Wow, it has been a really long time. I'm really sorry, espeicially for those of you who have been here from the beginning.

Good news - I'm back! and a bit of a personal life update... I've been offically diagnosed with ADHD and am starting medication. After 29 years on "hard mode" I'm excited to finally be doing things an easier way! I can't promise timely updates, but I'm trying. One of my goals as my meds start working is to get back into writing, and I'm strting with finally finishing this story. At some point I'm hoping to transfer it over to AO3 as well, but for now I'll just be posting here. I have up to chapter 39 written and will be trying to make frequent updates over the next few days, then hopefully regular updates as I write until the story is done. Particularly for these next few updates, I am posting stuff I wrote months or years ago, and I'm not taking too long to edit it beacuse I know I will lose momentum. So please allow some grace for grammer issues and small continuity errors.

Chapter Thirty Seven: Consequences

Remus took a deep breath and with one last nervous glance at Harry before hurrying back into Draco's bedroom. Not much had changed, Draco was still looking pale and a bit vacant, and Sirius was wrapping his arm in a pristine white bandage. He knew he should be concerned for the blonde, he should probably ask if he was okay, but all he could think of was the teen he had left in the hall. I need to get back to Harry. "Sirius," He said hesitantly, "May I speak with you for a moment?"

Sirius shot him a worried glance, but nodded "Sure Mooney, one sec…" He finished wrapping the bandage and said something quietly to Draco before standing and following Remus to the other corner of the room.

"What's up Mooney, I'm kind of in the middle of something…" He glanced nervously at the door. "Is Harry okay?"

Remus ran a hand through his hair "Yes, or at least he will be… Are you guys okay here? I need to take Harry to Hospital."

Sirius's eyes nearly popped out of his head, and Remus had to grab his arm to keep him from running into the hall to check on his godson. "He's okay, Pads, I promise. He's just struggling tonight and can't eat his snack tonight. He's struggling, but I think it's going to be okay."

Sirius gave a slight nod, and Remus released his arm. "Poor pup, I wish I could come with you, but we've got a bit of a situation going on here as well." He glanced over at Draco, who had barely moved except to pull his legs up to his chest. "We'll be fine, go take care of Harry."

Sirius turned back to the teen he had left on the floor. He wanted desperately to go look after Harry, but Draco needed someone to care for him too. It was your idea to bring another teenager into this house Sirius, Harry will be fine, he told himself firmly.

Sirius had come looking for Draco when neither teen had resurfaced for their evening snack. He had found the boy's door closed, which went against the rules that Snape had set for him. Sighing, he knocked lightly and let himself in without waiting for an answer. The situation that greeted him was hardly surprising, but for some reason it had sent a panic through him. Images of Harry, nearly bleeding out at his door, ran through his mind. This is just self harm, he told himself firmly, he didn't try to kill himself. But as he helped the boy to clean up, older memories resurfaced, ones he had never struggled with while helping Harry after a self harm incident.

He shook his head firmly, You don't have time for that right now. You have two teenagers to take care of. Your own problems will just have to wait. He had finished wrapping the boy's cuts before he stood to speak with Remus, but he checked them when he returned anyway, remembering Harry's penchant for reopening wounds when he couldn't use a blade anymore. Thankfully the bandages were still in place, in fact, Draco didn't seem to have moved a muscle.

"Hey kid," he said quietly as he watched Remus leave and pocketed the blade, an expensive looking straight blade razor with an ivory handle. "I think it's time for a talk."

Draco flicked his eyes up to the older wizard, but quickly cast them down to the floor again.

Sirius sighed, slowly reaching over to pick up the remains of the opened Christmas gift that had been tossed to the side. It was one of the gifts Draco's parents had sent, the tag read "family image is everything, always be picture ready" the box contained an ornate shaving set, minus the blade that Sirius had already confiscated. "Your father's a prick," Sirius commented as he looked through the box confiscating any other sharp objects, then cast it aside.

This earned a quiet, bitter chuckle from the blonde. Sirius had taken a risk with the comment, so far he had been uncertain how Draco truly felt about his family. The teen had kept up a good front of wanting to return home, but Sirius knew that denial was an easy coping mechanism. Apparently now Draco had moved on to more destructive options instead.

Sirius cast an evaluating glance at the boy. What would I have wanted someone to say to me? He asked himself. Then he shook his head, images of Mr. Potter finding him in a similar position, of kind words, and lectures, and angsty teenage fights, bombarded him. Best not to think of myself too much, he reminded himself sternly. "What made you decide to open them?" He asked curiously, turning his focus back to Draco.

The boy shrugged, sitting up a bit more now, and pulling his arms more tightly around his knees. It was obvious that he was uncomfortable with how vulnerable he was, but Sirius didn't feel comfortable leaving him alone just yet.

"I imagine Christmases at the Malfoy house look quite different from today." He observed casually.

Draco shrugged again, but after a long moment of silence he sighed. "We didn't have any touchy feely traditions to miss. You don't have to feel sorry for me."

Sirius nodded, his lips pursed. "I'm sure you know a bit about my history, I imagine the scandal was forbidden to be spoken of, which usually means everyone knows."

