Dead Men Don't Bleed

Chapter 2: Burn that Sucker Down

Feeling like he'd been hit by several Bludgers in one go, Harry blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling. Sirius' room. His room when he'd been a kid anyway. And here Harry was lying in his godfather's bed.

He stifled a moan as he sat up. God, his ribs hurt. How many times had Piers kicked him anyway?

With fumbling fingers, he shoved his glasses on and then stopped moving abruptly as he saw his godfather, asleep on a folded blanket. On the floor.

"Shit," he muttered to himself. Making a person's godfather sleep on the floor seemed like a rather ungrateful thing to do, considering said godfather had saved him a limping trip back to the Dursleys. Not to mention the potions Harry had used up. Or the clothes Sirius had given him.

Even if it was an odd feeling to be wearing Sirius' clothes. A nice feeling actually. Because Sirius hadn't had to give him his clothes.

He'd wanted to.

Which only made Harry feel guiltier that he'd commandeered Sirius' bed.

Not sure what to do now, Harry pushed the blankets aside. He could probably find the kitchen. Breakfast might be a nice way to make up for stealing a perfectly good night's sleep. He had to squeeze past the nest his godfather had made; it was shoved right up next to the bed.

The corridor outside the bedroom was dark. Deciding that he would probably get in trouble somehow for casting a Lumos, he felt along the walls, nearly plunging down a very steep flight of stairs after a few steps. Stairs that went on forever, or so it seemed. There were landings in between but Harry didn't stop until the stairs ended.

It was a bit lighter down here anyway. And it only made the whole house seem creepier. Not the sort of place Harry had imagined Sirius had been referring to when he'd asked Harry to come live with him a year ago. It smelled rancid, and he was fairly certain there were rats scurrying around--or something small and skittery at any rate.

He squinted, finding an open doorway and another--much shorter--set of stairs. He took that and yes, it was a kitchen. It looked like a kitchen--

"Augh!"

He leapt back as he found two large, round eyes staring up at him. "Filthy Mudblood," muttered the owner of the eyes. A house-elf, Harry could see now, with help from the tiny candle he was holding in a gnarled hand.

"Erm..."

The elf muttered under his breath, knocking into Harry as he went past and up the stairs. Definitely, this place was odd. And there wasn't much in the way of food either. Tinned beans wouldn't make a very appetizing--

"Harry!" Pounding feet accompanied the frantic call. Harry whipped his wand out and spun around. "Harry!"

Sirius burst down the stairs and into the kitchen before Harry could even take a step. Sirius came to a careening halt as soon as he saw Harry, his wand held out like a sword, his chest heaving. "Don't do that!" he said on an exploded breath.

Harry stared at him. "Do what?"

Sirius scowled as he straightened his crooked shirt and shoved a lock of disheveled hair out of his face. "I thought you'd been kidnapped."

"Oh." Harry sort of wanted to smile at that, but Sirius didn't look at all amused. "Sorry... I haven't been."

Sirius made a face as he shoved his wand back into his pocket. "I can see that, thank you very much." He waved a hand and the sconces along the walls came to life. "What are you doing in here?"

Harry blinked several times, adjusting to the bright lamps. "I thought I'd make breakfast..."

Sirius straightened. "Are you hungry? Sorry, I should have realized you would be. Here," he said quickly, motioning to the table, "sit down and I'll make you something. What would you like? I have eggs and toast. Maybe even a banger or two... sit, sit... the table's clean."

But Harry didn't move toward the long table, too startled by the offer. "You don't have to..."

Sirius peered around the cupboard door he'd just stuck his head into. "Don't have to what?"

Harry gripped the back of his neck, shrugging. "Make breakfast... I don't mind doing it."

Sirius mouth pressed together, those grey eyes boring into him but only for a second and then he smiled. "My scrambled eggs are delicious though. And toast... well, let's just say I haven't burned it once since I've been here."

Harry smiled.

"Well?" Sirius asked, eyes widening a little. "Sitting? We do that with a chair, you know."

"Yeah," Harry said with a laugh, "I know." So he sat in the chair closest to the stove and watched his godfather cracking eggs into a bowl. "You keep your eggs in the cupboard?" he thought to ask.

Sirius glanced over his shoulder, not breaking rhythm with the eggs. "Cold cupboard--magically charmed to keep everything cold."

