Dead Men Don't Bleed

Dead Men Don't Bleed

by ObsidianEmbrace

Story Notes: In response to a challenge issued by PadyandMoony on the SiriuslySirius yahoo group. Takes place near the beginning of OotP, before the Dementor attack. All recognizable characters and settings belong to JK Rowling. Enjoy.

~HP~

Chapter 1: Where Dudley is a Pygmy Puff

The sky was dancing black and white above Harry's head. Which might have been all right... if the sun had already set. But at just before dinner time, the sky was probably supposed to be blue--well, maybe gray since it had looked a bit like a storm was coming when Dudley and his gang had ambushed him in the park.

And if Harry hadn't been trying quite so hard to block Cedric's vacant eyes from his mind, he might have been able to defend himself a bit better. Or if Dudley and Piers hadn't asked him why he kept muttering Cedric's name--that might have helped as well.

"He looks like he's dead..."

A foot nudged his elbow.

"He's blinking, you tosser."

Another nudge; this one not quite so wary.

"Should we leave him?"

"Well, I'm not carrying him home. Sodding git can find his own way."

"It's going to rain."

A kick this time, aimed at his ribs. "He won't melt. Let's go."

There was sound like an explosion--a brief flash of light and Harry had a fleeting wish that he'd brought an umbrella; thunder definitely wasn't a good sign... There were several squeaks, reminding Harry of the sounds Scabbers used to make when he was frightened.

"What was that?"

"Shit!"

"Bloody..."

"Come on!"

Clumsy, scrambling feet knocked into Harry's arms, but before he could begin the inevitable struggle to his feet, a fuzzy shape appeared in his line of vision. Pale and dark; hues mixed together into something that he should have recognized.

"I've turned the big one into a pygmy puff; hope you weren't fond of him."

Panic and a relief.

Impossible to swirl them together into one heady emotion, but there it was.

"Sirius?" And apparently that tangled emotion made his voice an octave higher. Or maybe it was his bloodied nose making him sound so strange.

Fingers brushed against his forehead in a gentle sweep. "Yeah, it's me. Oy, Harry..." Sirius whispered softly, his voice rough now. "They've really done a job on you. Lie still for a moment; let me make certain nothing is broken."

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, now that panic had had a chance to settle in. "What if someone sees you?"

"Don't worry, no one will recognize me." Harry wanted to ask why, but Sirius murmured, "Hush," followed by a simple diagnostic and then blew out a breath. "I'm going to help you sit up. All right?"

Harry nodded. He gasped as Sirius put an arm behind his back and gently helped him sit.

"What hurts?" Sirius asked, a bit sharply.

Harry wrapped an arm around his ribs as the world swam again. "There were four of them... so just about everything."

Harry was fairly certain Sirius swore, but it was muttered too quietly to be certain. "They've bloodied your nose... I haven't got a flannel."

"It's fine." Ignoring his throbbing head, Harry squinted, trying to make out his godfather's features.

"Here... Reparo," Carefully, Sirius maneuvered the arms of Harry's spectacles in place. He smiled slightly at Harry's look of surprise.

"You... look like Mundungus."

"I stole his face." Sirius leaned in; except that this face was a land mine of scabs and Harry instinctively drew back. Sirius stopped moving abruptly. "Sorry," he said with a frown. "It really is me."

Harry nodded, and then wished he hadn't as pain throbbed everywhere.

Sirius peered at him, leaning in again and this time Harry stayed still. Otherwise, he thought he might sick up. "Come on, kid," Sirius said decisively, winding an arm round Harry's waist, "if you can stand, we need to get out of here. The glamour won't last long."

"The Dursleys..."

"We aren't going to the Dursleys."

"But--"

"Your cousin did this to you, didn't he?" Sirius asked as he helped Harry to his feet.

"Yeah, but--"

"I'm not taking you back there; you can barely stand. We'll get your things later. Do you have your wand?"

