MushroomAnn: Hey Rae, where's chapter 4? I want to read the ending!
dentedsky: Ermmmm... Ummmm... -cough-
MushroomAnn: Rae... RAE!
dentedsky: Ahhhh! I mean, oh look, here it is!
Summary: Harry has a plan. He made a mistake and now he's going to fix it. No matter what (or who) the sacrifice is. Dudley's dead, Remus is confused, Voldemort is power hungry (so what's new?), Rae is drunk, Ann is impatient, Harry's desperate and Sirius looks very pretty naked. Slash! Magic! Tragedy! Butter! Snogging! COMPLETE!
Ann had a decision to make. It went a little something like this:
He could appear into the room with some wind, choir music, maybe even a blaze of lightning, and plenty of flashing magical colours. Or, he could just walk through the wall, say his piece and get the hell out of there.
The thing was, gods got bored. When you lived your life for several millennia, you tended to take the only chances you got to truly entertain yourself. However, Ann had to deal with one of the ugliest mortals he had ever laid eyes on, and frankly, he could not be bothered at this point.
Lord Voldemort was housed in the top tower of his dark and gloomy castle. It was a few hours after midnight; thunder rolled behind ash clouds, which frothed along the jet-black sky. The stones of the castle were carved into sharp spikes, and the multitude of gargoyles had made their nesting grounds amount them. It was dark and gloomy and pretty much looked like Ann's own world, only not underground.
But Ann was no fool. He knew that Riddle was like all the other previous ruling Pharaohs - egotistical, stubborn and surrounded completely by snakes (as snakes were used for protection; and the majority of the time, Pharaohs needed just that.) This particular Pharaoh would need to be flattered and amazed if Ann was going to get anywhere with him productively.
Ann hovered outside the window and took a deep breath. He summoned some black, wishy-washy glamour magic to circulate around him. The point here was to impress the mortal into thinking Ann was really incredible and fabulous.
He floated through the wall, and added a clap thunder in the distance, just for fun.
The terrible creature in front of him was staring into the fire when Ann arrived. He did not move as he summoned some special wind of his own, whipping his black robes around him ominously. Oooh, thought Ann, we're going to play this game, are we? Ann lifted a hand with a flourish, and clicked his fingers. Light flickered from his hand, rippling across the room in a ring and the tinkle of a bell could be heard. He did this for no reason, but because it looked and sounded pretty.
Tom Riddle did not move from his position, but his blood-red eyes narrowed. "Did I summon you, spirit?" he hissed.
Ann was momentarily thrown. Honestly, what nerve!
He pouted and clicked his fingers again. The music, lights, wind, swirling magic and thunder all disappeared. He stepped forward, struck a bored pose and pulled out a nail file. As he tended to his fingernails, he drawled, "Don't worry Mr Riddle, I won't be long. My name is Anubis of the Underworld, but my friends call me Ann. So you can call Lord Anubis. I'm merely here on an errand. I must grant you one wish. Do with it what you will."
Voldemort paused, then slowly turned to his visitor, scrutinising him with sharp, snake-like eyes. This Tom Riddle was obviously a power-freak; Ann was sure the Dark Lord was trying to psych him out. Ann's opinion of him only worsened.
Ann suppressed the urge to sigh. Oh my pretty green-eyed wonder, he wailed inside, what have you done?
Voldemort turned away and strode towards the liquor cabinet. "Would you like something to drink?" he offered.
Ann clicked his tongue in impatience. "No thank you."
"Suit yourself." The Dark Lord slowly poured himself some brandy. Ann paused and looked out the window. Dawn would arrive in less than an hour - which meant that at the rate Ann was going, Rae would have him by the throat before Voldemort was even half-way through the small talk.
Voldemort poured himself a drink and sipped it. He gave Ann a sly look. "Tell me," he said, sounding breathless and mysterious, "if you are the god of the Underworld, does that imply that there is no Heaven, and no Hell?"
Ann sniffed. "What has Heaven and Hell got to do with anything?"
"If there is an Underworld, the existence of Hell would be contradictory. Am I to assume there is only one place the souls of the dead reside?"
Ann resumed filing his nails, and decided to suffer the boring yadda-yadda for a little while longer. "Where ever there is a god, there is religion. Where ever there is religion, there are rules. I may be the god of the Underworld, but I did not make up the rules; my followers did."
"Oh?" said the Dark Lord quietly. He paced the width of the room lazily. "So should your followers decide to change the rules, your occupation may shift?"
"It would shift, yes, if that were the case."
"What makes a god?" Voldemort demanded. He stood in the middle of the room, facing his visitor, eyes blazing, his drink abandoned. His robes rustled with the swirl of oncoming magic. "How does a god die?"
A thought had crossed Ann's mind at this point: whether it was prudent to answer the Dark Lord's questions. But in truth, gods were not particularly stingy on giving out information; all a mortal had to do was ask, really.
"No one is sure how a god is made," replied Ann. "The popular thought is that the gods created the people. However, it is also true that the people created the gods. And in this, a god dies when the people no longer believes in him."