"Yeah? That's brilliant."

Sirius grinned at him. "Magic is rather brilliant." He poured the beaten eggs into the frying pan and began swirling figure eights. "Had to have Mundungus fetch food for me," he explained. "Just a few things to get me through the next few days."

A cold feeling spread through Harry's stomach. A few days... Of course, Harry could handle going back to the Dursleys. Things there really weren't so bad. And Dudley would be back to being too frightened to come near him.

He flattened his palms against the dull table top, staring at the grain as he asked quietly, "Where are you going?"

"Me? I'm not going anywhere."

Harry's head came up. Sirius was sliding the steaming eggs onto two plates.

"Molly Weasley is bringing her family here in two days," Sirius said as he set a plate in front of Harry; added two pieces of hot buttered toast. "Dumbledore is gathering everyone." He smiled a little. "Molly is in charge of meals... self-appointed."

"Oh." Harry couldn't have explained why it was hard to look at Sirius right then, but since it was, he concentrated on spearing eggs onto his fork, remembering after two bites to say, "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Sirius poured juice into Harry's glass and Harry had to look up to take a sip. He paused with the glass pressed to his lips. Sirius' was empty and when Harry switched his gaze to the glass jug it had come from, that was empty too.

He lowered the glass back to the table. Sirius finished chewing and asked, "Not to your liking? Mundungus went to a Muggle grocer... it's something called--" He twisted the jug and peered at the label. "--Paradise Punch."

Harry shook his head swiftly. "No, no, it's all right. I just..." He gestured to the empty bottle with a limp hand. "There isn't enough."

Sirius bit off a corner of toast. "Don't worry about that. Water works just as well." He stood and fetched some from the sink, eyeing Harry over the rim as he sat down again. "I know you must be able to eat more than that," he said with a smirk. "You're fifteen, and if you're anything like your dad... I once watched him eat an entire goose."

Harry couldn't help the smile, something that seemed to happen often when he was around Sirius.

"Your grandmother was very annoyed," Sirius added as he bit through another toast corner. "It was Christmas dinner."

"He ate the Christmas goose?" Harry said, impressed and disgusted all at once.

Sirius nodded. "The entire thing. Bit of a pig, your dad," he said fondly. He gestured to Harry's plate. "Tuck in. And drink your juice."

So Harry did.

"They must have realized that I'm gone by now," he said once he'd finished off the eggs and was nibbling on half a crust.

"Oh, I'm certain Tonks would have noticed hours ago," Sirius answered as he dusted crumbs from his fingers and balanced his elbows on either side of his plate. "Dumbledore is avoiding telling me."

"Why?"

"Thinks I would do something foolish like joining in the search." He winked. "And he'd be right."

Harry frowned. "He'll be angry that you came to fetch me, then?"

Sirius shrugged. "Angry is a rather strong word to apply to Dumbledore... most of the time anyway. But no, he won't be pleased."

Harry dropped the half-eaten crust and pushed the plate away. Of course not. Why should Dumbledore be pleased that Harry was with someone who didn't want to stuff him in a cupboard? "Much better to have me where he can keep an eye on me," he muttered.

"I don't think that's the reason he wants you to stay at the Dursleys," Sirius said slowly. "I asked him several times if he could arrange for you to stay here with me sooner, but he refused me every time. And if he truly did want to keep an eye on you, it would be easier here."

Harry barely heard the last part, he was too busy basking in the other. I asked him several times... for you to stay here with me...

It was even better than the clothes.

Harry fought the stupid smile off his face. Sirius was smiling too though, so he probably didn't need to try quite so hard. He did anyway and said, "Do you think it has something to do with the Prophecy that Voldemort wants?"

Sirius pressed a thumb against the side of his chin; shook his head. "Could be, but I have no idea what."

Harry tilted his glass, watching the few droplets of yellow juice sliding along the side, thinking about everything that Sirius had told him last night. Which, really, hadn't been all that much since Dumbledore was so fond of his secrets.

"Try not to fret over it," Sirius broke into his thoughts. "You are not going back there."

"Dumbledore will say I have to," Harry said, letting the glass sit upright again. Maybe not this summer, but the next would just be like all the others.

"Not as long as I have something to say about it," Sirius said grimly.