Draco smirked at this "I've heard some stories, but I think it's safe to say they're mostly rumors."

Siriu chuckled now, "You might be surprised." He chewed his lip for a moment, then with a sigh started speaking again. "But that's a story for another day. I'm sure you know that I left my family when I was a teenager."

Draco gave a slight nod, looking as though he was trying to be indifferent. But Sirius knew better, he remembered what it was like in pure blood circles, the lure of scandal and rebellion. Draco might not be ready to forsake his family, but he was itching to know why Sirius had.

"Well, I went to live with the Potter's, Harry' dad and grandparents. They were the touchy feely types, with all the home-made, big old fashion family christmas stuff. My first Christmas with them was perfect, it was everything I could have asked for in a Christmas holiday."

"Great, thanks for bragging" Draco mumbled.

Sirius chuckled, "It was perfect, except for me. I was surly and rude the whole day, refused to participate," he laughed bitterly "I even made Mrs. Potter cry at one point. The final straw was when James found me in his father's study getting drunk off some very expensive fire whiskey. He punched me in the face."

Draco rolled his eyes "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because, Draco" Sirius said with a sigh "At the time I didn't know why I was acting that way. I thought it was everyone else's fault, and I was horrible to people I cared about because I was hurting."

"And you're hoping I will learn from your youthful indiscretions and we can all go skip through a meadow and talk about our feelings?"

Sirius laughed again, then stood. "No, being a prick is part of the healing process, at least it was for me. I just want you to know that we will still be here, caring about you, when you're ready to care about us." With that he collected up the confiscated blades and walked out the door, calling behind him to remind Draco to keep it open.

Harry sat on the stretcher in the St. Mungo's emergency department, his body folded as tightly as he could. They had given him something to help calm him, something stronger than whatever Remus had given him at home. It was working, enough to keep Harry from feeling like there was a knife in his chest anyway. So he sat, curled as tight as his body would allow, staring off into the dim darkness of the emergency room, an odd mixture of quiet and hectic on this Christmas night. He felt empty, but the bag of tube feed formula hanging above him was a constant reminder that he was not.

Remus sat next to him, looking more calm now that they were at the hospital. The nurses had worked quickly and, with sympathetic smiles directed towards Remus, promised that they would have them out of here and back home soon.

The images were still coming up, but not as violently now, not as frequently. "Do you remember it?"

Remus turned his head sharply towards Harry, as if he wasn't sure the boy had actually spoken. And to be honest Harry wasn't sure either.

"Do I remember what?" Remus asked softly.

Something in the air, the tone of Harry's voice, perhaps it was just the hush that seemed to fall on Christmas after the festivities were over and the sun had gone down. That space between a holiday and normal, everyday life. Whatever it was, something told Remus that this conversation with Harry was important, that it was not one that could have happened in other circumstances.

"Do you remember…." The teen paused, his body taut, his eyes still unfocused and looking down. "You were attacked right? THat's how you became… I mean I know my dad and Sirius found out in school, so it must have happened when you were pretty young…"

"Ah, that" Remus said. I should have known he would ask about this someday… I probably should have thought to tell him about it. But he hadn't, because Remus never thought about that particular day. "I was um, I was four, almost five."

Harry looked at him now, chewing his lip nervously. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have…"

Remus smiled at his charge and shook his head. "After all the difficult things we've asked you to face Harry, I think this conversation is more than fair." He was silent for a moment, and Harry nodded. When Remus spoke again he tried to keep his voice steady, to not show how difficult it was to speak. "It was just before my fifth birthday, my father had crossed paths with Greyback in his work at the ministry. He… he said some terrible things about werewolves, and Greyback decided to take revenge." Remus took a steadying breath, "I don't remember it, not really anyway. There are flashes, the sound of window opening, his… his.." his voice caught for a moment. I can't, I can't talk about this, I never have… Remus closed his eyes. Harry lives with horrible, sickening, half memories. He is haunted by the things that happened in his childhood bedroom. The least you can do is let him know that he is not alone, that you understand. "His breath on my face." he said more firmly, "After that I just remember pain. I'm told that my father came in and fought him off. That he and my mother tended to me, there was so much prejudice back then… they couldn't risk taking me to a hospital."

Harry offered a forced smile "Thank you," he said quietly. "Half memories is a good way to describe it…"

Remus nodded, taking a few deep breaths to try and push the memory back down. "Is that what was happening tonight?" He asked, once he had calmed himself a bit.

Harry gave a slight nod, "I just… sometimes I can push it all out of my mind, and it's like it never happened… but sometimes…" He shook his head.

Remus smiled sympathetically "I know," he admitted quietly "sometimes all you can do is keep breathing."

They sat in silence for the next few minutes, only interrupted by the nurse coming to unhook Harry and remove his feeding tube. Just after midnight they found themselves driving back to Grimmauld. Harry had chuckled at the thought of actually wanting to floo, that'd be an easy way to get this sick heavy feeling out, He thought grimly. But then he shook his head. He felt full, yes, and he would much rather not feel this way. But he also felt lighter than he had all day. And as they drove through the empty streets of London, the street lights lighting up their small car at even intervals, Harry closed his eyes and saw nothing but the back of his eyelids.