DISCLAIMER: If I've said it once, I've said it a million times: I don't
own Harry Potter or anyone associated with him. Everyone in this story
except for Dr. Nora Tallahand belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I'm
just using them for my own amusement. No infringement is intended.
A/N: I am SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO sorry for the wait I just completely lost my desire to write for what? Two/three weeks? Then, all of a sudden, it just came back to me. I apologize profusely for those of you I kept waiting, and I PROMISE that the chapters will come up more quickly after this! I'm so sorry! Please forgive me!
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Sirius opened a bleary eye and squinted against the bright sun. It took a moment to register the sight of his slumbering godson before he sat bolt upright and cursed himself for falling asleep.
The pale light of the early morning sunrise illuminated the room. A patch of it lay across Harry's face on the bed, adding golden to his rosy cheeks and pasty forehead. Sirius took up the wand on the bedside table and absently drew the curtain.
"How is he?" asked a voice from the doorway.
Sirius did not look up. He shrugged dully. "No change. I think his fever's gone up."
"Nora should be here in another few hours," Remus replied. "We can't give him the cooling potion until then."
"I know."
Sirius felt a hand on his shoulder. "We're doing all we can for him. You mustn't blame yourself."
"All we can for him?" Sirius demanded sharply. "This-" he gestured to the boy on the bed, "is doing 'all we can for him'? A pretty lousy job on my part, if you ask me."
"This isn't your fault. There's nothing you could have done."
"I'm his godfather for heaven's sake!" Sirius cried. "There *has * to be something I could have done for him! It's my duty; the one James entrusted in me! I promised him I'd take care of Harry, and now look at him. This is my fault. If I'd only been there, like I promised, when my own godson needed me the most, we wouldn't be in this mess."
"Think that all you want to, Sirius," came Remus's calm reply, "But no matter what you tell yourself, nothing that happened is entirely your fault. You couldn't be here for Harry because you were spending time in Azkaban for a crime you didn't commit. You know that. I know that. Harry knows that. *James * knows that for god's sake. You haven't done anything wrong except unjustly blaming yourself."
"How do you know they feel that way?" replied Sirius darkly. "Thanks to me you can't exactly ask Harry in the state he's, and thanks to me again, neither of us has been able to ask James anything for nearly fourteen years now."
"I refuse to argue with you, Sirius. No one in this room holds you accountable for anything except trusting in the wrong person at the wrong time. Now, I'm going to contact Professor Dumbeldore and update him as I had promised. Molly and Ron will probably show up in an hour or so. I'll prepare breakfast and check back in."
Sirius nodded, never removing his hard stare from Harry's unmoving form on the bed.
* * *
The twinkling light in Dumbeldore's eyes had completely disappeared when the older wizard apparated into Remus's living room. The only words he spoke was a nearly silent, "Show me to him, Remus," dulled greatly in tone by the heavy grief that visibly weighed on the older man's shoulders and made him seem every bit as old as he was.
Dr. Tallahand and the two Weasleys were already sitting around Harry's bed when Dumbeldore entered the room.
"How is he, Nora?" the elderly wizard asked gravely.
"Nora stood up from next to Sirius and allowed the Hogwarts headmaster to sit. "Not much better, professor. I gave the boy a second dose of cooling potion a few minutes ago. I had to administer it by magic; the poor boy wouldn't wake up when I tried go give it to him normally."
Dumbeldore's eyes traveled to the large goblet and the empty jar sitting on a lone dresser in the corner of the room. "You gave him a lot of it?"
"I've had to. It needs to last him an entire day, until I can give him a second dose. I've no use for the jar now. It's got an unbreakable charm on it just in case; if anyone thinks they could make something useful of it feel free to take it."
No one replied, and the room settled itself into the usual grave silence, which was a few minutes later pierced by an anguished moaning. Harry turned his head this way and that on the pillow, twisting his ashen face into expressions of fright and pain. His trembling hand moved to the scar on his forehead. Everyone in the room took in a sharp breath as one.
"Is he delirious?" asked Mrs. Weasley.
Nora shook her head, taking his struggling wrist in hand and checking the numbers on the white band. "His temperature is too low for that. This is more of a nightmare of sorts."
"Voldemort," said Sirius with a venomous hatred in his sharp tone.
"That may be," replied Nora as the boy continued to struggle with the bed sheets. "I have no way of knowing."
"Harry," Sirius said loudly to his godson, "Harry, wake up!" He was unable to conceal the fear in his voice. He felt a thin, frail hand on his shoulder.
"It's all right, Harry," said Professor Dumbeldore without loosening his grip. "It's just a dream."
"Wake up," Mrs. Weasley placed a hand on the boy's forehead. "Come now, it's okay. You're all right now."
