Truths Revealed

Truths Revealed -20-

Harry woke up feeling slightly disoriented. The world around him didn't come into focus even after a few seconds of being awake, and he realized that he wasn't wearing his glasses. He tried to turn, looking for them, when he felt the cooling cloth on his forehead. When did that happen? The last thing he remembered was Sirius coming back to help him with unpacking- UNPACKING!

Harry shot up, but was quickly pushed back. Bleary, unfocused emerald eyes made out the hazy outline of his godfather. Not a second later, the cloth on his forehead was removed, and brought back, cooler than before. Harry groaned softly in protest, but made no move to take it off. Sirius smiled bitterly, and then moved so that he was sitting next to Harry's shoulder.

"Feeling better, Harry?" Sirius asked. He'd nearly gone insane when Harry lost consciousness, but had remembered Poppy saying something about a fever. So he'd done what he could for it. He smiled a bit when he received a tentative nod, but pondered about the gesture. It was as if Harry was trying to find out what was the right answer before he actually replied.

"Good. Stay in bed for today - more like tonight, actually. It's nearly eight." Sirius chuckled.

Harry's eyes widened. Whatever he had been expecting, that was probably something that hadn't entered his mind. He had been anticipating been sent to finish his unpacking.

"What's wrong, pup?" Sirius asked, catching the uneasy look. Harry mumbled something inaudible, then remembered what the punishment for that was, so shut up altogether.

"Didn't quite catch that, buddy. Let's try that again now, hm?" Harry realized that his cheeks had heated up, but it was just confusing, how Sirius was being so... well, nice.

"N-nothing." Sirius knew that that wasn't true at all, so he decided to guess.

"You sure? Your fever hasn't gone up again? Maybe you're hungry? Do you want to write to Ron and Hermione? And Remus and the others aren't here yet, I sent them a letter saying they could come at the end of the week," Sirius noticed that there had been no reaction to any of this, and racked his brains further. "Well, anyway, I unpacked your stuff while you were out, so if you don't like where anything is, you can put it wherever you want." Bingo.

Harry's heat shot up so fast, it was amazing that he didn't collide with Sirius' chin. Sirius realized what the problem had been at once - he had been the smartest in their grade, in everything but History, after all - and fumed at the way Harry had been treated. Well, maybe things would go a bit easier after this, since he'd already made it clear that Harry could change what he wanted.

"So that's that," he continued, as if nothing had happened. "Now, what do you want for dinner?"

Harry couldn't think of the right answer, again. At his uncle's house, he had always refused food, no matter how badly he wanted it. Asking for food meant that he was being ungrateful, and the very thought of what would happen was enough to make him shudder. Sirius wasn't anything like his uncle, a small voice argued. And even if he had had lunch, he was already ravenous again. Just eight months of living at Hogwarts, and he was used to having three meals a day.

"Harry, just tell me. There's got to be something you like," Sirius goaded gently, guessing the dilemma that the boy was going through. His mindset must be younger than eleven years.

"Treacle tarts." Harry shrunk back even as he spoke, expecting to be hit, but Sirius laughed.

"I meant for main course, pup, not dessert. We can have treacle tarts afterward, but honestly, who knew you'd inherited that of all things from them?" Sirius grinned. Harry flushed.

"Oi, you're not off the hook," Sirius said, still grinning. "What do you want to eat?"

"Steak." Harry could feel the headboard even though his back was still against the pillow.

Sirius decided to stop hounding his godson, satisfied for now by the answer he received. He reached out, ignoring Harry's flinch as much as possible, and ruffled his hair. "Steak it is."

"Kreacher!" he called, remembering the queer transformation of attitude from earlier. The elf appeared with a loud, trademark CRACK, and Harry flinched, trembling violently.

"Master Sirius called?" The elf was practically bouncing off the walls, anticipating an order.

"Get dinner done, with steak for main course and treacle tart for dessert," Sirius instructed.

"Dinner will be ready in half an hour, Master Sirius." And with another CRACK he was gone.

Sirius pulled Harry to him. Even he could identify now, the sound that the elf made when he made an appearance, was disturbingly reminiscent of the crack of a belt. Harry couldn't help but curl into the comforting gesture, closing his eyes in pure contentment as Sirius rubbed his back soothingly. He would never have been allowed before, but Sirius was completely different.

"Harry?" From how still he was, Sirius thought he must have fallen asleep, but was slightly surprised when the teen looked up at him, a tinge of apprehension in his bright emerald eyes.

"You need to take one of those nutrient potions Poppy gave us." Harry nodded, and Sirius summoned the little vial over to them. He handed it to Harry, who downed it quietly.

"Better?" Sirius asked, and inwardly groaned when Harry nodded again.

He had always hated silence, and was probably the only Black in history, to have been a loud child. Meeting James on the train had only given further leeway to being louder and just as buoyant as ever. Becoming an Auror meant that there was never a silent moment. All of that had shattered when he was in Azkaban, and now he passionately despised the silence. Having been freed in Harry's third year, there had been no stopping him from creating noise with only Buckbeak for company. It had gone on, until the Weasley twins ditched school and came to him for refuge, and he honestly couldn't remember more fun times. And then he'd died. Reunited with James, Lily had sworn that their ruckus would haunt her into becoming a ghost. But now - now, of all times, it was silent, and he couldn't bear to talk, because when he did, he only got a non-verbal answer. After the first couple of times, it felt like he was talking to himself.

So when Kreacher came up with a CRACK to announce that dinner was ready, he didn't bother talking, but simply put a gentle arm around Harry as they went down to the dining room.