Madly, Deeply, Black

Sirius had been haunting the corridors of 12 Grimmauld Place for weeks. Since his appearance in Severus's fireplace a few days ago, he had been getting worse. Sirius knew he couldn't let himself go like this, that he had to hold on for Harry, be strong for him. He hadn't been able to do that lately. Christmas was coming and he knew he would be spending it alone, in the house he hated so much. There were evenings when he could resist the abandonment that alcohol forced upon him, when he felt ridiculous but passionate about the cause he had always vowed to defend if he ever got out of Azkaban: to find and kill the man who had betrayed his best friend and his wife. Ever since he had learned of the prophecy, Sirius had felt his desire for vengeance fuelled, a kind of madness that sometimes overcame him, and it had nothing to do with alcohol.

Tonight, like all the others, Sirius lay on his mother's old bed next to Buck and watched the ceiling spin above him. His heart racing, Sirius reached for the almost empty bottle on the bedside table and spilled some of the contents over his shoulder, propped himself up on his elbows and swallowed the rest. He dropped the bottle, which crashed to the floor and shattered. The hippogriff gasped.

“Sorry Bucky”, Sirius croaked, his voice heavy with too much alcohol and too much sadness.

Tears began to roll down his cheeks, drowning the features of his handsome face, puffy from the abuse he had inflicted upon himself.

“I've got nothing else to do," he murmured aloud, "you know, don't blame me, Bucky, but it's the only way I can feel a bit alive...”

Sirius rolled over and buried his head in the sheets. He didn't want to cry but he couldn't take it anymore. Sometimes he wondered how a man could hold so much resentment, hatred, despair and passion. His problem, he thought, was that he had too much time to think. He was isolated, a prisoner in a new prison, his only company the torture of his life, condemned to wait without being able to act.

“Fuck Christmas and fuck you Snape," he said loudly, suddenly lifting his head from the filthy mattress and dropping it back onto it, exhausted in a losing battle against his own drunkenness.

Sirius must have fallen asleep. He woke up a few hours later, not understanding what exactly had woken him. He opened his eyes in the darkened room, the candles completely burned out. He moved and felt his temples pounding in a familiar and uncomfortable way. He felt slightly nauseous as he sat up, groaning. Disorientated, he thought he heard someone calling his name. Sirius sat on the edge of the room with the vague idea of finishing the night in his own bed. He staggered to the door and opened it. He heard his name more clearly. Someone had come into the house! He felt a kind of hope come over him as he thought of Remus. He hurried down the corridor and up the stairs. But the further he went, the clearer the voice became, and now it seemed certain that it wasn't Remus's.

“Sirius Black! You rascal, you drunkhard! Or are you too busy emptying the cupboards of all the alcohol they contain to do your duty? In my time, no member of the noble Black family would have been so careless!”

Furious, Sirius suddenly opened the door to a former drawing room that had been converted into a guest room and found himself face to face with the man who was insulting him with all the force of his voice.

“Ah, there you are at last! Apparently I wasn't mistaken, you are completely drunk, my poor man...”

“Shut up!" growled Sirius, suppressing a burp. “What's all that noise?”

“Politeness, young man," exclaimed Phineas Nigellus, crossing his arms in his portrait.

“Yeah right, put your politeness where your mouth is!”

“How impertinent, a disgrace to our family! If I hadn't been sent here expressly by Dumbledore, I'd be leaving here right now.”

“Dumbledore?" asked Sirius.

“Exactly! This is an emergency. Young Potter and the Weasley children, that bunch of ill-bred brats, will be arriving at any moment. Arthur Weasley has been attacked and is seriously injured.”

Sirius stood dumbfounded, trying to absorb his ancestor's words. Harry was on his way and so were the Weasleys. Harry. Here. Any minute now.

“Well?" said Phineas Nigellus impatiently. “What do I tell them? They're waiting, for Salazar's sake!”

“Are they? Yes, of course," exclaimed Sirius. “Yes, I'd be delighted to welcome them here for as long as they need.”

He heard a sniff of disdain from Phineas and he disappeared. Sirius ran a hand through his dirty, tangled hair. His heart pounding, he ran out of the room, gathering his thoughts, and into the nearest bathroom. He turned on one of the taps and stuck his head under the water, trying and clear the fog in his head that wouldn't go away. 