"I SHALL BECOME A GOD!" Voldemort suddenly boomed. Ann blinked. "I SHALL BECOME IMMORTAL AND THE WORLD WILL BE MINE!"
"Well aren't we greedy today," murmured Ann.
"I COMMAND YOU, GOD OF THE UNDERWORLD, TO GRANT ME MY WISH!"
Ann put his hands on his hips and struck yet another pose. "Out with it sweetie, I haven't got all night."
Lord Voldemort's tone lowered to dangerous levels. "I wish... that Harry Potter would die!"
There was a pause in which Ann stared at Voldemort, and Voldemort waited for something to happen.
Ann hummed and twisted his lips guiltily. "...No can do, sorry darling."
Lord Voldemort looked really pissed off. "But you are a god of the Underworld, are you not?"
"Yes," Ann nodded, "and I can take a soul with the click of my fingers. But sweetie, hello! The only being able to kill Harry Potter, is you."
This seemed to actually make the Dark Lord relax. Obviously, he liked to be flattered. "All right then. I wish for Harry Potter's magical powers to be removed!"
"Oh," sighed Ann reluctantly. "That - yes, alright, whatever you want." Oh Harry, you stupid (yet fantastically beautiful) child!
The Dark Lord's smirk seemed to hold the most sinister secrets of the world in one easy twist of his thin lips. "Good," he breathed.
"I'll need a cat and a plate of warm butter," said Ann abruptly.
"Very well," said Voldemort. He strode over to the fire and threw in some green powder. "Severus," he shouted into the flames, "bring me a cat and a plate of butter!"
"Warm butter," said Ann.
"Warm butter. And get Lucius to help you."
There was a pause and then: "Yes, Master."
Voldemort nodded contentedly and braced himself on the mantle with one hand.
Ann ran a critical eye over the décor of the room.
Voldemort drummed his fingers and shifted his feet.
"So..." he said.
"So..." echoed Ann awkwardly.
"How's Immortality doing for you, anyway?"
Ann pursed his canine lips in indecision. "Oh you know... some old same old. You meet some interesting people..."
"Do you? Oh well, that sounds like rewarding work..."
"Well, of course you have your slow days."
"I see."
"Yes."
"Quite."
There was a knock on the door and two men entered.
Ann immediately stood up straighter and took notice. He smiled indulgently - the two men were gorgeous! They were both trimly built and had long, flowing hair. If only they were a little younger - perhaps Harry and Sirius's age - then they would be absolutely divine. Yum yum, I'll have two of those, thank you doctor!
"Severus, Lucius," Voldemort greeted. "Let me introduce you - "
"They can't see me," said Ann quickly.
" - to the coffee table. Where you will put the cat and butter. Thank you, you may leave."
The two men exchanged glances.
Remind me again, said the brunette silently, why we serve this madman?
Um, said the blonde, better get back to me on that one.
They did as they were told and uncomfortably left the room.
Ann went over to the coffee table and picked up the disorientated tabby cat. Ann looked into its amber eyes and the cat relaxed immediately, going into a kind of trance.
"What is the feline for?" asked Voldemort
"Cats hold magical powers, actually," said Ann haughtily. "They're a very potent ingredient in treasure seeking, keeping and removal magic."
"I'll have to remember that."
"Yes," said Ann, and cleared his throat. He started to recite the old magic of the gods: "Harry Potter, one two three
"Place thine curse'th unto thee "When each lick meet ninety-nine "Shall thy magic un-entwine."
Ann paused, embarrassed, before setting the cat back onto the table. Then he stuck his fingers into the warm butter and preceded to swath the cat with it. Ann put butter in little patches all over - tummy, back, tail, neck, chin, legs. In actuality, he really only needed to put butter on the cat's four paws, but Ann wanted to buy Harry some time, without getting himself into trouble with Rae.
Finally, Ann pulled back and clicked his fingers (with some difficulty, because they were covered in butter and shed cat fur) and the cat snapped out of its trance. It immediately started to lick itself rapidly, as if its life depended on it.
"There," said Ann tiredly, wiping his hands on his skirt. "Well, it's been fun… chao!"
"Wait," commanded Voldemort. "Has my wish been granted?"
Ann was making his way back toward the wall he had entered earlier. "The spell will climax when the cat finishes licking itself. May be a few hours yet."
The second last time Ann saw of Voldemort, he was slowly sitting himself down on the couch, his eyes fixated on the cat.
After passing through the wall, Ann walked up invisible steps into the coming sun.
Back when Rae had been just a toddler, he had ridden the sky in a little canoe.
Nowadays, however, his boat had been renovated and extended into a large ship with many glass rooms. At every door stood golden statues of monkeys, which were the god's most loyal followers. Ann walked down a long, golden corridor and entered one of the sun rooms, where Rae was lazing back on a couch, his high-healed feet using the god Set as a footrest.
Set had been punished long ago for chopping Osiris into tiny little pieces and consequently sending him to the Underworld. Set had been turned into a dog, and was made a servant of Rae's in his ship. Set only seemed to get some perverse pleasure out of this, and anyway, Rae still allowed him to make a few storms every now and again.
