A Delicate Balance

Yoffy

The Underworld lay morbid under the Earth. It was a maze of black stone corridors and winding rock stair cases, all leading to the lake's edge, where the boatmen steered the souls of the dead to the Realm.

There would always be a line of souls lining up the cold paths that lead to the pier. Standing just before it, next to a podium with a well-worn book on top, stood Ann.

He was currently flipping through the book. "Diana, Princess of Wales... Diana, Princess of... oh, here you are!" He quickly squiggled a note in the book and ushered the pearl-adorned woman through. He took a moment to flip open his make-up case and smear on some lip-gloss.

The gods, who oversaw the mortals of earth, all spoke in a language so ancient, it only existed between them. They could speak all other languages of course, but to each other they spoke in a tongue that sounded similar to Hebrew.

There was shouting. Roughly translated, the words were: "Ann! You wanky excuse for a freckle between Izzy's big gongs, how DARE you!"

Ra, the god of the sun, was storming up to the front of the line, furious in all his gold-and-feathered glory. As was the fashion of the gods, he had waxed his legs, put on hordes of make-up and donned a skirt. These days, he only responded to the name of Rae, as if in, 'Ray of Golden Sunshine', only spelt with an 'e' because it was 'hip'.

He also had the head of a bird. He clicked his beak and ruffled his feathers in irritation as he got to the front of the line. "What have you done?" he demanded, pointing a clawed finger at Ann's canine face. "I come back from my rounds - and what do I hear from that bitch Izzy? You let the Pretty One go!" (Izzy was Isis's groovy new name. She was a stupid gossiper who had the strange habit of marrying her brothers.)

Ann shrugged nonchalantly and ushered an old man to the dock. "There was nothing I could do. The little wizard boy summoned me with powerful magic."

Rae stomped his foot and pouted. "You know you can't be forced, especially not by a mortal." He was close to whining now. "Why'd you have to let him go? He was such a beauty to look at… and now we have some ugly lump instead!"

With one hand Ann picked up the soul of an infant from the ground and sighed. "Did you just come down here to whinge? Or did you have something else to speak to me about?" He gave the infant over to the next person, and murmured politely if they could please carry this over to the pier?

Rae fiddled with the gold jewellery around his neck. The pupil of one eye was extremely bright, like the sun, but for a moment it seemed to dim.

He cleared his throat and spoke to Ann sternly. "Actually, what you did was very stupid and irresponsible. The boy you gave the soul to - Barry Trotter?"

"Harry Potter," replied Ann.

"Yes him - he's actually very special. You gave a soul to him, and in so doing may have messed with the fate of the mortal world!"

Ann was confused. "That doesn't make any sense; sorcerers summon me all the time."

Rae shook his head. "This bloke is one of those people whose death decides the fate of the earth; he's like the next Jesus Christ, or something."

Ann made a face. "Who?"

Rae waved a hand impatiently. "Oh you know... that guy who died a couple of millennia ago. He was crucified for saying the world could be a better place if only people would be nice to each other." He shook his head sadly. "Stupid sod should have known better."

Ann was pensive. "Badly in need of a haircut, thought he was the son of God?"

Rae nodded. "Yes him. So this Hotter person - "

"Potter," Ann corrected.

" - can only be killed by his arch nemeses, and his death could make or break this world. By granting him a wish, you could have upset the Balance."

Ann was still ushering people through distractedly. "It's fine; I made sure to swap a soul with another, all for the Balance."

"No," said Rae grumpily, "you buggered everything up!" He let out a frustrated breath. "Don't make me split my penis open again, Ann! Osiris was particularly painful to give birth to. If it wasn't for the whole Elvis Presley debacle I'd make him in charge!"

"You can't make him in charge," the other god said, annoyed, "he's driving the boat."

"You better just fix it, or I will."

"Fix what? There's nothing to be fixed!"

"Either grant Rom Piddle a wish, or bring the Pretty One back where he belongs. You've got until tomorrow's dawn!"

Rae swivelled around and stomped back up the stairs as best he could in amber-incrusted high-heals.

After comforting a hysterical Spanish woman and pushing her over to the jetty, Ann flipped through his book.