“Fuck," he growled.

He pulled his magic wand from the back pocket of his jeans and his hair suddenly dried. Clumsily, he cast Scourgify and groaned as he felt the spell scratch his face. He glanced at himself in the mirror; he didn't look much better than before, but at least he didn't look any worse.

He ran down the stairs, forcing himself to look as normal as possible. And then he saw him. His godson had just appeared in the middle of the kitchen, accompanied by the Weasley children still at Hogwarts. He rushed over to them and hugged Harry briefly before turning to the others.

“What's happened?" he asked.

He was pleased to hear that his voice was almost back to normal. On the other hand, he smelled the alcohol on his breath and cursed inwardly.  He didn't want Harry to know he drank so much, to be ashamed of his godfather.

One of the Weasley twins began an explanation before letting Harry finish. Sirius realised that Harry had had a vision of Mr Weasley being attacked. He insisted on calling it a dream, but Sirius realised that his godson was very upset, even though he tried to hide it. He promised himself that he would ask him later for details of what had happened. After a brief argument with the twins, who wanted to visit their father in hospital, Sirius managed to get everyone to sit around the large kitchen table and brought some Butterbeers from the cellar. They stood in silence, waiting for news of Arthur. Sirius had to fight not to fall asleep. He felt muddy and ashamed to be sobering up with children. He didn't want his feelings and thoughts to show on his face. He had to be strong for them. The thought of Arthur Weasley dying made him sick. The deep sadness he'd been feeling for the past few weeks suddenly hit him, and he took big gulps of butterbeer to keep from panicking.

And suddenly he thought of him. It was inevitable. What was Severus doing? Did he know about Arthur or was he sleeping peacefully in his bed at Hogwarts? He certainly wasn't, Sirius thought. When he thought of everything the man had to put up with, all the risks he took for the Order, for Dumbledore and... for Harry. Sirius understood. One way or another, Severus had to act to protect the boy. He wished he could question him and find out how Severus had come to this. He hated James. And Sirius knew he didn't like Harry either.

Was he really a coward? Of course not. But Sirius had no regrets about his actions or words. Severus's indifference towards him made him feel as if he was swelling with rage from within. Had he been imagining things all along? He was sure that Severus had flirted with him on several occasions... but what if he had imagined it all? Sirius knew that a meeting was inevitable, but he still couldn't see how he could behave towards him. He wouldn't be able to ignore him. He didn't have the strength. He would provoke him, make him angry, even insult him, why not... As his thoughts raced through his mind in a kind of haze, the front door suddenly opened.

"It must have been morning," Sirius remarked as he rose with the others in one motion. Molly entered the kitchen and shut the door carefully. Then she gave them all a big smile and all her children ran up to hug her. Sirius exchanged a look of delight with Harry and squeezed his shoulder. When the children had moved away from her, Molly walked over to Harry and gave him a hug as well. Then she took his hand and squeezed it.

“Thank you for looking after my children," she said with wet eyes.

Surprised, Sirius smiled at her and muttered something about how this was normal.

“Dad's going to be all right," she said. “He lost a lot of blood and the healers got there just in time. But he's going to be fine.”

Everyone sighed with relief.

“I'd have liked to thank the head healer who looked after Arthur, but he disappeared into thin air," Molly added. “He'll have to spend some time in hospital anyway.”

“You can stay here," Sirius offered immediately, "the house is big enough.”

“Oh, Sirius, that would be wonderful, thank you very much," Molly exclaimed. “Since the children can't Apparate, it'll be much easier to get to the hospital from London.”

“Then it's settled," Sirius enthused. “Who wants a nice breakfast?”

Everyone sat down at the table and Molly rushed to help Sirius prepare breakfast. The atmosphere had changed drastically and Sirius couldn't believe his luck that his house was full again, especially for the holidays and with Harry. He felt a little guilty because it was because of a terrible injury to Arthur, but he had no heart to blame himself.

