's destruction. Just like Lily and James had. Just like Sirius would, if he needed to.

And Harry was right. Sirius's fury at Dumbledore's machinations knew no bounds, but Harry was right. He didn't need Dumbledore leading him anywhere, in order to make the decision to fight Voldemort. Many women and men had made the same choice, giving their all to save those they loved.

Sirius's breath caught in his throat as his mind was showered with more horrific images. Harry looked so small as he lay in the coffin, as Sirius touched his hands and said a heartbroken goodbye to him for the last time. ... Sirius was standing in Godric's Hollow cemetery, as Harry was laid to rest beside Lily and James. ... The entire wizarding world was moving on with their lives as the barren, empty days passed for Sirius without Harry by his side. ...

"We're going to America this weekend." Harry gripped Sirius's hand, his eyes looking all too knowing as he sensed that Sirius's mind was running away with itself. "I trust Dixon - he's helped you a lot, hasn't he?"

"He betrayed me. I should have known this so much sooner." Sirius sighed as he continuously stroked Harry's hair.

"He feels awful about it, though. He knows he should have said something. And I trust him," Harry said with certainty. "And if he really thinks there's a way ..."

"Of course we'll go," Sirius murmured reassuringly. "You know I'll do anything to make sure you ..." He stopped, unable to go on.

"That I survive." Harry said the words, but Sirius saw the fear in his godson's eyes and knew that, despite his brave face, he was terrified.

Sirius took several deep breaths, pain engulfing him as he heard Harry's steady heartbeat in his ears. "You know," he whispered, "as much as I wished you'd open up about your childhood with the Dursleys, I never wanted it to happen this way."

Harry gave Sirius an extremely sad smile. "I know," he whispered. "But it needed to come out. And it ... it felt right. I'm sorry."

"You lived it, kiddo," Sirius said hoarsely, thinking of Moody's haunted eyes after his and Harry's first Occlumency lesson. Now, he understood the other man's emotions so much better.

There was a silence between Harry and Sirius that spoke of so many things. Harry lay in his arms, his eyes closed. Sirius cherished every heartbeat, every second, every breath that Harry took. It felt like a clock was counting down, and Sirius despised it.

Eventually, Harry broke the moment. "I can't believe there are so many Horcruxes to destroy," he murmured. "I'm glad Dixon agreed that we could at least tell the more seasoned members of the Order. Maybe these Horcruxes can be dealt with faster if there are two teams of people working on them."

Sirius nodded, the pure wickedness of Voldemort making him feel ill. Dixon had said he would contact Sturgis in the morning. Undoubtedly, he would set up a meeting sometime before tomorrow was over. He could only imagine their horrified reactions. Still, though, he knew they possessed enough determination to see it through to the end.

"Do you want anyone to know about ..." Sirius started, still filled with too much horror and grief to truly articulate the words.

"About me?" Harry asked, and Sirius was heartbroken at the acceptance in Harry's voice. He should be screaming and howling and raging at the cruelty of all of this, and Sirius felt another burst of rage explode inside him at the realization that Harry had learned to accept how unjust the world could be.

"You don't have to tell anyone if you don't want to," Sirius reassured him.

He saw the cogs turning in Harry's mind. "I think I should tell those who know about the scar link," he whispered. "Moody should know, because he's helping me with Occlumency. And Bill, because he's also been researching the curse scar. And ... and Sturgis, because he's the Order leader right now, and I trust him. McGonagall, too, because she also knows. I can't ... I can't tell the others yet. Mr. Weasley knows about the scar link too, but I can't ..." His eyes filled with an infinite sadness. "Ron. Hermione." He whispered his best friend's names with devastation. "How can I keep this from them? They have the right to know, don't they?"

Sirius knew that he was the kind of person who despised having any information kept from him. At least, that was always how it had been. He couldn't believe how much had happened since only this morning, when he'd relived the memory of October 1979 and Sturgis being on that Merlin-forsaken mission.

Now, he realized that it was okay to have secrets sometimes, because each person that hid them inside was different. Even when Sirius had opened himself up to Dixon, he'd kept some demons hidden. He could never truly explain what it had been like to live with the Dementors for twelve years. He thought of how he'd heard Hell described, with fire and flames and torture. To be in Azkaban wasn't far off from that.

And Harry ... he couldn't imagine having to tell your best friends that you might only have a certain amount of time before you had to say goodbye. He suddenly recalled a memory of Lily explaining that one of her Muggle neighbors had been seen less and less frequently around the neighborhood, and then, one day, she was gone. Some Muggle disease called cancer - that's what Lily said it was. Her neighbor hadn't told anyone she was sick, because she didn't want people fussing over her. She didn't want people being sad. She was a very private person, and Lily had said that as sad as she was to hear about the woman's death, she respected her decision to keep it just between her and her family.

"You don't have to tell them, Harry. And if you change your mind, that's okay too. If they're truly your friends, they will respect your decision." Sirius rubbed Harry's back in comfort.

"But they ... they'll know something's wrong," Harry said softly. "They know me too well. They'll know I'm hiding something."

Sirius kissed the top of Harry's head. "You have time to decide what to do," he said gently. "And it will always be your decision."

Harry swallowed, burrowing himself into Sirius. "Thanks for ... thanks for everything," he whispered.

Sirius felt his eyes fill with tears again. He didn't think it was possible for another human being to bring out so much emotion in him. He remembered being stunned by the effect Sturgis had on him, and by what Lily, James, Remus, and even Peter had meant to him.

But this ... Sirius knew that this was beyond anything he'd ever felt. He heard Harry's heart beating against him and knew that there was nothing he wouldn't sacrifice to keep that heart going. He was responsible for Harry now, and he would never turn away from it.

"It's okay, Sirius. It will be all right," Harry whispered. "You'll be all right."

The tone of his voice was so painful, because Sirius heard the hidden meaning in his words. You'll be okay, even if I have to say goodbye.

Sirius felt his heart break, because he knew that if that happened, he would let Harry down. He was not going to be okay if Harry left him - he knew that with certainty.

But Harry had hope. He was being realistic about what might happen, but he had hope. He trusted Dixon, and Sirius realized that if Harry had hope, he had to as well. If Harry wasn't falling apart, then who was Sirius to?

It was right then and there that he decided that no matter what happened, he wouldn't spend any more time wallowing in misery. It would be doing Harry a disservice, and letting down Lily and James again. If Sirius truly only had a certain amount of time left with Harry, then he couldn't waste it in grief. It wouldn't help Harry come to terms with this if Sirius sat and stared into space, images of losing him filtering through his head.

He knew that things were going to be very difficult. After all, in two days' time, Albus Dumbledore would waltz back into their lives. And Sirius honestly had no clue how he was supposed to prepare for that.

At that moment, Harry lifted his head from Sirius's shoulder and looked at the clock. "Sirius?" he said quietly. "It's 6:45. Sturgis's evening gathering starts in fifteen minutes. Do you still want to go?"

Harry's emerald eyes were shining with sudden resolve. Honestly, Sirius was downright exhausted and didn't know if he could handle one of Sturgis's motivational speeches.

But perhaps, that was exactly what he needed. If he was going to fulfil that silent promise to his godson, it had to start now, didn't it? It was only right. And it was a testament to Harry's character that after what he'd just learned, he was willing to face Sturgis and the other Order members.

And so, Sirius mustered up the brightest smile he could, for Harry's sake. "Of course, kiddo," he said quietly. "Of course, we'll go."