"Yeah. But Dudley..."

Sirius sighed. "I didn't really turn him into a pygmy puff. He and those other cowards are probably already home by now. A harmless exploding spell to frighten them," he explained before Harry could ask. "It's going to rain..."

He tucked Harry against his chest, his arms secure but not too tight, which was good because Harry was beginning to feel like a massive bruise. Even so, he couldn't help one last protest. "Sirius--"

"Whatever you're going to say, Harry, don't. I don't care about any of that right now. Hold tight." And with that, Sirius turned on the spot and they left Little Whinging behind.

The world continued to spin even when they were solid again and Harry immediately vomited. He felt Sirius turning him, not letting him go even as he sicked up all over his godfather's boots.

"I'm sorry," he breathed when there was nothing left. Moisture had gathered at the corners of his eyes and he hoped to bloody hell it was only because of the retching.

"It's all right..." Sirius helped Harry onto the bed in the middle of the room they'd appeared in and then chanted several cleaning charms. "Don't move," he said as he stood. Harry watched him--still with Mundungus' face--until he disappeared out the only door.

He looked around the room; had no idea where Sirius had brought him. It was a bedroom obviously, but the furniture was tattered, a thick layer of dust covered most everything, and the mattress he was sitting on felt like several of the springs had gone missing.

Sirius came back in the room. "Better?" he asked with a faint smile. Mundungus' features were gone, replaced by the familiar black hair and grey eyes. Harry relaxed a little as his godfather knelt in front of him. Sirius caught the back of Harry's head with his palm. "Here... I'm going to mop up some of this blood..."

Harry held still as with gentle fingers, Sirius stemmed the trickle of blood with a damp flannel. Coming from both his nose and lip, Harry realized. "I have Disinfecting Potion and Bruise Salve... the potion will probably sting."

"'S'allright."

Sirius smiled at him again, meant to bolster. He opened the flask that he'd brought back from where ever he'd gone. The potion burned the skin around Harry's eye. Through the grimace he asked, "Where are we?"

"My parent's house in London," Sirius answered, his attention on spreading the thin potion. "I'll be living here for awhile. Sorry... almost done." He capped the flask with a sigh and picked up the Bruise Salve. "It won't be as effective as fresh; everything's a bit old here." Harry shrugged; he could handle the bruises.

When Sirius finished, he pointed his wand at Harry's mouth and chanted a quick healing spell for the split lip. Then he sat back on his heels, studying Harry's face.

"How long have you been here?" Harry interrupted the scrutiny. Sirius frowned and gestured for Harry to lift his shirt.

"I just arrived yesterday; let me see your back."

Harry twisted, wincing a little at that too.

"Wait," Sirius said quickly, grabbing a shoulder gingerly to keep him still and sitting next to him to inspect his back.

"How did you know where I was?" Harry asked.

"Dumbledore has been assigning various people to keep an eye on you... there's been a lot of suspicious activity since Voldemort returned," Sirius explained as he spread salve on the side that Piers had kicked the most. "It was Mundungus' turn; he Apparated back here right after he left, shouting about some boys hitting you in a park."

Harry hissed in pain as Sirius' fingers pressed into a particularly tender spot.

"Sorry..."

"Why didn't he just stop them himself?"

"Because Mundungus has the brain of a flea," Sirius muttered. "Where else does it hurt?"

Harry shook his head, felt another rush of nausea.

"Your head?"

"Yeah... a bit."

"Lumos." The tip of Sirius' wand lit up. He used it to peer into Harry's eyes. "You probably have concussion. That's why you're nauseous, I expect. I have potions for that as well..."

He stood and went over to a large rucksack sitting near a dresser. He rummaged through it and came back with three vials. "I visited an apothecary on the islands last summer," Sirius explained. "Bought them out; Muggle drugs don't work as well on wizards. Take all three of them. One is for all the other aches, and one is for stomach upset."

Harry hesitated. "What if you need them?"

