It seems like everyone I know on this website are horrifically sadistic meanies. They in fact wanted the ending with Harry killing Sirius.

Because, you know, that is first-class humor.

You all make me sick. So sick that I have decided to post the alternate/original ending just for all your sick, twisted, perverted enjoyments.

I hope you all enjoy it, bastards!

No, really,

Enjoy~

It's Over 400,000!!

Chapter 1b: I Can Not Believe All of you Closet-Sadists

Or

Thank you Kamerreon for Putting A Quote From This on Your Profile, Earning Me A Lot of Readers

Have I inadvertently said some evil thing?

- Phocion

Harry sat in his not-comfortable, not-chic chair as he watched his idiot of a godfather's steady breathing send the various machines attached to him into a frenzy.

Sirius had been stalking him (despite repeated admissions that he wasn't) for the past few months now, and Harry was a little annoyed with the older man's childish behavior.

So annoyed in fact, that he was about to commit murder.

"Sorry, Sirius," Harry said softly, a long-fingered, elegant, not-scarred (thank God for hand-on, apply directly to the hand) hand gently moving towards the machine keeping him on life support. "But I eventually want to date someone some day without you hanging over my shoulder. And I don't even want to imagine your reaction to when I lose my virginity."

As if his words were crystal notes from the angels' clarion trumpets, Sirius' eyes snapped open at his admission, pinning him with a fiery stare. Wincing, Harry flicked the switch to the life support machine, wrenching away from Sirius' soon-to-be corpse with a mildly overdramatic sob.

One Shakespearean-esque monologue on the fragility of life later, Harry turned back to look forlornly at his murder victim, only to screech in shock at Sirius. Who wasn't dead.

In fact, he looked quite chipper sitting in his hospital bed, inching away from Harry as if the savior was insane.

Harry was sure there was some horrific pun about pots, kettles, and Blacks somewhere to be found in this situation, but he was a little more concerned about his not-dead godfather than with his bad sense of humor.

"Why are you alive!?" Harry screeched, pointing at Sirius rudely.

Sirius glanced over at the life support machine that had not been attached to him at all (and had not even been on in the first place – even as he mentally spoke, it was whirring to life from Harry turning it on) and decided that if his not-target of his not-affections was going to be a large ham, then goddammit, he was going to out-hammy them all. "It was your LOVE for me that keeps this scarred heart of mine still beating, Harry!"

Harry leaned forward to rest his head against Sirius' bandaged chest and, much to his surprise, underneath all the plaster casts he could hear a fairly steady heartbeat.

"You're not a zombie," Harry remarked quite astutely.

"Baby, I'll be whatever you want me to be," Sirius purred, which probably would have been more successful if he didn't sound like a cigarette-smoking addict for the past sixty years thanks to a damaged throat.

"But I…" Harry trailed off, pouting, and silence reigned supreme for a few minutes. Sirius gazed at Harry inquisitively, wondering what the hell was going on (a frightfully common occurrence these days).

"Harry?" Sirius prodded, both vocally and with his finger against Harry's side, taking the chance to not-subtly not-grope his godson's not-sexy abs. "Why'd you stop?"

"This is usually when I interrupt someone when their speaking, and since the world seems to take pleasure in fucking me over, I thought this was when I was going to receive my due comeuppance," Harry confessed.

"Oh," Sirius oh-ed.

"Why didn't you die?" Harry asked, his head cocked to the side innocently and most certainly not-alluringly.

"Did you want me to die?" Sirius said absentmindedly, his eyes trailing over his godson's lithe form.

"Yes," Harry admitted, and Sirius jerked back in surprise.

"Well," Sirius said awkwardly, unable to deny his not-love anything, even if it was his own life. "If that's what you want…"

As if by magic, Sirius' body slumped lifelessly in his bed. Harry blinked a few times in shock before throwing one of the complimentary pieces of fruit that were sometimes found in hospital rooms at Sirius' head. It bounced off harmlessly.

The vase containing the hospital-regulated fake flowers followed in much the same route.

Harry glanced down at his lap, mildly concerned about the hand basket that had appeared on it with a slight pop. Inside it, a plushie Sirius waved at him before blowing a kiss and making a very-obscene motion with its hands.

Harry gave Sirius three days before he would come back to life, bored to death with hell.

"So this is hell," Sirius said glibly, looking around the stuffy doctor's office waiting room in distaste. "Somehow, I thought it might be a little bit more merciful than this. Seriously uncool."

"What are you in for?" A rough voice said to his left.

"I was not-stalking my beloved godson when – OH MY GOD, IT'S YOU!" Sirius shrieked, scrambling away from his companion as fast as ghostly possible.

The not-diary laughed rather maliciously.

Are all of you happy? You got your crappy, much more shoddily written original ending, all at the expense of sending Sirius to hell.

I hope you are all pleased with yourselves.

-Pout-

Ariaeris~

-SPOILERS/DON'T LOOK VAIRE!-

Ps: On a separate note, Adam lost. -Double Pout- I had sworn off Idol two years ago only to tentatively put myself at risk in order to watch the season finale; I was hurt yet again. Being with Idol is like being in an abusive relationship; the only thing certain is that you are going to get hurt and yet you keep coming back for more, unwillingly or not.

God damn you, AI, blight of my life and anathema to my soul. God. Damn. You.

And I am so not watching you next season - I'm already ashamed of myself enough for giving in to the media hype and watching the finale (which wasn't even good!).