She and Sirius began to shake him ever so gently. Harry groaned in response. His face continued to twitch as he shifted uncomfortably on the bed. His lips parted and moved without saying anything; his teeth were chattering too violently for any proper words to come from them.
Sirius felt his heart melt as Harry's painful movements turned from uncomfortable stirring to violent shivering, and finally to a coughing fit that was agony just to listen to. Sirius closed his eyes and let every bit of the pain and anguish sink to the very bottom of his soul. If Harry had to suffer through this, the least he could do as a godfather was join him and feel it too.
The horrible coughing stopped, and Harry moaned pitifully.
"Poor guy," whispered Ron sadly. "Is he still awake?"
"Yes," replied Nora. "He can hear you speaking to him. Be comforting, let him know we're here to protect him. He needs a lot of TLC right about now."
As she spoke she picked up the worn blanked from the end of the bed and touched its surface with her wand tip.
"Thermiticus," she whispered. The blanket began to glow a pale reddish-orange. Mrs. Weasley pulled it up to Harry's chin, running her hand softly over his forehead and cheek. Her eyes began to fill with tears.
"It's all right," she murmured gently. "It's all right, Harry dear. You're safe now."
A weak but contented sigh escaped Harry's chapped lips. His weak body relaxed, and Sirius's heart lifted at the tiniest hint of a smile that peeked at them from behind the boy's sickly white features.
"Go back to sleep now, Harry," he said, unable to hide the concern in his voice. "Get some rest. We'll be right here when you wake up."
His godson sighed quietly once more before he relaxed and settled into the familiar, even breathing rhythm.
Sirius felt hot tears sting his eyes. He looked to the floor and tried to keep them from running down his waxy cheeks. Why couldn't he do something more to ease Harry's sufferings? Fat lot of good he was doing the boy now, just sitting here, blubbering like some weak baby.
"How long has he been like this?" asked Dumbeldore softly.
"A little more than a day, now," Nora replied. "There is nothing we can do for him in this state. All we can do is hope and wait."
No one dared look each other in the eye after that. Their thoughts were the same; that a boy with Harry's painful history did not deserve this on top of everything else. That Harry was a strong boy and could take care of himself, but this was just too much for one teenage boy to handle. It simply wasn't fair.
Sirius brushed Harry's sweaty, dark bangs off his forehead and gazed at his lightning scar, the only thing to remain bright and vivid on the boy's illness-stricken face.
*Oh, Harry, * he thought in anguish. *If only you could see how many people are here rooting for you. Please return to us. Please. *
*We're waiting for you. *
A/N: I am SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO sorry for the wait I just completely lost my desire to write for what? Two/three weeks? Then, all of a sudden, it just came back to me. I apologize profusely for those of you I kept waiting, and I PROMISE that the chapters will come up more quickly after this! I'm so sorry! Please forgive me!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sirius opened a bleary eye and squinted against the bright sun. It took a moment to register the sight of his slumbering godson before he sat bolt upright and cursed himself for falling asleep.
The pale light of the early morning sunrise illuminated the room. A patch of it lay across Harry's face on the bed, adding golden to his rosy cheeks and pasty forehead. Sirius took up the wand on the bedside table and absently drew the curtain.
"How is he?" asked a voice from the doorway.
Sirius did not look up. He shrugged dully. "No change. I think his fever's gone up."
"Nora should be here in another few hours," Remus replied. "We can't give him the cooling potion until then."
"I know."
Sirius felt a hand on his shoulder. "We're doing all we can for him. You mustn't blame yourself."
"All we can for him?" Sirius demanded sharply. "This-" he gestured to the boy on the bed, "is doing 'all we can for him'? A pretty lousy job on my part, if you ask me."
"This isn't your fault. There's nothing you could have done."
"I'm his godfather for heaven's sake!" Sirius cried. "There *has * to be something I could have done for him! It's my duty; the one James entrusted in me! I promised him I'd take care of Harry, and now look at him. This is my fault. If I'd only been there, like I promised, when my own godson needed me the most, we wouldn't be in this mess."
"Think that all you want to, Sirius," came Remus's calm reply, "But no matter what you tell yourself, nothing that happened is entirely your fault. You couldn't be here for Harry because you were spending time in Azkaban for a crime you didn't commit. You know that. I know that. Harry knows that. *James * knows that for god's sake. You haven't done anything wrong except unjustly blaming yourself."
"How do you know they feel that way?" replied Sirius darkly. "Thanks to me you can't exactly ask Harry in the state he's, and thanks to me again, neither of us has been able to ask James anything for nearly fourteen years now."
"I refuse to argue with you, Sirius. No one in this room holds you accountable for anything except trusting in the wrong person at the wrong time. Now, I'm going to contact Professor Dumbeldore and update him as I had promised. Molly and Ron will probably show up in an hour or so. I'll prepare breakfast and check back in."
