Dead Men Don't Bleed

Chapter 3: Desperation or Madness

"I'll stay outside until you tell them that I'm here," Sirius said as he adjusted his pack over Harry's shoulder, shortening the straps for Harry's smaller frame. "We don't want Molly to have heart failure."

Harry glanced over his shoulder. "What if she won't let you in?"

"She will." Sirius steadied him as he tugged sharply on the stubborn left strap. A pause. "Arthur will," he muttered. "He and I did some work for Dumbledore a few weeks ago.... You ready?"

Harry nodded, not wanting to ask again if Sirius was really sure this was necessary. He'd already agreed; even if he couldn't see any real reason to come to the Burrow. The Weasleys couldn't keep him from the Dursleys any more than Sirius could. But Sirius had wanted to come here, so Harry had agreed.

With a quick smile, Sirius patted his shoulder and then almost before Harry was prepared for it, Sirius became Padfoot.

"I still can't believe you can do that," Harry said, smiling down at the black dog. Padfoot snuffed out a breath, whether meant to be laughter or impatience, Harry couldn't tell. Until a large nose nudged him pointedly in the ribs. Harry laughed. "All right, let's go."

Padfoot stayed right beside him as they made their way through the weed-choked field toward the crooked house in the distance. When they reached the back door, Padfoot nudged him again; his palm this time and then he slunk behind the row of messy hedges, only his nose sticking out between the leaves. Harry ignored his urge to tell the black dog to stay, straightened Sirius' pack and rapped loudly on the door.

The sounds of running feet greeted him, lots of sets. Loud shouts that sounded like the twins arguing. Ginny's voice ringing over theirs, "Just open it!"

"Ask who it is first!" Mrs. Weasley's shrill voice halted all the rest of the chatter.

"Mu-um!"

"We're seventeen!"

"I don't care! Ask who it is!"

"Bloody..." One of the twins' voices came closer, highly disgruntled. "Who is it?"

Harry shifted. "Er..." Cleared his throat and said uncertainly, "Harry Potter?"

Clamoring; louder than before and the door was flung open. "Harry?"

"Harry?"

Three more echoes greeted him, each more shocked than the first. They were all staring at him as if they'd never seen him before. And then the clustered group of ginger was parted down the middle and Mrs. Weasley was gathering him into her embrace. "Oh, Harry...." She was shaking.

Startled, Harry stayed very still. When Mrs. Weasley finally released him, everybody began talking at one.

"We had no idea where you were!"

"...the Dementors..."

"...your face!"

"What are you doing here?"

"...in little Whinging!"

Harry shook his head, trying to take it all in. "Dementors?"

Mrs. Weasley steered Harry toward a chair, her eyes intently scanning his face. But before she could ask how he had got a black eye, Mr. Weasley said, "Where have you been?"

"You knew I wasn't at the Dursleys?"

"Of course," Mr. Weasley said, sounding a bit impatient now. "Bill and I were out searching for you all night. Bill is still--"

The rest was cut off as the back door banged opened and Bill burst in, his face haggard, even through his grin. "Harry's all right! He--" He halted abruptly. "Harry?" His eyebrows pulled together. "What are you doing here? Dumbledore said you were at Grimmauld Place--"

"Grimmauld Place!"

"What were you doing there?"

"Did something happen to Sirius?"

"How did you get here?"

"Quiet, all of you." As soon as Mr. Weasley spoke, his family turned to him, all of them falling silent. Clearing his throat softly, he turned his solemn gaze to Harry. Harry felt his face heating, even though Mr. Weasley hadn't yet said anything. "What happened, Harry?" he asked quietly. "Why did you leave the Dursleys?"

Harry didn't really want to explain that he'd been trounced soundly by Dudley and his friends, but Mr. Weasley didn't look like he was going to accept silence as an answer. "Erm... Dudley... my cousin, he hit me a few times--"

"Hit you?"

Mr. Weasley put a hand over his wife's and she too fell silent, her eyes even more worried now. "Go on," Mr. Weasley said, nodding a little.