Rae looked up. "You finally came," he said softly, "I was getting worried."
Ann nodded wearily. "It is done."
Rae lifted his feet and frowned at Set. "Leave us be."
Set got up lazily and mumbled, "As you wish, Lord Ra."
Rae stood up after Set had left. He was wearing Ann's favourite dress: long and white, and trimmed with gold. He walked forward and opened his arms for Ann. "Tell me all about it, my friend."
Ann stiffly allowed Rae to hold him. They had been friends for thousands of years, yet Ann still felt hesitant around Rae when he was in one of his cuddling moods.
"I went to the Pretty One," Ann began and stopped. "Hmmm, yes," he murmured as Rae scratched him behind his doggy ears, "that's nice, right there..."
"That's a good boy... just relax..."
Ann cleared his throat. "But the Green Eyed One would not let him go. So I went to the Pharaoh and granted his wish. It was terrible."
"What did he wish for?"
"For Harry's magic to be removed."
"Removed where?"
Ann snapped his eyes open and pulled back to look at Rae. Rae lifted his feathered eyebrows expectantly.
"What do you mean?" asked Ann, confused.
Rae petted Ann's long nose. "Well, where did Harry's magic go? It's not like it can just disappear into thin air, you know. I mean, I suppose it could float into thin air and sulk for a bit, but it has to go somewhere."
"Can't it just disperse back into the earth?"
"And what, be absorbed by pretty flowers? I don't think so."
"Well neither I nor the Pharaoh specified where it would go."
"Oh well, his loss I suppose," Rae murmured, leaning his head on Ann's shoulder. "You know what, Ann? If I had lips I would kiss you right now."
There was a pause and then: "You've been drinking, haven't you."
"Yeah. Don't hold it against me, though. Ann?"
"Yes, Rae?"
"The Balance has been met now," he mused sadly, "there's nothing left for us to do but watch."
Ann finally wound his arms around the other god. "Thank all that is pink and holy for that!"
1998 May 27
Harry mentally crushed his rapidly beating heart into submission. He came back into the hotel room, where Sirius sat, still curled around himself on the bed.
They both tried to smile at each other, but failed.
"I just can't believe it!" Sirius burst out. "What kind of bloke rejects another because they look too young?"
While it held many flaws, Harry thought that Sirius had never uttered a truer statement.
"Well," Harry began hesitantly, "I'm eighteen too."
Sirius's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "And you slept with Remus!" he demanded, standing up.
"No!" Harry was first scandalised, then rather disgusted. He made a face. "No, uh, I mean... you're eighteen and I'm eighteen..."
"But you didn't sleep with him."
"Merlin, no!"
"Oh good," Sirius sighed in relief, "you got me worried there." He sat back down and ran a hand through his hair. "And anyway, I'm actually thirty-eight. At least, I think I am. Ohhh, I'm so confused. Listen, Harry?" He looked up at Harry pleadingly, almost puppy-dog-like. Harry's heart softened. "Do you mind terribly if you left me alone for awhile?"
Harry looked down and swallowed thickly. Sirius was getting into one of his depressive moods again. Harry remembered him always moping in Grimmauld Place and hoped that he would not get like that again. He thought about defying Sirius and staying.
But then he reasoned that now might not be the best time to be a hypocrite and he nodded to Sirius reluctantly. "Okay. I might go have a shower anyway."
Sirius grinned at him, suddenly. "Thanks a pot-full, Harry."
Harry smiled back at him and went into the small en suite bathroom. He undressed and got under the shower.
Alright, Harry, he thought to himself as the water beat a heavy rhythm against his skin; get it together. You killed and you wanted to again but that's okay, you had good reason. We're almost free, almost there and no one is going to take Sirius away from me.
Something thick and evil took a hold of Harry's chest suddenly, and he gasped at the pain, clutching his throat. It felt like jealousy, and despair.
The hot water slowly soothed it away and Harry sighed. Just when he thought it was some kind of fluke, the stab returned.
"Oh God - ow!" he gasped. His stomach turned and his chest tightened with the bruising pain of it. Harry breathed in sharply and then choked on water.
It clawed deeper. Harry groaned and bent double. "Sirius..." he moaned, but somewhere in his rapidly fogging mind he knew Sirius would not be able to hear him through the rushing of water against the tiles.
It felt as if his heart suddenly did not want to be in his chest anymore and was pushing hard against the cage of his ribs. But then there was something emotional there as well - sadness was over taking every other emotion, his soul was being pulled from his body and it scrambled to stay. He cried out and stumbled from the shower, having the dim thought to grab a towel and wrap it around his waist... he was clutching it around him with one hand and the other was reaching for the door and he was almost there...
"Sirius!" he cried as he opened the door and Merlin, it must have been some terrible Dark curse because it was feeling close to something like Cruciatus at this point. Sirius immediately muted the television from it was blearing some Peter Andre song. He stood up and ran over to Harry, grabbing his head and forcing Harry to look into his eyes.
"What is it Harry?" he demanded frantically. "What's wrong?"