Sirius stared at him. "I'll live," he finally said, shaking his head. "Now swallow them, no arguments."

Harry obeyed.

"You're clothes are torn..." Sirius said as he banished the vials, "... and about three times too large." He cocked his head, his brows furrowing in concern. "Have you been ill?"

"They're Dudley's castoffs," Harry said with a shrug. "They don't buy me clothes often."

Sirius was quiet as he replaced the lid on the salve. "Often?" he finally asked. "Or ever?"

Another shrug. "Ever, I guess."

Sirius' brows drew together. "And today... this--" He gestured to Harry's face. "--happens often?"

Harry smiled a little bit. "They don't usually catch me."

"Why haven't you told your aunt and uncle?"

"I have."

Sirius' face went very still. "I see," he said from between his lips.

"They haven't touched me in years," Harry offered, trying to allay his godfather's obvious anger. Sirius' head jerked up.

"They?!" Sirius echoed with eyes stretched wide. "Your aunt and uncle--"

"No," Harry said hastily, "not them. Dudley and his gang. Dudley's usually too frightened to come near me these days." Smirking he added, "They probably won't come near me again."

Instead of smiling, Sirius frowned at him. "This isn't funny."

"Well, I know that," Harry answered--perhaps a bit flippantly. "Especially not when Dudley split my lip."

Sirius' lips pressed into a thin line. He went back over to his rucksack, this time pulling out a grey jumper. He eyed it critically, glanced back at Harry and chanted a terse Shrinking Spell. He tossed it to Harry. "Put this on. I'll find you a pair of trousers."

Wondering if his godfather was irritated with his glib response, Harry shimmied out of his t-shirt as quickly as his abused muscles would allow and pulled the soft jumper over his head. Sirius was still frowning as he dug into the sack and pulled out a pair of jeans.

"These are fine," Harry said quietly, gesturing to Dudley's too-large and faded jeans. It wasn't as if he hadn't worn stained or torn clothes before.

"They are not fine," Sirius said shortly. He shrunk the pair he'd just taken out of his sack and handed them over. "Put them on." He turned his back, giving Harry privacy but asked gruffly a moment later, "Do you need help?"

"Er... no, don't think so." The old pair came off easily, though it was a bit tricky to step into the new ones; his legs felt like lead now that adrenaline was no longer warming his muscles. Once he'd managed, he folded the castoffs into a neat pile and said awkwardly, "I'm done."

Sirius turned around, his stiff muscles relaxing a little. "Do they fit?"

"Yeah," Harry said quietly, giving the shirt an absent tug. "Thanks."

Sirius nodded and crossed his arms loosely over his chest; uncrossed them again. He sighed, and then looking Harry right in the eye, he asked bluntly, "Have your aunt or uncle ever hurt you?"

It took a second for Harry to gather his thoughts together. "I already told you, it was Dudley--and this hasn't happened in years."

"No," Sirius said quietly, "that isn't what I meant." He sat on the bed beside Harry again. "Have they ever hurt you?" He cleared his throat. "Punished you?"

"Uncle Vernon, sometimes," Harry answered truthfully, thinking of the beefy hand that had been around his neck just a few hours ago. "I've gotten pretty good at staying out of his way though; he hasn't bothered me much since I went to Hogwarts."

Sirius' face had frozen again, except for a small quiver along his jaw. When he spoke, the tremor was in his voice as well. "What exactly do you mean, bothered you?"

"Dunno," Harry said with a shrug. "When he was really irritated he might have smacked me, or tossed me into my cupboard--"

"You're what?"

"Eh?" Harry cocked his head, understanding dawning with Sirius' gaping expression. "Oh. Well, I thought you knew about that."

His godfather's narrowed. "Knew about what?"

"Dumbledore knew I slept in the cupboard under the stairs," Harry said defensively. "My Hogwarts letter was addressed that way."