Harry glanced at Ron, who was scowling--all of them were actually. Feeling a little better, he explained the rest of what had happened.

"Sirius is here?" Mrs. Weasley was looking around the room wildly.

"He's outside," Harry explained quickly. "Snuffles is..."

"But why did the two of you come here?" Bill demanded. "Dumbledore said you were staying at Grimmauld Place."

Mr. Weasley's blue eyes were intent now as he gazed at Harry. "Professor Dumbledore doesn't know you're here?"

Harry could feel himself flushing again. "No sir."

"What exactly are you doing here?"

"Arthur," Mrs. Weasley scolded, taking Harry's hand and squeezing it, "Harry is always welcome here."

"Yes, of course you are, Harry," Mr. Weasley agreed. "But I don't understand why Sirius brought you here if Dumbledore agreed that you could stay with him at Grimmauld Place."

"He said he needed to speak with you."

"Me?" Mr. Weasley echoed.

"Why does Sirius Black need to speak with Arthur?" Mrs. Weasley demanded, her eyes a bit wild again.

"He didn't kill those Muggles, Mum," Ron said impatiently.

"I know that," she retorted. But even so, she looked no less upset. And Harry was beginning to think this was a very bad idea.

"I don't think Sirius meant to cause any trouble," he said as he pushed himself up. "I can tell him--"

"You'll not tell him anything, Harry," Mr. Weasley said firmly and Harry slowly lowered himself back to his chair. "If Sirius needs to speak to me, then he needs to speak to me. Bill, open the door."

Bill did as he was bid and after a tense moment, Padfoot curled around the frame and the huge black dog was standing in the middle of the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley squeaked. Ron grinned. And Harry let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.

"Good to see you again, Snuffles!"

"Hush, Ron," Mr. Weasley said and then turned to his elder son. "Lock the doors... and the windows." While that was accomplished with a few flicks of Bill's wrist, Mr. Weasley cast several Obscuro Charms. "All right, Sirius," he said quietly.

And with very little fuss, Sirius stood before them.

Mr. Weasley was the first to move. He stuck out a hand. "It's good to see you again, Sirius. Welcome to our home."

"Thank you, Arthur," Sirius said quietly, grasping the other man's hand. "I apologize for bursting in on you."

"Nonsense," Mr. Weasley said, smiling a little. "Harry says you wish to speak with me."

After a quick glance for Harry, Sirius nodded. "You and Molly both, if you have a few moments."

Mrs. Weasley's hand clamped on Harry's shoulder as she moved toward him. "What is this about?"

Sirius jaw tightened briefly but it was with an easy tone that he said, "I would rather speak in private. It's a... delicate matter."

Both of the Weasley parents raised their eyebrows.

Harry sighed. "It's about me," he said, hoping it would expedite matters. "Sirius doesn't want me to go back to the Dursleys."

"But I thought Dumbledore said you could stay at Grimmauld Place," Mr. Weasley said, looking between them.

"You want Harry to stay with us?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking quite pleased by that idea. Harry sat up straighter. Sirius hadn't said that he'd wanted to leave Harry here. Though Harry hadn't specifically asked that question; he hadn't had time to ask much of anything, Sirius had been in such a hurry.

"If we could speak privately... just for a moment?" Sirius said again, this time sounding strained.

Looking decidedly more cheerful, Mrs. Weasley nodded and led the way into the parlour. A hand settled on Harry's head. He looked up, found Sirius smiling a tiny smile, and Harry relaxed. "See if they have some proper salve for that eye," Sirius muttered before he disappeared into the parlour. The door closed behind them.

"Extendable ears?" George suggested hopefully.

"What?" Harry asked as he shrugged Sirius' pack off his shoulders.

"Device for listening," Fred explained.

Harry shook his head. Even if all of them already knew more about the Dursleys than he cared for them to.

"It's about time someone realized your relatives are cracked," Ron said as he settled in beside Harry. "Did you tell Sirius about the bars on your windows?"