Breakfast was cheerful, but Sirius couldn't help noticing that Harry didn't seem to be enjoying himself. He and the Weasleys were due to visit Arthur later in the day. When everyone had had their fill, Molly suggested that the children get some sleep. They all agreed, but Harry looked at Sirius.

“Can I have a word with you, please?”

“Of course, son," Sirius replied, feeling that he was finally going to find out why Harry seemed so preoccupied.

He led him into the kitchen vault and listened as Harry told him in great detail how he had discovered that Arthur was injured. He told him about his dream, about being in the snake, about feeling guilty as if he'd done it to Mr Weasley, about wanting to attack Dumbledore too. Sirius was shocked by the story and felt a kind of panic come over him. But he forced himself to put on a neutral face and try to reassure his godson, not to worry him any more.

“You need to get some sleep Harry, go to bed with the others. We'll talk about this later, OK? Don't worry about it now.”

Harry nodded and headed for the room he shared with Ron, but Sirius could tell he wasn't happy with his answer. He couldn't blame him. He promised himself that he would do his duty as godfather and discuss the matter with Dumbledore as soon as possible.

**

When the house was empty again, everyone having gone to visit Mr Weasley, Sirius, who had also managed to get a few hours sleep, went into the bathroom and took a shower. He sighed with relief under the hot spray, wondering vaguely how long it had been since he'd had a shower. A little ashamed, he let the water work on his muscles, relaxing him as a sense of relief washed over him. He closed his eyes and offered his face to the stream of water coming from the mouth of a snake-shaped knob. He washed his hair and body profusely, no longer willing to let go. Once out of the water, he began to shave.

He put on a Gryffindor jumper he'd found in his wardrobe and was surprised it still fit. He'd lost a lot of weight recently, although his body was still strong and muscular. He also put on a pair of black jeans, this time without holes, and went downstairs. He was heading for his favourite living room when he heard the front door open. Surprised, and wondering why the Weasleys and Harry were home so early - perhaps they'd forgotten something - he turned round. 

“Molly?" he called.

But it wasn't Molly. He saw the two men in the doorway and felt his heart stop.

“Sirius, help me.”

It was Dumbledore, holding what it seems to be the lifeless form of Severus in his arms.

“What is going on?" stammered Sirius, his heart pounding in his ribs and his vision sometimes blurred.

He staggered closer.

“Is he...”

“He's not dead, no," Dumbledore told him immediately.

Sirius felt as if he were being animated by something else. A powerful feeling invaded his senses and, driven by an unseen force, he reached out and lifted Dumbledore's burden. Dumbledore gave him a look of gratitude. Severus' body did not weigh much. Sirius had to resist the urge to hold him close, to bury his nose in his hair, to kiss his thin lips.

“But what...”

“I don't know. Let's go upstairs, Sirius.”

Stunned, Sirius made his way up the stairs to the room where Severus had spent so many weeks before. Severus' room. His heart was still pounding against his ribs, but he knew he wasn't going to let Severus go. The Slytherin had blood on his face, but Sirius could see no wounds. He entered the room and carefully, as if reluctantly, placed Severus' body on the bed. He did not want to break physical contact with the man before him. Fear knotted his insides as he turned to Dumbledore.

“Sirius," Dumbledore said, looking him straight in the eye. “I don't know exactly why or how, but I can see that you and Severus have formed a special bond, and I am pleased about it.”

Still, Sirius felt himself blushing from ear to ear and looked away from Dumbledore, avoiding a reply.

“I hope you don't mind if he rests here over the Christmas holidays.”

“No problem," Sirius murmured, feeling his heart skip a beat.

“I wouldn't want him to leave this house without my knowledge," Dumbledore added. “Perhaps I'll drop by in a few days, over Christmas or after.”

“Very well," Sirius said.

So Severus was confined to the house with him. And with the Weasleys and Harry. All his wishes were suddenly granted...

“I don't think Severus is in any immediate danger. I found him unconscious in the hospital when I went to see Arthur.”

“What was Severus doing there?" asked Sirius immediately.

“He was there because I asked him to. He saved Arthur Weasley.”

“How did...?”

“Severus took Polyjuice Potion to disguised himself as a healer and prepared the antidote to Voldemort's snake venom. Without it, Arthur would be dead.  I'm asking you not to spread this around, lest Voldemort find out. If one of us is captured, it's better to know as little as possible.”