Next to every name was a date of death. He looked for Harry Potter, found it, and gasped aloud.

Beside the name were the words "Date of Death Unknown."

1998 May 26

Harry could not stop staring.

His godfather was back, oh god, Sirius was alive!

A breeze blew past and ruffled Sirius's black hair. He whimpered a little, sitting up and pulling his knees to his chest. He rested his head on his arms and shivered.

A moment passed wherein Harry was frozen to the spot. He forced himself to take a step forward, and then another. "Sirius?" he called tentatively.

Sirius slowly lifted his head and looked at Harry with frightened grey eyes. When Harry was just a metre away, he stopped.

"Harry...?" Sirius whispered softly.

Harry clenched his fists to stop himself from jumping on Sirius and hugging him. The early morning light filtered through the leaves of the forest, casting little spots of sunshine upon Sirius's soft, tanned skin. He looked like a newborn; his skin was smooth and almost hairless, his eyes wide in both fear and curiosity.

He was also very young. Harry had seen a couple of photos of a young Sirius and knew him to be a handsome man, and in Snape's pensieve he was only fifteen - but in Harry's mind Sirius had always been a man and not a boy, old enough to be Harry's father.

But now it was like Harry was just looking at another boy his age - someone he might have gone to school with, perhaps shared a dormitory with, played chess with in the Gryffindor Commons; anything but a guardian who might take him under his wing and look after him like a parent. In fact, Harry was feeling a strange, parental urge himself at that moment.

Harry came a little closer and stayed there, staring at his godfather as if he were the only light in a dark place. Sirius shivered again. "Cold," he murmured.

Harry hurriedly took his long cloak off and slung it around Sirius's shoulders. The black fell across his skin and covered him. Sirius fell forward a little, resting his head on Harry's shoulder.

The next thing Sirius said was muffled against Harry's robes. "Am I alive?"

Harry felt the prickle of oncoming tears. "Yes," he whispered, and slung an arm around Sirius's shoulders, pulling him forward.

For the next moment Sirius slid forward tentatively on the uneven wood, carefully angling himself so his legs dangled over the side, one on each side of Harry's hips. Harry held him closer, and tried not to think about how naked Sirius was, how smooth. His soft member lay nestled in a garden of curls, and rested to the left of his sac. Harry looked away and instead focused on a tree behind Sirius's shoulder.

Sirius was standing. It was now time for Harry to decide on his next course of action. Sirius's face pressed close to Harry's skin; slow, lazy breath puffing against his cheek.

"Um..." said Harry. "Are you alright to fly a broom now?"

- - -

The Lupin Lodge was a little wooden house overgrown with heavy ivy. It sat in a valley of grasslands, with a lake at the bottom of the hill.

Remus Lupin owned it, but had not lived there for many years. He had once told Harry about it in passing, but Harry had remembered.

Harry had decided to stay there temporarily, at least until Sirius recovered from his second birth. Then Harry would take Sirius into the Muggle world, where they would get a hotel room, and then move on to a flat. It would take the Order about twenty-four hours to disbelieve Harry's note and believe Harry in mortal peril, then it would take Lupin another twenty-four hours to think of his abandoned property; so Harry had about two days to leave. He hoped he could leave by the next morning.

Harry held an almost boneless Sirius against him on the front step. Sirius was squinting in the sun. "I have muscles," he murmured, "I just don't know how to use them yet. And everything is so bright, Harry. I can hardly see." But Sirius did not seem too worried; he smiled up at Harry wryly.

Harry opened the wooden door and dragged them both inside.

"Everything's in black and white," babbled Sirius, bemused. "That's not normal, is it? And my skin feels all sensitive - Harry, why am I here?"

Harry sat Sirius carefully down on the old floral couch. He turned to light the fireplace.

"Harry..." Sirius was murmuring. "Harry... ouch!"

Harry spun back around and looked at Sirius with concern and fear. "Are you alright?" he demanded.

"Your cloak is scratchy," Sirius grumbled. He propped a foot up on the tea table. The material fell away from his bent leg, gathering at the hip. Harry saw the word smudged against thigh in his own fingerprints: EMETH.