But you don't, Harry wanted to say. But of course he didn't say that. Even though Sirius couldn't do anything. And anyway, it wasn't so bad. A month or two of staying with the Dursleys every year. He'd managed a lifetime with them, after all. What were a few more summers?

"How are you feeling?" Sirius asked. He had leaned forward a bit, his eyes roaming over Harry's face. "We should try a bit more of the Bruise Salve for your eye."

"It's all right; doesn't hurt." It hurt a little but it hardly seemed worth mentioning.

"Well, at least another pain potion then," Sirius said as he stood up. He collected their plates and set them in the sink, taking Harry's glass too when Harry stood up. "You look as though you could use some."

Surprised at the observation, Harry said, "I do?"

"Unless you usually grimace every time you move?"

"Er... no, guess not."

Sirius smiled. "Well, then, let's go upstairs and take care of that, shall we? And then we can find something to do... I have a chess set... not much else. A few books. It is frighteningly boring around here actually..."

"I like chess."

"Do you?" Sirius' eyes lit up. "The set's a bit dusty... my grandfather gave it to me when I was eleven; forgot I had it. We used to challenge each other to matches--the other Marauders and me. Sometimes, the entire tower would have marathon sessions."

"I usually play with Ron," Harry said. "Not very well, though."

Sirius slung an arm round his shoulders and they walked up the stairs and into the parlour. "We'll change that. I am quite brilliant, you see."

Harry grinned. "And humble."

"Humble, no," Sirius said, shaking his head solemnly. "But very brilliant."

Harry's chuckle was cut off by an eerie creak; one that made Sirius sigh. "Front door," he explained, a hand flapping toward the corridor off the stairs that Harry had yet to explore.

"Dumbledore?"

"Probably."

Harry felt his muscles tensing; Sirius squeezed a shoulder before he pulled his arm away and without any fuss, moved so that he was standing in front of Harry. Footsteps echoed down the corridor; footsteps that sounded annoyed. But that just might have been Harry's imagination.

"Sirius," Dumbledore greeted before Harry even saw him and then Sirius stepped aside. Dumbledore's expression went from grim to surprise to snapping ire in less than five seconds. His blue eyes narrowed and he turned his glare to Sirius. "This is what you have stooped to, Sirius?"

Sirius' lips parted, his shock rivaling Harry's own. He regained his composure almost immediately, except for the crimson now staining his cheeks. "This isn't--"

"We have been looking for Harry for hours, Sirius," Dumbledore went on in that cutting tone he rarely used. "When Alastor suggested you might have something to do with his disappearance, I refused to believe it. I didn't believe that you would resort to kidnapping your own godson."

"He didn't!" Harry blurted before he could stop himself. Dumbledore turned his head.

His blue eyes were cold as he said, "Harry, you needn't defend him. And please gather whatever belongings you have here. You need to return to the Dursleys--"

"What?" Sirius demanded, red splotching his neck now as well. "No! Did you even look at him? Look at his face!"

Dumbledore gazed at Harry for a moment, his eyes flicking once to Sirius. "What happened, Harry?" he asked, in a tone that Harry didn't like at all.

"His cousin hit him," Sirius answered tightly before Harry could.

"Is this true, Harry?" And it was like Dumbledore was looking right through him.

"Yes, sir..."

The sensation persisted for a few seconds longer and then Dumbledore sighed. "I am certain that whatever you and Dudley were quarreling about can be resolved once you are home--"

"They weren't quarreling, Professor," Sirius cut in, his words still clipped. "His cousin and three other boys attacked him in a park. And if Mundungus hadn't told me when he did, he would probably still be there."

Dumbledore didn't even glance at him. "We will explain what happened to your aunt and uncle," he said to Harry. "So that it will not happen again."

Harry snorted. "Uncle Vernon will just tell him to hit me harder next time."

Dumbledore peered over his spectacles. "Now Harry, best not be overdramatic--"

"He isn't being overdramatic." Sirius folded his arms across his chest. "No more than he's exaggerating about his Hogwarts' letter being addressed to a boot cupboard, which you well know. He's not going back there."

Dumbledore had switched his gaze to Sirius again and without looking at Harry now, he said quietly, "Harry, if you will excuse us for a moment?"

Harry didn't move, his eyes fixed to his godfather's clenched jaw.

"Now Harry," Dumbledore's sharp tone snapped Harry out of his staring. Flushing--mostly from anger--he retreated to the kitchen.