“But Molly and the children... It's not fair on Severus," Sirius cried.

“That is his role in this war," Dumbledore said sadly. “Believe me, it's better we keep this between us.”

Sirius looked away angrily. He realised how precarious, dangerous and ungrateful Severus's situation was.

“I don't know why Severus is lifeless. He's in some kind of magical coma, I've examined him, but there are no injuries and I can find no trace of Dark Magic. He seems different from last time. When he wakes up, it will be crucial to know if he remembers what happened to him.”

“Someone has a grudge against him. Where was that bitch Umbridge?" asked Sirius, still angry.

Dumbledore's brow furrowed in disapproval.

“She hasn't left Hogwarts.”

“But then... I don't understand.”

“Neither do I, and it's not a pleasant feeling," Dumbledore said in his calm voice. “Please look after Severus.”

“Yes, I will.”

They left Severus on the bed and Sirius escorted Dumbledore out of the house. He did not stay long. As Sirius slowly made his way back up the stairs, he felt his good mood fade. He was worried about Severus, angry at the way 'his role' justified every injustice.

The rest of the day passed quickly, the Weasleys and Harry returned and Sirius noticed that Harry had gone straight upstairs to bed. The house was so big that no one thought to check if anyone was in the room where Severus lay. Sirius didn't know how to broach the subject, so he put it off, hoping that Severus would wake up soon and decide for himself what to do.

Sirius also dreaded this moment, certain that the Slytherin must be furious with him. He certainly wouldn't want to talk to him and he would have to apologise. But Sirius didn't feel like apologising. Everything seemed so complicated. Exhausted from the day, he finally went to bed after checking that Severus was still asleep in his bed.

Sirius dreamed and slept for several hours. In the middle of the night he awoke with a start, as if animated by a premonition. Shaking and sweating, Sirius threw back his blankets and rushed out of the room. As he approached the Slytherin room, he knew he had seen through it. Something was wrong. He felt his insides twist and pushed the door open. Severus was lying on the bed, but his form was moving in all directions, as if struggling against unseen forces.

“Severus?" whispered Sirius, fighting panic.

There was no answer.

Distraught, he approached the bed and met Severus' gaze.

“Severus, what's going on?”

But the man before him seemed to neither see nor hear him. Sirius remained motionless, recognising the effects of some form of dark magic.

“Please, Severus, listen to me," he pleaded in vain. “I'm here, it's me, Sirius.”

The words had no effect. He didn't know how long the Slytherin had been fighting demons that only seemed to exist in his eyes. Sirius reached out and took Severus's hands gently. Severus struggled furiously, but Sirius refused to give in.

“Stop, you're safe," he whispered hastily.

He tightened his grip on Severus' wrists.

“I can't help you, that's enough!”

Then something strange happened, the sudden movements stopped and Severus closed his eyes. As Sirius felt relief wash over him, the Potions Master's body began to shake and rattle.

“Oh no," Sirius groaned.

He put his hand on the other man's forehead: it was cold. Sirius took his wand from his pyjama pocket and pointed it at Severus.

“Ignis de flamma," he whispered.

Warm air enveloped Severus, and Sirius himself felt the effects. He held the spell for a while and then touched Severus again, his teeth no longer chattering but still shivering. He was still cold. Sirius took off his shoes and placed the black boots at the foot of the bed, unfolded the blankets and covered Severus's body with them. He cast the spell again and waited expectantly. But the man continued to shake.

Out of ideas, a little nauseous, Sirius suddenly knew what he had to do. If it didn't work, he'd have to call someone for help. He lifted the covers and slipped under them. He was shirtless, but a wave of heat still ran through him. He wasn't sure if it was from the spell or from what he was about to do. Sirius pressed himself against Severus and wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. His heart pounding, Sirius closed his eyes. Nothing happened at first, but then, little by little, Severus stopped shaking. Sirius buried his face in Severus's dark hair and breathed in his scent. He hoped Severus wouldn't mind.

Snuggled up against Severus, Sirius matched his breathing to the Slytherin's, and it was hard to say who needed the other more at that moment.