Harry was spared from answering--and imagining Sirius' head imploding if he had mentioned it--as Ginny perched a hip on the table and took the cap off of a huge jar. "Bruise Salve," she announced, jiggling it a little for his inspection. "Close your eye."

Hesitating for just a second, he did, sucking in a short breath as her fingers brushed lightly over the tender skin. She smiled an apology at him, though it seemed to take much longer than it had taken Sirius to do the same thing.

"Feel better?" she asked when she finished.

"Yeah. Thanks."

She smiled and slid off the table. "Do you want anything? Mum just made orange scones."

"No thanks."

"Tea?"

Harry shook his head.

"I'll take a scone," George said.

"Me too," Ron piped up.

"You know where they are," Ginny told them with a little sniff on her way back to the cupboard to put the salve away.

"She's barmy," Fred announced to the world in general as he scooted round the counter and plucked several scones from the basket on the counter.

And as they sat at the table munching scones, the earlier snatches of conversation finally caught up with Harry. "There were Dementors in Little Whinging?"

"Yeah," Ron said around a mouthful; swallowed noisily. "At the same time you disappeared."

"Was anyone hurt?"

"Not that we know of," Bill said.

Harry glanced at the parlour's closed door. "Were they looking for Sirius?"

Bill shook his head. "They would have had no idea he was there. Not unless someone sent them."

Harry didn't say anything as he sat there turning his scone into crumbs.

"He has to be telling them more than just Harry's relatives are arseholes," Fred finally mused; both he and George were staring at the door intently, as if their eyes might be able to burn right through it.

"Yeah mate," George said with a look for Harry, "it's been at least fifteen minutes."

"How long does it take to explain that you'd be better off almost anywhere else?" Ron agreed. "Even Snape would probably feed you."

The twins exchanged looks with their brother; all three shook their heads. "Nah."

"Why does Sirius think our parents would have better luck with Dumbledore than he did?" Bill said, waving his brothers silent, much to Harry's relief.

"Dunno." And before he could speculate on it further, the door opened and Mr. Weasley, looking decidedly unsettled, came out, followed very slowly by Sirius.

"Dad?" Bill questioned as he stood up quickly. "Are you all right?"

Pale-faced, Mr. Weasley nodded. "Make tea for your mother," he said quietly. "I will return in a few hours."

"Where--"

Bill shoved Ron's shoulder--hard--and Ron shut up. Mr. Weasley took no notice. He pulled his cloak from one of the pegs along the wall and went outside. The loud pop of his Disapparation made all of them flinch.

"What happened?" Bill demanded, rounding on Sirius. Sirius, pale himself, only shook his head.

"Tea," he said, hoarsely. He cleared his throat. "For your mother..."

Bill nodded tersely but it was Ginny who said, "I'll make it."

Harry cut between Bill and Sirius. "What's going on?"

Sirius moved toward the window, and Harry went with him. "I'm sorry," he said heavily. "I told them more than you wanted me to; I think I did anyway. They are both extremely upset..."

"It's all right," Harry told him quickly. He had known Sirius would have to tell them something if he wanted their help, though he didn't think the Weasleys should be so upset about Harry having lived in a cupboard. It wasn't as if he was going to have to live in there again. He was much too big now.

"Where did Mr. Weasley go?"

"He had to do something... it's not important." Sirius grimaced and before Harry could press for more information, his godfather went on, "It will be several hours before Arthur gets back. And I really shouldn't be in here. I'll wait outside, as Padfoot and come back--"

"No!" Harry immediately flushed. He was fifteen, for god's sake. But he had an uneasy knot in the pit of his stomach. Something didn't feel right. "I mean, you can stay here... what if someone sees you out there?"

"I'll be a very large dog," Sirius reminded him with a faint smile.

"I know, but--"

"I will be just outside and if you need me--"

"Sirius--"

"Stay."

Harry and Sirius turned. Mrs. Weasley was standing in the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself; she had tears in her eyes. "You are more than welcome to stay here with us, Sirius," she said. She came into the kitchen, right up to Harry and rested her hand against his cheek. "Dear child..."