So Harry had marked Sirius after all. The word was messily written, like a child's sloppy finger-painting.

Harry inhaled sharply and held his breath. Sirius had bent his head back against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. His thigh quivered in the light from the window.

Harry exhaled. "Would you like a drink or something?"

Sirius did not move. "Perhaps I should try water. Just to see if it, you know, goes down."

"Right," Harry nodded. He went into the little kitchen, where the light filtered through the dirty glass and sparkled on the metal sink. He braced against it with both hands and bent his head forward, breathing harshly, black hair ruffling with every exhale.

Okay, he thought, get it together Harry. So Sirius Black is in the lounge room, lazing back next to the fire like a tired dog, all dazed and naked and young-looking.

When Sirius finally gathered some energy, Harry knew, he would be asking questions, making demands, trying to understand. Harry had to be prepared. Sirius was like a new born baby: he had yet to focus on his limbs, needed to learn to control his movements. His eyes had yet to focus properly; his skin had yet to callous. Yet his mind was probably that of a thirty-something year old man; although his maturity had always been around the thirteen-year-old mark. When Sirius became more aware, he would try to be Harry's godfather again. Whether or not that would be hard to accept, Harry had yet to decide. Part of him really wanted his almost-father back, and another part saw an equal, a friend, a brother. It did not help that Sirius now looked the same age as himself.

Harry lifted himself up and started to search through the cupboards for a glass or cup. Lupin seemed to only own chipped tea cups with matching saucers, so he grabbed one of those and filled it up with water from the tap.

Sirius had sat up again when Harry went into the room. He grinned lazily up at Harry. "Where'd you go? You were gone for ages!"

Harry fidgeted, holding out the cup for Sirius to take. "I, um, went out to get you this."

Sirius took it and sipped. "Mmmm," he mumbled, "tastes a bit like fluoride, but otherwise, it's not bad."

"Aha," Harry laughed nervously. He could not get over how close Sirius was, just there. "So maybe I should get you some, um…"

Sirius was staring up at him, grinning widely. "Your eyes are really green," he said appreciatively.

"Er, they always have been, S-Sirius."

"Yeah," the other agreed, leaning forward. "But now I'm seeing in colour. I couldn't before."

"Would you like some clothes?" Harry blurted. He shuffled where he stood. "Um, do you want to go to bed - urk - I mean, to sleep, if you want to sleep. In bed…"

Sirius was amused, but it was short lived. "I think we need to talk, Harry - "

"I'll go get you some clothes - "

"Just wait a sec, where are you going?"

"To Lupin's bedroom - um, he has stuff - "

"Why am I here, Harry?"

Harry froze in the doorway to the corridor. Then he pivoted ninety degrees, and went out the back door without another word.

The sunshine blasted at him malevolently as he stepped into the backyard. Harry's mind was full of countless thoughts and emotions, spinning around and around in his head like a hot clothes dryer switched on full ball. And when so much thought is being processed, the body always goes into Safe Mode, just doing the most straightforward and basic thing it could do. Harry walked and walked without stopping. He walked through the garden, strode around the side of the house, avoided the tomato patch and stumbled down the hill.

When he got to the lake's edge, he finally came to a halt. He took a deep breath, and all his thoughts disappeared. His mind went blank, his body relaxed.

He turned around and strolled back up the hill again.

However, a mind cannot think of absolutely nothing, so it did the next best thing.

It thought about food.

- - -

For the next two hours Harry tended to the garden. It was full of vegetables and herbs, overgrown where the ivy had not gotten to it. There was lettuce, carrots, potatoes, chilli, peas, tomatoes, ginger, garlic, onion, strawberries, cucumber, capsicum, and just about every English favourite, including a lemon tree.

The deciding point was that Harry refused to do magic unless in an emergency. He was on his own now, on the run from the law with his godfather, like he had always dreamed of doing ever since he was thirteen. Almost anyone could use a tracking charm on signature magic; at least, he knew Hermione could. It would not take too long for Dumbledore to get the Ministry's help in tracing Harry's wand - but Harry refused to part with it, even if he did not use it until he could ward and unplot a secure location for combat training.