"Hurts," he cried into Sirius's neck. "My chest..."
Sirius pushed him back, hands on his shoulders, and they both stared at Harry's bare chest as something green, bright and magical swirled in the centre.
"You've been hexed," Sirius said vehemently. He forced Harry's head up again and grey eyes burned into green. "Stay with me Harry, remember yourself!"
Harry's soul gave one last sad sigh before Harry felt a cold blast of overwhelming despair. He sobbed loudly as a green ball of sparkling energy was ripped from his chest.
For one silent, suspended moment, the two almost-men watched the Quaffle-sized ball of magic hover uncertainly between them. Then, it made a decision and sped straight at Sirius, slamming into his chest and rocketing him off his feet and across the room, crashing him against the far wall.
"Sirius!" Harry cried, as some of the cheap white paint cracked and crumbled around Sirius's sitting, dazed form. Harry, still on the verge of tears and pain thumping through his veins, came forward and kneeled in front of him. "Oh Sirius... I'm so sorry, are you okay? Please, speak to me!"
Sirius blinked himself slowly out of his daze. He lifted one of his hands and watched in fascination as magic sizzled like green lightning around his fingers. Then he abruptly grinned up at Harry.
"Are you kidding? I feel GREAT!"
The pain in Harry's body was subsiding and what was left was a strong feeling of emptiness.
Sirius jumped up and with a flicker like a candle flame in the wind, he transformed into a large black dog, and barked happily, pouncing around the room. Harry dragged himself across the carpet and leaned his head on the edge of the bed, closing his eyes. "That's great, Sirius," he murmured, black clawing at the edge of his awareness, "I'm so glad you're happy..."
Sirius was in his human form and at Harry's side in a second. He grabbed Harry's head in his hands again and leaned his face close and really, Harry could get used to Sirius touching him like this. "Harry," said Sirius insistently, "stay with me, okay?"
Harry was only able to open his eyes enough to see Sirius's beautiful yet worried frown, before mumbling, "Sleep..." and doing just that.
Outside the midday sun beat its rays upon London in hot disappointment.
They were about to board an airplane to the most isolated city in the world: Perth.
It was supposed to be a city surrounded by hot desert on one side, and a stretch of ocean on the other. It sounded absolutely perfect to Harry.
He watched in amusement as Sirius attempted to persuade the flight attendant to put his boarding pass through the 'parchment-sucking box' again.
Harry was still feeling weary and sad from his strange ordeal this morning. He felt he was getting quite good at deflecting Sirius's persistent questioning. Harry took comfort in Sirius's enthusiasm at flying Muggle-style and pushed away the urge to hug Sirius from behind and rest his head on his shoulder.
"Can I put Harry's through myself, then?" he demanded of the harassed flight attendant.
"No," she said rudely, holding her hand out for Harry's boarding pass. He gave it to her, ignoring Sirius's sulky pout as she quickly examined the boarding pass, and then pushed it through the slot at the top. "Please go through, sirs."
"Oooo," said Sirius as they stepped into walkway, "a dark tunnel."
The roar of the plane engine was getting louder and louder as they walked to the plane doors. They passed a tall box full of plastic packaged earphones. "Here Sirius," said Harry, "grab one of these."
"PARDON HARRY?"
"I SAID 'GRAB ONE OF THESE!'"
"WHAT DO WE NEED EAR MUFFS FOR? AREN'T THEY A LITTLE SMALL?"
Harry quickly grabbed two and pushed Sirius forward, because they were holding up the line of passengers. They turned the corner and were immediately blasted with more engine droning and warm, thick engine air.
They came across yet another flight attendant (they all seemed to be women for some reason) whose face was fixed with a strained, fake grin. They stopped at her and she said something.
"PARDON?" shouted Harry and Sirius together.
"TICKETS PLEASE!" she shrieked.
"BUT WE ALREADY - " began Sirius.
"HERE!" said Harry, shoving the ticket booklets into her small hands. She flipped them both open and said something else.
Both Harry and Sirius opened their mouths to shout in her face again but she quickly screamed, "YOU ARE SITTING TOGETHER, WINDOW SEAT, ROW SEVEN!"
"YEAH WE KNOW," said Sirius, annoyed at the hold-up, "WE CAN READ!"
She gave the ticket booklets back and said "HAVE A NICE FLIGHT!" in a way that suggested she had already said that same line fifty million times that day.
Harry and Sirius shuffled around yet another tight corner and they were confronted with a theatre of large, comfy chairs all facing the front. Thank Merlin for First Class, thought Harry happily. For some reason, with just a few steps the horrible roar of the plane was only a dull hum here, easily ignored. The came to their row seven seats and Sirius hovered behind him as Harry flipped open the overhead compartment and shoved his backpack inside.
"So Harry," Sirius started, looking at Harry demurely through lowered eyelashes, "may I sit at the window?"
"Huh? Yeah of course, I was going to let you anyway."
"Boss," Sirius nodded appreciatively, as he shuffled across Harry's seat and sat at the small oval window. He looked down at the armrests, before staring outside. "Are we there yet?"