It was a prayer almost; a supplication. And it made all the tiny hairs at the back of Harry's neck prickle.

She hugged him again, without the same strength and Harry got the distinct--and very disconcerting--impression that she was afraid he was going to break in two if she squeezed any harder. She sighed deeply when she stepped back and used the corner of her apron to dab at her eyes. "I will make you something to eat. You'd like something to eat, wouldn't you?"

"Er... Thanks, but Sirius made breakfast..."

Mrs. Weasley smiled at Sirius. "Of course he did." She picked up Sirius' hand, patted it on her way to the kitchen. "I'll make you both some tea then." She looked surprised to find Ginny holding a steaming tea kettle. "Ginny dear," she said as she took the hot kettle, "you and the boys go on outside and I will take care of that. Bill, don't you need to get on to work?"

"Thank you very much, Molly," Sirius said as her family stared at her, "but you needn't go to any trouble."

"It's no trouble at all," she assured them. "Sit."

She turned to her task and with her back to them now, Ron leaned in to whisper to Sirius, "You confunded her, didn't you?"

"Shut up, Ron," Ginny hissed.

Harry angled his neck so that he could see his godfather's face--his jaw was tight, but as soon as he noticed Harry's glance, the tense muscles relaxed. He smiled. "We'd best do as she says."

Harry followed Sirius' lead, sitting in the chair beside him while the other Weasley children ignored their mother's instructions and clustered around the table. Mrs. Weasley didn't even seem to notice, bringing tea for all of them; fussing especially over Harry's and Sirius'. Bringing them chocolate biscuits and honey for their tea.

And as they all sat there together, Sirius was very quiet, his eyes faraway. Except when Harry caught his eye. Then he would relax again, and add a few sentences to the conversation.

The tea and biscuits sat in front of him, untouched.

oOoOo

By the time Mrs. Weasley began lunch preparations, Mr. Weasley still wasn't home. Hermione had arrived though, and was now sequestered in Ginny's room. Sirius and Harry were playing chess at the table, while Ron waited to challenge the winner; while providing irritating commentary on Harry's less than stellar performance.

"Honestly, Harry. You let him capture your knight! Anyone would think you'd never played before."

"Easy there," Sirius said as he moved his rook. "That's my godson you're insulting."

While Ron grumbled under his breath, Sirius caught Harry's eye and winked. Harry smiled before going back to studying his pieces, trying to figure how to salvage the game. Just as he was about to move his bishop, the Floo roared in the parlour. Mr. Weasley stepped out, shaking soot from his robes. He looked up and Harry wasn't certain if he looked paler than he had this morning or if it was simply a trick of the low light.

"Be right back," Sirius murmured. He pushed back his chair, nudged Harry's head with his knuckles as he passed behind and said with a faint smirk, "Don't let Ron touch my pieces."

"Hey, I don't cheat!"

"Hush," Mrs. Weasley scolded as she followed after Sirius, and the three adults were once again ensconced in the parlour.

A few minutes later, Fred and George appeared from the stairwell. "Heard the Floo."

"Are they at it again?"

Harry didn't answer but that didn't faze either of the twins. George held up a something--flesh-colored and shaped like an ear. "We came prepared this time."

"I don't think--"

"Then let us think," Fred interrupted Harry's protest.

"Don't you want to know what they're talking about?" George demanded, already sliding the ear toward the door while he and his brother hovered by the stairs.

Harry shrugged.

"Come up here," Fred said, gesturing for Harry and Ron to move away from the table and onto the fifth step, which Harry finally did with a sigh. All four of them bent their heads toward the string as the ear disappeared underneath the door.

"Speak up," George muttered, but all they could hear were whispers... a few snatched words here and there.

"Partition?" Ron whispered. "What does that mean?"

George clouted the side of his head. "Petition," he hissed. "And something about a bottom..."

"If that wasn't our parents in there, I'd be intrigued," Fred said with a grin.

