Harry woke with a choked breath. His heart was pounding out of his chest, his throat swimming with nausea. He skittishly looked around, taken aback by the sheer amount of headspace he had. And then he remembered – he wasn't at the Dursley's, he was at Grimmauld Place. In the moonlight, Harry could see Ron still fast asleep, snoring. It must be quite early in the morning still. Harry was grateful that his nightmare this night hadn't resulted in screams or louder noises that could have waken him. Shakily, Harry tossed back his blankets and got out of bed. He needed fresh air. It still felt like the world was closing in on him, even though the room was so much bigger than his cupboard – he needed more space.

He tiptoed out of the room, and down the hall, uncertain where he was going. Flashes of Voldemort's red eyes kept appearing back in his vision as he walked. He tried to push them away, but they would immediately sweep back into view. He started wringing his hands desperately as he moved, glancing around at all of the closed doors, not knowing where he could find a space for himself.

Eventually, Harry decided to head down the stairs, trembling as he gripped the banister. He felt his whole body cramp up as he moved, as if it didn't want to take him any further. It took him some time, but he managed to get down the flights of stairs and headed towards the living room. Harry pushed open the door, ready to curl up on the couch – but someone was already there.

"Harry?" Sirius said, looking up from the book he was reading. Harry tried to step back and close the door muttering apologies, but Sirius stood up and opened the door wider. "Is everything ok?"

"Y-yes," Harry managed. "I woke up, not feeling well."

"What's wrong?" Sirius said with concern. "You look pale. Here come sit down."

"I think I need a bathroom actually – " Harry said, swallowing hard as the anxious bile kept rising in his throat. Sirius nodded quickly and guided him out of the living room and to a bathroom off the hall.

"Do you want me to stay?" Sirius asked, but Harry was already closing the door.

"No, it's ok, thank you," Harry said, latching it closed.

"I'll wait in the living room for you," Sirius said, his voice still concerned. Harry opened the toilet lid and bent forward over it. He took several deep breaths as he leaned over the toilet bowl. The anxiety continued to cycle through him with every beat of his heart. The nausea remained stuck inside of him. He still felt too hot, despite the cool porcelain. Harry reached up and unlatched the window above him with a jittering hand and immediately felt grateful for the burst of cool air. Not as cold as he would have liked, but better than the humid evenings that had been common throughout the summer.

Every time Harry felt like his breath was starting to get a bit more under control, the unpleasant liquid feeling in his throat fading away, Voldemort's eyes would suddenly appear in his vision once more and everything would come hurtling back towards him. Desperate tears began to fall from his eyes and dripping into the toilet. Harry aggressively wiped the tears back.

"Pathetic," he choked out. "Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic."

Harry began to cough, and the panic increased in his chest. The feeling of being sick intensified. He felt his eyes rolling backwards as he gripped the sides of the toilet bowl. His body cramping and shuddering, completely overwhelmed by the terror. He began to wring his hands again, squeezing his eyes shut, folding himself forward.

'I can't do this, I can't handle this, I can't get through this,'Harry's mind raced.

A knock came on the door, startling him.

"Harry? Are you doing ok? It's been a while." It was Sirius. Harry tried to respond but his teeth were chattering – how could he be so hot and so cold all at once?

"Harry?" Sirius's voice got a bit louder, and he tried to turn the still-locked doorknob. "I'm going to unlock the door, ok?"

Harry wished he could get a sound out to protest, but he just started coughing again, and he leaned over the toilet afraid something would come up. Harry heard Sirius say, "Alohomora!"before he quickly entered. He hesitated at the door, seeing Harry bent over and anxiously tapping his hands against the toilet bowl as he coughed.

"Hey, shh," Sirius said rushing over, rubbing Harry's back. Harry flinched at the touch - his sensations were amplified a hundred times over, and it felt like a burn when Sirirus's hand touched his back, Uncertainly, Sirius removed his hand, but kneeled down so he stayed next to Harry.

"Try and take some breaths, Har," Sirius said. He waved his wand and conjured a glass, which he leaned up and filled with water from the tap. "Here, try and drink."

Harry exhaled shakily before taking the glass and swallowing hard.

"Smaller sips, smaller sips," Sirius urged. Harry did as Sirius asked. The red eyes flashed before him again, and Harry quickly placed the cup on the ground as everything in his body cramped up again.

"I-I think I'm going to go get Molly," Sirius said standing.

"No!" Finally, a word emerged from Harry's mouth.

"I don't know what to do, she can help – " Sirius explained.

"I don't want her around right now, please don't get her." Harry took a few more deep breaths. "I'm feeling better already."

"Ok," Sirius said uncertainly. They sat in silence for a bit, Harry still leaning over the toilet with his eyes closed. Sirius stayed quiet, also not moving from his spot next to Harry. Harry continued to take long deep breaths. It was the only sound that echoed in the bathroom.

"I think," Harry said eventually, "I'm ready to move now."

Sirius nodded and reached up and closed the window. Harry shakily got to his feet, closing the lid of the toilet and flushing, despite not actually having gotten ill in the end.

"Do you want to hang around downstairs for a bit before you head back up to bed?" Sirius asked. Harry nodded.

Together they went back to the living room, sitting on opposite ends of the couch.

"Want me to make some tea?" Sirius asked. "I have fresh lemon and ginger in the kitchen, I think. Well, I didn't get it, if it weren't for Molly the kitchen would be completely bare." He gave an awkward laugh.