Harry laughed as he got himself comfortable in the aisle seat. "I don't think so; we've yet to take off. I think I read somewhere that it will take about twenty-eight hours to get there."
Sirius abruptly turned in his seat to stare at Harry in dismay. "Twenty-eight hours!"
Meanwhile, other passengers were ambling up the aisles, folding their bags away and getting ready for the take-off. Harry shrugged. "Something like that, yeah. Australia's really far away." He leaned forward and pulled out a thin flight magazine, flipping to a back page. "Here's a map of the world," Harry said, sitting the magazine between them so Sirius could see. "We're here," he said, pointing to a tiny squiggle that was supposed to be England, "and we're going here." He pointed to the south-west corner of a paw-shaped island, down at the bottom right of the map.
Sirius looked unimpressed, sneering slightly. "Our ancestors shouldn't have called it Australia; they should have just named it Far, because it's so bloody far away!"
"Yeah," sighed Harry, "but we want to be far away."
Sirius suddenly grabbed Harry's hand. Harry felt the breath get knocked out of him at that simple, inviting touch - his eyelashes fluttered with urge to close his eyes at the feeling. "You're right Harry," Sirius was saying, "we want to be very far away."
The majority of the passengers had seated themselves, and the shrill flight attendant from before came through and closed the curtain behind her. All the little televisions attached to each seat switched on and sound came out of the little speakers above their heads.
"Thank you for flying with British Airlines," said a deep, male voice. "Please watch the following safety presentation on the nearest television screen, and follow the signals of the flight attendant."
Sirius gawked. "We have our own TVs! Look Harry, they're so miniature and cute!"
Harry and Sirius, still kind-of-but-not holding hands, giggled together as they watched the video demonstrate how to put your head between your knees. ("As if I don't know how to kiss my own bum," said Sirius, "I do it all the time! I mean, who wouldn't want to kiss this beautiful hunk of flesh?") Sirius thought it extremely hilarious when the flight attendant pointed with straight arms at the emergency exits. ("I reckon I could do that as a living," Sirius continued with his running commentary, "how easy would it be? There's an exit over here and an exit over there, have fun and don't wet yourself!")
"Can we go now?" Sirius whined loudly when the video had finished. His comment caused a few older people to glare, and a couple of teenagers to giggle.
They obediently put their seatbelts on when the seatbelt light flashed, and then the plane was moving.
Harry's blood rushed rapidly through his system as the plane rolled around a corner, then drastically sped up. His throat seemed to drop to the bottom of his stomach as the plane pitched up and flew into the sky. Sirius gasped next to him, watching the land get smaller and smaller below them.
"Whoa that was real boss, Harry," Sirius grinned. "Let's do it again!"
The plane was steadily drifting through grey clouds, and soon the novelty was over for most of the passengers. The seatbelt sign had turned off, and air hostesses were walking bristly up and down the aisles, offering drinks and giving people peanuts.
Sirius turned his television on, where an old episode of Everybody Loves Raymond was playing. "There's no sound," he complained to Harry.
"You have to use these," said Harry, ripping open the plastic bag of the earphones. He gave a set to Sirius, and tried not to press too closely to him when he put the headset over his head. Harry plugged the end into the armrest. "How's that?"
Sirius made a displeased face. "It's playing classical music."
"Just flick through the channels, here, and I think this is the volume."
"What's that? Oh yeah - I see."
They next few hours had Sirius and Harry watching television and eating hot, rubbery food out of a silver tray. After playing a couple of TV shows they played a series of movies - Harry and Sirius sat close together to watch Titanic. Harry yawned sleepily and decided he needed to walk around.
He made to get up, but a hand on his arm stopped him. Sirius looked at Harry seriously as he pulled his earphones off, and Harry felt the anticipated dread.
"Harry," said Sirius softly, "I think we need to talk."
"Oh ah..." mumbled Harry. "I need to go to the toilet." He got up and waddled down the aisle. He heard a noise and looked over in surprise to see Sirius studiously following him.
Harry swallowed and walked casually into a toilet, and waited for Sirius to follow and slide the compact door behind them. It was small and cramped and the engine was very loud, and Harry felt very claustrophobic.
They manoeuvred so they were standing face to face, chins raised so they didn't have to look at each other straight in the eye at such close proximity.
"So," Sirius began gently, "do you want to tell me anything, Harry?"
Harry paused. It sounded like such a Dumbledore question, and rather out-of-character for Sirius. "Not really," he answered truthfully.
Sirius deflated and leaned on one leg, finally looking Harry in the face. Harry looked away from his piercing gaze. "Help me out here, Harry," said Sirius, "I'm trying to be a good godfather, even though I know I'm not doing a very good job."
"You're doing fine, Sirius," said Harry softly.
"Well okay, um. Then what happened today?"
Harry took a deep breath. "It's - I think I lost my magic today."
"YOU WHAT?" Sirius exploded, making Harry wince. "Okay, er, sorry. Keep going."
"It was another one of the conditions, in order to keep you."