Only to the bottom of the short staircase.

"Sirius," Dumbledore said, and Harry had to strain to hear the rest, "I can accept that you thought you were helping him, but as I explained before, Harry must remain at the Dursleys."

"They let their son attack him," Sirius whispered fiercely. "He was concussed."

"I will speak to them--"

"About the boot cupboard too?" Sirius demanded. "And the fact that they don't feed him nearly enough? The clothes they don't buy him? Will you speak to them about all that as well? Or doesn't that matter to you so long as he arrives at school on September first?"

"Sirius, you are being unreasonable, and as you often do, allowing your emotions to get the better of you," Dumbledore said tiredly. "The Dursleys have given Harry a home for fifteen year and despite your dramatics, he has suffered no great harm."

"No great harm?"Sirius echoed, his voice driving up an octave. "I think living a life unloved by the people who should love you the most counts as harmful. The most harmful thing I can think of. Lily and James would be sickened--"

"Lily and James are not here, as you well know--"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means nothing more than you wish it to mean," Dumbledore said calmly. "You cannot change the facts, Sirius. Harry belongs in Little Whinging."

Silence stretched on for so long Harry was afraid Sirius had left.

But then he spoke, his voice strained as he tried to keep a whisper, "I have followed you through so many things. Respected you and risked my life just because you asked me to; dozens of times. But this isn't right. You know it isn't."

"What I know," Dumbledore said, "is that it is best for Harry to be with his relatives. Now, if you will excuse me--"

"He isn't yours!"

Harry had never heard his godfather speak so harshly.

"You aren't even his guardian. You haven't any right--"

"I do not mean to be cruel," Dumbledore cut in softly, "but neither do you. You are, in fact, a fugitive, Sirius. And there is nothing you can do."

There was no answer from Sirius and when Dumbledore spoke again, his voice was harder somehow, "Harry will go back to the Dursleys. He will return next summer as well. And the summer after that, until he reaches his majority. And that is an end to the discussion."

"No," Sirius said flatly. "It isn't. Harry is not going back there."

Harry realized he was halfway up the stairs, his back pressed against the wall, his fingers hovering near his wand. What he was going to do with his wand, he had no idea.

"Please do not make more of a spectacle that has been made already, Sirius," Dumbledore said as Harry came up behind Sirius' shoulder. Sirius' hands were in fists at his sides.

Harry's fingers found his godfather's sleeve. "It's all right, Sirius..."

Sirius didn't move. "Do you intend to Obliviate me, Headmaster?" he asked quietly. "I have no intention of keeping silent about this, even if I am a fugitive. And if you want to take Harry back to the Dursleys, you are going to have to knock me unconscious. I will warn you, however," he said in a voice tilting toward nonchalance, "that this house has several enchantments which do not tolerate acts of aggression against its master."

Dumbledore's eyes widened behind his spectacles; they narrowed just as quickly. "Are you threatening me, Sirius?"

"If necessary."

His breath caught in his chest, Harry watched Dumbledore until the headmaster's face lost some of the stiff tension. He straightened his spectacles. "Very well," he said. "Harry, you may stay here for the remainder of the summer. The rest, however, is not negotiable." He frowned severely at Sirius. "I cannot explain my reasons, but Harry must return to the Dursleys next summer. If it will set your mind at ease, I will employ the members of the Order to keep a closer watch."

Sirius said nothing and Dumbledore nodded, just as if he had agreed. "Molly and Arthur will arrive in two days' time," he added, no trace of the earlier harshness in his tone; professional was the order of the moment. "Remus is on his way back to the continent as well. We will convene here, as was planned."

Sirius nodded this time; curtly. Dumbledore sighed.

"Sirius, I do understand your concerns, and whether or not you believe me, I am doing my best for him." Dumbledore sighed again when Sirius stayed silent. To Harry, he said, "I will see you in two days. Take care of yourself."

For some reason, that made Sirius scowl.

"Thanks," Harry said, finding his voice. The word seemed strange and he actually didn't think Dumbledore deserved to hear it, but it was too late to call it back. Dumbledore gave him a bare smile and left the way he came.

As soon as the door clicked behind him, Sirius took Harry's wrist and turned them both toward the stairs. "Come on," he said. "We're leaving."

TBC...