The point was, Harry could not use magic to conjure dinner, so he had to improvise.

It was not hard to prepare a meal after first thinking about it. He would gather vegetables for a salad. Then he would go down to the fresh water lake and spear for fish - if Lupin could do it, he could. Lupin had said he had often come back to the house to eat the natural food when he was low on money. (This had saddened Harry at the time, but now he understood how useful a property like this could be.) With ginger, garlic, onion and lemon he could make a veritable marinade for fish.

After dumping a bunch of freshly picked vegetables, he went over to the back of the garden to wrestle with the lemon tree.

The back door slammed shut after Sirius came confidently through it. Harry watched from the edge of the orchard as he walked forward, wearing a pair of old beige slacks so big for him they hung on his hips low enough for Harry to see the curl of pubic hair. The faded black T-shirt was so old, it threatened to rip from the strain of his biceps, and the hem barely covered his navel.

Sirius grinned at him as he came closer. Harry wiped the drool from his mouth.

There was an object in his hand. He held it out for Harry to see. "Tell me, does this look alright to you?"

Harry took it. It was a little oval mirror. His reflection stared up at him, bright-eyed, messy-haired and with soil smudges all over his face. He quickly wiped at the smudge on his nose, but that only seemed to make it worse. He blushed under Sirius's scrutiny. "It's just a normal mirror," stuttered Harry, handing the object back.

"Are you sure?" asked Sirius, worried. "Because when I look into it the person staring back isn't me. At least, not the… me I remember."

Harry bit his lip guiltily. "You mean, you look younger?"

"Yeah," said Sirius. "I look like how I looked when I was about seventeen - before I left school and got my hair cut… because it got annoying when I rode my motorbike, and besides it was getting to the eighties then and it was the fashion... Um, Harry..?"

"Look," said Harry quickly, "I'm sorry I ran off before. And I bet you have a million and one questions, and I promise we will talk about everything eventually, like over lunch?" He gave Sirius a pleading look, who returned it with an expression that said, Okay, you're forgiven, for now!

"You bet I do," he said lightly. He gesticulated. "For example: why are we at Moony's icky hut? And why is it that I find I can't seem to change into Snuffles? And why do I look like I only just came out of puberty yesterday? And why are you picking vegetables? And why - ?"

Harry laughed. "Okay okay I get it." Harry could not stop looking at him; he wanted to drink in every smile, every lilt of his voice, the sparkle in his grey eyes, the shadows at the curve of his hip.

Sirius turned his face toward the sky, closing his eyes and smiling. Harry thought his saw the light intensify around Sirius for a moment, like a beam. He squinted into the sun and felt a stab of sudden fear.

"Mmm," said Sirius, "the sun's so warm, it's good to be alive again." Then he frowned and looked at Harry. "Ever get the feeling someone is watching you?"

The light only seemed to brighten upon Sirius as if in agreement. Harry's terror increased. He leapt forward and charged into Sirius, bowling them both over into the parsley patch. The light twinkled in aggravation before melting back into mildness.

For a moment neither of them moved. Harry was lying on top of his godfather, and a second later he realised he had grabbed onto Sirius tight, fists clenched into the material of his clothes.

He squeezed his eyes shut and took a shuddering breath. He felt Sirius's arms encircle his shoulders in shaky comfort.

There was silence.

Then Harry whispered, "Don't leave me. Don't ever leave me again. Please, Sirius, don't go."

One of Sirius's hands drifted across his neck, before the fingers curled into his hair. Sirius's hip bones jutted uncomfortably into his own, and their chests heaved together tightly. Harry buried his face into the other man's neck.

"Of course I won't leave you," Sirius assured softly, rubbing Harry's lower back in small soothing circles. "I didn't mean to last time, I swear Harry. I'll stay this time, I won't leave."

Harry had a hold of one of Sirius's shoulders. He arched his back, dragging his forehead down over his godfather's chest, only to rest it on the taut stomach.

"Okay," he said eventually. He looked up and gave Sirius a watery smile. "Let's go fishing."

TBC