"Oh, Harry... Look at me." Harry reluctantly turned his face to Sirius and instantly wished he hadn't. They were standing so close together, their noses almost touching, and Sirius's lips were so close Harry could feel his breath caress his face with every exhale. "I can tell you're upset about something, and I want to help. It's what I'm here for, right? Just talk to me. What happened?"
With horror Harry realised his eyes were smarting and his bottom lip was trembling. He had done so much in the past few days - Dudley, Remus, Ann - and it was weighing down heavily on his conscience. Sirius was offering consultation, a way to sooth away the pain. But so far Harry had done too much to keep Sirius and confessing the bad things he had done might push him away.
"They were going to take you away from me," Harry burst out in an almost-whimper. "Ann told me I had to sacrifice more to keep you and I didn't know what to do!"
Sirius suddenly seized Harry around the shoulders and hugged him tight, pressing his lips to Harry's hair at his temple. "Shh Harry, it's okay."
Harry clawed at the material of Sirius's tee. He sniffled and at that moment he felt like a little boy who had scrapped his knee and was being comforted by an older brother. "I don't mind..." Harry mumbled.
Sirius pulled away and looked hard into his face. "How can you not mind! Your magic is gone and - and it's my fault."
Harry shook his head, realising something. "It's okay though, don't you see? My magic isn't gone, it just went somewhere else. It went to you."
His godfather lifted up a hand and looked at it. "Oh yeah - so that's what that was."
"Yes," Harry smiled, getting confident. He daringly touched a finger to Sirius's jaw. "I don't mind, because I know where my magic is now, and I know it's safe with you. And we're going to live like Muggles now anyway, aren't we?" He shrugged wryly. "What do I need my magic for?"
Sirius looked unconvinced for a second, before grinning back at Harry. Harry realised, smile melting away, that they were holding each other in a small compartment; Harry's hand on Sirius's jaw and their bodies pressed together, with Sirius's arms around him and their lips quivering in the air like butterflies...
They both pulled back abruptly at the exact same time, Sirius slamming into the door and Harry almost tripping backward onto the toilet.
Sirius laughed nervously, unable to look Harry in the face. "How about I leave first and you a few minutes later, so it doesn't look like we... ermm..."
"Yeah," said Harry quickly, "sure, okay, fine, whatever."
"Okay, great, er - yes, fine." Sirius hesitated, seeming to want to say something more, before he gave up on the idea and pulled the door across and back, leaving Harry alone to slam his head against it.
1998 May something (date unknown due to jetlag)
When Harry got off the plane, he was expecting warm, Aussie midnight weather.
What he got was a blast of freezing cold wind.
"Ahhh!" cried Sirius, as he gripped onto his hair with both hands, as if the wind threatened to blow his beautiful long locks right off his head.
The majority of the plane's passengers had been British men obviously on very important business trips. Some were Australians weary from round-the-world travel, with a few khaki-wearing Canadian back-backers scattered among them. They all separated, catching taxis and getting on hotel buses. Harry and Sirius stood around the airport, and wondered what to do next.
"I probably should've planned ahead," apologised Harry.
"Well we did decide to come here on a whim," soothed Sirius. "We'll just have to find someplace."
They did. Through the information desk they book a roomed at an expensive yet cosy-looking (as seen on the brochure) beach resort and got on a bus. Outside the bus windows the night was pitch-black and shining with stars. They were so bright in a way Harry had never seen before.
Sirius leaned his head on Harry's shoulder, the same way he had earlier on the plane when they'd decided to sleep. Sirius hesitated, then threaded his fingers through Harry's and held his hand.
"We're free now, Harry," he said softly.
Harry smiled and closed his eyes, snuggling a bit.
It was a few hours before they got to the town of Fremantle, but the sun was yet to rise. They got off the bus and wandered up the large driveway to the beach house resort. They got to the reception and Sirius buzzed the door tiredly.
An old man huddled out from the back and unlocked the door for them. "Good morning," he yawned amiably.
Harry leaned on the counter while the man sat down on the other side. "We'd like a room with two single beds, if that's alright."
He looked up and beamed at them. "Well well, if it isn't a couple o' lads from the homeland. What are ye little runaways doing here, then?"
Harry and Sirius exchanged amused glances. "Wondering why it's so cold here, actually," answered Sirius.
The English man frowned. "Well it is May - it's coming on winter here, you know."
"Oh yeah," said Sirius, "I forgot about the other-way-around bit."
"And also," added Harry, puzzled, "what's that weird rushing noise?"
The man and Sirius both looked at Harry. "It's the ocean, lad," said the man sadly.
Harry looked at Sirius. "It's oh - oh right. I've never been to the beach before."
Sirius put a sympathetic hand on the small of his back.
The receptionist was clicking away at his computer. "Now, we've only double beds here, I'm afraid, but we can drag in a futon if you'd like that instead."
Harry blushed and started to fidget. He wouldn't mind sleeping with Sirius at all, really...
"Let's talk about it in the morning," said Sirius. He directed his next statement to the receptionist, thought he looked at Harry. "I want to show my friend what a beach looks like."