"Disgusted is more like," his brother added with an exaggerated shudder.

"Would you two quit being idiots," Harry whispered. "They're saying something about me."

The Floo--muffled now--roared. And there seemed to be only two voices now.

"You..." Fred pulled the string closer to his ear; nearly stuffed it inside. "...yeah, and... what did Mum just say?"

There was a loud squelching sound and Fred yelped. Beside him, George jerked back, stumbled over Ron and all four of them ended up in a tangle of limbs at the bottom of the stairs.

"Bloody..."

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, young man."

Harry stopped trying to yank his legs from under Ron and looked up. Sirius and Ron's mum were frowning down at them. The Extendable Ear was squashed in Mrs. Weasley's hand.

"All three of you get up!" she snapped, her voice less shrill than it normally would be in such a situation, but somehow it didn't make her children move any less swiftly. They leapt off the floor like they were on fire and Harry was nearly trampled in the mad scramble. "Get upstairs," she commanded, her arms waving them on their way as she stomped up after them. "Eavesdropping! How many times have I warned you!"

Raising both eyebrows, Sirius offered Harry a hand, which he took with a grimace, his face burning with embarrassment. "Sorry," he mumbled as he brushed off his seat.

Sirius nodded. "Did you hurt yourself?" he asked, looking Harry over.

Several of yesterday's injuries were protesting the mishap, but not enough to bother with. Sirius pursed his lips when Harry shook his head. "Here," he said, pulling a chair out, "sit down."

Sirius sat so that they were facing and leaned forward a little, his elbows perched on his knees and his fingers loosely woven. "Arthur is helping me get some things in order... things," he added when Harry would have interrupted, "which I can't explain yet. We are going to make certain that you don't ever have to go back to the Dursleys. But I need you to trust me. To do this in my own way. Can you do that?"

"I do trust you."

Just as if Harry had lit a torch, Sirius' face transformed. The grey eyes lit up from inside and the deep lines lightened. He smiled, the expression making Harry smile as well. "Good," Sirius said. With both hands, he gripped Harry's shoulders.

"Good," he said again, with more conviction this time. And then Harry stilled as his godfather kissed the top of his head. "Come on," he said as he straightened, "let's finish our game before Molly's finished with Ron."

It was Harry's second absolutely stupid smile of the day, but this time he didn't much care.

oOoOo

"Think he'll be cold?" Harry asked, later that night as he peeled off his socks.

Ron looked up, already in his pajamas and settling under his quilt. "Who?"

"Sirius, you git."

"Oh." Ron shrugged. "He's a dog, he's got fur."

"He's sleeping in the bushes."

"It's summer," Ron said through a wide yawn. Harry nodded, mostly to himself as he buttoned his pajama top and then turned the lamp down and got into bed. He knew that Sirius had slept outside before. And of course, if he got cold, he could always sleep in Mr. Weasley's shed.

People shouldn't have to sleep in sheds.

Especially not Sirius.

Knowing he wasn't going to be able to sleep with that niggling at him, Harry shoved his blankets aside and slipped out of bed. He stumbled over Ron's trainers and thumped against the other boy's bed.

"What are you doing?" Ron groused, sitting up a little.

Feeling around for his glasses, Harry mumbled, "Gonna bring a blanket to Sirius."

"He doesn't need a blanket."

"He might. Aha!" Harry breathed with jubilance as he retrieved his spectacles from Ron's bedside table. "And anyway, I can't sleep until I make sure."

Groaning, Ron sat up fully and turned the lamp back up. "Mum told us to go to sleep hours ago." They'd read Quidditch Magazines instead. And some other magazines that Ron's mum definitely would not have approved of.

"I know, but I won't wake them up," Harry said as he tugged his trainers on. "Think they're asleep?" He swiped the top blanket from his camp bed.

"How the hell should I know? Harry... Oy. At least let me get something on my feet."

