A/N: Hi! I've been reading fanfiction for a while but I've never actually written one before, so I thought I'd try it out. I know there's a few other's like this out there, but I've always wondered how Sirius would react if he found out what happened in Harry's detentions, so I thought I'd try it out.

Nobody would say dinners at Number 12 were ever uneventful affairs. Admittedly, it was usually something to do with Fred and George, or maybe even Mundungus, rather than anything too serious, but they were eventful none the less.

It was a rather cheerful dinner for the standards of the Order. Mad-Eye had thoroughly depressed everyone with talk of the first war and Ginny and Ron had got into an argument over something or other, but Mrs Weasley hadn't exploded at anyone yet, which meant a cheerful meal in most people's book.

Harry, however, was feeling down - not only with the thought of going back to Umbridge's tight regimes, but the looming prospect of Occlumency lessons with Snape. It was hard enough to ignore his sneers and thinly veiled insults in a full dungeon, but one to one? It was going to be a nightmare. He sighed loudly and stared into the depths of his bowl, letting the conversations and arguments of the others wash over him.

"Harry? Are you alright?" Ginny's voice snapped him out of his brooding and he turned to face her, pulling an unconvincing looking smile onto his face. She was frowning slightly and looking intently into his face.

"I'm fine." He replied false brightly. "Just tired, you know. Not really looking forward to tomorrow much either." Harry looked away from her searching gaze and straight into Hermione's, who was opposite him and looked anxious. She immediately turned away and struck up a conversation with Tonks and Lupin.

He scowled and started attacking his apple crumble with vigour, a tight knot of anger forming in his belly. This wasn't the first time this had happened. Ever since he'd witnessed the attack on Mr Weasley he'd suffered worried sideways glances and Hermione suddenly looking away every now and then when he looks to her. He knew why of course, he wasn't ignorant of the conversation she'd had with Ron yesterday…

Harry was just about to push open the door of his and Ron's room when he hesitated, hearing low murmurings inside. He silently moved closer so the door to listen.

"Ron! You can't just ignore this - you need to talk to him!" Hermione voice hissed, sounding frustrated.

Ron groaned, apparently they'd had this conversation before. "I don't see why, he seems fine since Ginny talked him out of thinking he was possessed. I mean, it's not like he's had any more dreams is it. Just… just leave him be for a while okay. Let him breathe a bit."

Harry couldn't help but feel grateful. He knew Ron didn't understand exactly what was up, but he got that Harry just needed to mull it over for a bit. Get his head straight. He was just about to turn round, re-walk up the stairs noisily and go into the room when Hermione spoke again.

"For goodness sake Ron! We both know he's still scared to go to sleep! I can't talk to him; he'll think I'm nagging, butpleaseRon," her voice lowered so much Harry had to press his ear to the door to hear her. "I'm worried about him." Her voice sounded oddly thick, and Harry realised with a shock that she was fighting back tears. He didn't wait to hear Ron's reply, but turned and made his way slowly back down the stairs.

It was hard to stay angry with Hermione when he knew she was so worried about him. The truth was, although he was still dreaming about that stupid corridor, a new nightmare was featuring in his sleep now. He couldn't remember the exact details, but what he could recall was endless amounts of blood dripping from the back of his hand – the 'I must not tell lies' red and pulsating. He wasn't sure why it was suddenly such a prominent element in his nightmares, for he was never afraid in his detentions. Angry - yes, but fearful… not so much.

A shock of pain shot through his scar and his hand jumped to it. He was starting to worry that it was becoming more sensitive – that it was not responding only to Voldemort's anger, but his own too. Almost like him and Voldemort had started merging… Harry shivered and rubbed his scar with his fingertips.

Out of nowhere a hand shot out and grabbed his left wrist, making him jerk away into Ginny. He heard her gasp and her drink splash and spill slightly. He looked up from the hand around his wrist and arrived at Sirius' furious eyes. They were boring into the back of his hand, reading the red scabbed writing.

Silence gradually fell around the table as people realised something was happening.

"Sirius?" Lupin said after a moment, his voice full of confusion. "What are you doing? Let him go."

Harry, who had realised almost at once what Sirius was seeing, ignored Lupin and didn't look away from his Godfather. He could feel the heat rising in his face and shifted slightly, the grip on his wrist was painful. He regretted it immediately, for Sirius' eyes left the back of his hand and met Harry's.

"Where did you get this?" He asked, shaking Harry's wrist slightly. His voice was gruff and laced with rage. Harry couldn't help but edge away slightly. Sirius repeated his question, but slower, each word more pronounced.

He could see Fred or George shuffling in their seat; trying to see what had got Sirius so mad. The back of Harry's neck was burning and he knew he was giving the Weasley blush a run for its money.

"Sirius." His voice was low, pleading. "Sirius it's nothing. I just – It's just –" He didn't know what to say, he couldn't pass it off as an accident when it very clearly wasn't. "It's nothing." He repeated and tugged on Sirius' grip, but his hold remained tight. Their eyes locked and they both remained stock still for a few seconds, both of their bodies tense all over.

Lupin rose from his seat and Harry's head whipped round to him, grateful for the excuse to look away from Sirius. He wasn't so grateful, however, when he started making his way round the table towards them.

"Let go of him, Sirius." He said softly, and Sirius, to Harry's surprise, did. Harry drew back his arm, fist clenched. He could see the white marks on his wrist where Sirius' fingers had been slowly start to fill in with colour again. Lupin took Harry's hand in his and stared and it for a few tense moments before releasing him.

"That is not nothing Harry. Who did this to you?" He tried to look Harry in the eye, but he looked away.

Hermione cleared her throat and Harry raised his eyes to meet hers. They were very wide and were darting between Harry, Lupin and Sirius. "Harry, I think –" She stopped, her voice high and tense. She cleared her throat again and carried on in a more normal, if not slightly scared, pitch. "I think you should tell them Harry." He glanced around the rest of the table and saw his friends' worried (and curious) expressions. His gaze landed on Ron who nodded slightly.

He sighed and looked back to his Godfather and Lupin. They were still watching him expectantly. "Well?" Sirius asked sharply.

Harry rose to his feet and gestured for the two men to follow him out into the hall.