Sirius nodded, never removing his hard stare from Harry's unmoving form on the bed.
* * *
The twinkling light in Dumbeldore's eyes had completely disappeared when the older wizard apparated into Remus's living room. The only words he spoke was a nearly silent, "Show me to him, Remus," dulled greatly in tone by the heavy grief that visibly weighed on the older man's shoulders and made him seem every bit as old as he was.
Dr. Tallahand and the two Weasleys were already sitting around Harry's bed when Dumbeldore entered the room.
"How is he, Nora?" the elderly wizard asked gravely.
"Nora stood up from next to Sirius and allowed the Hogwarts headmaster to sit. "Not much better, professor. I gave the boy a second dose of cooling potion a few minutes ago. I had to administer it by magic; the poor boy wouldn't wake up when I tried go give it to him normally."
Dumbeldore's eyes traveled to the large goblet and the empty jar sitting on a lone dresser in the corner of the room. "You gave him a lot of it?"
"I've had to. It needs to last him an entire day, until I can give him a second dose. I've no use for the jar now. It's got an unbreakable charm on it just in case; if anyone thinks they could make something useful of it feel free to take it."
No one replied, and the room settled itself into the usual grave silence, which was a few minutes later pierced by an anguished moaning. Harry turned his head this way and that on the pillow, twisting his ashen face into expressions of fright and pain. His trembling hand moved to the scar on his forehead. Everyone in the room took in a sharp breath as one.
"Is he delirious?" asked Mrs. Weasley.
Nora shook her head, taking his struggling wrist in hand and checking the numbers on the white band. "His temperature is too low for that. This is more of a nightmare of sorts."
"Voldemort," said Sirius with a venomous hatred in his sharp tone.
"That may be," replied Nora as the boy continued to struggle with the bed sheets. "I have no way of knowing."
"Harry," Sirius said loudly to his godson, "Harry, wake up!" He was unable to conceal the fear in his voice. He felt a thin, frail hand on his shoulder.
"It's all right, Harry," said Professor Dumbeldore without loosening his grip. "It's just a dream."
"Wake up," Mrs. Weasley placed a hand on the boy's forehead. "Come now, it's okay. You're all right now."
She and Sirius began to shake him ever so gently. Harry groaned in response. His face continued to twitch as he shifted uncomfortably on the bed. His lips parted and moved without saying anything; his teeth were chattering too violently for any proper words to come from them.
Sirius felt his heart melt as Harry's painful movements turned from uncomfortable stirring to violent shivering, and finally to a coughing fit that was agony just to listen to. Sirius closed his eyes and let every bit of the pain and anguish sink to the very bottom of his soul. If Harry had to suffer through this, the least he could do as a godfather was join him and feel it too.
The horrible coughing stopped, and Harry moaned pitifully.
"Poor guy," whispered Ron sadly. "Is he still awake?"
"Yes," replied Nora. "He can hear you speaking to him. Be comforting, let him know we're here to protect him. He needs a lot of TLC right about now."
As she spoke she picked up the worn blanked from the end of the bed and touched its surface with her wand tip.
"Thermiticus," she whispered. The blanket began to glow a pale reddish-orange. Mrs. Weasley pulled it up to Harry's chin, running her hand softly over his forehead and cheek. Her eyes began to fill with tears.
"It's all right," she murmured gently. "It's all right, Harry dear. You're safe now."
A weak but contented sigh escaped Harry's chapped lips. His weak body relaxed, and Sirius's heart lifted at the tiniest hint of a smile that peeked at them from behind the boy's sickly white features.
"Go back to sleep now, Harry," he said, unable to hide the concern in his voice. "Get some rest. We'll be right here when you wake up."
His godson sighed quietly once more before he relaxed and settled into the familiar, even breathing rhythm.
Sirius felt hot tears sting his eyes. He looked to the floor and tried to keep them from running down his waxy cheeks. Why couldn't he do something more to ease Harry's sufferings? Fat lot of good he was doing the boy now, just sitting here, blubbering like some weak baby.
"How long has he been like this?" asked Dumbeldore softly.
"A little more than a day, now," Nora replied. "There is nothing we can do for him in this state. All we can do is hope and wait."
No one dared look each other in the eye after that. Their thoughts were the same; that a boy with Harry's painful history did not deserve this on top of everything else. That Harry was a strong boy and could take care of himself, but this was just too much for one teenage boy to handle. It simply wasn't fair.
Sirius brushed Harry's sweaty, dark bangs off his forehead and gazed at his lightning scar, the only thing to remain bright and vivid on the boy's illness-stricken face.
*Oh, Harry, * he thought in anguish. *If only you could see how many people are here rooting for you. Please return to us. Please. *
*We're waiting for you. *