Harry paused at the door, the blanket wadded in his arms. "You don't have to come--"

"What? I'm going to let you wander outside by yourself?" Ron threw a sock at him. Harry made a face as he plucked it gingerly off his head. Ron grinned and sidled up behind him. "The third step squeaks so you have to sort of jump over it," he said quietly, making an awkward diving motion with his hands.

Harry eyed him doubtfully over his shoulder. "And that won't wake anyone up?"

"Not if you're in your stocking feet."

"I'm not!"

"Keep it down," Ron hissed in his ear as they slipped out the door. "Blimey, we've snuck out of the dorm a million times."

"Why don't you say that a little louder."

"Why don't you shut your yap and walk down the damn stairs."

Harry rolled his eyes, but crept forward, keeping close to the wall. "Why are you coming, exactly?"

Ron jabbed a finger in his back. "To keep you company."

Harry smiled in the darkness as they went down the stairs.

"Third step," Ron whispered when they were near the bottom, poking him again.

"Jump over it?"

"Unless you want to get your broom..."

"Shut up."

"You shut up. Jump already."

Simultaneously grimacing and holding his breath, Harry jumped. He landed with a muffled plop on the kitchen floor. Ron landed right beside him, and somehow didn't make a sound.

"Why didn't we just step over that one and onto the next?" Harry asked as they tiptoed to the back door.

"We always jump over it," Ron said, sounding surprised. Harry shook his head. They stepped out in to the yard a second later.

"I don't see him," Harry said after he'd peered into the bushes.

"Why is it so bloody cold?" Ron complained as he gave his arms a brisk rub. "It's summer."

"It's after midnight... and I told you it would be cold. Snuffles!"

"Not so loud! You'll wake the entire house."

Harry ignored him, cupped his mouth again and called softly, "Snuffles!"

Ron swatted his shoulder. "There's a light coming from Dad's shed... think he went in there?"

Harry followed the line of Ron's index finger. "Come on."

Ron sighed but he fell in step beside Harry anyway. "Should have worn a jumper."

"It's not that cold."

"Then why are we out here in our pajamas, bringing Sirius a blanket?" Ron retorted.

"Shut it."

"No, you--"

Harry clamped a hand around Ron's arm. "Shh!"

What? Ron mouthed and then froze as he too heard the quiet voices. "Oy," he whispered, "if that's Mum, I'm dead."

"Sounds like a man..."

"Because," Sirius' voice floated out, suddenly louder than just a moment ago and Harry was surprised at the intensity of his voice. "I haven't any other choice."

"Don't be ridiculous! He wouldn't want you to do this!"

Harry and Ron glanced at one another. It sounded like Professor Lupin. Though Harry hadn't heard his voice for over a year and never this angry--

"I know, but I can't--"

"Of all the stupid things you've ever done, Sirius... This is asinine!"

The door was flung open, nearly covering Sirius' hoarse, "Remus..."

And then both men froze. Lupin recovered first with a soft, "Hello, Harry." He cleared his throat. "Ron."

Harry shifted, hoping he didn't look quite as mortified as he felt to have overheard them in the middle of an argument. "Hello Professor..."

"What are you two doing out here?" Sirius asked, his voice still scratchy.

Feeling rather foolish, Harry held out the blanket. "Thought you might be cold."

Sirius' eyes smiled as he took the offering. "Thank you, Harry," he said quietly. He gestured vaguely to the air around them. "I shouldn't be out in the open. And if Molly finds you out of bed at this hour..." He smiled slightly.

"Yeah." Harry wrapped his arms around himself.

Sirius' mouth pressed together, and for just a second it looked like he was going to say something. But instead, he nodded his head toward the house. "Go on," he said softly.

But as soon as Harry turned, the back door opened. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, both with messily-draped dressing gowns, hurried out. A woman that Harry didn't recognize followed at a more sedate pace.

At the sight of an intruder, panic seized Harry's chest, but before he could give into it, Mr. Weasley rushed forward, almost knocking Harry aside. "Sirius, Augusta brought the papers. They have guaranteed your safety."