Harry smiled gratefully at him, and felt the thrum of excitement at the thought of seeing something wonderful and new.
The old man looked grateful and yawned as he handed Harry the key to room six. Harry put it in his backpack and followed Sirius out the door.
The sand filtered through his bare toes and fingers in rushes. Some stuck to his skin and hair and shone from the light of the moon like party glitter. Ahead the sea roared like a ferocious animal, beating itself over and over against the shore and cliffs in ceaseless agony; beckoning, powerful. Harry opened his mouth wide and breathed in the salty air, the scent so strong it was like food for his heaving lungs.
Sirius was sitting on the sand next to him, his lips pulled back in a grin so wide his teeth shone like beacons.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
Harry could not speak. He sighed in response.
"When I was a boy my family owned a beach house in Scotland - stupid I know - but they had heating wards on the whole property, which included the ocean. Apparently the Blacks originated from Scotland, before they mixed with some Italian family. Anyway, whenever I went to the beach house my cousin Bella - stupid bitch - regaled me with horror stories of the Kelpies coming out of the sea at night and eating little boys. Later I found out it was true, ha!"
Harry tipped his head forward and ran his hand around in the sand, making arched patterns. "I know Bellatrix; she killed you."
Sirius breathed in loudly through his nose. "Yeah I know. Hence the 'stupid bitch' comment." He shifted where he sat. "Well, I can't say I didn't have fun fighting her though, she's such a little minx - what the hell am I sitting on?" Sirius lifted himself a little and picked something off the sand. "Ewwwwww!"
"What is it?" asked Harry, leaning over and squinting in the darkness. Sirius was holding it away from them both with great exaggeration.
"It's a squishy, icky, thingy! Here, you take it."
Harry took it into his hands and regretted it as soon as he felt the slime. It was sticky, round and transparent-white, with - Harry shuddered - four round knobs on the underside.
Sirius was feeling his way around the sand. "Wow, look! Here's another one!"
"What is it?" Harry murmured.
Sirius picked yet another one up and squinted at it. "It looks - it looks like a jellyfish!"
"Jellyfish?"
They were scrabbling to stand up now, stumbling around each other, looking for more of those squishy disks.
"Jellyfish," Sirius concluded with a laugh. "But usually they have tentacles that sting; these are just poor deformed and defenceless little buggers."
Sirius abruptly ripped his shirt off and picked two jellyfish, and stuck them over his breasts. He grinned and jigged them. "How do I look," he purred, "Mr Prime Minister?"
Harry burst out laughing in large gasps, ashamedly aroused. He immediately stopped laughing when Sirius threw the jellyfish on the ground, and started to undo the buttons on his trousers.
"What - ?"
"Ready for a skinny dip?" asked Sirius smugly.
"I - it's freezing out here!"
Sirius ignored this and stepped out his trousers, before pushing down his underwear. Harry clumsily spun around one hundred and eighty degrees.
"Bet you can't catch me, Harry!" And then he was off, running down the slope of sand to the waves. Harry heard him splash into the water.
"Bugger," he cursed, and pulled off his own jumper and shirt before following.
The water was surprisingly warmer than the air. It circled around his ancles as he treaded into the foam, wondering belatedly if any little sea creatures would swim up and bite him. Sirius was metres away, waving his arms around and calling to Harry to come in further. He walked forward carefully but not slowly, and marveled at how powerful the water was - it pushed and pulled at his trousers and summoned him into deeper water.
Sirius grabbed his arm as soon as Harry caught up to him. "Look! All those jelly blobs - there're millions of them!"
Harry looked down into the now waist-high water. The jellyfish were actually glowing as if they had caught the light from the sun in the day and displayed it at night. They lazily undulated around the two teenagers and suddenly the jellyfish were no longer disgusting, but beautiful.
Sirius persuaded Harry to swim further into the water. Together they doggy paddled over the mild waves until they could no longer touch the sea bed with their feet. Harry was a little scared, but in true Gryffindor fashion his curiosity and excitement spurred him on.
Harry did not know how long they had been out there, but he was happy, even when his glasses got speckled with water and sand. They laughed and joked and Sirius told Harry more about his childhood, which Harry loved to hear about. He loved everything about Sirius, past and present. He loved...
He loved him.
Bliss was always short-lived for Harry.
Sirius paused and took a deep breath, frowning at Harry seriously. "Listen, Harry..." he began, and Harry held his breath. Would Sirius be able to love him back? Harry thought, then told himself not to get his hopes up.
"I think, I mean, I've been meaning to tell you - well, ever since I got back from the dead and I woke up and saw you, really - I think... don't freak out, okay? I - "
A loud, booming clap of thunder interrupted them.
Above the sky lighted with flickering red lightning. Sirius grabbed onto Harry first, gripping him around the shoulders in protection. Sirius's naked form was up against Harry's - but Harry refused to think about that now, because a dark figure was appearing about five metres above them. Red, slitted eyes watched them in malevolent glee, and thin lips pulled back from pointed teeth. The shiny bald head of Lord Voldemort was shiny in the moonlight, and his robes rippled over the wind.