"Sure, yeah, that would be great," Harry said sighing. He felt exhausted from the panicking, and from not getting enough sleep. His body had gone from motionless because it was so energized with tension it couldn't produce more than shaky movements, to languid and weary from all of the exertion.

Sirius left and then came back soon with a cup of tea which he sat down in front of Harry.

"Still feeling better?" he asked. Harry nodded.

"Maybe dinner didn't sit quite right with you," Sirius suggested.

"I don't think that's it, Mrs. Weasley's cooking is always great – " Harry began but then paused. "But yeah, maybe this time, it could have been some new ingredient or something."

"Did you wake up feeling ill?"

"Yeah, I had been fast asleep before." Not the most accurate description, as it made it sound like he had been peacefully dreaming. "Why were you up?"

Sirius leaned forward and picked up the book he had been reading earlier when Harry had first come in.

"I've become a bit of a night owl. It's difficult to sleep when you don't spend enough time outside – or any time, in my case. I usually don't even try to go to bed now until at least two or three in the morning. Been trying to get into reading, per Remus's recommendation. He said it's what he does when he can't sleep."

"Ah," Harry said lamely. He wrapped his hands around his mug of tea. It was still slightly too hot to hold comfortably, but the sharp heat felt grounding. It gave him somewhere to focus other than his thoughts and the panic still settling in his chest.

"It's going to be so great, Harry," Sirius said warmly. "Once we get Wormtail, I mean. As soon as he's caught and in Azkaban, as soon as I'm free, I'm getting out of here."

"Where will you go?" Harry asked.

"Anywhere," Sirius barked with laughter. "I ran away from home when I was sixteen, I never thought I'd end up trapped in here again. I'll take anywhere I can get. Even going back to the caves when I was hiding out near Hogsmeade last year. But hey! – " Sirius looked up cheerfully. "I won't have to do that this time. Instead, I can get a cabin somewhere. Maybe by the coast, or in the woods. I'll make sure there's a field nearby though, so we can play Quidditch. And there'll be space for you too."

"Really?" Harry asked.

"Of course!" Sirius said incredulously. "Like two young bachelors like ourselves could go without their own Quidditch pitch."

That hadn't been the part that Harry had been questioning. Harry still remembered Sirius's promise that he could move in with him, back at the end of his third year. The few blissful minutes he'd believed it, that he would never be going back to the Dursley's. The idea had vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"It'll be great," Sirius said fondly, looking into the fireplace. Harry looked into the fire too. He wanted to believe that something like this could happen, but in the context of everything else, how could it? What were the chances that Wormtail would be caught? And even if he was, even if Sirius was free, and had his own home for Harry to move into, would Sirius even want him there? The longer Harry had lived at the Dursleys, the more they had grown to resent him. He was pretty convinced that the only reason Ron and Hermione still kept around him was because they got their annual breaks from him during the summer. If Harry were to move in, consider it his permanent home, how long would it be before Sirius grew to resent him? Before he saw just how pathetic he was, how annoying he was?

And what about this summer? Sirius technically already did have a home, despite being a fugitive still, and there had been space for him in Grimmauld Place. Why hadn't he invited him over sooner? The whole summer Harry had only received two letters from Sirius, one of which was a birthday card. Did Sirius really care that much whether Harry was around or not?

"Are you feeling up to heading back to bed?" Sirius asked, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

"Er, not quite yet," Harry said, taking a sip of his tea.

"Is it ok if I go? I'm finally starting to feel tired, and I usually try to ride the wave so to speak," Sirius laughed. Harry nodded.

"Yeah of course, sure, go ahead."

"Alright Harry, come and get me if you start feeling ill again," Sirius said getting up and stretching. Harry nodded, but knew he definitely would not be doing any such thing.

"Try to not stay up too long," Sirius said as he ruffled Harry's hair.

"I'll try," Harry said. Sirius gave him one last tired smile, before he left the room.

"Goodnight," he said, and closed the door.

Harry sat by the fire in silence, feeling empty. He hadn't wanted anyone around when he was panicking and sick, but now that he had gotten his wish and Sirius had left, he felt worse. It was like a confirmation that he should be alone. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them as he watched the flames. He deserved to be on his own, for what he had done. He deserved to be on his own, rather than a burden to others. He had to figure out a way to prevent this from happening again.

Harry stayed awake the rest of the night, considering what he could do. The first solution he came to was trying to avoid sleeping as much as possible. There was no way that he was going to be able to avoid sleeping in the same room as Ron, and there was too much of a risk that Harry would have a nightmare and wake him up. He knew he wouldn't be able to completely avoid sleep, though. So his second plan involved exploring Grimmauld place more. If he had spaces he knew he could go to to be alone, it would make it a hell of a lot easier to manage his panic without others seeing, if it were to come up. His third plan was to try and get his hands on some dreamless sleep potion. Maybe there was some laying around in an old medicine cupboard. This would be an ideal solution, at least while supplies lasted.

When the sun finally began to rise, Harry caught a glimpse of Kreacher – Sirius's house elf – coming down the stairs. Kreacher sneered at Harry before continuing down towards the kitchen. Presuming that Mrs. Weasley as well as the others would start stirring soon, Harry tiptoed back up the stairs, got back into his bed, and proceeded to pretend like nothing had happened at all.