Ron nudged Harry. "Isn't that Neville's Gran?"

Harry didn't answer. He didn't care. His eyes were fixed to Sirius. "What's going on?"

Mr. Weasley turned around, his eyebrows high on his forehead. "Harry, what are you doing out here? Ron?"

The woman with the Weasleys stuck her hand out to Sirius. He swallowed, pulled his gaze from Harry and shook her hand. "Augusta Longbottom," she said crisply. She handed him a thick piece of parchment. "The Wizengamot has guaranteed your safe passage into the Ministry. And has agreed to a trial to convene in the morning, since you were denied one in 1981. Madame Bones is awaiting your arrival."

A trial? There was some sort of buzzing in Harry's ears. He hadn't heard her properly. Or he was dreaming. A nightmare. "Sirius?" His voice was high-pitched and strange, as if it didn't even belong to him.

"We haven't much time," Mrs. Longbottom said impatiently. "I am to produce you within one hour or the guarantee is no longer valid."

A rushing, howling wind. "Sirius?"

Sirius was standing in front of him then. His solid grip a painful reminder that this wasn't a nightmare. "Harry," he said, the syllables unnatural and warbling, "I asked Arthur to find me an advocate. So that I can have a trial. I'll always be a fugitive, just as Dumbledore said and I have no legal rights when it comes to you. None at all--"

"No," Harry said dumbly, his head so muddled and sluggish he nearly couldn't even manage the one syllable.

"There isn't another way. Not if we want to keep you from going back to the Dursleys--"

"No!" Harry said furiously as he ripped himself away. "No! I don't care. I'll go back to the Dursleys. I'll let them do whatever they want. Uncle Vernon can cane me, like he always wants to, I don't care!"

"Harry--"

"You can't do this," Harry said loudly, jerking himself out of Sirius' reach as his godfather stepped close. "They already didn't believe you once! As soon as they see you, they'll kill you!"

"They will not," Mrs. Longbottom said evenly. "Do try to calm yourself. Madame Bones has agreed to a fair trial."

Harry heard frenzied laughter--only realizing in a moment of madness that it was his own. "Fair?" he echoed. "Fair? They sent you to prison for something you didn't do!"

"And it is far past time to correct that error," she said.

"No." Harry shook his head, kept shaking it. "You can't do this, Sirius." He dug his fingernails into his palm, steadied his voice. "Please don't do this."

"Harry, I have no other choice," Sirius said softly. "I should have done this years ago." He stepped toward Harry again but this time, Harry turned his back. He wouldn't agree. He wouldn't look. If he didn't look, it couldn't be true.

Sirius can't leave.

He can't leave if I don't look. He won't.

"Harry... please."

Harry closed his eyes. He wouldn't listen. None of this was true. It was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare.

"I have to go," Sirius whispered; in front of him now "Harry, I promise you that it will be all right."

Trust him. Sirius had said to trust him.

For this?

There was no promise. I won't open my eyes. I won't listen.

Arms wrapped around him. Strong arms that were trembling. Fingers wove through his hair and Sirius' next words were breathed into his scalp, "I will be back."

Harry didn't move. Tried not to breathe. He won't leave. He can't leave.

The arms slipped away. Harry's breath hitched. Footsteps that Harry refused to hear. Another hitching breath.

"Let's go..."

Silence. Not a sound.

He didn't leave.

Harry turned. "Sirius..." The word caught in his burning throat as he watched the blurry pillars of color fade way.

Gone.

Sirius was gone.

So Harry did the only thing he could do.

He ran.

Stumbling over his shoelaces and over rocks, he ran. Blindly through the darkness, his feet pounded, drowning out everything else.

Voices called his name, but he barely heard them. He ran faster.

And he kept running until he couldn't. Until his legs gave out and he collapsed onto the ground. And then he lay there, gasping for breath.

He felt hands on his shoulder--another in his hair, but he didn't want them there. Didn't acknowledge them as each rasping, gulping breath set fire to his lungs. He turned his face into the grass and let the tears come.