"Finally," he rasped evilly, "I have found you, Harry Potter!"
"Bully for you!" shouted Sirius. "Can't you see we're having a moment? Piss off!"
Harry stared at Voldemort, his jaw clenched and his scar flaring in pain. He tore his attention from him and focused on Sirius.
"Listen to me," Harry told Sirius desperately. "Whatever happens tonight, I want you to know, I love you, okay?" And because time had decided to join the Dark Side that evening, Harry kissed Sirius hard and breathlessly.
"Aw," cooed Voldemort, "the sodomites share one last kiss. And such a stunning performance, I almost regret not bringing an audience."
Oh god, Harry thought, his lips are so soft and he's so beautiful, why oh why did our first kiss have to have such bad timing? Harry pulled away a little, and nuzzled Sirius's face with his eyes squeezed shut.
"Oh by the way, Potter," Voldemort continued, "did you like my little present? A skinny little nobody is nothing without his magic. And now you're just a Squib with no friends and dead parents. How does that make you feel?"
Sirius gasped and looked at Harry searchingly. "Voldemort took your powers away?"
"No," said Harry steadily, "Voldemort's not that powerful. He likes to think he is, but something tells me he had to get someone else's help this time."
Voldemort abruptly hissed loudly. "You little shit!"
Harry looked up at him again. "Shut up! The only way you could find a way to hurt me was to take advantage of an offer from a god you don't even care about. I bet it wasn't even your spell, was it? Running around, year after year trying to kill a little boy and you fail, again and again. You're PATHETIC!"
"How dare you, you insolent little brat! You think you can evade me? Well this time - this time, I'd like to see you try - !"
Voldemort was off on a rant again, predictably. Sirius was shaking in Harry's arms and the water seemed that much colder suddenly, the wind biting at their faces. Harry grabbed Sirius's hand and threaded their fingers. He pulled their arms up and Harry pointed to the sky -
" - And this time you will not get away, because I will kill you, kill kill kill! You are so going to DIE! RIGHT NOW - !"
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Harry had cast the spell but it was Sirius who had obviously felt it. His skin lit up as a bright green for a second and he threw his head back. Green light shot up from their joined hands and hit the now screaming Voldemort.
Voldemort frizzled and shuddered in the air before bursting into fire, his screams rolling into pained gurgles. Finally he exploded like fireworks until only a ball of red energy lingered in the sky.
What's that? Harry was about to say. He got a shock instead as the red ball of energy flew at him at top speed and hit him right in the chest, propelling him backwards deep into the water. He gasped for air and struggled against the rocking water and he had been ripped away from Sirius - and this must be the end, he thought, he would never see his beloved again...
The ocean was quite silent, really. But then there was this strange clicking and whining sound, high pitched like a dog. It was getting louder and Harry somehow felt the movement of many bodies swimming nearby. He opened his eyes.
The light of the moon lit up the water as something blue and vast. The shadows swimming around him had a form now - oh, they were beautiful, how deep was he? - dolphins, they had to be dolphins. Harry's glasses had long gone by now, but not his will to live. The dolphins were whining to him, telling him someone was waiting for him at the rippling surface, and the jellyfish kept swimming around him in silent contemplation.
Sirius dived. For a moment his eyes were bright lights in Harry's darkness. His inky black hair undulated around his striking face and the moonlight refracted through the water to make patterns across his bare skin.
Sirius grabbed Harry around the waist and pulled him up.
They broke the surface together and gasped for air.
Harry sat in the spa bath and watched red magic crackle and swirl around his water-wrinkled fingers. Sirius was across from him, watching.
Harry reached out to him, and Sirius did too, a second later. Green and red magic fizzled between their hands.
Harry laid Sirius down on the bed like a much-loved doll. Sirius was always watching, uncharacteristically silent and awed.
Harry kissed him and kissed him again, over and over. He spread Sirius's thighs open gently and thought, I'm home, this is home.
Outside the ocean crashed its waves against the rocks then pulled away again. Other waves rolled nearby and waited their turn to break and froth. The sea sighed with contentment as it was able to caress the golden expanse of sand, touch every crevice and orifice of the rocks on the cliffs. Some waves thrust long and slowly, pushing in then pulling away. Then they would thrust fast and faster and cry with the pleasure of moisture on land.
The waves came and came and came.
A seagull cried blissfully as he flew across the sky.
There was peace.
Translation: Truth, Beauty, Freedom, Love
End.
Author's Notes (dentedsky):
I'm not sure if Perth is the most isolated city in the world, but that is what people call it sometimes. It may be the most isolated Western civilisation city, say.
Also, Perth and Fremantle are full of Brits, because it used to be the easiest place to sail to when people sailed to Australia (or something like that). That's why the hotel receptionist, Mr Man, was a Brit.
"Boss" is an old 1970s term for "cool".
And I thought of the cat-in-spell-thingy BEFORE I saw Constantine!
The four chapter titles was from my favourite movie Moulin Rouge, translated into Hebrew by Ann.
Well besides all that, hope youse liked it!
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