Sirius' jaw appeared to be unhinged. "Your... Dumbledore knew..." But that was all he seemed to be able to splutter.

"I don't sleep there anymore... er, if that helps."

"No, that doesn't help!" As if realizing that he looked a bit like the photograph in his Wanted posters, Sirius took a deep breath and forcibly relaxed his shoulders.

"What else don't I know?" He held up a hand and ticked off the list with his fingers. "They made you sleep in the boot cupboard, let their son use you for target practice and didn't buy you clothes. Did they feed you?" he demanded, sarcasm marring the question. And apparently, Harry's face was answer enough. "Bloody..."

The rest of the expletive was cut short as Sirius shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said unevenly. "If I had known--"

"Sirius--"

"Look, Harry," Sirius interrupted in a steadier tone, "I understand that this sort of thing is difficult to talk about. But we need to."

Harry sighed. "It isn't that it's difficult to talk about," he explained. "There just isn't any point, and it doesn't matter--"

"Of course it matters!"

Harry's lip twisted into a wry smile at the outraged look on his godfather's face. "I know they shouldn't treat me the way they do. I mean, I've seen enough of proper families to know that much. But there's nothing you can do about it, Sirius. They've always hated me."

He hadn't meant to hurt his godfather by saying that, but the flash of pain in Sirius' eyes, before he looked away, confirmed that he had.

Sirius stood silently and went back to his sack, dropping down and removing a wooden box from its depths. "Your parents," he said as he sat once more on the bed, "were extraordinary people." He opened the lid and took out a photograph, his gaze lingering even as he gave it to Harry.

Harry smiled. His mum and dad were standing close together, their arms linked as they smiled back at him. A much younger version of Sirius was standing beside his dad; Remus next to him. Moody was there as well. And McGonagall. He didn't recognize anyone else though.

"We were called the Order of the Phoenix," Sirius said; Harry glanced at him. "We worked for Dumbledore during the first war. A sort of secret organization. It's yours to keep, if you like."

"Yeah?"

Sirius smiled. He pulled two more photos from the box, one of Sirius, Remus and Harry's dad--though a rough edge suggested Wormtail had once stood next to Remus. And the last photograph, Harry stared at that one the longest.

"You were only a few hours old..."

Harry gazed at his tiny self, content in his godfather's arms. And the grin on Sirius' young face.

"They loved you very much."

Harry struggled with his own emotions, wondering if Sirius knew his eyes were shining with tears. Sirius looked straight at him and Harry realized that his godfather knew it quite well; and he obviously didn't care. "They wouldn't have wanted you with those people," he said with a conviction that hit deep, somewhere in Harry's chest.

Sirius took a steadying breath. "I know that doesn't help."

"No, it does," Harry said through the ache in his throat. "It's good to know that someone did."

"Harry..." The word came out roughly. Sirius cleared his throat and said very quietly, "They aren't the only ones who love you."

A slow smile crept onto Harry's lips.

Sirius smiled as well, the dark shadows receding a little from his eyes. Harry ducked his head, grinning quite broadly now. Sirius cupped the back of his head lightly, for a just a moment.

"What are you doing here then?" Harry asked, glad his voice came out about the same as usual.

"Actually," Sirius said, looking amused for some reason as he replaced his set of photos in the box and leaned back a little on his hands, "I'm not supposed to tell you that. Dumbledore's orders."

Harry narrowed his eyes, recognizing a teasing tone when he heard it.

Sirius smiled. "But since we have exactly--" he glanced at his watch. "--six and half hours before Tonks--she's a new Auror, and my cousin actually--takes over guard duties and notices you've gone missing, I think I have time to tell you before Dumbledore insists I don't."

Grinning, Harry shifted on the bed to get a position that wouldn't aggravate every aching nerve ending.

"Lie back," Sirius instructed, gesturing with his chin and then adjusting the pillows until Harry was comfortable. "Now then," Sirius said with a little nod, "where to begin?"